yygall's table

Melbourne 2011

2011-12-05T23:10:00.000+11:00

The long overdue Melbourne visit - this trip somehow managed to be delayed and rescheduled three times, and blew out to double my original budget. Ah well, first true solo trip - momentous occasion and a minor triumph.

The trip started with lunch at Southgate, a new shopping and entertainment complex across the river from Flinders Street Station. It felt rather like venturing into Harbourside, but newer. With touchscreen tables for information stands. Fun.

Soup of the day at Blue Train Cafe - $12.80

Carbs. And fat. Just the sustenance I needed for an afternoon of walking around the city. Not that it ended up being that way - decided that the free City Circle trams would be a better idea.

Day 2 started wonderfully with breakfast at Cumulus Inc.

Menu

Lyonnaise sausage, pork hock, beans and sourdough toast, with 65/65 egg

Best breakfast of 2011, undoubtedly. After 5 years of Canberra quality, the price was a pleasant surprise. I'm just sorry for not trying the lemon curd madelines - it felt weird to order only one, when other tables were getting at least 3. Something for next time.

Next stop: the Sensory Lab at David Jones.

Hario siphon coffee.

Loved the single cubicles, didn't enjoy the coffee as much. It was good - don't get me wrong - but at $8 a pop it was a bit steep. Then again, I have been treated to the best coffee in Canberra almost every day for the past 2 years (3-cup for $5, a bargain compared to SL); and I'm much too used to their richer, less fruity blends and so the high acidity was something to get used to.

After coffee, it was time for cake. Having read about Lux Bites, a trip down to Toorak Road was in order. Any excuse for a tram ride.

And it didn't disappoint. Perfect salted caramel macaron atop a caramel chocolate slice. Delish. Service was warm, friendly and spot on, too. Delightful.

The best decision was to go with daily metcards. $7 for Zone 1 only (Monday - Saturday) and $3.20 for the Sunday Saver (Zones 1-2) saved so much unnecessary walking around. Also saved me from becoming drenched - it started pouring halfway through breakfast at Cumulus Inc and didn't really stop until I stepped out of Lux Bites.

Dinner was with a good friend at Shoya, a teppanyaki-ryotei-sushi restaurant opposite Hutong on Little Bourke Street.

It was delightful - the sashimi in ice bowls was definitely the stand out. Ultra fresh, with fantastic knife work, it comes a close second to Japan.

Saikyo miso cod - silky, sweet, packed with umami, perfectly balanced.

Sake was wonderful too - it was a try before you order affair (something I will get used to!). The glasses were also beautiful - I'm told they're traditional Satsuma kiriko cut glass from Japan.

Dessert - uni (sea urchin) cheesecake. Yes I did order it because it was "out there". It didn't look or taste of uni at all, just a pleasant egginess and creaminess which was pleasant with the slight savoury taste from the cheese.

Day 3 started at Auction Rooms. Quirky, bare brick walls, sugar in old soup tins, coffee was a joy and breakfast delightful.

French toast with vanilla custard and poached pears

Second stop was Queen Victoria Markets, which unfortunately didn't get as many photos because we were in a rush and well, I was lazy. Second coffee of the day from Market Lane - wonderful.

Third stop - early lunch at St Ali. Yes, J, I did make it! Thanks for the recommendation.

There was a small crowd outside the place, which didn't diminish at all while I was there. Eccentricity seemed to rule, the menu was filled with hilarious names. The salmon on quinoa salad was tangy, zingy and refreshing - really needed the greens after 2 days of fiberless meals.

Breakfast on day 4 was my last meal in Melbourne. Discovering Cafe Vue was about 5 blocks away from my hotel, there was really no excuse to not go and try it out.

Croque Monsieur came piping hot, it was crunchy, with the right amount of seeded mustard, melted cheese, and the best ham I had ever tasted for a long while.

4 days, 3 nights, definitely not enough time to try everything I wanted. Until next time, Melbourne!

I am back!

2011-12-05T21:36:00.000+11:00

After a year of blogging hiatus, I'm back!

It's been a long and hard year, juggling a demanding job and even more demanding year of classes. But now it's all over, just waiting for the final notice, one more trip back to pack the rest of my stuff and it will be goodbye, Canberra, and hello, holidays.

The next three months will be hectic but interesting. Hopefully it won't be too rushed or people packed. So far my solo plans have all fallen through, and now there are parties of people following my escapades. Not all unwelcome, but there are a few which are rather... annoying. (And J, if you're reading, you are definitely NOT on the annoying list!)

In any case, expect more regular posts, lots of complaints about becoming fat, and heaps of crappy photos of food that appears on my table. I have returned!

Hiatus no more

2011-12-02T12:54:00.000+11:00

School's out, work's over, I really have no excuse to not blog now.
Will soon be embarking on a long overdue holiday, and special foodie project with a good friend.
Not to mention the Melbourne weekend... expect a post in the next week.
In the meanwhile, check out my twitter: /yygall
See you soon!

Creatures of habit

2011-07-17T20:38:00.002+10:00

I am very much a creature of habit. Most of the time, rather than try out new places and new dishes, I will stick to regularly frequented spots ordering more or less the same things. Waqu was one of those establishments which I watched open and prosper, always wanting to venture in but never doing so.

Until last night.

One of the worst things about living alone is the going out part. Especially for food. Asking for a table for one serves as a constant reminder of singlehood and loneliness. Having someone to share the experience with becomes much appreciated.

Winter menu

Waqu introduced their winter menu earlier this week. After a mostly positive degustation experience at Quarter Twenty-One (which I am yet to write about), degustation has become the new favourite food "treat". Having a job also helps pay for it.

course 1. amuse: hoji tea infused duck & pork terrine
eggplant puree, rhubarb compote, wine vinegared beetroot, green-pea puree with puff pastry

Infused lightly with the scent of Japanese hoji tea, the duck and pork terrine offered interesting textural contrast. Between the tenderness of the meat and the crunch of nutty crumble, the rhubarb and beetroot cleansed the palate with a note of sharp acidity. The puff was delicious with the green-pea puree, but offered little against the terrine.

course 2. soup: roasted kabocha pumpkin soup
black lentil, truffle oil powder, cheddar cheese mash potato, pumpkin sheet

Pumpkin soup is one of my own signature dishes, and not something I would order at a restaurant. The pumpkin base was sweet, but didn't taste very roasted. Against the yellow of the soup, the black lentils offered a little visual play: a savoury dish looking like, well, passionfruit pulp. The mash was pillowy and creamy, I would have been very happy with it as a side by itself. The truffle oil offered a scent of truffle and "luxury", although I must admit, like with foie gras, I don't see what the fuss is about.

course 3. sashimi: hiramasa king fish sashimi
with cuttlefish ceviche, strawberry coulis, daikon radish mandarin vinaigrette

After tuna, kingfish is my favourite sashimi fish. This was ultra fresh, slightly oily on the palate; with the sauces it was exceptional. The cuttlefish was crunchy and bouncy, marinated to perfection. The daikon salad was brought to new heights with the light citrusy vinaigrette and thin slivers of shiso leaves.

course 4: entree
pan fried scallop
brushed squid ink sauce, squid ink cube, braised renkon root, parsley foam

The scallop scabbed from my dinner companion was cooked perfectly: seared and caramelised on the outside to a golden brown, soft and medium rare inside with just a blush of peach. The squid ink was not as strong as I anticipated, with just a hint of saltiness to balance the dish.

poached+fried spatchcock
coconut miso sauce, red curry croquette, herb bouquet

Juicy and soft, the poached spatchcock breast was well cooked and well presented. Against the crunch of fried panko, soft red curry innards and creamy coconut miso sauce, the textural and flavour interplay is why Japanses fusion remains my favourite kind of modern cuisine. Against the breast the fried spatchcock thigh was not as brilliant, but nonetheless still tasty and well executed.

course 5. main
ossobucco alla giapponese
savoy cabbage wrapped miso-braised veal shank, roasted portobello mushroom, baby carrot tempura

Visually stunning, the ossobucco didn't completely disappoint. The sides, though, were better than the protein itself, according to my dinner companion. Although the best part, she said, was certainly the marrow. Overall, the sides were delicious, but slightly underseasoned.

pan fried ocean trout
clam fennel sauce, tomato chutney, yuzu mousse, panko & garlic pate filo

Perfection. The fish tasted as lovely as the presentation. Crispy skin, slightly translucent and pink through the middle, it was balanced by the sweet and tangy sourness of the zucchini with tomato chutney and yuzu mousse. Against the clam and fennel sauce it felt a bit too heavy and salty. I was wishing for more mousse and more chutney until the very last bite.

course 6. dessert
gateau chocolat, semi-freddo, persimmon mousse, meringue sticks

I totally ate this in the wrong order. Delicious as all the elements were, going from chocolate cake to semifreddo to persimmon mousse was so not the way to go. Nonetheless, great execution, though the mousse was more icy than anticipated. The anglaise and citrus syrup provided a nice refreshment.

Service was largely attentive, but there will always be the one waitstaff who somehow gets onto nerves. Not only was the soup completely messy on the plate, it was slammed down onto the table. Rather than introducing the dish, she talked at us in this very antagonising way. Same happened with the sashimi dish - slammed down in front of me while I was trying to get my menu and camera out of the way (I now have a large greasy corner on my copy of the menu thanks to the "incredible" service). Fortunately the other waitstaff did make up for her mistakes; they were very attentive with water, and friendly explanations, without being too in-your-face.

Overall, it was certainly worth the $60 per person. I'm glad that I finally ventured into this restaurant I've always wanted to try. Will I venture alone, though? Probably not. This is definitely one to share with the special few only.

Waqu Modern Japanese dining

308 Pacific Highway, Crows Nest

Ph: (02) 9906 7736

Hiatus

2011-05-14T13:13:00.000+10:00

The food blogger in me has been forced to hibernate for the rest of the year. Expect a return in late 2011... it'll be bigger and hopefully better.

Beef it up

2011-02-24T22:23:00.000+11:00

It has been exactly three months since the photos in this post were taken. More than anything, I think it shows how much of a procrastinator I am.

Having had the summer break routine massively altered by my internship, instead of spending three months travelling around Hong Kong, Shanghai, Taiwan and Japan, I spent 10 days in Hong Kong and Taipei with my parents and the rest of the time behind a desk. It was great...financially. I was ready to quit after 10 days of reading case judgments word by word then endless guides and rulings. Until they finally got me a computer...but that's another story.

Back to the trip. And more importantly, the food.

We arrived in Taipei on the Friday of their Election Weekend. Yes, it deserves to be capitalised, because it was a massive election-all levels of government from their Parliament to their local lizhang, which takes care of the local "li", which is literally a collection of streets. Their campaigns, clearly, are very different to ours. Posters, flags, people bowing and giving you freebies like biscuits and tissues with flyers on the streets. Lots of loudspeakers blasting slogans and pre-recorded messages from the candidate. If you're lucky, you might even catch a glimpse of the candidate waving to the "crowds" from their "box". By the morning of Election Day, though, all of that had gone, and the city of Taipei plunged into a bit of an eerie, quiet state of nervous anticipation.

(And yes, Lian Shengwen was shot the night we arrived in Taipei. We actually went past the candidate's office about an hour before it happened.)

Apart from that, Taipei was still exactly the same. We've visited so many times we don't need maps to find our way around anymore. Though that could be attributed to our Taipei routine...

First stop: Yong Kang Street

Ah, the home of Din Tai Fung. It's not hard to find: just look for the street next to that famous XLB restaurant. As much as I love my XLB we gave it a miss this time, heading straight into the depths of Yong Kang Street for our other food favourites.

Entree: shallot pancakes

Yong Kang Street is a place we visit without fail on every Taipei trip. And this particular street stall gets my attention every time. But it wasn't until about a year ago when we finally tried their shallot pancakes, after about 10 years of nagging from me (goes to show how willing my Dad is when it comes to trying food he has no interest in). Fluffy, crisp, slightly chewy, and not in the slightest bit oily, they are almost roti-like in thinness of the layers but fragrant with young and finely chopped shallots.

Main: Yong Kang Beef Noodles

Taking a right turn at the shallot pancake stall, opposite the local primary school is the usual second stop where we get some awesome beef noodles. Taiwan is renowned for their beef noodles...and beef noodle obsession. Yong Kang Street has some of the best, and Yong Kang Beef Noodles is one of our favourite. Their beef noodles come in two "flavours": the clear style and the red braised style. Personally, I prefer the latter for its heartiness and richness, but the former is excellent also.

Before the noodles arrive, a trip to the side dishes trolley must be made. If the beef noodles is the moon, then the side dishes are most certainly the stars that complete the sky. The dried bean curd and bamboo shoots are definite must eats. And the eggplant... melt in your mouth, simply exquisite in texture, with a good kick of spice and heat from the chili and garlic.

The noodles come with large chunks of braised beef and tendons. The noodles are slightly chewy, with a whiff of fresh flour, flavoured with the full bodied beef soup. Both meat and tendons are awesomely tender, and completely soaked with flavour. Don't be stingy with the preserved vegetables that sits on each table: it is like that final dusting of icing sugar that just elevates the experience. It adds sweetness, tangyness and the texture of crunch. To cut the richness further, add a dash of vinegar.

Dessert: Taiwan-style "ice"

Ice Monster used to live opposite the shallot pancake stall, until the owners decided to get divorced. And man it turned messy. Now, the same address houses Yong Kang 15 (the store's address...literally) which sells basically the same menu as Ice Monster. On past occasions I have tried their strawberry ice and mango ice (much awesomeness), this time I went for the golden sweet potato and black sugar caramel jelly ice instead. The black sugar jelly was the best part: so hard it was bouncy, but just sweet enough to let the molasses taste shine through. The ice cream was a bit on the grainy side, but had an interesting texture that had chunks of real sweet potato. Not bad, but I'll stick to my strawberry and mango ice next time. If there is a next time...

Yong Kang Street, Da'an district, Taipei city 台北市大安區永康街

檢視較大的地圖

Yum Cha with a view

2010-10-22T12:40:00.000+11:00

Hong Kong, arguably, has some of the best food in the world. It has, I believe, the best yum cha in the world, too, but finding the ultimate yum cha restaurant is a task harder than first thought. What I have found, though, is probably one of the better ones, with prices similar to what is being paid in Sydney (at places like Kam Fook and Marigold), but with much, much higher standards. Not surprising, because yum cha is a popular breakfast, lunch and weekend brunch option, with at least 2 or more restaurants offering yum cha within the same shopping area--a lot of shopping centres, especially those along the MTR line, are interlinked. Competition is fierce, especially during non-peak periods (before 11am and after 2pm), and with frugal housewives and pensioners on the hunt for great deals, prices are kept low too, without too much sacrifice to quality. Come weekends, though, most families will look for quality--yum cha, in that sense, would be a family treat, and sometimes an opportunity to catch up with extended family and friends. With the economy on the rise, more and more people are now looking for higher quality, and willing to pay the premium for both food, service and ambience.

Cuisine Cuisine (國金軒), located at one of the most highly sought real estate in Hong Kong, the IFC at Central, meets this demand. With views of the Victoria Harbour, the chic interiors and smartly dressed waitstaff reflects the philosophy behind the food: traditional Cantonese food modified to suit the modern palate...and sometimes, the budget. Yum cha is no budget affair here: one of the regular dim sum offerings is abalone siu mai, where chunks of abalone is mixed in with the usual pork and shrimp filling, topped with a reconstituted, dried abalone the size of a fingernail. More regular fare is offered too, made to the same standard of excellence.

The seasonal menu

Once seated, tea is ordered and appetisers served. Also on the table are the chili oil and spicy soy, both house specialties. Dim sim is made to order, and a few moments is usually given before the waitstaff approaches again.

First to arrive is the steamed BBQ pork buns (叉燒包 Char siu bao). White, fluffy, and piping hot, each one is split into almost perfect halves. The buns are soft, light, and with just the right amount of chew, encasing a sweet-savoury filling of char siu that actually tastes of meat.

One of the modern reworkings of a yum cha classic is the steamed vegetarian rolls in tofu skins (蒸腐皮齋卷). Topped with a thickened shantang broth, it is light but packed with umami, the interplay of textures of the tofu skin, carrots, mushroom and shaved asparagus lettuce (萵筍) is a reflection of both skill and thought in this healthier version of the classic pan-fried vegetarian rolls that proliferate Sydney yum cha.

Mini char siu pineapple buns (迷你叉燒菠蘿包) is the fusion of the steamed BBQ bun with another Hong Kong favourite, the pineapple bun. The egg and sugar topping on the soft buns, cracked under the oven to resemble the exterior of a pineapple (hence the name) brings out not only the sweeetness of the char siu filling, but also the umami of the pork itself. It has become a favourite dim sim at yum cha, and the version at Cuisine Cuisine is one of the best in town.

Prawn dumplings (蝦餃 har gao) is a perennial favourite. Beneath the translucent skin lies a filling of fresh prawns and bamboo shoots, with the smallest amount of pork to bind it all together. The contrast of the chewy skin and the slight crunch of the filling is perfectly complemented with a small dab of the chili oil. A good prawn dumpling should have 18 pleats, the skin should not break when poked lightly with chopsticks, and offer a degree of resistance on chewing. This, I'd say, satisfies all three requirements.

Spring rolls (春捲) have been experiencing a renaissance in the dim sum world. Many newer restaurants now offer versions that are slender and long, rather than short and stumpy, with a filling of prawn paste that is, well, quite bouncy. Lightly fried, the skin is earthshatteringly crunchy and textural contrast with the prawn paste filling makes this one of the best reworkings I've tasted.

Siu mai (燒賣) is another yum cha classic. Hand minced pork and prawn is mixed in with chopped shiitake to make the filling, topped with roe before being steamed. Texturally, the filling is not as soft and dead as the ones made with machine minced meat, with small pockets of diced meat in the filling that actually lets you taste exactly what you are eating. As only the freshest meat is used, having not experienced the snap chill as Australian meat does, the pork and prawns exhibit extra umami from the freshness.

The stir-fried beef rice noodles with abalone sauce (鮑汁濕炒牛河) provides the carbs for the meal. I wouldn't say it is brilliant--the beef had too much bi-carb in the marinade (good quality beef shouldn't need any with a good chef). Nonetheless, it was still tasty, with the unconventional addition of compacted tofu skin which soaked up the abalone sauce.

Sure, similar, if not the same dishes can be found in Sydney for around the same price (25AUD per person). But the quality of food and service would be vastly different. And with the dollar nearing parity, it makes a lot of sense to save up for a trip to places like Hong Kong where the currency is pegged to the greenback, and splurge there instead.

Cuisine Cuisine

3101, Podium level 3,

IFC Mall, Hong Kong

Ph: +852 23933933

Bookings essential for yum cha.

Now this is crab

2010-09-17T12:05:00.000+10:00

If you ever need proof of me being a massive procrastinator, well, here it is now. This is a long overdue post from July.

Coming from a family of rather spontaneous travellers (say, for example, our first trip ever to Kanto region of Japan was planned within 2 weeks, accommodation and flights confirmed a week before departure), we made the decision to go on a cruise about 2 days after it was suggested by a family friend. A 7 day cruise on the Diamond Princess, up the Alaskan Inner Passage from Vancouver to Anchorage. Unfortunately, I was the only one against the plan (what 20-something year old would want to be stuck on a ship for 7 days?) but given the overwhelming majority, I was overruled.

But I'm glad I went. And all because of this one dish. Or should I say, bucket.

Real Jumbo Alaskan King Crab.

After half a day on an el cheapo local tour (our pre-booked helicopter glacier excursion was cancelled due to heavy fog), we found ourselves rather cold and hungry (Alaska summer temperatures = Sydney winter climate). The Hangar on the Wharf Pub was suggested as a good local hangout for a beer and pub food, so that was where we found ourselves. Hearty food, awesome burgers, great local beers, at reasonable prices.

Having had "crab legs" on the ship the night before, the Alaskan King crab legs on the menu at $65US for 4 legs (not including tips and taxes) seemed a bit too pricey. We were ready to grab the bill and go when we spotted another table being served the jumbo king crab legs.

The legs that were served on the ship the night before were tiny compared with the jumbo legs. That one leg had the same amount of meat I managed to scrape from my serving of about 2 dozen leg segments. The legs were so incredibly fresh, it didn't need much after being steamed.

With the legs were segments of fresh lemon, and, to our confusion, a tapas pot of melted butter. While the rest of the table went for the lemon (all being overly health conscious), I was the only one who went for the butter. Oh man, crab and butter ... it worked so well. The meat was actually quite delicate, so the acidity of the lemon juice actually was too harsh and didn't complement as well. The butter brought an extra dimension of richness and silkiness to the perfectly steamed meat, and heightened the sweetness and briny freshness of the crab even more. Mum had always said "whoever was the first to eat crab was a true food adventurer"; well, the consensus after the meal was "whoever came up with having crab with melted butter was a true food genius".

It was also the first time I had a dark beer. This is a local dark from the Alaskan Brewing Company, a rich, slightly bitter, nutty concoction that strangely had a Coke-ish aftertaste. It really cleansed the palate between each bite of crab, and brought out the nuttiness of the butter quite well.

To be honest, this was the best meal of the entire trip. Ship food was lackluster, other food on the land excursions weren't that memorable. As for the famed Alaskan salmon, it really is quite different to the salmon we get here in Australia. The King is a rich, fatty, delicately flavoured variety, and so probably better cold smoked, and the Sockeye much more robust and stronger in the salmon taste, and my preferred one for hot smoked. Unfortunately I forgot to take photos, but there really weren't any of the fresh fish at the time I visited, and not a lot of point taking photos of the pre-packed stuff.

Hopefully I'll be less of a procrastinator on my next trip, which is happening in less than 2 weeks!

The Hangar on the Wharf Pub
2 Marine Way #106
Juneau, Alaska
(907) 586 5018

Healthy desserts?

2010-09-02T21:27:00.000+10:00

It probably doesn't look like much, but this is one of the best winter dessert in my repertoire.

Sweet potato in brown sugar ginger tea.

Ginger, according to doctrines of Chinese medicine, warms up the body. Brown sugar helps with blood circulation, which in turn improves the flow of chi in the body. Sweet potato helps with reducing water retention in the body, and being high in fiber, helps also with digestion.

The ginger tea featured here is one I brought back from Taiwan. Sold in bags, it resembles nothing like the sugar we are familiar with in Australia.

Sold in 5cm blocks, this is basically enough to make 2 large mugs of sweet ginger tea. The perfect balance of sugar, the spiciness of ginger, with the aroma of dried dates and longan (both improve circulation and warm the body), the perfect winter drink.

With all the rich and fatty food we tend to consume in winter, and general colder weather, this is a delicious way to restore a balance of health.

Sweet potato in brown sugar ginger tea

Serves 2-3

1 small sweet potato, cut into bite sized chunks

4 heaped tablespoons brown sugar (adjust to taste)

1 knob of old ginger, sliced thinly

3 dried red dates or 2 dried black dates

4 dried longan

1 litre water

1. Wash the sweet potato thoroughly, scrub the skin with steel wool to ensure most of the surface dirt has been removed. Cut into bite sized chunks, then place into a pot with the cold water, and set to the boil.

2. After the sweet potatoes have come to the boil, add the sugar, ginger, dates and longan, and simmer until the sweet potatoes are soft (10-20 minutes). Serve immediately.

Notes:

1. Dried red dates, dried black dates, and dried longan should be available from all good Asian grocers. You should be able to find them at the Chinese or Korean ones.

2. Old ginger should be used for this recipe rather than young ginger. Look for large knobs, golden skin, with wide stripes on the skin. Adjust the amount of ginger to your preference by adding the ginger little by little, keeping in mind the more you cook the ginger, the spicier the tea will become.

3. If you can find Okinawa brown sugar (沖縄黒糖) for cooking (and not as candy), that can be used as well. Otherwise, normal brown sugar from CSR is ok.

Crackles!

2010-08-21T10:27:00.004+10:00

It's Election Day. Have you cast your vote yet?

If Crackles was a political party and running in this election, there would have been no doubt at all which party I'd vote for. (Ok, so that was lame...)

Last week, a tweet by Pat Nourse caught my eye. "Today's best reason to leave the house: crisp-skinned slow-cooked kurobuta pork belly rolls at the Crackles stand at the Rozelle markets." The tweet, apparently, has since gone viral, though the virality has nothing to do with my actually going for a roll myself. I trust Pat Nourse and his tastebuds. A man who recommends Sang Kee cannot be wrong about crisp-skinned slow-cooked kurobuta pork belly rolls.

And the fact that they were set up at my nearest polling station was an extra incentive.

So we wandered there at 9:15, hoping to be overwhelmed by the smell of roasting pork. Maybe it was the wind, maybe it was something else, but it was really hard to smell anything at that end of the market. So we wandered around looking for the polling place (turns out there was a last minute change and we had to walk 2 blocks down), cast our votes, and came back. 9:45. We were about to give up and head down a block and grab something from Zumbo, when I saw one of the boys in chef's whites pulling out a roll.

Cue yygall, rushing over with arms full of newspaper, for one pork roll.

Pork!!!!

And there was a barbecue full of that!!!

I watched in awe with saliva dripping down my shirt as the pork was cut, pulled, and de-fatted. A sprinkling of Murray River Salt (it was pink!) over the meat, then everything was piled on top of a fresh bread roll stuffed with salad. When the crackling was cut...HOMG. I swear my heart fluttered.

Roll!!!!

The bread roll was crusty and crunchy on the outside, but really soft inside. Salad was crisp with a fantastically tangy dressing. But the pork! The pork was juicy, tender, and meltingly soft. And the crackling earthshatteringly crisp and fragrant. I totally understand why Pat Nourse said it was "the best reason to leave the house". I would leave the house for that every day.

Best Election Day breakfast ever.

PS: I think we may have ran into our local Liberal candidate as we came out of the market stuffing our faces into the pork rolls. Who cares about politics when there's good food to be had?

Much thanks to Crackles for allowing the photos. And not charging for them. Hehe.

Crackles
Saturdays: Rozelle Markets
9am-4pm

Sundays: Frenchs Forest Organic Food Markets
8:30am-1pm

Pork/Lamb rolls $8
Plate of pork $10
(Prices as of 21 August 2010, subject to change without notice)

Comfort Food

2010-08-13T17:19:00.002+10:00

Congee.
As a child, I hated the bland, tasteless rice gruel that Mum made whenever I was sick. Gloopy, and always too hot, the thought of having congee alone made me determined to stay away from bugs as much as possible.
There is one type of congee I will never say no to, though. Sang Kee.
As a kid growing up, it was always a treat when we went out to Sang Kee for congee. Back then there was one tiny storefront, in the back streets of Sheung Wan in Hong Kong. This place was a favourite of my father, back when he was working in the vicinity in his early career in business. I'm not sure how often he went, but considering the current owner/proprietress still remembers him, I'd say it was pretty often.
A couple of years ago, they started expanding. First they merged with another nearby shop selling beef brisket in clear soup, and became Sang Kee Congee and Beef brisket noodle experts. Business was so good that they soon took over 2 more store fronts. Then it was the opening of the Kowloon branch near Yau Ma Tei station, and then a third store at North Point. I make an effort to go to Sang Kee at least once for the congee each time I go back to HK; a trip to HK is not complete without having a taste of my favourite congee.
For such humble beginnings, though, I can say they are world renowned. Regularly featured in guidebooks to Hong Kong (very prominently in Japanese one; and I recall seeing an entry in Lonely Planet also), Pat Nourse named it as one of the must-visit eateries of Hong Kong in the Gourmet Traveller. Chua Lam (avid Iron Chef viewers may recall that he is featured occasionally as a taster on the judging panel) is a regular visitor, and often writes about it in his magazine and newspaper columns. Speak to 10 Hong Kong gourmets, at least 9 of them will recommend it as a favourite, I reckon.
While they are famous for the fish bone, pork fry and fish ball congee, I've grown up with the beef congee, partly because I lack the patience and skill in eating segments of fish with large pieces of bone attached, and only just recently acquired a taste for fish balls in general. The beef is tender, packed with umami, and the congee scaldingly hot with the subtle sweetness of the pork bone, conpoy, bean curd and gingko seed soup base used to boil the aged jasmine rice coming through. The rice is cooked until it has almost completely disintegrated, forming a thick, soupy goodness that settles any stomach, and calms the mind.

The experience is not complete without a side order of fried dough sticks (you tiu). Soak a few pieces in the congee, the gaps become filled with the hot gruel, and becomes a fantastic vehicle of experiencing the ricey goodness, especially when sprinkled with a few drops of their special soy sauce.

Having been to both the Sheung Wan and Yau Ma Tei shopfronts, I still think it is best at its original location, the hole in the wall where it all started. The atmosphere is completely different: but that may be the memories talking. Taste wise, they are all the same. The head chef spends his day travelling to the three stores, to maintain their famed quality, so there should be no difference.

Sang Kee Congee and Noodles
Ground Floor, 9 Tung Fong Street (Opposite YMCA)
Yau Ma Tei
Yau Ma Tei MTR Station D exit

Mid-morning snacks and random ramblings

2010-07-23T12:38:00.006+10:00

When I got back to Australia last week, it was a nice surprise to find good quality fresh lotus roots available at the Asian grocer. I am a huge fan of lotus, from root, to leaf, to flower and seeds. It's one of the few plants that can be used from root to tip.

One of my favourite dishes is glutinous rice stuffed in lotus root, a Shanghai classic. It's simple enough, with only a handful of ingredients, but a great test of judgment, skill, and of patience. Before anything, the right root must be chosen. It can't be too long, or too short; there can't be splits or cracks in the body. The length of the root must be complete, with no holes at each end where the rice may fall through. The rice must first be washed carefully, drained and allowed to dry; the root cleaned and the skin scraped off carefully with a sharp knife. A small section of the top is cut off, and rice patiently filled into the holes of the root. Too much rice, the root may burst or it won't cook properly; too little, everything will collapse and spill out of the root once it is cooked and cooled The top is then reattached, fixed in place with toothpicks, and the entire thing is boiled in water for several hours, until everything is completely cooked. Once cooled to room temperature, it is sliced, and served with a sprinkling of osmanthus sugar.

The entire process takes several hours, and the end result unknown right up until serving. Needless to say, I have had my fair share of disasters with this dish, particularly as I prefer mine to be more packed with sticky rice goodness than some others, making it more prone to undercooked bits of rice still being present in an otherwise healthy and filling dish.

Despite the simplicity of the ingredients, though, I am yet to discover a place in Australia that serves it, despite the abundance of Chinese (specifically, Shanghainese) restaurants here. Served as a "cold dish" or entree at the start of a classic Shanghai banquet, it is a dish that can be found anywhere, from the most humble of homes to the classiest of restaurants in the Jiangsu area. Then again, the 8 styles of Chinese cuisine is poorly represented here, despite the abundance of restaurants...a somewhat disappointing fact despite the importance of food in Chinese culture. (The 8 styles of Chinese cooking...perhaps that calls for series of posts on each? An idea for another day.)

And yes, I went on a holiday. Expect a few posts about it in the near future.

new beginnings

2010-06-03T14:09:00.003+10:00

A change of name, on a whim. Actually, "just the way it is" was always a working name, until I could come up with something a bit more..."me".
Obviously the creativity department is lacking.
But I'm happy with it. At least now it's a bit more personal, recognisable, and hopefully memorable.

On my table right now is a big, warm cup of tea. At one stage, I was a big coffee drinker, when $2 cappucinos still existed and were within easy access. Now I can't have a cup of standard coffee without suffering strange effects that are not dissimilar to, say, Parkinsons. The full mental awareness but physical inability to stop limbs from shaking. And that weird, queasy feeling of heart palpitations and the sensation of near-collapse.

Naturally, tea becomes the answer.

Tea bags were never a favourite. It was always too weak, too messy (even the drawstrings), and lacked the oompf of the fragrance that should define a tea. When I moved into college, one of my first purchases was a teapot and cup set for one, an adorable bone china set. I cried when the saucer broke in the sink towards the end of my first year, consoling myself with a lovely Japanese tea tray and more bits and pieces of china on the subsequent trip to HK.

Now that exams are coming up, tea is featuring more and more prominently. It must be a loose-leaf. Preferably single origin, but I'm partial to good blends. I still remember the subtle differences between English Breakfast and Afternoon Ceylon blends from Harrods, a gift from an aunt on a trip from London. Earl Grey must be taken with lemon, never milk. The tea has since long gone, but the tins remain, and perfect for keeping the Dilmah loose leaf that come in vacuum packs.

One benefit of loose leaf tea is that the strength of each pot can be adjusted according to one's mood. An extra spoonful for strong. Half a spoon less for weak. The leaves are larger than that in tea bags, and in their unrestrained state are able to fully show off their perfume and flavour.

Perfect with a buttery shortbread cookie.

Exam season starts soon. Books are piling, and 24 hours no longer enough per day. Even the windowsill is now being used for book (and notes) storage, though I will clean up before the last minute cramming (and summarising and panicking) sets in. This window has been next to my desk for the past year and a half. Even though it faces a full west, and so gets unbelievably hot in summer, I am still grateful for a window that actually lets in light, a bit of a rarity in this college building I spend so much of my time imprisoned in.

A random time to say new beginnings, considering the end has not even come. But new beginnings is more an emotion, a feeling, a decision, rather than a mere milestone, is it not?

Adriano Zumbo 21st May, 2010

2010-05-27T22:53:00.004+10:00

Tiramisu: hazelnut sable, flourless chocolate biscuit, mascarpone creme legere, coffee brulee, baked hazelnut creme with a shot of coffee.

I must admit, tiramisu is one of my favourite desserts of all time.

There's something irresistable about the combination of smooth mascarpone and sabayon, the soft lady fingers soaked in rich espresso and liqueur, with a liberal dusting of shaved dark chocolate.

So simple.

Tiramisu was, for 3 years, my birthday cake of choice. In fact, I refused to let my family buy a cake for that day, insisting on making my own tiramisu. It was my annual therapy. The rhythm of whisking eggs and sugar and mascarpone, the anxiety in dipping lady fingers in coffee and hoping they won't break (inevitably cringing when they do, but that's easily fixed), and slipping that little extra bit of tipple for that extra bit of flavour...then some more.

A crowd pleaser, every time. Guaranteed.

Yet, despite its simplicity, it is still butchered and slaughtered by so many. I've lost count of the times I've ordered a tiramisu and was disappointed. Some were thick, others dry. Then there are those which contained no mascarpone--only stiffly whipped cream loaded with gelatin. The final blow came when a family friend dropped off her tiramisu: a sickly yellow concoction that was overly sweet and warm. Warm!

I guess that was the main reason I bought the tiramisu from Zumbo last week, instead of the mandarin and rose (macarons and rose-flavoured food stuffs...they deserve their own stories). That last tiramisu had pushed me over the edge. I needed to be reassured that tiramisus are generally done well. And who better than Adriano Zumbo, patissier extraordinaire?

On presentation, I was not disappointed. It was an adorable thing, with the chocolate circle and disc, perfectly tempered. The baked hazelnut cream was speckled with vanilla, a tad sweet for my taste, but wonderfully nutty. The espresso shot was surprising--one to be experienced, for sure. I admit, the sable was a bit difficult, resisting attack from my fork most of the time, but it was addictive. As was the chocolate biscuit. And the mascarpone.

This has to be one of the better desserts I have tasted from Adriano Zumbo (my favourite remains the dark chocolate Sacher--wonder if it'll be available over the Queen's Birthday weekend?). Like its predecessors, it was a tad too sweet for my taste (more to do with me, love sweets, but can't have them too sweet) but the elements worked wonderfully together. So much so I'm actually looking forward to trying a few more from the current collection this time.

More overwhelmingly, I want more tiramisu now. Perhaps a trip down to Bar Italia, for the best tiramisu gelato next time I'm in town?

MasterChef Challenges

2010-05-19T20:38:00.003+10:00

What does a busy uni student who just got back to her dorm room after attending (and catering) for a 150 person event on a cold Wednesday night do? Turn on Masterchef, join the Masterchef chat hosted by Chocolatesuze on http://www.lhcw.net/chocolatesuze, and take on a challenge posed by one of the chatters.

Cook a student meal for $4 in less than 10 minutes.

(Without resorting to mee goreng.)

The result?

Oyakodon.

Just to prove it was less than $4, here's a breakdown of the costs:

1 chicken thigh, $1.80

1/2 onion, around 50c

1 egg, 50c

Water, sugar, soy sauce, 50c (max).

If anyone is as pedantic as I am, the declaration was made at 8:06pm, I was back on the chat at 8:17pm (allow me a minute to travel to and from the computer to the kitchen!).

Oyakodon (serves 1)

1 chicken thigh, cut into bite sized pieces

1/2 onion (any variety), sliced

1 egg, lightly beaten

4 tbsp hot water

1 tbsp light soy

1 tbsp sugar

1/2 cup cooked rice (white, brown or combination of both)

In the smallest frypan or saucepan you can find, place the water, sugar and soy and boil over high heat. Slice the onion, and place in the sauce. Cut the chicken thigh into bite-sized pieces, and put it in the pan. Turn over the chicken after it 3 minutes (it should have cooked on one side), and allow to cook for 3 more minutes. In the meantime, heat up the cooked rice in a bowl. Beat up the egg lightly, and drizzle over the meat and sauce. Allow to cook for 30 secs to a minute. Serve the lot over rice. Feeds one hungry (and picky) uni student.

Secrets...just the way it is.

2010-05-17T21:04:00.009+10:00

Secrets.

Those little juicy bits of fact you just want to keep for yourself. Or are just too embarrassing or painful to share with others. Then there are those which seems to pass themselves off as fact and public knowledge, but no one could verify

or confirm their existence or accuracy.

Like private dining.

Sure, there are those which are pretty much open to all. Unlicenced restaurants. Paying for "friends" to cook you a meal in their "home". (I am not trying to cause offence, merely to say that friends are not really friends but acquaintencs and homes are not homes but also function, well, as something else.)

Then there are those we've heard then laughed.

Private dining, that works on much the same principles as calling on geishas in Kyoto. No fresh faces; you have to be a guest of a regular. And just

because you've been there once does not warrant you a welcome: you have make a reservation through the regular, or become a regular yourself. And even if you are a regular, you still need to book months in advance.

Then there's the food.

It's not your regular fare.

A note of warning: if you're adverse to the consumption of certain seafood products such as dried shark fin, abalone, etc, LOOK AWAY NOW.

Yes, you read right, shark fin and abalone. Dried sea cucumber and fish maw are also available. And that's only what the new regulars know about. Old regulars, well...

But, once you have been there, you will understand the obsession with shark fins and abalone. And snake, sea cucumbers, goose feet and all the "wacky" food in Cantonese banquets.

Needless to say, this private dinner was unlike any other. The food speaks for itself.

First course: Stir fried stomach with Chinese celery 唐芹炒肚尖

Only the thickest, fleshiest part of the stomach of a pig (called the "sharp" stomach) was used, each stomach has about only a square inch or two which can be used. The thickness works well in providing not only flavour, but also texture, resulting in a tender but bouncy, totally ungamey and refreshed by the crispness and fragrance of Chinese celery. Chinese celery has a more intense, concentrated flavour than normal celery, and works well in countering the wok's breath, a deep, smokey aroma that rounded off the whole dish. Even though I'm not normally a fan of offal, this was absolutely fantastic.

Course Two: Fresh local Hong Kong lobster in Salt and Pepper sauce 椒鹽本地龍蝦

I know, we rave on about how awesome Australian lobster is. And in most cases, I agree. But this totally changed my view. Hong Kong local lobster is much smaller than Aussie lobster, somewhere between a yabbie and a lobster in terms of size. The shell is removed, without cooking the lobster, and the tail meat used for stir-frying. It is not chopped into bite sized pieces--it does not need to be. This served a table of 14, with 2-3 pieces of lobster per person: that's right, this dish alone has the meat of around 30 lobsters. And the taste? The sweetest, tenderest lobster imaginable, with delicate strands of meat and absolutely no strain of bitterness at all. This is what lobster is all about.

Course Three: Shark Fin braised in Superior Broth 上湯火腿魚翅

It was thick, luxurious, full of umami awesomeness and collagen goodness. Unparalleled. Incomparable. Unforgettable.

The great thing about shark fin in a private dining context is that you get what you pay for. If they say they're giving you 1.25 kilos (dried), they're giving you 1.25 kg. Our table of 14 had 2 bowls of this decadence each.

Before you start asking why I haven't mentioned the customary red vinegar that seems to accompany all shark fin soups everywhere else, it's not there. Because properly braised shark fin needs no adornment. Apart from maybe just a couple of drops of the finest cognac you can find, to lift the fragrance to an even higher level of enjoyment. I was told that the former president of ATV HK was the one who started the practice.

Palate cleanser: Superior broth 極品上湯

After that collagen and umami packed experience, it's only understandable one would want to cleanse the palate. In this case, it is a bowl of the superior broth used to braise the shark fin. Packed with organic, free range fresh chicken, Kam Wah (or Jin Hua) Chinese ham (the best stuff, think Iberio Jamon), and a whole bunch of other secret ingredients, it is simmered for hours (if not days), and made without a grain of salt added. The result? The best damn chicken broth you have ever tasted.

Course Four: Steamed Brown Marbled Grouper 清蒸老虎斑

Unlike the generic Cantonese steamed fish you get at most Chinese restaurants, this grouper was steamed using the superior broth that was also the palate cleanser, so that the flavours of the shark fin carry through the meal. The grouper was steamed to perfection, a feat in itself and also a mark of the chef's skill, for the larger and thicker the fish, the harder it is to steam. It was moist, flakey, melt in your mouth and silky smooth. Even the skin, which I would normally discard, was absolutely delicious, the silkiest sheet of collagen goodness ever. I didn't even complain when served the fins for seconds. They were definitely the best part, with the cartilage steamed so perfectly it was melting with gelatinous collagen chopstickfuls.

Course Five: Braised Abalone and Goose feet 吉品鮑魚扣鵝掌

It was stunning. Rich, glossy brown gravy from the braising smothered the abalones (15 in total), on a bed of goose feet.

It's not clear in the photo, but each abalone was bigger than my palm. It was thick and meaty, with what the Chinese call a "sugar heart" (溏心), which is basically the equivalent in abalone terms to medium rareness in a well dry-aged good cut of steak. Pink in the centre, the aroma of the abalone in one's mouth was overpowering, but pleasantly so. Tender, yet chewy, rich but not greasy, each chew extracted more and more flavour from the bite. I didn't want to swallow it at all.

The goose feet may seem to be just a larger version of the familiar phoenix claws at yum cha, but it was definitely much more. The skin was cooked until it was gelatinous, but not melting, rough with the dimples but soft in each bite, and not a speck of fat in sight. A few strands of meat still on the bone provided a great contrast, the fibers injected with the awesome sauce, resulting in almost a tasting plate of abalone, three ways. The choi sum topped off the experience with freshness, sweet with just the right amount of bitterness to cut the richness of the dish.

Course Six: Fried Free-Range Young Chicken 炸子雞

Organic, free range chicken. Fresh, and never been in the freezer. Fried to perfection. The skin was crispy, the meat tender and moist, light on the salt after the umami packed courses that preceded it. Not an extra drop of oil was in sight. An absolute joy.

Course Seven: Fried Glutinous Rice 香炒糯米飯

This has to be one of the hardest dishes to prepare. One version, which I had on my previous visit well over ten years ago, was to start the cooking process with raw glutinous rice in the wok, adding ladleful after ladleful of stock to the rice as it was stir-fried. While this might sound like cooking risotto, it is much, much harder, as so many things can go wrong in the stir-frying process. Nine out of ten of my attempts ended in failure.

A decade (and some years) later, the fried rice is still great, but not as fantastic as before. Cooked rice is used, so that less oil is required in the cooking process, a healthier alternative. Chopped Chinese sausages, spring onion, specks of egg and prawn meat provide flavour and an interesting contrast of textures, a great source of carbs from a protein-loaded dinner.

Course Eight: Chinese lettuce in Superior broth with Chinese Ham 上湯火腿唐生菜

Chinese lettuce looks like something between a cross of cos and iceberg lettuce. It's small and long like a cos, but with the intense flavour of iceberg. Quickly cooked in boiling superior broth and topped with shaved Chinese ham. Refreshingly sweet, with just a hint of bitterness from the chlorophyll, and not too salty, it was a great finishing dish for the savoury courses.

Dessert: Red Bean Soup with Lotus seeds 蓮子紅豆沙

The Chinese for this dessert actually translate more closely as Red Bean sand: it is supposed to be a tad grainy on the palate, like a fine semolina, in a thick soup that coats the tongue. This was just that. Sweet, thick soup made from red beans that have completely disintegrated, with no bean shell at all to get stuck between teeth. The lotus seeds may seem to be whole, but one gentle push of the tongue broke it down completely, a powdery oversized pellet with a hint of bitterness that is unique and addictive. The host knew it would be so good, he had the good sense to order two pots instead of the usual one.

This was certainly not the usual Western perception of Chinese food to be just sweet and sour pork and lemon chicken. This was the real deal. A once in a lifetime experience, that could never be replicated at a Chinese restaurant for the same price, or even the same quality. Sure, my environmental concerns did come to mind when I heard about the shark fin and abalone, but considering that the owner inherited the dried goods, and has not made an order for new stock for at least five years, I would hate to see good food go to waste.

A note on the owners: this private dinner is owned and operated by a brother and sister pair, who inherited it from their father. Their grandfather was master to a famous Hong Kong chef, who has won accolades from all over the world. Their father learned his skill from the grandfather, and passed them on to his son, who is now the chef. His daughter heads the service, a most interesting person to talk to, with years of gossip and a great judge of character. She is also an avid photographer, the hobby has taken her to very interesting corners of the world. So not only the food was great, the company and service was also tops, something that simply cannot be repeated in a restaurant context.

Unforgettable, just the way it is.

Under New Management...?

2009-10-05T23:29:00.004+11:00

More often than it should, things like this happen: you head to a "reputable" restaurant, with moderate expectations, only to be disappointed by some (if you're lucky), most, or all aspects of the experience. Then you're faced with a dilemma: do I warn others about the potential dangers, or let them discover and decide for themselves?

For my twitter followers (there aren't that many, to be honest) you probably would've seen my tweets about my disappointment at a certain Chinese restaurant in Sydney CBD. I'll recount (in detail) what happened tonight, and decide for yourself whether my comments were fair or not.

We --a party of 5-- arrived at the restaurant shortly after 6pm, and were promptly seated at a table set up for 4, though numerous, if not all the tables set up for 6 were available. Once seated, we were given one set of 2 menus for the table, leaving 3 of us with basically nothing to do but inspect the cutlery and plates. All of them had water stains. All of them had some sort of food remains on them. One had fatty sauce stuck on half of the underside of the plate. The same for the bowls. A prompt and polite request for fresh (and clean) plates and other pieces of crockery was made, only to be met by an icy and somewhat annoyed response. Nonetheless, new plates (and plates only!) were delivered; however, on closer inspection they showed pretty much the same problems as the first batch, though on a smaller scale. Fearing retribution, we clean the plates ourselves, with tissues and hot tea.

Orders were taken (the response to each dish ordered was "sure, you can have that"), and the complimentary soup delivered. The waiter discovered that we had no spoons, went to fetch them, dropped them off and went away. Three other waiters and a manager passed us by, none of them noticing that the soup had not been served. We give up and do it ourselves.

Then the food. Roast Pipa duck was delivered with the stir-fried spinach (vegetable dishes are usually served last), as well as the rice. The duck had not been flattened and dried enough, and the spinach much too salty. And, yes, the rice was self-service. The third dish, a beef and mushroom stirfry on a hot plate, comes shortly after, a seemingly smaller portion to the one served to the neighbouring table. The meat had been so tenderised with bicarb, its appearance was the part that resembled beef. The fourth, braised sea cucumber with prawn roe in a hot pot, came when we had almost finished all the other dishes. The sea cucumber pieces were a bright orange instead of a mellow brown; the taste was, however, acceptable.

It took a good 15 minutes after clearing all the food on the table for the wait staff to realise we were done, and another 5 before they did anything about it. While for our neighbouring table dessert consisted of sweet soup, biscuits and a moderate-sized fruit platter for their party of 4, we were only presented with a small offering of sliced fruit (5 pieces each of orange, rockmelon and watermelon). Seeing that our chances of getting anything more than that were next to none, we call for the bill, met again by a sour and spiteful cashier who looked on with distain as the credit card was replaced by cash. No thanks, no smiles, only looks of spite and disgust as we walked out of the restaurant.

Sure, it wasn't a expensive meal, the bill coming to less than $30 per person. But for the restaurant's former reputation, location, and target market, paying $30 per head is, in my opinion, too much. Apart from the delivery of food, all other requests were met with disgruntledness and distain. It was as though we were not guests at their restaurant, but unwelcomed gatecrashers who were squandering their food. Not to mention the hygiene--or lack thereof. Beneath its seemingly shiny exterior is a restaurant which is crumbling, from its bathrooms to its management. Considering last time they tried to charge me tea and rice even though I showed up at the restaurant after the bill had been called, I'm more convinced than ever to avoid that place like the plague from now on.

So, dear reader, having heard my tale, would you prefer to be warned, or to discover the disaster for yourself?

quick meals

2009-08-22T12:27:00.008+10:00

There is always a batch of wontons in my freezer. Always.

While most of my friends stock up on Mee Goreng or Nissin noodles when they're on special, chances are I'd be sitting at my desk endlessly wrapping wontons, freezing them one tray at a time.

Why?

I don't know.

Growing up in a family that ate predominantly Shanghainese food even though we lived in Hong Kong, the difference between Chinese cuisine styles have occasionally stumped my 2-and-a-half year old self. Like why are the wonton wrappers we use white instead of yellow? Why do we not put prawn mince in the filling? And why do we have veges in the filling? And why are wonton wrappers square while dumpling (jiao zi) wrappers are round?

Why? Why? Why?

...and that's how my nickname, yygall, came into existence.

And also signified how much interest I had in food since a young age.

I remember on one occasion insisting on stir-frying my own fried rice, while mum held me in her arms. And on another cool spring day watching mum wrap wontons at amazing speed. I tried to learn, but honestly can't remember how mine turned out. It probably wasn't until age 7 or so that I could finally do it and the resulting wontons (at least, cooked ones) were indistinguishable from Mum's. To this day our uncooked wontons still look different: most of the time hers would have 2 or 3 dimples, while mine would have 1 or 2. But I've gotten much better at making the filling: one taste, and the difference is there.

Celery, carrot, waterchestnut, shiitake mushroom and pork wontons

Wonton fillings are various, and occasionally unexpected. In Shanghai, a lot of "fast food" stores would have a small collection of fillings, from the 三鮮(San Xian, with pork, dried freshwater prawn or kai yang and preserved vegetable; another popular combination is freshwater fish, prawn and pork mince) to various 菜肉 (vegetable and meat) combinations, depending on what's in season. Most vegetables can be used in the filling, though traditionally leafy greens that aren't bitter, are fresh and fragrant are preferred.

One of my favourites is 薺菜肉餛飩. Shepard's purse is quite popular in Shanghai-style home cooking, for its fragrance and texture. Only the youngest of shoots are used, though; and it's almost never served to pregnant or breastfeeding women, or those with heart disorders (Chinese medicine principles). Another favourite is water celery and pork: water celery is like a smaller, condensed version of normal supermarket variety celery, with most stalks not longer than 30cm and as thick as a pencil. It's refreshing, light, crunchy and oh-so-fragrant; something I can eat every day and not get sick of. Ever.

But, having not yet found water celery yet, this combination of water chestnuts and celery is almost as good. It's crunchy, refreshing, colourful, and fragrant; the combination of flavours and aromas from the pork and shiitake is almost perfect. And the carrot...it does little in terms of taste and texture, but adds that extra little something visually: after all, we eat with the eyes as well as with our sense of taste and smell.

Why have instant noodles, when you can have this instead?

Celery and Pork Wontons
Makes 80
2 packets of Double Merino Shanghai Wonton wrappers
500g pork mince
1 egg
1/4 celery, finely chopped
10-12 water chestnuts*, smashed then chopped
1/3 carrot, finely diced
4 medium-sized dried shiitake mushrooms, soaked overnight, finely diced

1 Tbsp Shaoxing cooking wine
2 tspn salt
large pinch of finely ground white pepper
2 tspn sugar
1 Tbsp water
1 Tbsp sesame oil

*Frozen water chestnuts are available in the freezer section of some, if not most Asian groceries. They're white, round, almost pebble like in appearance. To thaw, just pop a few in a freezer bag, tie it up, then submerge in a bowl of cold water - this prevents them from being overly waterlogged. Pare off any of the skin that may be on (it's dark brown and woody and inedible), smash with the back of a knife (preferably a cleaver of sorts), then roughly chop.

In a large mixing bowl, place the pork mince, cooking wine, salt, pepper, sugar, and mix through. Beat in the egg and water, mix vigorously until the mince is reminiscent of a sticky dough. Add the sesame oil and mix through til well dispersed. Add the chopped vegetables and mix thoroughly.
For more even distribution of filling, divide the mix into 16 lots (halve the mix 4 times), each lot should have enough filling for 5 wontons.
To wrap, the easiest way is to fold diagonally, then press the 2 corners on the hypotenuse (longest side) together in the middle.
To cook, place the wontons in a large pot of boiling water (no more than 20 at a time), stirring gently but constantly during the first few minutes on medium to high heat. Once it returns to the boil, add 1/2 cup of cold tap water for every 10 wontons. Once it comes to boil again, turn off the heat and serve immediately.
The traditional base for wontons is pork bone soup, but it chicken soup, or even watered down soy sauce with a smidgeon of sesame oil can be used. No dipping sauce required.

がむしゃら

2009-08-20T12:29:00.000+10:00

Chronic Ramen.

Two simple words that, somehow, managed to nag me endlessly for weeks, ever since I came across the first blog post on Gamushara (or, phonetically, Gumshara). The thought of thick, tonkotsu (pork bone) stock, chashu and ramen haunted my mind ever since.

To me, anything with yellow noodles is a reminder of Dad. My father is a big noodle lover. A gourmet in his own right. Most of my earliest memories involve food, all thanks to him. On one occasion during my grandfather's visit to HK, he drove his Mercedes to this Dai Pai Dong (HK street vendor) for beef noodles after dinner one night. Just him, and his father-in-law. It was so good, my grandfather talked about it to no end, claiming that the beef noodles he had in HK was "the best in the universe". Nothing else compared, according to Grandad. And it irked me to no end that Dad never once thought of taking me there fo a bowl of beef noodles. It was a grudge I held until last year. And man were they good.

Noodles, to be more precise, ramen, formed one of the two reasons for him visiting Japan (the other being onsen, but that's somewhat a different story). Last year it happened twice: once in January, and the second time in December. Both times I was assigned the task of planning the itiniery (he had bought airfares+accommodation, not tour group, because "my daughter speaks Japanese"), and his only request was for ramen. So instead of going to Tsukiji for sushi and sashimi, we loitered around Shibuya and Shinjuku looking for obscure noodle stands. It irked my mum and aunt so much they decided to take matters into their own hands and went to a kaiten sushi for our last meal in Tokyo, leaving Dad and I to enjoy steaming bowls of ramen with only a plastic sheet between our backs and the hurling winter winds outside.

But the best ramen we've had so far was in Osaka, at a place called Kiou Ramen (亀王らーめん). The 黑肉一本面 had a big piece of Kuroniku, their special boneless pork rib chunk which rested on a steaming bowl of noodles, with the usual sides in a white, thick tonkotsu stock. It was so good we were there for two nights in a row. Had the kid from the other family we were travelling with not gotten ill from indigestion (he ate 2 bowls of ramen the previous night), we probably would've made it three.

So, when Gamushara began appearing on blog posts everywhere (well, almost), I wanted to check it out for myself. See what the fuss was about. And if it lived up to the amazing ramen I've had over the years.

Condiments (self-serve, from left to right): roasted sesame seeds, pickled garlic, pickled ginger.

It was Sunday, and way past lunchtime, so the food court was relatively empty. I spotted the stall at once upon entering the food court: all I could see was the back of a man slaving over a pot of stock, who, upon seeing me with eyes at the back of his head or something, turned around and greeted me with a smile. Orders were promptly taken, and about 5 minutes later the bell was rung.

"If the soup is too thick, just bring it back and I'll thin it down for you."

Tonkotsu Ramen ($8.50) with half-cooked egg ($1.50)

I look down on the tray, and can't help but smile. The stock would be the least of my problems: it was just what I wanted. Thick, collagen-rich, it slid over my tongue and lingered on my tastebuds like velvet. It was almost as good as what I had tasted in Japan, or anywhere, for that matter. The chashu was much leaner than a lot of the chashu elsewhere-it had more meat and less fat, which was the way I liked it. And this was before I tasted the noodles.

Oh, the noodles.

The thick tonkotsu stock clung to each strand, like a child refusing to let go of their parents on the first day of school. It carried the richness and flavour of the stock perfectly; and I was done with half the bowl before realising that the condiments remained untouched on the side. Hastily they were added, and what resulted was a nuttier, richer, with the hint and bite of ginger and garlic which merely elevated the experience. Stares came from the neighbouring table, wondering why this silly little girl sitting on her own with three humungous bags was grinning like an idiot while eating her bowl of noodles.

Ramen...no more.

Somehow, I managed to finish the entire bowl. It was only then that I started to feel guilty, remembering all the tales of unfinished ramen and realising my expanding appetite...and gluttony. That I had a special occasion dress to fit into at the end of the week. That I was supposed to be on a "diet" of sorts. That thick, collagen-filled bowls of ramen was definitely NOT diet food.

But the heck with diets. Dad would approve, though he may want a thinner soup. Which means it was worth every single mouthful. And every cent of the $10 I paid.

Gamushara (Gumshara) Ramen

25-29 Dixon Street,

Haymarket

Closed Mondays

Food Court is open 10am-10pm, 7 days.

2009-07-30T19:01:00.000+10:00

It's not often I don't cook a meal. Be it frozen wontons, reheating curry, or even if it's just some sort of really quick and filling soup thing, something would be done in the kitchen before a meal.
Not today.
It was 6:30. I was hungry. There's nothing in the fridge, coz I haven't had time to buy groceries. I wanted something spicy. And meaty. And realised there was a restaurant downstairs that did takeaway.
It's a "new" Chinese restaurant that opened at the beginning of the year, specialising in Szechuan food. And there was a 10% discount for takeaway.
Pretty good deal? Read on.
I ordered a Szechuan spicy chicken. It's basically chicken with a Szechuan pepper and chilli vinaigrette. Very spicy. Salad like cold. I forgot about that last fact when I ordered, but that's ok, coz as long as it's good, I'll be happy.
Obviously, it wasn't.
There wasn't much wrong with the sauce. It was just...lackluster. But the big disappointment was the chicken.
The pieces--all pieces--were on the bone. There's nothing wrong with chicken served on the bone, as long as there's some good meat in each piece.
In my case, it was just bone. OK, maybe it did have some meat. But the meat was less than a third of the piece. Yup, 2/3 bone. Every piece. Fail #1.
But I paid good money - VERY good money (say, half a week of grocery money) for it. Waste not, right? You'd want to eat as much as you can so you get your money's worth, right?
Try eating a piece of chicken on the bone with the bone disintegrating in your mouth. Yeah, I'm not kidding: the bone crumbled. A small poke made the bone crack and break into at least 6 pieces. To the extent it was almost impossible to separate the meat from the bone. Fail #2.
Then there's the skin. It was supposed to be slightly gelatinous. It wasn't. I felt--and saw--the remnants of feathers still stuck on. Actually, there was a full feather still attached. Fail #3.
And to top things off, this cold dish was more than cold: a piece of chicken was actually still frozen. Fail #4.
4 fails. Bin time. A twinge of pain stung my heart as I disposed of the box and its contents, but there was no way I'd finish that. Not tonight, not ever. And I sure won't be getting anything from there again.

Small luxuries

2009-07-25T19:08:00.001+10:00

Conpoy fried rice

Fried rice has got to be one of the easiest comfort food made with nothing more than leftovers and whatever happens to be in the pantry and fridge. Usually that'd be stuff like ham, carrots, peas, and pineapple... not quite what I wanted. Luckily, mother left me a small (but sufficient!) supply of conpoy, or dried scallops, proving once again: mothers really do know best.

The price of conpoy has soared significantly over the past few years. Not that it was ever cheap, of course; but it's not the kind of thing you'll need heaps of in any dish, anyway.

Fried rice is usually the last pre-dessert course in a multi-course Cantonese banquet, and conpoy fried rice is probably towards the high-end of middle-of-the-field. But the problem with restaurant versions of this dish is that they skimp on the conpoy. Massively. Which is definitely not the case when it's homemade.

Mmmmm.....conpoy.....

The massive conpoy chunks made for a great ol' load of umami goodness in the fried rice. Delicious was an understatement. The grains of rice popped, having soaked up the umami-filled conpoy soaking water, coated by a thin layer of egg white and accompanied by the chewy chunks of conpoy. A handful of finely chopped spring onion and a smidgeon of minced ginger rounded off the dish satisfactorily.

Rice-ripened persimmon

Dessert was a simple affair: a "water" ripe persimmon, served chilled. The first time I ate a full persimmon was 2 years ago, during a stay at an onsen-ryokan in Hakone. I'll never forget the taste: it was soft, sweet, and juicy, intermingled with jelly-like bits. It was mindblowing. And unbelievable.
And to this day, it is the only time I will eat persimmon. When they're overripe, bursting with watery goodness, and chilled beforehand.
It's quite hard to get this sort of persimmon on the market anywhere. In Hong Kong, the markets will occasionally have a few, wrapped up carefully in layers of fruit netting and styrofoam trays and glad wrap, to prevent any mishaps that could result in a burst--and thus non-merchantable--fruit. Here, though, I've only seen them available for sale as cheap, almost-past-use-by-date at discount prices. If that's not available, there's always the option of burying them in rice, until they resemble water balloons. Literally.

Conpoy Fried Rice (Serves 1)
1 dried scallop, soaked and steamed for 5 minutes
1 stalk of green onion, finely chopped
1/8 teaspoon minced ginger
2 teaspoons oil
2 egg whites, beaten
splash of shaoxing wine
salt, to taste
1/2 cup rice (preferably from the night before)

To prepare the compoy: in a small bowl, cover the dried scallop with boiling water and allow to soak until it has rehydrated and turns an opaque off-white. Steam the compoy for 5 minutes, or nuke in the microwave for 5 minutes, covered, with the water. Separate into strands, and remove any sinewy bits.

Heat the oil in a wok. Lightly fry off the ginger and green onion to release the fragrance. Add the rice, compoy, and a small amount of the soaking liquid. Toss until the liquid has evaporated, and the rice grains are no longer in clumps.
Beat the egg white lightly with a splash of shaoxing wine and a pinch of salt. Add the whites to the wok, tossing quickly to ensure the rice grains are covered by a thin coating of egg white. Season to taste. Serve immediately.

school dinnahz~

2009-07-19T18:26:00.001+10:00

kimchi fried rice, cucumber and tomato salad with miso dressing, miso soup with tomato.

...well, not quite.

I'm back to living in a concrete box fitted only with one microwave, a gas stove with 2 burners (hardly enough) and very limited benchspace. Did I mention that the kitchen sink is literally just a single metallic depression with no plug for the drain? Yeah, it sucks.

But that's not quite enough to stop me from cooking altogether. There are always ways to work around these obstacles, like better meal planning and mise-en-scene (so no Julie from Masterchef-esque messes!). It does take a bit of adjustment, after 3 weeks of cooking in a kitchen with 5 burners, massive bench space and almost every kitchen utensil and ingredient I want at my fingertips.

It's not so bad. At least there's the freedom to cook (almost) anything I want, as long as it doesn't involve an oven. Or two large saucepans/pans/woks going at the same time.

I had leftover wonton fillings left from last night (which involved making 80 wontons, which are now frozen for those days I just can't be bothered to cook a proper meal) which had to be used in tonight's dinner or else it'd go bad. And letting food go bad is just not something I can allow. Making fried rice is just one way of using it up: other methods include steaming, making meatballs, or stir-fried with thin vermicelli noodles.

Kimchi fried rice

Serves 2

1 garlic clove, minced

A handful of kimchi, chopped roughly

2-3 tbsp leftover wonton filling

1 cup rice

1/2 tbsp vegetable oil

salt, to taste

dash of apple cider vinegar (optional)

sesame oil (not!optional)

sugar, to taste (optional)

Heat vegetable oil in a wok or frypan, then fry off garlic until the aromas are released. Add the leftover filling and saute until just cooked, then add the kimchi and saute. Add rice, and continue to stir-fry until all ingredients are well incorporated. Season with salt, vinegar, sesame oil and sugar to taste. Serve piping hot to hungry souls.

zumbo time!

2009-07-15T17:08:00.000+10:00

The name Adriano Zumbo meant nothing to me until early this year, when my venture into the realm of food blogging brought page after page of photos and reviews of his "divinely" dessert creations. Talks of cakes, chocolate and macarons made me drool like a fool during my lonely himono onna* net surfing hours, and the Zumbo name refused to go away.

*himono onna: from the J-Drama Hotaru no Hikari, the term refers to young women who prefer to laze around at home, surfing the net, watching TV and reading manga than to go out with friends during their free time.

Cake Box, Adriano Zumbo

Nestled between a bottleshop and a chemist, the actual Zumbo patisserie is a narrow and long space, with just enough room for a shop assistant (or two), the cakes and a handful of customers at any one time: three is, at Zumbo's, definitely a crowd.

While pastries, croissants and bread feature, the cakes definitely steal the spotlight. Each one is an edible piece of artwork, seemingly careless yet deliberate in its execution, a simple, yet provocative both visually and in terms of taste. No sloppiness, no nonsense.

Sacher's sister Blanca

Like the blondie to the brownie, Blanca is the white chocolate and pear reinterpretation of the classic Viennese Sachertorte. The top layer of white chocolate ganache is creamy and vanilla-y, and unbelievably smooth. The sacher cake provides a lovely background for the white chocolate and pear notes, but to me the dark chocolate ganache is a stroke of genius. Where the other flavours are lovely and light, this packs a punch, providing the perfect contrast.

Upside down Cloud

I've been wanting to try out the Upside down Cloud ever since seeing the collection. A rework of the Zumbo classic, it is essentially a baked meringue pavlova with lemon curd, topped with devine sable dust. The lemon curd is what a lemon curd should be: smooth, rich, and very, very lemony. The meringue crust is crisp and melts in your mouth, the centre soft and slightly chewy. The sable dust rounds off the entire experience, with its buttery scent and grainy texture.

Miss Marple, deconstructed.

This is a dessert from the cafe menu. Maple and mascarpone filled crepes in orange butter, with strawberries and frozen orange jellies. While the crepes didn't have the "wow" factor I expected (it was too gooey and rich), the frozen orange jellies were surprisingly good. It was like eating shaved orange ice which slowly turned into a jelly as it melted in your mouth, before exploding and washing your tastebuds with freshly squeezed real orange juice.

While Zumbo is a little expensive (the cakes were around $7 each, and Miss Marple almost $14), they are worth their price. The quality of ingredients and the genius of the creations are unparalleled, each like a refreshing Murakami novel- the familiar is made unfamiliar through imagination, style, and execution. It is best shared with someone close to your heart: each cake is an experience that can, in itself, carry a full conversation, as well as being quite filling.

Pho

2009-07-09T14:50:00.000+10:00

There's something comforting about a bowl of pho.

Thin slices of raw beef floating on top of rice noodles, topped with shallots and thin slices of onion in a rich beef stock... so simple, yet so utterly delicious.

That's when the fun begins.
Cooked or raw bean sprouts? Basil? Chili? Lemon? Each person has their own preferences, and the bowl of pho becomes more than just beef rice noodles. It becomes a reflection of the person who is eating it.
The purist would slurp it all down as is; the indecisive adding this and that every now and then. Then there are those who know exactly what they want, and others who like to experiment... and so emerges the endless possibilities of how pho tastes.
But, the core of it all remains constant, always the same: rice noodles, slices of beef, onion and shallots, in a full-bodied beef broth.
So, how do you like your pho?

Gyoza! Gyoza! Read all about it!

2009-06-19T18:24:00.000+10:00

It started a couple of days ago. I was depressed for various reasons, and when I'm depressed, I get food cravings. The cravings were so massive I had dreams about it for two nights straight. (And another one involving a rather cute doctor and a large black grizzly being injured then left on the side of the road, but that's a story for another time/blog.) This time it wasn't chocolate or peanut butter, but dumplings. The pan-steam-fried potstickers or gyoza bursting with pork juice and loaded with veges.

But life being life, there was no time to go out and gather up ingredients. As for the pre-made frozen type... there's no way I'd buy that out of my own volition, when dumpling and wonton making is like a culinary reflex.

Then yesterday, I got a question about gyozas. A recipe for gyoza fillings, actually. I was stumped, for a moment.

While I can name the ingredients in a filling, I couldn't do the same for the actual quantities. It's always been just meat (minced from the store or hand minced), then a slurp of cooking wine, sprinkle of salt, sugar, and pepper, an egg (or two, if it's a big batch), water, and sesame oil. It was the same for the vegetables: my mother never told me exactly how much was needed, it was always this much meat=that much vegetables chopped up. There was no recipe. And it turned out perfect every time.

Gyoza with Pork and Cabbage Filling

Makes about 40

200g pork mince

1/6 small cabbage, finely shredded

40 dumpling/gyoza skins, approx 8-9cm in diameter

1 egg

1 tablespoon Shaoxing cooking wine

2 teaspoons sugar

1 teaspoon salt

large pinch of pepper

4-5 tablespoons chicken stock/water

2 teaspoon sesame oil

2 tablespoon cooking oil

1. In a large bowl (preferably deep rather than overly wide), mix the pork mince, cooking wine, sugar, salt and pepper well.

2. Make a small well in the middle of the mince, and place the egg in the well. Beat slightly before mixing it into the pork mince, until well incorporated. Continue stirring the mince in one direction, until the mix feels slightly "elastic" and offers slight resistance when pushed with a wooden spoon/chopsticks.

3. Add stock or water to the mince, 1 tablespoon at a time, mixing until the liquid has been completely incorporated into the mince before adding the next. Once all the stock or water has been added, mix in the sesame oil. It should look similar to the second picture above.

4. Add the shredded cabbage. The cabbage should not be too long (no more than 5cm in length), and very finely shredded (no more than 2mm wide). Mix through the mince well, until evenly distributed.

5. To wrap the dumplings (this is by no means definitive; merely what I believe works the best.)

Place the wrapper in your hand, so that the small well between your fingers and palms is covered by the centre of the wrapper. Put a heaped teaspoon of filling slightly off the middle, towards the bottom.

Fold the bottom over to the top, place your thumb and second finger to secure only the middle of the arc by a fingertip.

With your other hand, make a small fold about a quarter of the way on the arc of the semicircle.

Follow the natural fold to "pleat" by pushing the skin down.

And it should end up like this:

Then repeat on the other side. The dumplings should sit on its own quite well.

6. For potstickers, heat some cooking oil in a pan until almost smoking hot. Place the dumplings in the pan as it sits naturally. Allow it to pan-fry until the bottoms are crispy and golden, then add 1/2 to 1 cup of water (depending on the size of the pan and number of dumplings) over the dumplings and cover. Cook over medium to high heat until all the water has evaporated, and bottoms are well crisped. Serve immediately with vinegar and chili oil dipping sauce, if preferred.

By all means, these babies can be steamed or boiled.

Never-ending Tim Tams

2009-06-18T18:58:00.001+10:00

No Tim Tams... =(

Yes! Tim Tams! =D

That's right, the Tim Tam Genie came and did his thing... and now I have a never-ending supply of Classic Dark Tim Tams. XD

... so I wish.

Don't get me wrong; I love my Valhrona and Callebaut and Godiva and Leonidas, I can't afford to have that everyday. But Tim Tams (at least the Dark Choc one) is rather edible and quite moreish at times, which is why it's my choc and sugar fix of choice. Though, nothing will beat the chocolate cremeaux in that Adriano Zumbo's Millefeuille. Now that was amazing. *drools*

I wonder what Zumbo's version of the Tim Tam would be like. I'm imagining a rectangular chocolate macaron with some crazy fantastic filling, then dipped in Valhrona dark chocolate, maybe?

lazy meals

2009-06-15T13:00:00.000+10:00

Being a student isn't always fun. Being a student whose mind is not on books, but on what the next meal is, can be even less fun. But at least it can be yum.

It's that time of the semester again, and exams are upon most of us. Well, those of us unfortunate enough to have to worry about them. Hours of studying, gazing out the window, getting up for a drink (or two) then realising that there's no way you can stuff all three thousand pages of ...stuff... in your head in 24 hours. Then you realise you're hungry but can't be bothered to cook much and lo, behold, the kitchen is empty but for leftovers from God knows when, bacon, eggs, and rice. There's also passata, Worcestershire sauce, all sorts of soy sauce...but no BBQ sauce.

Oh. Right. That was--or should I say, is-- me. Haha.

But bacon. Eggs. Rice. And sauces.

Bacon and egg donburi.

Donburi, traditionally, is some sort of meat and other ingredients simmered together and served over rice. Gyudon, oyadon and katsudon are classic examples. Other times it can be just rice with toppings, with sauce or other condiments: think tendon, tekkadon, negitorodon, etc. So bacon and eggs over rice in a bowl with spicy tomato sauce can probably be classified as a donburi?

Just the way it is

2009-06-14T20:29:00.000+10:00

For as long as I remember, I've always lived for the next tasty mouthful.
It can be something as luxurious as slow-braised abalone, or as simple as a properly made wonton in pork bone soup. Good food soothes my spirit, just as good books soothe my soul.
One of my earliest memories is playing in the kitchen, at the ripe old age of 2, with the pots and pans while my mother was making a meal of sorts. Not that I didn't have a kitchen playset of my own--I did--but why play with pretend ones when the real ones were available and within easy reach?
This is where I'll post my food-related adventures, in the kitchen, and out of it. And whatever happens, I'll write about it--just the way it is.