Beatrice
You know that moment, don’t you? You’re walking past a Cantonese restaurant, and through the window, you see them: glistening, mahogany-red strips of pork hanging in a neat row. The edges are perfectly caramelized, almost blackened in spots, and you can practically taste that sweet, savory, smoky flavor just by looking at it. That, my friend, is Char Siu, or Chinese BBQ pork.
Beatrice
Walk past any Cantonese barbecue shop, and you’ll see them: glorious, glistening strips of ruby-red pork hanging in the window, promising a perfect balance of sweet, savory, and smoky. That’s Char Siu, or Chinese BBQ Pork. For so many of us, it feels like a restaurant-only treat, a culinary magic trick that couldn’t possibly be replicated in a home kitchen. The flavor? Maybe. But that signature sticky, slightly charred, impossibly glossy crust? That seems to require special vertical ovens and years of training.