Dried tangerine peel substitutes

This is the real thing, just younger. Peel a mandarin in large pieces, scrape the white pith off the inside with a spoon or a paring knife, and dry the peel skin-side up on a rack for two or three days in a warm dry spot, or for about two hours in a 170F oven with the door slightly ajar until it snaps.

Best for

Cantonese braises, red bean and other sweet soups, Sichuan beef and stews, steamed spare ribs

Freshly dried peel is brighter and much less bitter than aged chen pi, which is prized precisely because years of ageing deepen it. Use a slightly larger piece to compensate, and leave a little of the pith on if you want more of that bitter backbone. It keeps in a sealed jar for a year and improves as it goes.

Sold in most spice aisles as granules or strips, and the most convenient shelf-stable swap. It does the same slow-release aromatic job in a long-cooked dish.

Best for

braises and stews, sweet soups, spice blends, mulled and simmered liquids

Sweeter, brighter and less complex than aged chen pi, without the slightly medicinal, tea-like depth that makes a Cantonese braise taste correct. A pinch more, plus a star anise pod already in the pot, closes most of the gap. If yours is fine granules rather than strips, tie them in a piece of muslin so you can fish them out.

The everyday answer when you have citrus in the fruit bowl and no time to dry anything. Take the peel off in wide strips with a vegetable peeler so you get almost no pith.

Best for

braises and stews, poaching liquids, sweet soups, duck and pork

Noticeably fruitier and more perfumed and considerably less bitter, so a braise made with fresh peel tastes livelier and less earthy, which some cooks prefer. Add it at the start of a long braise so it has time to soften and give up its oils, and remove it before serving because it turns leathery. Scrub waxed supermarket fruit under hot water first.

The closest match to aged chen pi in character, because the bitterness is built in rather than something you have to work around.

Best for

Cantonese and Sichuan braises, beef stews, duck, spice blends

Only seasonally available fresh, usually midwinter, and easy to overdo: use slightly less than you would of sweet orange peel or the dish turns properly bitter. Marmalade oranges are the same fruit, so a jar of thick-cut Seville marmalade in the fridge is a related fallback for glazes.

Not an imitation so much as a reconstruction. Chen pi contributes warm aroma and gentle bitterness to a braise, and this pairing supplies both from ingredients most kitchens already have.

Best for

beef and pork braises, soy-braised dishes, master stock, duck

The star anise pushes the dish towards licorice, which is welcome in a soy braise and wrong in a sweet red bean soup, so use it only in savoury cooking. Remove the star anise after about 40 minutes if you do not want it to dominate.

In a heavily seasoned braise with soy, rock sugar, ginger and star anise, chen pi is a supporting note. Skipping it and grating a little fresh zest over the finished dish gives you citrus lift, if not the same depth.

Best for

soy braises, stir-fries, quick-cooked dishes, marinades

This does not work in dishes where the peel is named and central, such as chen pi red bean soup, chen pi steamed ribs or Sichuan orange beef, because the whole character of those dishes is the aged-peel bitterness. There, dry your own peel or buy dried orange peel instead.

It is worth saying plainly that candied peel is not a substitute for chen pi, because the two are often shelved near each other and the names look similar.

Best for

sweet soups only

Candying strips out the bitterness and loads the peel with sugar, so it sweetens the dish instead of balancing it and will make a savoury braise taste like a dessert. If it is genuinely all you have, use it only in a sweet soup, chop it small, rinse the syrup off and reduce the recipe's sugar accordingly.