delectation

IMBB 7

Redbeard of Life in Flow hosts the 7th edition of IMBB with a lil' Dumpling theme:

Dumpling. A term of endearment. A catch-all name for any european mash of starches rolled into a ball. Or perhaps some noodle filled with tasty meat. Or the english name for any asian dish consisting of a wonton-like wrapper stuffed with damn near anything and pan fried. Or steamed. Or deep fried. Or baked. Or a dough wrapped around fruit, baked, and served as dessert. Perhaps in a pudding, even!

Date's set for 22 August 2004. I'm supposed to be in SoCal with the family, but we'll see what I'll be able to do... I also wonder how many folks will be submitting Dim Sum related entries...

Chateubriand & Buttermilk Mashed Potatoes with Caramelised Shallots

This is a really quick and easy dish to prepare for a fast weeknight dinner. Are you feeling carnivorously ravenous?

Chateubriand
I started with a 1.14 lb. Niman Ranch cut of beef. Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Rub the meat with kosher salt, freshly ground pepper and olive oil. I placed the beef into my trusty Dutch oven and inserted a meat thermometer. I wanted it medium rare and stopped cooking it when the thermometer registered 125 degrees.

Buttermilk Mashed Potatoes with Caramelised Shallots
Around 7 medium yukon gold potatoes
2 largish shallots, sliced thinly
1 T butter
1/2- 2/3 cup buttermilk, or to taste
olive oil, salt & pepper to taste

Peel and halve potatoes and dump into salted boiling water. In the meantime, caramelise the shallots in the butter until soft and golden. When the potatoes are done (15-20 minutes?), mash them in a large bowl with the buttermilk, adjusting more or less to taste. Add the shallots, salt, pepper and some drizzles of olive oil until you like the taste.

Serves 2, or 1 with leftovers.

Silly Food Quiz #2

Renee of Shiokadelicious posted this quiz some time ago, but I had a little time to respond to it now...

1) How do you like your toast: light, medium, dark or charred? Or... toast?!? But that's a carb!
Medium: golden and crisp, just the right amount of "toast" over the bread.

2) When applying spreads to your toast, must they cover every square millimeter and extend right up to the edges of the toast? Or do you always leave a little margin all the way around? After all, there is more than enough real estate on a piece of toast.
Every square millimeter, or -- inch -- as they would say here in the US.

3) Do you automatically fold the toast in half before munching down, or do you keep the toast flat and have the spreads exposed in their full luscious glory?
I leave the toast flat, and usually eat the edges first and work my way towards the middle.

4) When it comes to drinking tea or coffee, which goes in first? Milk? Sugar? Or who cares anyway?
Coffee or Tea goes in first, then the milk and sugar/ sweetener. Office coffee, though Peet's, gets sweetener. But for homemade coffee I usually do half to 3/4 cup of coffee, then top off the rest with vanilla soy milk. At restaurants with good coffee, I only take cream with my hot beverage.

5) Before you chow down on an apple or pear, do you automatically try to break the stem off, or just let it stay where it is and simply ignore it?
I usually let the stem be/ ignore it.

6) Peeling bananas: do you keep the peel attached to the tip of the fruit to keep your fingertips clean? Or... urgh! Have banana peel flopping over your hand? No way! The skin comes off - totally!
Yes, I leave the skin on. I don't care if the skin flops over my hand. Until I started dancing and needed a portable, lightweight energy source, I abhorred bananas. I couldn't stand the smell, the texture, the taste. And suddenly I developed a taste for them! They're still not my favourite fruit, but I'm able to gobble them down now, when I need a quick energy boost. And I make a really lovely banana nut bread. And as for using the skin to keep fingers clean, I am a big proponent of non-messy food. I always use some sort of wrap around a sandwich, or even a burger to prevent messiness and greasiness...

7) What's your papaya strategy? Which part do you eat first: the head section (the part where the fruit was attached to the branch), the tail section or the middle? Or... huh?? What papaya strategy? It's only a papaya!
I haven't eaten a papaya in a while. And while I don't have a strategy, I usually make it a habit to eat the middle section of fruits like these first.

8) Are you a "swopper" or a "stayer"? When it comes to using the fork and knife that is. Do you do the American thing, and switch the fork from hand to hand? Or are you definitely European in this sense? None of all that to-ing and fro-ing for you, thank you very much!
It really depends on what I'm eating. If I'm eating a dish that usually requires knife as well as a fork I tend to be a swopper.

9) Staying with cutlery... do you hold your fork and spoon horizontally with the four fingers wrapped securely around the handles? Or, do you let the handle rest in the valley between your thumb and index finger, like you would a pen?
Even when holding both knife and fork, just 3 fingers curled around the handles, with the thumb and forefinger manuevering... if I've just got a fork or spoon in my right hand, I hold the utensil just like a pen.

10) It's burger and fries time! Do you always eat the fries first? Or the burger first?
I'll eat one or two fries first, then usually tuck into the burger but with stops along the way for fries (dipped in ranch dressing) to break the monotony.

11) Pass the ketchup please. Or... heaven forbid! What scandal! Ketchup on burgers?!
I prefer mayo on my burgers and with my fries (!) rather than catsup. Ranch dressing with fries is actually my preferred condiment.

12) Devouring an ice cream cone... do you lick, suck or bite into the ice cream? Umm... remember, we are talking about eating an ice cream cone here...
Lick in the beginning, and, as the size of the scoop becomes more manageable, I end up sucking on it.

13) More sexy food... do you always chew on chocolate, or let it melt slowly and sensuously in your mouth? Or... chocolate? You feel a headache coming...
Chew in the beginning, then I let the smaller bits melt away.

14) Aahhh... the cheery beauty of a sunny-side up or over-easy fried egg... You eat around the soft yolk, carefully preserving it, and keeping it for last. Or, you tear into it, spilling its golden treasure and mixing it all up?
Mess it all up, and sop up the runny glorious mess with some perfectly toasted toast.

15) Are you a horizontal or vertical person when it comes to bread rolls? Do you break a bread roll in half down the vertical or along the horizontal?
I tend to tear chunks out of my bread rolls rather than splitting them in two.

16) You're all for excess: your cereal must come swimming in milk. Or, maybe you like the cereal just barely covered?
Somewhere in-between, please, though I'd prefer more milk than too little.

17) What does it for you? Tea in a cup or mug? Juice in a glass or a mug? Or anything as long as it doesn't leak?
Tea in a mug, juice in a glass, wine in my Riedel goblets... :)

18) Are you a food purist or a "hippie"? You taste one flavor at a time, you never mix the foods on your plate? Or, the more the merrier?
If a "hippie" means liking to mix my food, then I'm a "hippie" I guess... I like to mix -- melding different flavours and textures is one of the most pleasurable parts of eating, I think.

19) Oops... I can't count! You're done! And that was only 18 questions... and you thought it would take a long time, huh?

Silly Food Quiz #1

Cheese Test: What type of cheese are you?

You are camembert!
You are a creamy, delicate tasting cheese. You are refined and graceful and very organized. As a very insightful cheese, you like to ponder the meaning of life.

A very famous French cheese, Camembert dates back to the 18th century and is named for a Norman village in which there is a statue of the creator of this particular variety (Marie Harel). Originally, this cheese was dry and yellow-brown, but after a few modifications it became softer and more earthy. In 1855 one of Marie Harel's daughters presented Napoleon with a piece of that cheese, saying that it came from village called Camembert. He liked it a lot and from that moment Camembert became known by its contemporary name. At the beginning of its ripening, Camembert is crumbly and soft and gets creamier over time (usually 2-3 weeks). A genuine Camembert has a delicate salty taste.

[ Country: France || Milk: cow milk || Texture: soft || Recommended Wine: St. Emilion, St Estephe ]

Deep Sushi

Church, between 29th & 30th, Noe Valley

Dave, my sushi buddy, wanted to try Deep Sushi this time out -- he had heard good things. A quick Internet search revealed that it might be too precious and hip, but the the descriptions of the rolls seemed intriguing, and I was game. It's in the quiet outskirts of Noe Valley, and the only items that call out its location are a bright yellow pagoda in front, along with some outdoor tables and a heat lamp. There is no sign, but a framed Zagat blurb in the window gives it away a bit. When I arrived it seemed packed to the gills -- people crowded around high bar tables near the entrance, and the feeling of aphrension grew. Too popular, too trendy, too hip...? When Dave arrived we were surprised to see that there were tables beyond that first overwhelming crush of a crowd, and we were seated easily.

And so we dug in. We ordered a small plate of nigiri: Dave's favourite shiro maguro, my fresh sake, and some ankimo (monkfish liver), which we both had never had. We then chose 2 of the rolls: the Sunflower and the Marilyn Monroe. Halfway through we also ordered a spicy tuna and spicy salmon hand roll, and finally decided on another Sunflower to end the meal.

The Sunflower turned out to be our favourite. It was a pretty little thing made of salmon, cucumber, shrimp tempura, a topping of tobiko and raw quail egg, served over a cross-hatch drizzle of garlic mayo. It was a perfect harmony of textures: the crisp tempura and fresh cucumber contrasting with buttery salmon and teeny crunchy tobiko. It currently ranks up with Moki Sushi's Ecstacy Roll as one on my list of the Best Tasting Sushi Rolls Ever. Marilyn turned out to be tasty, but just ok. She was made of an internal tempura and cucumber base, just like the Sunflower, and topped with scallops, sprinkles of green onion and tobiko, and splashes of garlic mayo.

My favourite of the evening, however, had to be the ankimo, which was so delicate, so subtle, I can now see why people rave about it so. It is as ethereal as liver can be, and I now know that I shall seek it out wherever I can get it.

Our waitresses were exceptionally pleasant, the music modulated and not overly loud, and I loved the interior decor, with bright red walls, curling squid-jellyfish lights, colourful art pieces, and urnfuls and fixtures of fresh flowers.

We managed to speak to one of the proprietors after dinner. Ray introduced himself as we stood outside, chatting and snapping pictures of the glowing pagoda. He told us that the large crush of people there earlier belonged to a group called "Alphabet City" -- they had been making a point to visit bars and restaurants in the city by going down the letters of the alphabet. One week it was Andalu, the next week, Bambudda Lounge. They hit upon Deep for "D" this time. He seemed to imply that it was a little unusual to be that crowded on a weekday. He then added that weekends were inordinately busy, with upwards of 30-40 people waiting outside, but he and his cousin had originally envisioned the restaurant as the quintessential San Franciso neighborhood joint whose reputation spread by word of mouth. They are expanding.

Bouchon

I spent this weekend in wine country, driving up Saturday afternoon for Claire and Leo's wedding at Viansa Winery on Saturday, and having brunch at Bouchon the next day. Bouchon is one of Thomas Keller's restaurants (yes, he of French Laundry fame), and I've been wanting to go since it opened in 1999. It's a good little bistro in tiny Yountville, a community just north of Napa. It has an exquisitely-designed interior, a huge zinc bar, tempting displays of oysters, marble-topped cafe tables, and luxurious red velvet banquettes.

There is a very traditional French menu that includes fruits de mer (oysters, mussels, shrimp, clams, lobster and crab), steak and frites, quiche, foie gras, croque madame, and boudin.

Nora and Kevin opted for the Quiche Florentine. I unfortunately did not get a taste.

I chose the Duck Confit Hash served with caramelised onion, bits of potato, and topped with poached eggs, prosciutto, and chives. My dish was rich and complex, but needed a bit more variances in textures, I thought, to break up the monotony of tender duck, quivering runny poached egg, and the melty caramelised onions. Even the prosciutto didn't stand out. It did go very nicely with the glass of 2000 Newton Cabernet/ Merlot claret I picked, which was full and bold with bright berry flavours.

Brian ordered a special -- striped sea bass filet with leeks and fennel. I tasted a bit of it and was surprised to discover a little sweetness in the sauce. I'm not quite sure I would have fully enjoyed it.

On the whole, though, everything was very well-done and delicious, but I wasn't overly blown away. Our server was a little brusque -- he lacked a certain bonhomie and tartly remarked that the busboy who had mistakenly taken away our knives was "making [him] look bad."

I would have liked to have had dinner there instead of brunch... Perhaps another day...

After our meal we walked accross to the Bouchon Bakery across the way -- we caught it in the tail end of the brunch rush, where many goodies were already depleted but the baker was hard at work making more for the early evening shoppers.

I was too full to order anything else, but the smells inside were heavenly. Afterwards the four of us walked around for a bit but the mid-afternoon heat proved to be a bit much for the boys who were sartorially unprepared, and we soon hopped back into the car and made our way back to San Francisco, which was, to their expectation and great relief, a good 15-20 degrees cooler.

Almond Berry Goodness

I am more of a cook rather than a baker. In my family, my mom and I prefer to create savoury viands rather than things with sugar and spice and it's my sister instead who got the penchant for making cakes, pies, breads and cookies. That's not to say that mum and I don't enjoy our fair share of sweets, and we will occasionally, even strive to take a turn at the mixing of flours, sugars and baking powders.

When I saw this month's Bon Appetit cover, therefore, of Almond and Mixed Berry Shortcakes, I knew that I had found my next baking project.

It is certainly berry season -- and this recipe calls for 4 kinds: strawberries, blueberries, blackberries and raspberries. The latter 2 are exceptionally perishable, and it's highly advisable to make the shortcakes right away once you've made your fruit purchase.

Almond and Mixed-Berry Shortcakes
Makes 8

1 large egg, separated
3 T, + 1/2 cup sugar, divided
1/2 cup sliced almonds 1/2 7-oz. log of almond paste,* cut into 1/2-inch cubes
(*almond paste is available in specialty foods stores and in the baking section of most supermarkets.)
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 T baking powder
1 tsp. grated lemon peel
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. ground ginger
6 T (3/4 stick) chilled unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch cuves
2/3 cup chilled buttermilk
1 tsp vanilla extract

2 cups halved, hulled strawberries
1/2 pint container of blueberries, blackberries & raspberries
3/4 cup red currant preserves

Lightly sweetened whipped cream

Position rack just above center of oven and preheat to 375 degrees. Line rimmed baking sheet with parchment. Whisk egg white and 3 T sugar in small bowl to blend. Mix in almonds.

Blend 1/2 cup sugar and almond paste in processor until fine meal forms. Add flour, baking powder, lemon peel, salt, and ginger; blend 5 seconds. Add butter and cut in, using on/off turns, until coarse meal forms; transfer to large bowl. Whisk egg yolk, buttermilk, and vanilla in small bowl. Gradually add buttermilk mixture to dry ingredients, tossing until moist clumps form. Using floured hands, gather dough together.

Divide dough into 8 equal pieces; roll each into a 2-inch ball. Place balls onto prepared baking sheet, about 2-3 inches apart. Gently press top of each ball to flatten slightly. Spoon almond topping (incl. egg white) among buscuits; spread to cover. Bake until golden brown and tester inserted into center comes out clean, about 26 mins (biscuits will spread). Cool on sheet 5 mins., then transfer to rack and cool. (Can be made 8 hours ahead. Store at room temp.)

Combine berries, lemon juice, and remaining 2 T sugar in bowl. Stir in preserves. Let stand until juices for, at least 1 hour but no more than 2 hours, stirring occasionally.

Cut biscuits horizontally in half, place bottoms on plates. Top with berry mixture, cream and biscuit tops.

I didn't have any sweetened whipped cream, so I used some Magnolia Macapuno (young coconut) Ice Cream instead. Mmmmmm....

IMBB VI: Grillers (and Barbecuers) Delight

Props to Too Many Chefs for hosting this month's Is My Blog Burning #6 -- they write, "If it's got barbecue sauce or grill marks on it, we want to sample it." As I don't have a BBQ (but have been to many, many, many BBQs this year), I decided to use my (rarely-used) grill pan instead. The following entry could have worked for last month's IMBB V, as I decided to grill some fish for this round.

Here then, is the recipe for Grilled Halibut, Scallops, & Baby Bok Choy with Garlic Black Bean Sauce

I used a recipe from the August issue of Bon Appetit, and used a black-bean garlic sauce marinade for halibut. The original recipe called for pork chops, so I toned down the marinade a bit to address the more delicate flavours of fish.

Fish (for 2)
1 lb. Halibut fillets
1/2 lb. large sea scallops
4 stalks of baby bok choy, cut in half

Marinade
1/4 cup Lee Kum Kee garlic black bean sauce
1.5 Tbs. Light soy sauce
1.5 tsp. sesame oil
1.5 tsp. finely minced ginger
3 generous cloves of garlic, chopped
1/8 cup Chinese Rice Wine

Mix marinade in a bowl, reserving some 5 Tbs. of the sauce. Marinate the fish and scallops in the marinade, some 10 minutes. Bush the cut sides of the baby bok choy with the reserved marinade. Heat up and oil the grill pan. When the pan smokes, add the halibut fillets and scallops (cooking in batches if necessary). Cook each side for about 3-5 minutes each, slightly less for the scallops. (Try not to move the fish or scallops before 3 minutes have elapsed, as they have a tendency to stick to the grill pan.

After the fish is cooked, place the vegetables, but side down into the grill pan. When tender (around 5 minutes), remove from pan.

Serve the fish fillets with around 3 large scallops and several half-stalks of baby bok choy. If you're not on Atkins, choose your carbohydrate -- either rice or couscous. I had the latter.

A side note: after reading Barrett's post about how smokey his kitchen got after his own grill pan dinner, and certainly after my own experience with my pan, I now understand why I so rarely use it. Food tends to get stuck to the bottom, and most inevitably burns. The resulting charred mess emits a not insignificant amount of smoke, and, if not careful you and your apartment could soon be engulfed in a hazy fog. Luckily for me I got to open many windows in the flat, and the smoke soon dissapated.

The Atis

At the Richmond New May market, my new favourite food market, I stand waiting in line for a cash register, which forms in between the giant coolers in the middle of the produce section of the store. Impulse buys, therefore, are more likely to be things from these great bins rather than the traditional magazines, candy, gum and batteries that line the checkout aisles at a Western-style grocery store. I peer into the bins and see -- ice cream -- the purple ube, different kinds of green tea variations, durian, papaya, lychee... I see, on top of the bins, bags of chicharron: fried pork rinds; boxes of cookies, packets of dried cuttlefish. And then it catches my eye -- a red container which is labled, "Frozen Custard Apple," and I get excited since it is one of my favourite fruits from my time in the Philippines: the atis. It's got rough scaly, leathery green skin in a diamond pattern, and a white creamy flesh dotted with plump black seeds triple the size and girth of your average watermelon seed. It's also known as a sweetsop, a custard apple, a sugar apple, and apparantly there's a South American equivalent called the cherimoya.

I immediately picked up the box and made my impulse purchase, bringing it home and prying off the lid. Inside, six small, individually wrapped atis, smaller than I had remembered, small enough to fit in my palm's hollow. In the Philippines, they were the size of a good-sized apple, and they were delicious. These, unfortunately, were a bit of a disappointment. I broke one open to see almost transluscent grey flesh rather than the straight creamy white flesh I was expecting. They only tasted faintly of the atis I remembered from my childhood -- the consistency seemed about right, soft, slightly grainy, with only a ghost of the remembered atis flavour, like a hidden note that only emerges in the back of one's palate when a mouthful of flesh is nearly consumed.

Unfortunately, these frozen atis are not something I'd buy again. I think I'll try for a cherimoya next time, if I can find it.

Pea Sprouts/ Snow Pea Leaves

I adore this vegetable. It is, without a doubt, my favourite green, the foodstuff which I am constantly craving if I go more than a couple of days without it. Some of the Chinese restaurants in the city offer pea sprouts. Sometimes they are indeed the sprouts themselves, tiny, thin-stemmed multitudes, like so many green needles, crisp and crunchy in fragrant garlic sauce. Other restaurants, such as the Go-Go Cafe on Irving and 19th, and Ton Kiang on Geary, actually serve pea leaves (Ton Kiang lists them as "Snow Pea Tips" on their menu) -- which I've come to prefer over the more traditional sprouts. In the restaurants I believe they're called Tom Yau, or To Miao.

Up until Thursday I've had bad luck at cooking that which I loved. I didn't know how to trim them, nor of just the right combination of seasonings that made the restaurant-cooked versions so tasty. Fortuitously, I figured it out -- I happened to have a nice bagful of beautifully trimmed greens from Richmond New May, and I decided that I would use not only garlic, but also Chinese rice wine and chicken broth in the sauteé. And, by the grace of god -- it worked, and I turned out a beautiful dish of sauteed snow pea leaves, nutty and savory with just the right amount of crunch and saltiness. I had a huge bowlful for dinner that night, much in the way your average American might eat a salad for supper.

Preparation is easy if you have a nicely-trimmed bagful -- all you need to do is rinse; but in the event you find yourself with longish stalks, make sure to pluck off and use only the leaves themselves. Sautee a lot of chopped garlic in a fair amount of oil. Wait until the garlic begins to brown and smell yummy; add the pea leaves, salt. When the vegetable is on its way to wilting, add a splash or two or three of chicken broth, then some similar splashes of chinese rice wine. Stir and toss until the greens look -- done.

Easy Noodle Soup

This is a really simple noodle soup, inspired by all the lovely things I've been seeing over at noodlepie. First I cut the baby bok choy in halves, then sauteéd them in a scant couple of tablespoons of cooking oil and some garlic slivers. Remove when only very slightly wilted. I then added a carton of low-sodium chicken broth to the pot, and let it come to a boil. I added about half a packet of fresh chow mein egg noodles and let that cook for a moment. Add back the baby bok choy, some cuts of Chinese BBQed pork, and some fish balls, cut in half. I topped the soup with a sliced hard-boiled egg, and a sprinkle of green onion. Easy, quick and really delicious...

Beef Bourguignonne by Brian

Brian's inspiration for this dish comes from his trusty Julia & Jacques: Cooking at Home. What follows is my perception of how he made it -- Nora and I arrived when the pot was already in the oven and he, in bits and pieces, told us of his process. We trotted in and out of the kitchen enjoying wine, bites of seeded baguette, brie, and some very good sweet french butter.

He parboiled some salt pork, then used the remaining liquid as a base for his braising liquid. The beef -- tenderloin or sirloin -- is nicely browned on the outside. Then, tumbled into the salt pork water with the cut up salt pork, a cheesecloth-bundled set of aromatics: carrots and celery and parsley and possibly leeks and other herbs, and a bottlesworth of red wine. That sits in the oven for 2 hours at least on lowish heat while he gets the other ingredients ready: blanched and peeled medium pearl onions; crimini mushrooms; a roux of softened butter and flour; some thick Eliche pasta. He cooks the onions and mushrooms in some butter, some of the braising sauce and a pinch of brown sugar until they are soft. Once the stew is out of the oven he removes the cheeseclothed bouquet garni, and then uses a bit more of the sauce to melt the roux and folds that mixture back into the pot holding the meat. The pot goes onto the stove and Brian tinkers with the sauce until it's reduced a bit and thickened to his liking. He feels like adding a little more flour and water, etc., and so it goes until he feels it's ready for us.

He brings out that amazing pot, out to the living room where we gather, bachelor-style, around the coffee table. He portions pasta into bowls, ladles us some of the bourguignonne, sprinkles parsley on top. We gobble this down with glasses of red wine -- the meat is oh so tender and flavourful, the soupy sauce just the right flavour and thickness and seems to be getting more delicious as it sits. It is an absolutely perfect French country meal.

That is, perfect French country, with a side trip to the Hawaiian islands, where Nora had made some yummy Haupia pudding for us.

The Elemental Odes

It's Pablo Neruda's centennial today. He who took great delight in all things carnal is best known for his love poems, but here are a couple of his odes to food:

Ode to Salt

This salt
in the saltcellar
I once saw in the salt mines.
I know
you won't
believe me,
but
it sings,
salt sings, the skin
of the salt mines
sings
with a mouth smothered
by the earth.
I shivered in those solitudes
when I heard
the voice of
the salt
in the desert.
Near Antofagasta
the nitrous
pampa
resounds:
a broken
voice,
a mournful
song.

In its caves
the salt moans, mountain
of buried light,
translucent cathedral,
crystal of the sea, oblivion
of the waves.

And then on every table
in the world,
salt,
we see your piquant
powder
sprinkling
vital light
upon
our food. Preserver
of the ancient
holds of ships,
discoverer
on
the high seas,
earliest
sailor
of the unknown, shifting
byways of the foam.
Dust of the sea, in you
the tongue receives a kiss
from ocean night:
taste imparts to every seasoned
dish your ocean essence;
the smallest,
miniature
wave from the saltcellar
reveals to us
more than domestic whiteness;
in it, we taste infinitude.

Ode to Conger Chowder
In the storm-tossed
Chilean
sea
lives the rosy conger,
giant eel
of snowy flesh.
And in Chilean
stewpots,
along the coast,
was born the chowder,
thick and succulent,
a boon to man.
You bring the conger, skinned,
to the kitchen
(its mottled skin slips off
like a glove,
leaving the
grape of the sea
exposed to the world),
naked,
the tender eel
glistens,
prepared
to serve our appetites.
Now
you take
garlic,
first, caress
that precious
ivory,
smell
its irate fragrance,
then
blend the minced garlic
with onion
and tomato
until the onion
is the color of gold.
Meanwhile steam
our regal
ocean prawns,
and when
they are
tender,
when the savor is
set in a sauce
combining the liquors
of the ocean
and the clear water
released from the light of the onion,
then
you add the eel
that it may be immersed in glory,
that it may steep in the oils
of the pot,
shrink and be saturated.
Now all that remains is to
drop a dollop of cream
into the concoction,
a heavy rose,
then slowly
deliver
the treasure to the flame,
until in the chowder
are warmed
the essences of Chile,
and to the table
come, newly wed,
the savors
of land and sea,
that in this dish
you may know heaven.

Prawns Thermidor

I've been craving -- for some reason -- prawns thermidor, a dish from my childhood.

My family left the Philippines in 1984. The previous year, Benigno Aquino, the leading opposition figure to the corrupt dictator Ferdinand Marcos, was assasinated after returning from a 3-year exile. Aquino's murder spurred both political unrest and economic crises. Inflation skyrocketed, the value of the peso plummeted, and basic staples and supplies grew scarce.

Our family had fresh-baked pan de sal -- the Philippine national bread -- delivered each morning. Every delivery contained some 2 dozen soft, fragrant, warm rolls: a dozen went to our family and the other 12 went to the household waitstaff. But during the crisis our deliveries gradually shrank to around 5 rolls a day. By the time we left for the states those deliveries were sporadic: few and far between. Occasionally we would receive 1 or 2 rolls that were double the size of a regular pan de sal, the bakers perhaps speculating that size could make up for quantity.

This is basically a longish prelude to my prawns thermidor story, which mom made using a tin of Nestle cream. It was rarely made -- a dish for special occasions. As the economic crises worsened, she no longer could obtain the cream, and it was only after we arrived in the states that we found it again in certain Asian markets. Even then I don't think she made it ever again. I had asked her about the recipe some years ago, and I believe her response was that she had forgotten it.

This then, is my attempt to replicate her dish. I found the cream easily at my new favourite market on Clement St., and decided to use this recipe as a base. Most of the recipes I pulled up involved Lobster, and it was a rare occurance when I found one that was specific to shrimp or prawns.

Lobster Thermidor, from Epicurious

Active time: 50 min Start to finish: 1 hr
None of us expected to fall in love with this dish when we tested it, but we all did. Most Thermidor recipes yield something that tastes stodgy and heavy, but this version, by 1940s Gourmet chef Louis P. De Gouy, is almost sleek.

2 (1 1/2-lb) live lobsters
1/2 stick (1/4 cup) unsalted butter
1/4 lb mushrooms, trimmed and thinly sliced
1/2 teaspoon paprika
1/8 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
2 tablespoons medium-dry Sherry
1 cup heavy cream, scalded
2 large egg yolks

1) Plunge lobsters headfirst into an 8-quart pot of boiling salted water*. Loosely cover pot and cook lobsters over moderately high heat 9 minutes from time they enter water, then transfer with tongs to sink to cool.

2) When lobsters are cool enough to handle, twist off claws and crack them, then remove meat. Halve lobsters lengthwise with kitchen shears, beginning from tail end, then remove tail meat, reserving shells. Cut all lobster meat into 1/4-inch pieces. Discard any remaining lobster innards, then rinse and dry shells.

3) Heat butter in a 2-quart heavy saucepan over moderate heat until foam subsides, then cook mushrooms, stirring, until liquid that mushrooms give off is evaporated and they begin to brown, about 5 minutes. Add lobster meat, paprika, salt, and pepper and reduce heat to low. Cook, shaking pan gently, 1 minute. Add 1 tablespoon Sherry and 1/2 cup hot cream and simmer 5 minutes.

4) Whisk together yolks and remaining tablespoon Sherry in a small bowl. Slowly pour remaining 1/2 cup hot cream into yolks, whisking constantly, and transfer to a small heavy saucepan. Cook custard over very low heat, whisking constantly, until it is slightly thickened and registers 160°F on an instant-read thermometer. Add custard to lobster mixture, stirring gently.
5) Preheat broiler.

6) Arrange lobster shells, cut sides up, in a shallow baking pan and spoon lobster with some of sauce into shells. Broil lobsters 6 inches from heat until golden brown, 4 to 5 minutes. Serve remaining sauce on the side.

* When salting water for cooking, use 1 tablespoon salt for every 4 quarts water.

Makes 4 servings.
May 1941; reprinted September 2001

I skipped steps 5-6, and chose to serve the thermidor with crostini, some chopped chives and a butterflied shrimp for flair. It was a first course to the Beef Bourguignonne Brian made last night, for Nora, Elliott and I. More on that later.

Decadent Brunch

With a nod to Pim, who made a beautiful omelet of eggs and morels the other day ... Mushrooms are one of my favourite foods, and morels come but once a year, usually in the spring. I was lucky enough to obtain some on Tuesday at the Berkeley Farmer's Market. Ahhh... the wondrous benefits of living in Northern California, where the weather is temperate and the gourmet goodies plentiful...

Slow cooked scramble
When I have time, I am convinced that there is no better way to make scrambled eggs. I like mine creamy, soft and rich, and a friend, who had spent some years in Spain, told me exactly how to get them so. First you slap down an inordinately sinful amount of butter into a sauté pan. I'd say use about 1/4 cup for 4-5 eggs. Fire up your stove and keep it on the lowest possible setting. When the butter has melted break your eggs into the pan and start to stir. Keep stirring for a while -- perhaps anywhere from 10 to 15 minutes -- to achieve the consistency you like. The eggs should reduce to 3/4 or even 1/2 their original volume, and should be a bright golden colour, with the consistency of a chunky custard. I topped them off with some shavings of gruyere cheese.

Sauteéd Morels
Wash the mushrooms (I had less than 1/4 lb.) by soaking/ submerging in a large bowl of water. Drain. Heat some butter in a saucepan, add a tiny amount (1/4 tsp?) of finely minced garlic (so as not to overwhelm the mushrooms). When the garlic begins to turn golden, add the mushrooms, then a splash of sherry, and cook until tender.

I finished with some Chicken-Asiago sausages I obtained at that poor man's gourmet shop, Trader Joe's and sprinkled the dish with some chopped chives. The mushrooms were powerfully flavourful, meaty, earthy -- the hint of sweetness bestowed by the sherry just right. I feel somewhat guilty for all the richness -- it's been the only meal I've had all day, and I feel no hint of hunger yet.

Taking Note

July 18th is the 6th installation of IMBB, hosted by Too Many Chefs. The challenge: BBQing and Grilling. I don't have a BBQ, but god knows I've been to too many backyard soirees a la capoerista this year... I may just end up using my grill pan, however ... we'll see ...

A simple twist on Chicken and Broccolini

I felt like cooking, but wanted something Asian, fast, and simple. I have also fallen in love with broccolini, so that ingredient was a requirement. It seems like baby broccoli, as the name suggests -- it's so young, so tender, so easy to cook, with none of the tough fibrousness of that mature crucifer. But, it's actually a cross between broccoli and chinese kale, and otherwise named "asparation." Absolutely, perfectly elegant and delicious.

This recipe is inspired by some of the dishes Renee writes about in her wonderful blog, Shiokadelicious.

Ingredients:
4 boneless, skinless chicken thighs, cut into bite-sized pieces
Light soy suace
Oyster sauce
Rice Wine
Corn starch
Sugar
Garlic, minced (about 2-4 cloves)
Sesame oil
6 oz. Shiitake mushrooms
6 oz. Broccolini (baby broccoli)

Marinate chicken in soy & oyster sauces, rice wine, garlic, sugar, corn starch, and just a dash of the sesame oil. In the meantime, slice the mushrooms and chop the broccolini. Heat oil in a large pot or frying pan, stir in the chicken. When the chicken has browned and looks like it has some nice caramelization from the sugar, add the mushrooms. If you want more of a sauce, create one by stirring together some corn starch with either water or rice wine. When the chicken is cooked through, remove the batch from the pot. Add a little more oil, then stir in some more garlic and stir-fry the broccolini. Serve the broccolini surrounding the chicken and mushrooms accompanied by steamed white rice.