Confessions of the Edible Kind

Quieter here

2011-12-26T10:14:00.000+08:00

It's probably only going to get quieter here. Find me at Hmm... where activity is a little more regular.

Lake George

2011-06-29T12:11:00.017+08:00

We planned to cruise around the lake.

But arrived a little too early.

So we just stood at the pier, talking and waiting.

Then we boarded the boat.

It was called The Morgan.

We sat as far to the front of the boat as we could. But a rope cordoned off the area with the best view.

The ride was pleasant but a little boring. We saw pretty things. Like charming houses on little islets.

And trees. And water.

The bathrooms on the boat were too cute. "Gulls" for ladies and "Bouys" for men.

Before long we were back. And our hotel, The Sagamore was in sight.

We were ready for lunch.

I had a very appropriate lobster roll.

Peter Luger

2011-06-28T13:54:00.009+08:00

Ready for dinner

Bacon

Porterhouse

Because there, it's all about the meat.

Best of 2010

2011-03-14T13:26:00.010+08:00

Really late for this, I know. But my regular computer is down with a virus and I'm using the old one. It's forcing me to revisit some photos from last year. :-)

Red Velvet Cheesecake from Magnolia Bakery

Pizza Bianca from Totale (now closed - I am very upset about this)

Grilled Cheese with Apricot Compote from The Green Table

Grass-fed Burger at Savoy (truly flavorful patty, comes with sweet house-made pickles and excellent fries)

Deep Dish Pumpkin Pie from Birdbath (wish it wasn't seasonal and they had it all year)

French toast from DBGB (custardy within and bruleed outside - the ideal french toast)

1am

2011-03-14T13:22:00.004+08:00

Chocolate and Kumquat Marmalade Tart. Had some leftover pastry and decided to make this rough little tart.

10.30am

2011-03-05T00:32:00.004+08:00

Monkey bread from Peels and an apple-cheddar scone made by a friend. It was a good morning.

Peels
325 Bowery (btn 2nd St and Bleecker St)

Thoughts on Recovery

2011-02-25T09:08:00.003+08:00

National Eating Disorder Awareness Week has got me thinking about my past eating disorder and recovery. And I know talking about eating disorders is depressing. We’re talking about a disease that kills up to 20 percent of suffers. But I strongly believe that there needs to be a more personal way to talk about recovery. So I figured I write a post to just get my ideas out there. Most books written on the topic are downright cold. Yes, they convince you that you need to get better. But they don’t make you want to get better. And the holier-than-thou tone can make anyone antagonistic.

I am going to attempt to take a holistic approach. Write something that doesn’t just focus on the weight and makes eating fun. That said, I can only tell you what worked for me and I hope it proves helpful. If you, dear reader, suffer from the disorder, not everything about my case and yours will be the same. I don’t want to talk down to you. Goodness knows you are a strong and determined person. All you have to do is re-channel your energy. You know you can do it.

Ideas to get better
Take pictures of your food. Food eaten was not for naught if you got a visual keepsake of it. Also, it is easier to let go and stop keeping a mental record, if you have a physical one stored on your computer. Photographing your food also keeps you honest. It’s a lot more difficult to lie about how much you ate if you have photographic evidence that the portion was tiny.

Read about food. As an anorexic, I fixated over the calories in food. I looked at food porn online. I started reading food blogs. I practically had a cookbook surgically attached to my body at all times of day. It is often said that anorexics eat by proxy, visually, through aromas, anything but the traditional, calorie-giving way. And for a while, keeping food around me did allow me to “eat” without actually ingesting anything. But once I had resolved to recover, I began looking through cookbooks not for visceral satisfaction but to pick out dishes to prepare. I started to cook. By preparing my own meals, I felt more in control of my life. At first I cooked the food to make sure that absolutely no extra fat was added. Then, I hit upon the best tip I could give anyone who wants to recover. I learnt to treat every meal as a chance to educate myself on food and new dishes. I learnt to focus on controlling quality and not quantity. Cookbooks taught me about new dishes and I set out to try as many of them as I could. I tried hummus, I made pate and quiche. A whole new world opened up to me. And while I am not saying I embraced it immediately, eventually all the novel tastes made eating fun again.

Now, just who and what should you read? Almost any cookbook can work really. It all depends on your tastes (which you will get to know better once you start eating again). Here are a few ideas to get you started. Read Nigella Lawson. The woman knows how to eat. She wrote a whole book on the topic for goodness sake. The domestic goddess takes obvious joy in life and it emanates from her writing. For her, greed is not a sign of weakness. Instead, it is a sign of the pleasure you derive from life. It is a real skill, knowing how to be a happy eater as I am sure you can appreciate. And Nigella has the formula down pat. Also, she is beautiful and it really is not so difficult aspiring to be like her. She can be the new ideal. I know it is now a cliché but Nigella proves that the fleshier woman does not have to be a frump. She can be attractive. She can be sexy. And even more so than many of the slenderest models.

That brings us to my next suggestion. Reconfigure what you think of as attractive. A figure like say, Scarlett Johansson’s is just as attractive as a thin one. Even the media seems to think so. I know that the rounded ideal might seem like something from the past. But for my money, I say it is on the uptrend. As far as beauty cycles go, it is about time for a change. The Victorian Age saw the first diagnoses of modern anorexia as girls starved themselves to fulfil the in-fashion look of sickliness. The 1900s were all about the curvy Gibson girl and the twenties saw the rise of the boyish flapper. Fast forward to the fifties and we see the heavier Marilyn Monroe-esque ideal. Then came the sixties, with slender icons like Twiggy. And fifty years on, we’re still stuck on thin? There’s no way this can last. Gain the weight and you’ll be ahead of the curve.

Learning to eat alone is also essential. I don’t mean all the time. Sharing good food with people you love is one of the great joys of life. But if you don’t eat just because no one is watching, you haven’t really recovered. One way I learnt to do this was by treating solo meals with just as much pomp and circumstance as meals with others. Set the table just for yourself. Cook an elaborate dish even. Take the chance to cook something your usual dining companions don’t like. If you’re up to it, eat out at a nice restaurant. Whatever you do, just make it fun. Reading can help here too. For more independent dining inspiration, I recommend the books The Pleasure is All Mine and Alone in the Kitchen with an Eggplant. The former, by chef, writer and actor, Susan Pirret is an easy read and makes eating alone sound downright glamorous. The latter book offers different perspectives on the single diner by some of the most notable food writers in the industry.

Try new foods. It is likely that you had a few favourite foods that you ate (in miniscule quantities) even before you started the recovery process. I know I did. And I’m assuming you had the calorie counts of these items memorized. This can make consuming those items really difficult. So instead, start by eating new foods and don’t look up the calorie count. I know it’s hard. I had a huge obsessive compulsion to do this but trust me if you don’t check how much energy you are consuming, it’ll be so much easier to eat. Reading widely about food (see above) will help with ideas and expand your food-related horizons.

Why gain the weight? The benefits.
Be happier. I know it seems tough now and almost impossible. And maybe you’re questioning if it is worth it, this business of trying to recover. I am telling you it is. Don’t doubt it for a second. If you gain back the weight. Your weight loss efforts will not be for naught. Think about what you will have learnt psychologically. It takes more resilience, strength and determination to get out of the situation than fall into the disorder.

Get back that period. The amenorrhea in my case actually lasted seven years. I can’t tell you how worried I was that permanent damage had been done. Granted, I lost my weight young and can count the number of periods I had before the disorder with my fingers. Still, not having that monthly something that I knew almost all other girls had was trying. It makes you question your femininity. It makes you feel stunted, physically and emotionally. When you menstrual cycle resumes, it is a huge relief. It might take longer than you expect. I only got my period back when I was borderline overweight, near seven years after I lost it. I guess my body is still adjusting. But exchanging my period for a little extra weight is a trade off I’d happily make again.

Wear a regular bra. If you are anything like me, the extreme weight loss probably took a toll on your bra size. And though it seems trivial, shopping for a training bra when already well into my teens was a little embarrassing. It took a further toll on my self-esteem.

Dealing with comments
People can be ignorant and unkind. And it would probably be helpful to provide a few suggestions on what to say when you get the inevitable invasive questions and comments. You know, tips on what to say when people harass you. Relatives who you don’t see you everyday might say silly things like “you’ve gotten fat” come your next meeting. I had a friend who would comment that I “must be sooo hungry to be eating two sandwiches” whenever I brought one sandwich, cut in two, along the diagonal to school for lunch. I guess the implication was that it was pig-like to be eating that much. Funnily enough, when I didn’t slice my sandwich in half, she considered it one sandwich and never commented on my portion size. Just remember, other people can be odd too. They have their own quirks and issues. Ignore the comments and use your better sense. You know gaining weight is a good thing for you and don’t let anyone inadvertently convince you otherwise.

So if someone says you’re getting fat, say “I know, isn’t it great?” And if someone asks why you’re so thin, be honest. Say “you’re working on it”. Admitting you have a problem, plain and simple, often catches people off guard and shuts them up.

The holidays mean...

2011-01-30T22:53:00.000+08:00

Chicken liver pate

Revisiting old family photos

Poon Choy for CNY

Cute hand-me-downs from my mother

Dim Sum lunches

Silly action movies

Homemade cheesecake

Trips to the library

Pudding for breakfast

Festive hampers!

Spoonfuls of peanut butter straight from the jar

Thoughtful conversation

Hanoi

2011-01-12T17:53:00.016+08:00

At the Vietnam Fine Art Museum. Is it me or is this painting of Uncle Ho just a little trippy?

At Restaurant Bobby Chinn. Coconut Rice Pudding. Sticky and rich, with great texture from sesame seeds, pistachios and golden raisins.

Banh Mi Bo Ko. It's not a sandwich.

At the Metropole. Totally enamoured with the telephones.

9.30am

2010-12-29T10:33:00.005+08:00

2010-08-24T22:24:00.002+08:00

Pao Xiang Bak Kut Teh needs to get a branch down in Singapore. Stat.

This summer

2010-07-19T03:10:00.015+08:00

Mints

2010-07-10T09:50:00.004+08:00

I have developed a strong attachment to Altoids, which is strange, because until a few months ago, I had never tasted one. Also strange because I don’t like most candy.

Hard candy is particularly awful. I mean, who wants to suck something that tastes like a flavoured piece of plastic? Yes, the piece of plastic gets progressively smaller and eventually dissolves, but still… Don’t get me started on gummies, chewy multicoloured rubber anyone? Chewing gum? It actually becomes tasteless after a while, making the similarity to chewing on rubber nauseatingly evident.

But Altoids taste natural. The texture is sandy like sugar. Basically, they are tiny rounds of compressed sugar, made refreshing by a dose of mint oil. This particular flavour, crème de menthe (pictured above), is not so natural and does rely on artificial flavours. But texturally, I think it is still pleasing. I used to occasionally snack on sugar as a kid (when I could get away with it, shhh…don’t tell my mother). And eating Altoids is a more palatable and socially acceptable way for adults to get a pure sugar kick.

I also love Altoids because they help me get rid of lingering flavours in my mouth. I especially detest the burn of raw onion, which clings to the tongue long after a meal is over. I don’t think they are particularly helpful in improving one’s breath though. After one, I always feel my breath smells kind of stale. In any case, I’ve found a mint I can tolerate and that makes me very happy.

My Favorite Sandwich

2010-06-18T13:58:00.006+08:00

Sounds strange but is very good. The mild but slightly tangy mascarpone rounds off the bitterness of the rocket and complements the fresh mint. It’s a rich but delicate combination. Sort of like an Italian tea sandwich. For a more substantial and perhaps more conventional sandwich, add some prosciutto. I however think it is quite delicious as is.

Mascarpone, Rocket and Mint Sandwich

3-4 tbsp mascarpone
Handful wild rocket leaves
5 to 7 leaves of mint
2 thin slices of bread

Spread the mascarpone on one slice of bread. Arrange mint leaves on the mascarpone-covered bread slice, pressing down lightly so that they adhere to the spread. Top with rocket. Cover with other slice of bread. Cut in half, if desired. Serve. Makes an exceptionally good lunch with a side of caponata and some fruit for dessert.

Serves 1.

Blueberries

2010-05-30T17:28:00.007+08:00

It's not quite prime blueberry season yet. But I've been craving them. Restaurant menus provide much inspiration.

The Whisper Restaurant and Lounge, Los Angeles, California
Blueberry Lemondrop – Pearl Blueberry Vodka, fresh muddled blueberries, freshly squeezed lemon shaken and served up, $10

Clinton Street Baking Company and Restaurant, New York, New York
Wild Maine Blueberry Pancakes with warm maple butter, $13

Blue 13, Chicago, Illinois
Blueberry Clafoutis Vanilla Bean Gelato, Blueberry Smoothie Shooter, $8

Rivoli Restaurant, Berkeley, California
Warm blueberry buckle with vanilla ice cream, lemon crème anglaise and fresh blueberries, $6.95

Restaurant Bloom, Grand Rapids, Michigan
Blueberry bavarian, blueberry sorbet, blueberry soup, cornmeal crisp, $7

22 Feb to 28 Feb

2010-03-01T08:13:00.003+08:00

15 Feb to 21 Feb

2010-02-22T11:34:00.004+08:00

8 Feb to 14 Feb

2010-02-15T23:35:00.007+08:00

1 Feb to 7 Feb

2010-02-09T11:09:00.003+08:00

25 Jan to 31 Jan

2010-02-01T23:42:00.005+08:00

18 Jan to 24 Jan

2010-01-25T23:55:00.008+08:00

Breakfast

2010-01-11T17:19:00.005+08:00

Sourdough pancakes with honeyed macadamias and fresh blueberries. Sourdough starter courtesy of my friend L (thanks!).

Covet

2009-04-19T21:51:00.006+08:00

Quiche was the first food I ever really coveted. In my last two years of primary (grade) school, I went to this nearby boulangerie chain almost every day to get myself a hand-sized tuna, chicken or curry chicken puff pie for lunch. Not because I particularly loved these pastries but because they were the cheapest lunch-able items on the menu.

I’d watch enviously as my friend S would fold back the wax paper from her Quiche Lorraine and allow the rich savoury fumes to waft in my direction. I wanted one badly but my 11-year-old pocketbook couldn’t justify the extravagance of a $5 lunch. Besides, I had to save some cash for a chaser of the pre-teen favourite, the Slurpee, for dessert.

So I waited silently, vowing that I’d one day save up and buy the quiche. But I didn’t. At least, not until I was well into my teens and price differentials of $2 or so weren’t an issue anymore. The chain’s quiche was ok. Rather anticlimactic after the slow build up.

No matter. By then I had also been exposed to better quiches, in France and at fancy restaurants. They were wonderful. Mass produced quiche became something safe one ate at the airport, you know, like bad pizza. There’s a limit to how disgusting it can be.

Still, I always thought it was something complex and difficult to make, requiring skill and finesse I didn’t have. It’s not. It’s really simple and in the last few years it has become one of my favourite recipes. So easy yet so impressive. Here’s how I make it. I hope you’ll like it too.

Quiche Lorraine
Adapted from the quiche recipes in Chocolate & Zucchini: Daily Adventures in a Parisian Kitchen by Clotilde Dusoulier

For the pastry:
1 1/3 cups flour
125g butter
1 egg
Pinch salt

For the filling:
1/2 cup milk
1/2 cup greek yogurt, creme fraiche, single or double cream (almost any creamy substance would work here, even non-dairy ones like mayonnaise)
4 eggs
125g cheese (gruyere is good)
200g cubed ham or sautéed bacon

To make the pastry:
Combine the flour, salt, and butter in the processor. Process until the mixture resembles coarse meal. Add the egg and mix again for a few seconds, until the dough comes together into a ball.

To make the filling:
In a medium mixing bowl, whisk together the milk, yogurt, and eggs.

Preheat the oven to 350F/180C. Press the dough into either a 10-inch/25cm ceramic tart pan or divide it amongst mini tartlet tins. Prick the bottom all over with a fork. Bake for 7 minutes, until lightly golden. Remove the pan from the oven (leave the heat on). Sprinkle the ham/bacon and cheese over the tart shell. Pour in the milk mixture and bake for 35 minutes (for a big whole quiche) or 15 minutes for mini ones.

Menu language

2009-04-18T18:31:00.011+08:00

I pride myself on understanding the language of menus. It’s not hard to learn the lingo if you love to eat, which I do. When you are as greedy as I, every trip and expedition opens up another opportunity to eat. And to be well fed in a foreign country, you study every word on your list of options carefully. Food names become associated with countries.

For me, the most memorable word on a trip to Italy was not buon giorno, arrivederci or even grazie but ceci as in pasta e ceci. I had just set foot into the world of legumes and the soupy pasta dish inspired religious fervour on my part.

Buko pie became the Philippines and Molokhaya Egypt. Daube de boeuf was France while Tafelspitz was Austria.

Despite this very specific cursory knowledge of world languages, however, when it comes to China and Mandarin, my mother tongue, my skills are sadly lacking. I knew I should have tried harder at school. But on trips to China, my communication mostly involves pointing and nodding. Sure I understand well enough. It’s just finding the right words to respond when I need them that is challenging.

I was reminded of this flaw, on a most recent visit to Beijing, travelling with my brother for a Mandarin course at Xing Hua. I had seriously considered joining the program myself (you know, to actually remedy my problem) but decided that there were more immediate gains to be had by finding temporary employment back home.

So while my brother focused on preparing for his lessons, I focused on eating. Teahouses became a favourite haunt. With my family, I wondered into many, the most memorable of which was located in Bei Hai Park. We had stopped for a mid afternoon pick-me-up and it was one of the rare occasions where I’ve thought the ambience made the meal.

Situated by a lake, with the White Dagoba visible in the distance, the eatery served little more than Zha Jiang Mian. We ordered a bowlful to share and sat down. A serving of plain wheat noodles arrived with six little condiment vessels on the side. We tossed in the accompanying dishes of bacon-like pork cubes, fresh soy beans, bean paste, scallions, radish and cucumber as instructed. Steam rose from the bowl as we mixed the hot noodles with sauce to coat. It was so pretty. The steamy noodles, the old-fashioned marble tables, the blue patterned porcelain crockery and the park in the background. Everything.

And we didn’t have to say anything but communicate our desire for the dish.

Someday I hope to speak flawless Mandarin and navigate China like a pro but till then I’ll have to be content fooling myself that the language of food is enough. It is when all else fails (cheesy as this sounds), something we can all understand.

Zha Jiang Mian

1 tbsp oil
2 cloves garlic, minced
1-cm piece of ginger, minced
½ tsp chilli paste
250g ground pork
1 tbsp yellow bean paste
1 tbsp soy sauce
1 tbsp hoisin sauce
1 tbsp sesame oil
1 tsp sugar
½ cup chicken stock mixed with 1 tsp of cornstarch to form a slurry
180g Beijing noodles, cooked according to the instructions on the packet
Shredded or julienned cucumber, to garnish

Heat oil in a wok or large skillet over high heat. Add garlic, stir-fry 30 seconds, then add ginger and stir-fry another 30 seconds. Add ground pork and cook until lightly browned. Add chilli paste, yellow bean paste, soy sauce, hoisin sauce, sesame oil, sugar and cornstarch slurry and simmer for about 10 minutes. Pour the meat sauce over the noodles. Top with cucumber and serve.

A necessity

2009-04-13T08:58:00.011+08:00

I’ve mentioned the time I spent at Trinity College here before. It was a good year, and brought me many things - more likeminded people in a year than in the rest of my life put together, some confidence (if only temporary) and most lastingly, rice pudding.

My pudding making developed out of necessity, which is as I hear, the mother of invention. My student-housing-mates and I were on meal plans where dessert featured only occasionally and the food, despite the best efforts of the kindly lunch ladies (they had a budget to stick to) was not very good.

Out of necessity, that is, if you as I do, consider dessert a necessity, a bunch of us would ferret way some plain steamed rice from the dinner spread and port it over to my friend, A’s little abode across the street. A was especially sensitive to noise and had decided early in the year that a house full of seventeen-year-olds was just not for her. She made a request to move and when a space opened up, carted her stuff across the road.

Most nights, we’d converge upon her kitchen and make dessert. In A’s little kitchenette, I must have stirred up more than a dozen pots of rice pudding. Sometimes I’d caramelise fruit, make Blanc mange or bread pudding but mostly we ate rice pudding.

Our group got creative with flavours. Sometimes we’d add a dollop of jam we’d snuck away at breakfast and occasionally we’d sprinkle over dried fruit and nuts. Once we even mixed in Milo powder, but by far our favourite addition was a gob of sweet salty peanut butter. When the pudding was ready, we’d settle down in front of the TV, plant a big bowlful smack in the middle of the coffee table and dip our spoons in the communal bowl till there was none left. Hygiene be damned, we’d fight to the last bite.

Now, I know that many people have only lukewarm feelings towards rice pudding. In fact, I once suggested adding rice pudding to the buffet at a restaurant I did a very short stint at and got a wrinkled nose and rhetorical “who like rice pudding?” in response. I completely understand. Buffets are all about what has mass appeal and if no one will touch it, it will go to waste.

But at home, you have only yourself, or maybe a few other palates to please. You can afford to be more adventurous and I would really encourage that if only for this pudding. It’s hardly any work and if you have leftover rice handy, (which if you eat a lot of Asian food, is almost a given), it actually helps use up leftovers and prevent waste!

Seriously, it comes together in just a few minutes, which is as I learnt, quickly enough to prevent even a bunch of teens from becoming restless, so there’s really nothing to lose.

Peanut Butter Rice Pudding
Adapted from Tyler Florence’s recipe for Rockin Rice Pudding

An extra sprinkling of crunch-giving peanuts would not be amiss here but if you don’t have any I wouldn’t worry. This is the sort of thing you want to be able to make with whatever is on hand whenever necessary.

3 cups white rice, cooked
3 cups milk or cream or even coconut milk (for a dairy-free version)
2/3 cup sugar
2 tablespoons butter
1/2 - 1 cup smooth peanut butter

Combine cooked rice, milk, sugar and butter in a medium saucepan. Add peanut butter. Cook until most of the liquid is absorbed. Spoon pudding into a serving dish and serve.

Serves 4 to 6

Variations: If you want to eat this pudding cold, I would suggest that you fold some whipped cream or even vanilla yogurt through the chilled pudding. Otherwise, it tends to be a little stodgy.

Or if you have leftover pudding, you could make peanut butter rice pudding tartlets. Mix a few eggs into your leftover pudding (about 1 egg per serving of rice pudding). Pour the mixture into pastry lined tartlet tins. Bake about 15 minutes at 180C/350C. Leave tartlets to cool. Whip together some peanut butter, butter and honey (adjust quantities to your own taste). Use to frost the tartlets. Chill and serve.

Italian food

2009-04-03T15:28:00.007+08:00

My parents introduced me to Italy in the summer of my fifteenth year. This was shortly after the prune-mascarpone incident and Italy held an abundance of quality foods for my newly intrepid palate.

The trip began with a breakfast of Cornetti (Italian croissants) oozing with apricot jam, eaten starving off the plane (us not the Cornetti) and only got better. Pasta alla Norma, stuffed crespelle blanketed with besciamella and saltimbocca were my favourite discoveries. Beef tenderloin con balsamico charmed my parents. Italy was suffering a heat wave that year and it was scorching but it was nothing a cool creamy serve of vitello tonnato couldn’t solve. So taken was I with the above dishes that they were all attempted at home, with mainly happy results.

So, perhaps you can forgive me for being a little spoiled the day I went for the only (pseudo) date I had in uni (I dragged my friend N along because I was scared. Hilarious, I know. Don’t worry, I told him about it before hand, he looked disappointed but agreed).

We met the guy from the club, W, on Lygon Street. Although I just cannot get excited about the sloppy mess of coagulated noodles and over salty ham pizzas that generally (there are exceptions) masquerade as Italian fare on Melbourne’s Lygon Street, for convenience sake, it was our designated meeting spot.

He ordered a small (most menu items came in both starter and main sizes) chicken breast (white not dark meat! the horror!) risotto and claimed it was delicious but only finished half before declaring himself too full to eat another bite. I scoffed at his insipid obviously pre-cooked clumpy mush of a meal and mentally tsk tsked his poor taste. I, on other hand, powered through with a relatively tastier oversized calzone (only available in large) and finished the entire thing before making room for a dessert to be shared with N. This should have been the first sign.

He talked almost solely about his volunteer work, to which he seemed genuinely devoted. I have huge respect for this, we should all be more charitable, but really all this succeeded in doing was make me realise how morally inferior and incompatible I was. On my part, I bored him with stories of squid ink and where to find the best chocolate dessert calzone. He was bored. I was bored. This was not working out. The feeling was mutual. We made vague plans to see each other again sometime. He never called. I was glad.

What I was not glad for was possibly coming across as an unbearable foodie snob. In some ways I am. I have rolled and sliced my own fettucini by hand (look ma, no machine!). However, I also take immense joy in a sometimes low brow recipe I like to call baked pasta.

While it might find its roots in pasta al forno, my baked pasta is more often a dish to make the authentic Italian cook scream. When I have the luxury of time, it is crafted with homemade ragu and fresh grated parmigiano reggiano. But when time is scarce (far more likely) it is chock full of bottled pasta sauce, sliced frankfurters and a packet of pre-shredded “parmesan”. For sure, my baked pasta can be a compendium of food products that would never cross my lips individually. But together, they become perfectly acceptable. It is a dish that pleases the family and one that I make often.

Baked Pasta
I love cooking the béchamel (or besciamella, in Italian) for this recipe. It is a most reassuring sauce. It always thickens up like magic.

In terms of eating, this dish offers no challenging flavours or textures. It is just smooth soothing eating. I offer two versions of the recipe here, the original and the speedier but trashy (I mean this in the most positive way) alternative. The latter may be more Rachel Ray than bona fide Italian but it is a big bowl of comfort and sometimes that’s all we need.

The classy way

250g penne, a little under cooked (it will continue to cook in the oven)

For the béchamel:
1 ½ cups milk
125g fresh grated parmigiano reggiano, reserve some for sprinkling over later
3 tbsp flour
3 tbsp butter

For the ragu:
500g minced beef or cubed stewing beef
500ml chicken stock
1 tbsp sugar
2 carrots, chopped
1 onion, chopped
5 cloves of garlic, crushed
1/3 bottle of a good red wine
1/3 cup tomato paste
2 tablespoons flour
a pat of butter and 1 tablespoon olive oil

To make the béchamel:
Using a medium-sized saucepan, melt the butter over low to medium heat. Add the flour. Stir for about 3 minutes, or until no lumps remain. Whisk in the milk, a little at a time, to keep the mixture smooth. Bring to a slow simmer. Cook, stirring for about 5 minutes, until the sauce thickens. Season with salt and pepper.

To make the ragu:
Heat the butter and oil in a large casserole pot. Brown the beef over high heat. Set aside. Lower the heat a little and toss in the onion, carrots and garlic. Cook for 5 minutes, stirring occasionally. Mix in the flour. Add the tomato paste. Cook for another minute. Add the wine and cook until the alcohol fumes subside. Stir in the stock and sugar. Put the meat back into the pot. Bring to a simmer and then cover. Stew for 2 to 3 hours.

To assemble:
Toss penne with the ragu. Pour into a greased Pyrex dish. Cover with béchamel. Sprinkle over reserved cheese. Bake at 180C (350F) for 20 minutes. Serve.

The trashy way
250g penne, a little under cooked (it will continue to cook in the oven)
1 packet frankfurter sausages
1 bottle pasta sauce
Bechamel sauce (the recipe above but made with a packet of pre-grated parmesan)

Toss together penne, sausages and pasta sauce. Pour into a greased Pyrex dish. Cover with béchamel. Sprinkle over reserved cheese. Bake at 180C (350F) for 20 minutes. Serve.

Booze

2009-04-03T15:07:00.011+08:00

I’m not very exciting. I don’t club, don’t drink and don’t smoke. I probably shouldn’t admit this. Especially since I will be twenty one in less than two weeks. It makes me seem terribly un-fun. And a little sad.

Yes, I get disproportionately excited about certain things and my voice goes all high and squeaky when I talk about them, but they’re not particularly edgy. They are terribly safe things, like food and (more recently) making little pastel oil paintings of cartoonish characters.

Wait…no, no…that’s not completely true. Once, I did go to a club. It is a funny story really. But it hardly counts. It was for a Singapore Day celebration and a friend, N, was on the organizing committee. I went and very un-coolly forgot to bring ID.

Fortunately, I met another friend in the line to get in and she vouched for me. The bouncer guy (is that what he’s called?) took one look at me, smiled and let me in. I probably appeared too harmless to be any trouble. I do look like a frightened mouse. My default expression is “deer in the head lights”.

I hunted N down. She was busy but introduced me to some other members of the organising committee. They got back to work. I made weak attempts to socialise and stood around. A group of girls took pity on me and told me I was cute (not as in pretty, as in you look like a bunny. I get that a lot). I stood around some more. One guy sort of asked me out (I later found out he was even more of a goody-goody than I was but more about that in the next post).

Then I remembered the coupon each of us had been given for a free drink at the bar. I proceeded to the bar in the hope of procuring a, you guessed it, a non-alcoholic drink.

This is not as easy as it seems. Bars are smoky and by this point in the night I had developed a nasty sore throat so speaking at a volume loud enough to be audible above the club’s thunderous base beat proved tricky. The bartender leaned over as I strained to communicate my desire for a non-alcoholic drink.

“Do you have any non-alcoholic drinks? May I have one?” I enquired.

“What?” the bartender asked. I repeated my request at a higher volume.

“What?” he asked again.

I began pointing and gesticulating in a totally unhelpful and probably confusing manner and gave examples of possible drinks. Orange juice, fruit punch, even water…but try as he might, the poor bartender could not process my request.

We continued on like this for a while. A crowd gathered to see what the fuss was about. Then, a look of understanding flashed across the bartender’s face.

“Oh I get it,” he said, “wait here, I’ll be right back” and disappeared behind the counter.

“Goodness,” I thought, “I didn’t know I’d cause him so much trouble by asking for a non-alcoholic drink.”

He returned. With a look of triumph, he presented me with a cigarette lighter (!) and said cheerily “just give it back when you’re done.”

“Do I look like I smoke?” I thought (no offence to the smokers out there). In case you missed the previous three references to my appearance, I look like a fluffy woodland creature people. Fluffy!

I tried to repeatedly to decline but he kept his hand stretched out saying graciously, “it’s fine really, I don’t need it right now.”

I took a deep breath and made one final attempt to secure my G-rated beverage. I worked and I got my orange juice. The crowd dissipated.

Now, after that ordeal, you might be wondering, what could possess this girl to hate alcohol so much?

I don’t. My childish tastes simply haven’t developed a taste for straight hard liquor and I just don’t understand those girly sugary cocktails. Plus, if these things are hereditary I’m probably quite a teetotaller.

I have nothing against drinking per se. This may not sound like much. But when in Germany I once enjoyed a glass of beer with my dinner. On occasion, I do partake in free dinner party wine. Now and then, I appreciate a digestif.

And I positively love boozy desserts. Though apparently not traditional, I like my tiramisu to slide down the throat with a good alcoholic burn and once made a fruit cake so laden with cognac that just a whiff made you woozy.

And about chocolate cake, the first one I ever made was a mere vehicle for Tia Maria. And covered with lemon icing. It possessed a wonderful amalgamation of flavours – bitter from the liquor but also sweetened just enough to counter any overwhelming harshness. The addition of lemon icing offered a surprising but totally complementary layer of tangy flavour. I felt so adult eating it. I was sixteen and it was the first time I remember really enjoying alcohol (well, other than those secret swigs my friend, M and I snuck from her father’s stash at age six. But that too is another story).

I’m thinking of reviving this recipe for my 21st. It seems appropriate, no?

Tia Maria Cake with Lemon Icing
Adapted from this recipe posted over at the blog, i was just very hungry back in 2004

Twenty-first birthday or not, this cake is delicious. It is moist but has a definite crumb. All too often damp cakes fall into the trap of being overly wet and clammy. This cake finds just the right balance.

For the cake:
225g (8 oz) butter
360g (12 oz) brown sugar
4 large eggs
150g (5 oz) pure cocoa powder
400ml (1 2/3 cup) Tia Maria
225g (8 oz) all-purpose flour, sifted
1 tsp. baking powder
2 tsp. baking soda

For the icing:
225g (8 oz) icing (powdered) sugar
4 Tbs lemon juice
Water

To make the cake:
Preheat the oven to 180C (350F). Grease a 9 by 9 inch (25 cm) square cake pan. Cream together the butter and sugar. Add the eggs and the cocoa powder, mixing well. Add the Tia Maria a little at a time (don’t worry if it foams up a bit). Blend well. Add the sifted flour, the baking powder and baking soda. Mix well. Pour into the pan. Bake for about 1 hour.

To make the icing:
Mix the lemon juice into the icing sugar with a small whisk. If necessary, slowly add a bit of water to the icing, a drop at a time, until you have a thick, smooth paste. Spread this on top of the cake, and let set before cutting it up. Slice into squares.

A packed lunch, well deserved

2009-03-30T10:36:00.015+08:00

I guess I was about fifteen before I realised that my family eats better than most.

I don’t mean this boastfully, in fact, I (ok, very occasionally) feel guilty about the somewhat indulgent way we eat. Delicate dim sum is a staple, fresh sushi is standard, Peking duck is not unusual and three-course French lunches are a fortnightly affair. It is almost hedonistic. (Plus, I know eating this way on my own dime will be financially impossible, at least for a few decades.)

It took inviting my secondary school classmates home for project work to enlighten me on how lucky I was. They met even seemingly everyday food, like egg, tuna or chicken salad sandwiches and fried bee hoon (rice noodles) with great enthusiasm.

“I normally hate tomato, but I don’t on this sandwich!” and “This bee hoon has all my favourite things in it, may I have some more?” were just two surprising reactions. Maybe they were being polite but something in the spontaneity of the response tells me it was genuine.

It wouldn’t be too surprising if my school’s canteen fare was any indication of the average diet. Choices included soggy spaghetti drowned in a pool of diluted ketchup and a version of mixed rice that comprised of dishes covered in a slick of cornstarch thickened sauce, sometimes neon pink, coagulated at room temperature.

I sought comfort in bowls of soupy noodles, topped with mushrooms and ground meat and ate it almost exclusively. Tangy tom yum soup poured over the same noodles provided a little variety.

Eventually though, I got smart and began packing my own lunch. Sandwiches bursting with hummus and tomato, avocado and Boursin or pate made the regular rotation. I went through a prosciutto and sweet (i.e. unsalted) butter phase (I had just read Amanda Hesser’s Cooking for Mr Latte and was quite taken with her chapter on in flight dining). Cream cheese on banana bread was another favourite.

Once, I brought quiche. This actually caused quite a stir. People crowded around my table to watch me eat and ask questions (they had never seen quiche before). I was annoying evasive, explaining quietly what it was and then looking down, concentrating on my lunch, so there would be no further questions. It was especially uncomfortable for me, a self-conscious recovering anorexic. I secretly thought they were being overly nosey.

In hindsight, their fascination might have been partly due to hunger. Whether it was for lack of time (our lunch break lasted only twenty minutes) or fear of weight gain, many girls skipped lunch. Now, this is pretty ridiculous, as apparently “you're so thin, it's like you're Asian” is a saying now. Or so Rachel Getting Married will have me believe.

But curiosity and skinniness aside, I met some of the nicest most decent people I’ve ever known in secondary school. The type who doesn’t forget even a casual friend’s birthday and who is always ready with a gift. The kind who tries to keep in touch no matter how recalcitrant a companion you may become, withholding information and what not.

The sort who is delicate about your clearly abnormal weight lost, gentle prodding with questions but never becoming aggressive or accusatory. (It was only later that I learnt not all people were so kind. Some girls, more privileged girls, I met at summer camp later that year were decidedly more explicit about their views on the issue of eating disorders, calling sufferers “disgusting bitches”. Not what you need when you’re trying to recover.)

And the type who receives the products of your first forays into baking with appreciative smiles and not complaints of allergies, a hatred of any cake that is not chocolate or an avoidance of carbs. None of that rubbish, these people eat your food.

And in doing so, it feels like they accept you. I like to think that I brought cake to class to share my good eating fortune and to spread “the love”. But really, I know I did it out of selfishness. After a long hiatus from eating, I insisted on experimenting in the kitchen to get comfortable with the idea of being around food again and there were simply not enough mouths to eat it all at home. My classmates allowed me to try new recipes without fear of wastage.

By consuming my food, they helped me so much. And they didn’t even know it. Looking back now, I just wish I could have packed lunches for all who were interested, instead of being shy and cryptic about what I was eating. They certainly deserved it.

Chicken Liver Pate
Adapted from flavours magazine Nov-Dec 2005

Pate is impressive and slightly exotic. It is exactly what I would have brought to class for my more adventurous friends at school. This recipe’s ingredients list has been whittled down to the very basics but I don’t think it is worst off for it. Spread on a roll or sandwiched between thinly sliced dark rye bread, it makes a great portable lunch. It was one of my favourite things to take to school, though the pate I used then was more likely to come from a can than be home-made.

75g butter
1/2 a small onion, chopped
1 clove garlic, minced
250g chicken livers
Salt and pepper, to taste

Extra melted butter, to seal

Trim the chicken livers of membranes and clots. In a frying pan, melt 2 tbsps of the butter over medium heat. Add the onion and cook, stirring until soft, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and cook until fragrant, about 30 seconds. Add the chicken livers. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Cook, stirring until the livers are browned outside but slightly pink within, about 5 minutes. Remove from heat and cool slightly. In a food processor, pulse the liver mixture. Add the remaining butter and pulse to blend. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Pack pate into a ramekin. Cover with some melted butter to seal. Cover with cling film and refrigerate for at least 6 hours, or until firm.

Serves 4

Let them eat cake (!): the rules and recipe for recovery

2009-03-23T21:19:00.012+08:00

I used to keep all my cake photos is a folder called Let them Eat Cake. Its title would make my friends giggle. But this clichéd phrase, often attributed to Marie Antoinette, was also my mantra for recovery from anorexia.

I promised you a story about my legendary cake eating abilities. And now that I’ve come clean about my history, I think it is probably wise to provide a little more information, lest I be accused of being a tease. This blog may be called Confessions of the Edible Kind but until recently, I haven’t confessed anything particularly juicy. Besides, from experience, most people are quite curious about eating disorders and find it refreshing to be able to talk to someone who is relatively open about their experience. And to me, recovery and cake will always be inextricably linked.

As an anorexic, my mind liked to work with patterns, lists and rules. At my worst, these rules prohibited the consumption of almost anything edible. As I began to get better, these rules relaxed but remained strict in the most arbitrary of ways. They were designed to help me gain weight while still retaining control.

Mostly, I allowed myself to eat baked goods. I could eat bread, but only if it was whole wheat. I could eat scones but only if they were plain and did not contain any add-ins. I could eat muffins but only blueberry, chocolate and banana ones, i.e. the regular flavours. I did this so that I could compare the versions at each and every cafe I could find. This was my way of rationalising eating. Starvation and malnutrition just didn’t cut it as excuses.

I could, of course, also eat cake. In fact for a while, I subsisted almost solely on café-bought cake. I tried a slice of every single cake available at Delifrance (I was not aware of the better options then) and NYDC but refused to allow any repeats. My parents patiently drove out to purchase these slices once and sometimes even twice a day, just for me. How they kept from strangling me I will never know. Like Marie Antoinette, anorexia can be selfish, out of touch with normal people and behaviour.

So entrenched were the rules in my mind that I began to lose sense of what I really liked outside of these self-imposed laws.

“What do you like to eat?” seems a simple enough question, but for the longest time, it is one I struggled to answer. It took me years to regain even the simplest knowledge of my own likes and dislikes. The confusion I felt sort of reminds me of a scene from Gilmore Girls* (episode 3, season 7) that goes something like this.

Lorelai sits in the kitchen and stares dazedly at her breakfast, a plate of broken Pop-Tarts. Rory comes out of her bedroom and sees her…

Rory: (perplexed) Are you enjoying your breakfast?
Lorelai: I don’t know if I like Pop-Tarts
Rory: Did you fall on your head while you were sleeping?
Lorelai: I dunno. Do I like this? Is this something I like?
Rory: So you fell on your head and now you have some kind of very specific amnesia. Is that it?

If you’ve ever watched the show, you’ll know that Lorelai and Rory are nuts about Pop-Tarts. But in this episode, Lorelai feels lost after her parents fail to react to her breakup with her fiancé Luke. Her parents' disapproval provided a compass for her that helped shape her likes and dislikes. The rules were sort of like that for me. But bit by bit, I let go.

Over the last few years, I’ve made quite a few discoveries. As it turns out, even free from the rules, I do love cake (who doesn’t). I also like underrated cuts of meat like the neck or the cheeks, steamed buns filled with oozy salted-egg-yolk-custard (nai wong bao), the sensation of biting into a shard of darkish milk chocolate (about 55 per cent) with gritty cocoa nibs, Greek yogurt, cabbage (especially with bacon and walnuts), sushi (the taste of sweet mildly acidic rice against creamy slices of raw fish is unbeatable), steamed vegetable dumplings bound with the barest amount of pork and doused with plenty of sesame oil, aged balsamic vinegar and peanut noodles.

It gives me great satisfaction to list the items above. It took a long time to get here. And I couldn’t have, if not for cake.

*Sorry. I guess if you haven’t watched Gilmore Girls then this example is probably moot but why on earth haven’t you? It’s great. So funny. Seriously, you’ll love it.

Marie Antoinettes (Lemon Cheesecake Tartlets Topped with Strawberries)
Adapted from Blue Ribbon USA by Georgia Orcutt and John Margolies

Often, I use the term “cake” loosely, to describe any sort of dessert eaten with a fork. Kind of like the way the British use the word “pudding” to describe all desserts. These tartlets are great for when you feel like just a little bit of “cake”. They are adapted from a Blue Ribbon winning recipe and are just as rich and well-dressed as their namesake. With their pointy strawberry noses raised to the sky, they’re a bit snooty too.

Pastry, your favourite recipe (both short crust and puff work here, you could even use store-bought if you’re short on time)

For the filling:
4oz (125g) mascarpone
1/2 cup lemon curd
1 egg

For the topping:
18 small strawberries, de-stemmed but left whole
1 tbsp balsamic vinegar (to bring out the strawberries’ flavour)
1 tbsp sugar

Preheat the oven to 200C/400F. Roll out the pastry. Using a cookie-cutter cut the pastry into rounds and press them into a greased mini muffin pan.

To make the filling:
Combine the mascarpone, lemon curd and egg in a small bowl and whisk till smooth. Use to fill the pastry-lined muffin cups. Bake for 10-15 minutes.

To make the topping:
In a small bowl, combine the strawberries with the sugar and balsamic vinegar. Toss to combine. Place one strawberry on each tartlet, cut side down. Press to secure. Chill and serve.

Makes 18 tartlets.

On moving, magic and misconceptions

2009-03-23T11:17:00.004+08:00

For as long as I can remember, my family has travelled regularly (four times a year before my brother and I started primary/grade school and twice a year when our school schedules got more demanding). We nearly never went with tour groups. I am thankful for that. When the cost was not too prohibitive, we hired a mini van and a guide, a great luxury.

Most of the time though, we navigated foreign cities on our own. You might think that this meant getting lost often and wandering around aimlessly. But it didn’t. No thanks to me of course. My own sense of direction is quite poor. It was my father who guided us through whatever city we found ourselves in, his stocky legs moving purposefully at double speed. My mother and I often joke about it, calling him Speedy Gonzales.

If you ever see a small compact man brisk-walking across Red Square or weaving through Nepalese crowds to get to an especially impressive stupa, with his equally compact family struggling to keep up behind, you’ll know that’s us.

My father has almost never steered us wrong. Just name the place and “poof” we’re there. Like magic. When I was especially little, this effect was all the more apparent because all he had to do was pick me up or strap me into a car seat and off we’d go. No foot work required.

I thought all fathers had to possess a mental map of every city in the world, even if they had never been there before. I suspected this information was provided in the secret Papa Handbook which all men received when they became fathers. Years later, I learnt that this handbook does indeed exist. It goes my many names. Frommers, Fodors, Lonely Planet and DK are just a few.

For sure, travel teaches you much.

I have learnt (or rather my parents have) that hiding a tiny flu pill between a nine-year-olds breakfast, even if it is one of Jamón Serrano squished between doughy rolls and eaten beneath ceiling-hung legs of said ham (ah, the novelty), will not, I repeat not get her to swallow.

But I have also derived a terrible misconception about that food which is sacred to many, bacon. Travelling has meant eating a lot of what I call “hotel buffet bacon”. A leathery, sodden excuse for cured meat that some how manages to be both greasy and dry at the same time. For the years I thought I hated bacon.

That is, until one day about two years ago now. It was the festive season and even though it is not in our culture do so, because of the general feel-good spirit of the season, I usually turn out a few Christmasy dishes – cranberry sauce most definitely, a clove studded ham and some indulgent sides.

A quick search on the Food Network site revealed that Tyler Florence had a complete guide to the festive meal, complete with online video demonstrations. He included a sort of updated green bean casserole that called for the green beans to be sautéed with pancetta and mushrooms, then finished with a dollop of sour cream. It sounded good, very celebratory. But I couldn’t find pancetta and had to buy bacon instead.

Just because I didn’t like bacon, I saw no reason to deprive everyone else of it. I figured hey, it’s chopped up how bad can it be? Actually, wasn’t bad at all.

The beans were well-seasoned, substantial and just creamy enough. They had soaked up the smoky goodness of the bacon and were quite a hit. Such a hit in fact, that I started throwing bacon into all my vegetable dishes. Clearly, bacon as a flavouring is something I’ve really grown to like.

One evening, a few months later, I came back from the gym to find my cupboard bare save for a quarter head of cabbage, a handful of walnuts and some bacon. I was starving. So I cooked them up and dinner was served.

It was hands down the best after gym meal I’ve ever made. It’s mainly cabbage so it feels kind of healthy, but there’s also good fat from the nuts and savouriness from the bacon. A new dinner staple was born!

Stir-fried Cabbage with Bacon and Walnuts

¼ head cabbage, shredded
2 slices streaky bacon, chopped
Handful (30g/1oz) walnuts
1 tsp oil

Fry the bacon in the oil until it crisps up a little and some of the fat is rendered (about 5 minutes). Stir in the shredded cabbage. It will seem rather bulky at first, but as it cooks, it will start to collapse. Stir so it cooks evenly. Cook for about 10 minutes (the cabbage will retain some of its crispness). For softer cabbage, put a lid on the frying pan so that it steams and cooks faster. Sprinkle over the walnuts and stir through. Plate and serve.

Serves 1, with leftovers

Shy

2009-03-18T20:53:00.003+08:00

I am, in person, ridiculously shy. Despite my best efforts, even the simplest of lines, is difficult to get out when spoken to a stranger.

Tall people in particular intimidate me. Seriously, when I meet someone new and they’re of a certain height, I can barely look them in the eye. I guess that’s why my closest friends are pretty petite. In my first year at uni, my friend L and I actually toyed with the idea of starting a club just for short people. That is, until we realized that it wasn’t very fair to arbitrarily exclude people for some thing they couldn’t control (plus, we wouldn’t want to miss out on friendship with all the nice and tall people out there).

I’m even drawn to writers who tend towards being pint-sized rather than statuesque. Amanda Hesser is one. Molly Wizenberg, who calls hers a “very little family”, is another example. Though I’ll tell you, she’s got nothing on my tiny clan. I’m five foot one (almost) and my father is the same. My uncles are of similar proportions. Plus, compared to two of my three female cousins, I’m downright gigantic. Seriously, sometimes I feel like an elephant. But it has given me lots of experience interacting with people who are smaller in stature.

Other than that though, I am woefully lacking in experience with social interaction. At the ripe old age of twenty, I’ve never been kissed, let alone had a proper boyfriend. I’m the type who has only a few close friends at a time and am terrible at staying in touch.

It follows then, that there are even many things I eat which make me self conscious. Not because I don’t enjoy them or they are trashy (well maybe the microwaved eggs and processed cheese product that I favoured from ages 5 to 10), but because they are unfamiliar to my eating companions.

I like crème fraiche in my bircher muesli and see shedding some cheese atop my sweet bread pudding as an extension of Mexican Capirotada. To me, the strong sour scent of balsamic vinegar, rising from the pan, first thing in the morning is most welcomed and not cause for a scrunched up nose or reason to crack open an extra window.

Of course, these are not sentiments my parents always share. I don’t expect them to. I am guilty of polluting the air. And before 9am no less. I am sorry.

Still, if my memory serves me right, M.F.K Fisher, in her book, An Alphabet for Gourmets, states that a gourmet is one guided by his or her own appetites and who does so without embarrassment. I’m trying to put this attitude in to practice. In food, as well as life.

After all, when I’m gone (lets hope there’s a long time yet) I want people to say things like “she felt deeply and always laughed out loud”. So as you can see, I’ve got my work cut out for me.

The only time I’ve ever felt anything less than terrified by the world around me was during the year I spent at Trinity College doing a foundation studies course before university. All the students were international like me and the school was small. I felt like I knew everyone in my classes on some level or another. When I walked down the street, people waved at me. When I did presentations in class, I did not stammer but felt confident enough to bring cake. To be more specific, chilli chocolate cake (my presentation was on the history of chocolate).

Truth be told, the cake was a little dry. But I had just discovered this charming little South American café and the owners were so friendly, I couldn’t stop purchasing their Latin (totally new to me at the time) desserts and pastries.

Anyway, a roomful of college-aged students could only be happy with free cake. They claimed to like it. My classmates were sweet.

I have since experimented with the flavours of chocolate and chilli on my own at home, with a cake recipe that I feel very strongly about. If it was the prune that turned my condition around, it was cake, and especially this cake, that sustained the change. It was the first cake I ever made that my family loved and it will always have a place in my heart. My favourite author, Molly Wizenberg calls it Winning Hearts and Minds Cake and Clotilde Dusoulier, the talented lady behind Chocolate and Zucchini, came up with the chocolate chilli variation posted in slightly adapted form here. It is a great cake – sleek and subtle but also bold with spicy flavour.

It is the cake I aspire to be.

French-Style Chilli Chocolate Cake
Adapted from Chocolate and Zucchini

Cake:
200g butter
200g dark chocolate, chopped
200g sugar
5 eggs
a rounded Tbsp of flour
1-1/2 tsp ground chili

Chocolate Ganache:
100g dark chocolate, chopped
100ml cream (single or double, crème fraiche, even sour cream is fine here. I like the tang)

Double cream, to serve (optional)

To make cake:
Pre-heat your oven to 200°C (400°F). Grease an 8-inch round cake pan. Melt the butter with the chocolate in a small saucepan. Add the sugar, mix with a wooden spoon and let cool a little. Add the eggs one by one, mixing well with the spoon after each addition. Add a rounded tablespoon of flour and the chilli. Mix well. Pour the batter into the pan and put into the oven to bake for 30 minutes. Put the pan on a cooling rack on the counter to cool completely.

To make ganache:
Melt together the chocolate and cream in another saucepan. Stir well. Pour into the sunken hollow that will now have formed in the cake.

Refrigerate cake but take it out about half an hour before serving. Serve with double cream, if desired.

Serves 6 to 12.

How prunes turned it all around

2009-03-18T15:28:00.003+08:00

Like most women, I have had issues with my weight and food. In fact, for a while, when I was in my early teens, I was anorexic. I worry as I type those words. There are many anorexic-girl-haters out there. I understand your frustration. But I don’t know what to say to you except that we don’t do it on purpose. I swear. Nobody would.

Other than that blip in my teens, I have always been a good eater. I have however also always been especially conscious of weight and size. When I was in kindergarten, my friends and I used to pretend to be Disney princesses. I always ended up as Snow White. Mostly because with her dark hair and eyes, she looked almost Chinese (which I liked) but also partly because she was slightly chunky or, to be more politically correct, pleasantly round (which I did not like).

But by far the worst incident exposing my strong weight prejudices occurred the year I turned twelve. Every now and then I still feel sinking pangs of regret that that year at summer camp, I asked a rotund facilitator if “he was always that fat”.

I didn’t mean to. It just came out. I was thinking it and when it came my turn to ask him a question (I believe we were doing an exercise to get better acquainted) and I didn’t have one prepared, it just slipped out (I say stupid stupid things when I have to speak in public unprepared). I have often hoped it would give him comfort to know that only a year later I was anorexic. But deep down I know he wouldn’t, he was far too nice for that.

But I tell you this not to elicit anger at my selfishness or pity for my “special” plight (unfortunately, girls with eating disorders are dime a dozen these days). I tell you this as means of expressing my love and gratitude for the humble prune (plus, writing is cathartic and it seems long ago enough now that it doesn’t hurt to share).

The anorexic girl of the dried fruit world, the prune is hated and ridiculed for its laxative properties. But I don’t care. Prunes turned it all around for me.

It happened at this crepe place called Out of the Pan. I had a crepe stuffed with mascarpone and poached prunes (I may have still been 32kg but I was beginning to understand I needed to get better). It was extremely rich of course but it was also complex and fruity. Once in the mouth, the prunes collapsed into a puddle of juice and mixed with the mascarpone to form a deep creamy sauce. I loved it.

Anyone who knows a little about eating disorders will tell you that it is all about control. You feel that you can’t control anything in your life, so you control how much you eat. And it was at the moment that pricey cheese met tongue that I realised one could control not only the quantity of food one ate but also the quality. Thus began my road to recovery.

From then on stewed prunes and mascarpone on toast entered my breakfast rotation. My method was nothing to be imitated. It came from a very basic cookbook found in my secondary school library. The recipe called for the prunes to be microwaved in some earl gray. It did the job, but these days I use this recipe from Orangette. It is worlds better.

Stewed prunes and mascarpone on toast

Stewed prunes and mascarpone on toast was the dish that reacclimatised my palate and stomach to cream. And that of course that opened the door to cake consumption (for which my eating abilities are legendary) but that’s another story. For now, I will leave you with the only recipe that I can truly claim changed my life.

5-7 Stewed Prunes, with some of their syrup
A generous spoonful of mascarpone
A thick slice of bread (I like a dense and hearty wholegrain bread for this)

Toast the bread to desired doneness. Dollop a spoonful of mascarpone on to the toast and smooth it out with the back of the spoon. Artfully spoon over the prunes and drizzle with syrup. Eat.

Serves 1.

Staples

2009-03-09T14:52:00.004+08:00

My rather limited repertoire is made up of only a few staple recipes. I take foolish pride in never cooking the same dish twice. Still, there are certain formulas that I follow again and again with only slight variation. Among these is fruit, sautéed and doused with good balsamic vinegar.

Served with a dollop of yogurt, it is breakfast. Spooned over ice-cream, it is a deceptively sophisticated dessert. Alongside a rich juicy piece of meat, it is a contrasting condiment. There is nothing it cannot do, no mountain it cannot climb and I love the concoction so. My desert island pantry would most definitely include a bottle of balsamic, preferably aged 12 to 15 years. I could scrounge around for some fallen pineapples, perhaps find a banana tree or two and be totally set.

Pictured below is a version of the recipe I make rather more often than the tropical fruit variation, a pear and balsamic sauté. Proper instruction on how to make it may be found here, though you hardly need a recipe. Thanks for this pseudo Polaroid picture and the previous one of a Beijing street should be give to Poladroid, which I have just discovered and am now thoroughly enamoured with.

North

2009-03-03T21:15:00.004+08:00

Just back from Beijing. So much has changed since my last visit almost ten years ago. It’s a real testament to the adaptability of the Chinese people. The capital truly has the feel of a big international city now. There was much to see and surprisingly, much to eat. I wasn’t quite as conscious of what I was eating on my last trip there. I was eleven and a friend I was travelling with got food poisoning at just about every meal. So all I really remember is accompanying her to the washroom. Holding her hair and stuff. Not that I missed anything on the food front. We were on a tour and the meals were horrid.

Much has changed. Our meals on this trip were eye opening. I have much to learn about Northern Chinese food. And Sichuan and Shanghainese food for that matter. But that’s another story. Walnuts, I have learnt, are good in savoury chicken porridge while mutton makes a tasty, if slightly fatty, dumpling filler.

Inspiration for many future meals for sure.

Soft Spot

2009-01-04T11:59:00.013+08:00

I have a serious soft spot for bread pudding. What’s not to like? It’s gooey, creamy and nearly impossible to mess up. It can be flavoured in all sorts of different ways.

But most of all, it makes great use of leftovers. And this gives me an enormous sense of satisfaction. The feeling is hard to describe but I guess to quote one way more eloquent than I, it makes me feel like a "good depression wife".

Peanut Butter Bread Pudding

2 brioche buns
50g chocolate, chopped
2 heaped tbsp peanut butter
2 tbsp sugar
2 eggs
150ml milk
Handful of dried cranberries (optional)
a small pat of butter

Grease two one-cup capacity ramekins. Tear your brioche into bite-sized cubes and divide between the ramekins. Sprinkle over the chocolate. In a bowl, beat together the eggs, peanut butter, sugar and milk. Pour mixture over the bread and chocolate. Cover and leave overnight in the fridge for the custard to soak though the bread completely.

The next morning, preheat your oven to 180C, sprinkle over the cranberries (if using) and dab the puddings with a little butter. Bake for 20 minutes.

Makes 2.

The year in review

2008-12-31T17:28:00.017+08:00

Inspired by this tradition over at Chocolate and Zucchini, I thought I'd do my own little recap of 2008. So here it goes...

New ingredients tried: tempeh, nutritional yeast, kefir, smoked tofu, zucchini flowers, date syrup, mustard fruits

Favourite new ingredient: date syrup

New dishes tried: Kway Chap, tofu cheesecake, Molokhiya

Favourite food-related book: Alone in the Kitchen with an Eggplant

Favourite non-food-related book: Deluxe

Favourite chocolate: Hachez "Cocoa de Maracaibo" Espresso Bar, 55.5% Cacao

Favourite cheese: tie between Delre Gouda (aged 2.5 years) and Tasmanian Heritage Red Square

Favourite savoury: leek and mint quiche from La Parisienne

Favourite sweet: mango and berry yogurt bread pudding

Favourite dish eaten abroad: tahini dip

Favourite vegetable: baby peas

Favourite cut of meat: pork neck

Favourite food blog: Bake and Shake

That's it! I guess my list is not very creative. But those two books are really good. Do check them out if you get the chance. They're not just my favourites of the year but probably of all time.

Bye now, I'm off to cook a New Year's Eve dinner of tobiko pasta and chocolate and olive oil tart.

Happy New Year! Wishing you many good eats in 2009!

Strange

2008-12-09T21:13:00.004+08:00

My brother chose the night I served him honey-roasted castrated chicken for dinner to announce that he was giving up foie gras for ethical reasons. Apparently, the taste isn’t worth the suffering of the ducks and geese. What about the eunuch-ed roosters? This coming from a boy who subsisted on fatty liver all through last year’s holiday in Austria. Also, even after I told him truth behind the capon’s uncommon tenderness (arguably a fate worse than being force fed), he said it was worth it. Strange.

Ancient

2008-12-01T16:56:00.009+08:00

Just back from Egypt. The trip was very educational of course. With all that history how could it not be? Beautiful too. Temples, sunsets from a Nile cruise, the pyramids? Immensely camera worthy.

Traveling by felucca (an ancient local sailboat) might have made for a more authentic experience. But spoilt city girl that I am, spending a week on a boat with only the crew's singing or star gazing for entertainment didn't appeal. I also have little experience with sanitation tablets or burning...ahem...my business to prevent contamination of river water. The likelihood of food poisoning scared me. Besides, how would I appreaciate the full view of the felucca sailing down the Nile if I was actually on it? And it is so pretty from a distance.

As far as food went, the mezze was delicious. The mild and nutty tahini dips were my favorite. I'm hoping to replicate them at home soon.

Avocado

2008-11-16T21:16:00.002+08:00

Avocado Blue Cheese spread from the blog, Anne's Food. My attempt at tempering the pungency of some Shropshire Blue Cheese to breakfastable levels.

2008-11-02T11:38:00.004+08:00

Currently writing directionless essay for Asian PR. Was given terribly vague instructions. Very. Frustrated. Spring Panzanella (made using Browns slightly cakey parmesan garlic baguette) and Vanilla Chai Ice-cream made it a little better.

When they recognize you

2008-10-28T14:32:00.008+08:00

I have a sort of recognition phobia when it comes to stores. When shop keepers start to smile say things like, “for you, I’ll make it $4.20” and “see you next week (next week? What if I don’t come back next week? Will you be disappointed?)”, I get both happy and anxious. It’s nice to be remembered but I’m bad at small talk and feel undeserving of their attention. When they give me an extra half container of black pepper beef at the local take-way, all I can think is, what if I don’t come back soon, then you would have wasted your extra beef on me… I’m probably over thinking this.

Anyway, one of the stores which I’ve recently become familiar with is a charcuterie shop called La Parisienne Pates. I love their rustic quiches (the leek and mint one features a particularly good combination of flavours). But today, I purchased some of their pork rilletes and dark rye bread (I know it isn’t French but I was in the mood for something heartier than baguette) for a picnic-style lunch. I rounded off the meal with pieces of semi-dried pear (so dense and luscious) and liked it so much that I repeated the whole affair at dinner, with the addition of some homemade ratatouille (amazingly, my first attempt ever).

All this is just to say that the shop is tastefully decorated and the ladies who run it are welcoming but not overly chatty (plus one of them has the loveliest French accent). It is a complete haven of pates, cured meats, cheeses and small pastries. I highly recommend it.

La Parisienne Pates
290 Lygon Street
Carlton VIC 3053
Tel: 03 9349 1852

More bread pudding

2008-09-27T09:52:00.004+08:00

This time a fresh and fruity Mango and Berry Yogurt Bread Pudding. The polar opposite of the previous recipe. This one was born out of the need to use up spouted wheat bread and yogurt.

Adapted from this recipe. Used actual fruit and natural yogurt instead of flavoured yogurt. Good for breakfast.

From leftovers...a gooey delight

2008-09-24T10:30:00.003+08:00

Chocolate Macadamia Bread Pudding made using half a leftover bagel and chocolate macadamia spread. Gooey and self-saucing. Yum.

Treats

2008-09-22T22:56:00.005+08:00

Hazelnut blondie, muesli slice and Hello Dolly bar from my favourite bakery, Sweet Source. The hazelnut blondie was my favourite. It was dense yet amazingly light, with incredible flavour from the roasted hazelnuts.

Sweet Source
288 Rathdowne Street
Carlton North 3054
Tel: 03 9348 2998

Ideal

2008-08-02T18:35:00.006+08:00

Pictured below is my idea of the perfect jam tart. The pastry is thick yet flaky. The filling is substantial and softly set. The entire dessert is also only moderately sweet. The filling after all is tempered with lovely, lovely Star Forest raspberry vinegar (naturally sweeter than regular varieties).

The tart is delicious on its own but while eating my third slice, I got it into my head that a creamy component of some kind might make it even better. I envisioned a sort of frosting, piped in a rough lattice over the filling. A cream cheese frosting seemed the ticket as the slight tang of the cheese might keep the sugariness within acceptable levels.

The frosting I decided upon was a gravy-frosting (a recipe concept I have found intriguing for sometime). I think the frosting worked well with the tart, adding a pleasing element of richness to the dessert. But it is entirely optional. The tart on the other hand has been essential to my routine for the past four days.

Jam Tart
Adapted from Lazy Days: contemporary country style cooking by Phillippa Cheifitz and Small-Batch Baking by Debby Maugans Nakos

I actually scaled this recipe down to make a tart about three quarters the size. This one will serve eight generously while the smaller one will serve six.

200g butter
200g sour cream
2 cups flour
1 cup ginger marmalade
300g raspberries
A splash Star Forest raspberry vinegar

Cream the butter and sour cream. Mix in flour to form a soft-dough. Chill. Meanwhile, preheat oven to 190C. Cook berries and jam together in a pot till they form a sort of compote. Add the splash of vinegar. Let filling cool. Roll out dough into a rough circle. Place the filling in the centre. Fold the edges over. The tart should look like a crostata. Bake 30 minutes.

Frosting:
¼ cup milk
1T and 1t flour
3 tbsp butter
3 tbsp cream cheese
1/3 cup sugar

Beat flour into milk. Cook in a pot to form a paste. Cool. Whip butter, cream cheese and sugar. Fold in cooled paste. Use to pipe a lattice pattern over the tart.

Serves 8.

Soy

2008-03-29T20:18:00.015+08:00

I’ve been on a soy kick. I’ve always liked soy well enough but lately it has become somewhat of an addiction. Soy milk in my breakfast granola, soy-enriched “breakfast” cake after lunch, marinated tofu for dinner...the list goes on…

I actually fought soy milk in my morning cereal for the longest time, thinking it something of a poor substitute for dairy milk. But when my gustatory idol, Orangette sanctioned its use with granola in February, I just had to try it.

I’m glad I did. I now love soy milk in my cereal, with one little caveat, it has to be unsweetened. Most granola is sweet enough as it is. Certainly, a saccharine bowlful is not desirable first thing in the morning.

It helps that I’ve found a brand I like. My new favourite soy milk comes in a pretty, nearly pastel yellow and purple carton and contains nary a dodgy ingredient. For non dairy milk, it is also surprisingly rich and creamy. It’s going to be a regular on my shopping list from on.

But enough about that. Let’s cut to the recipes. The first is the aforementioned “breakfast” cake, so named because its texture is just the right mix of bread and cake. It is sufficiently lean to make it breakfast-able but not so dry as to make it an un-welcomed dessert. With warm nubbly bits of pecan and a crusty exterior, this cake is especially good with a glass of soy milk alongside to moisten the tongue.

Oh, and that marinated tofu, it is a real joy. Fresh and zingy with vinegar, it’s so addictive I’ve made four batches in as many weeks. With slight variations, mind you, first with balsamic vinegar, then rice vinegar, followed by white balsamic vinegar and most recently with apple cider vinegar. Truthfully, the apple cider vinegar version is the original and comes from the recipe book, reFresh: Contemporary Vegan Recipes from the Award Winning Fresh Restaurants. But I got a bit tinker happy and took my time experimenting before I tried the original.

My favourite is the first version. Dark syrupy balsamic vinegar ensures that the tofu does not get too acidic. The rice vinegar was too sharp, the white balsamic, pleasant but too mild and the apple vinegar sweet but lacking some of the depth of the balsamic variation.

Honey Orange Breakfast Cake
Adapted from Everybody Likes Sandwiches

The recipe for this loaf comes from my newest favourite blog, Everybody Loves Sandwiches. The original calls for maple syrup but I substituted honey and added a little orange oil.

I like this cut into generous hunks for breakfast and after lunch or dinner. Anytime really. Just remember it’s meant to be dense and chewy, some might say more a bread than cake-like. So if you’re looking for something light and fine crumbed, steer away from this recipe. But if you want a homey rustic treat, this is just the thing.

2 1/2 cups flour
1/2 tsp baking soda
2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp salt
2 tbsp vegetable oil
2 tsp orange oil
3/4 cup honey mixed with water (to get the consistency of maple syrup)
1 cup soy milk
1/2 cup pecans

Preheat oven to 200C (400F). Mix together flour, baking soda, baking powder and salt and set aside. In a smaller bowl, combine and blend remaining ingredients, except nuts. Stir in liquid ingredients into dry. Fold in nuts. Spread batter in a loaf pan. Bake for about 45 minutes.

Makes 8 sizable pieces

Marinated Tofu Cubes
Adapted form reFresh: Contemporary Vegan Recipes From the Award Winning Fresh Restaurants

I like this as a bento filler. Piled atop a lettuce leaf or two, this dish is even presentable enough to serve to company. As this tofu is kept in its marinating liquid, it also has the distinct advantage of being able to sit in the fridge for up to 5 days, without little icicles forming in the tofu and destroying its texture.

1 block (300-400g) of firm tofu, cut into 2-cm (1-inch) cubes
½ cup vinegar (I recommend balsamic, but use whatever suits your tastes)
¾ cup soy sauce
¼ cup water
1 ½ tbsp oil (I like sesame oil, but again, do experiment with different oils)

Combine all liquid ingredients. Pour over tofu. Marinate for 1 hour. Store in a sealed container in the fridge. Keeps up to 5 days.

Makes 3 to 4 servings.

Pie

2008-03-12T20:25:00.007+08:00

Whew! It’s been hot here in Melbourne. The temperatures have hit highs of 39C (109F) this week. All this heat is totally killing my enthusiasm for my daily runs. Too bad really, because my late evening runs are what I enjoy most about summer. I would do yoga or pilates, anything altogether more elegant, but I’m afraid I lack the coordination for that. So I run. It’s soothing and wonderfully monotonous. I could run my usual route blind-folded. When I run I can let my mind drift. Ah, I miss running.

Besides, if I don’t get some exercise soon and continue eating the way I do, I’m going be looking pretty round. Not that that’s too bad actually. To my mind, dumpy = dumpling-like = cute. Haha, or at least that’s what I’ll tell myself when I start to resemble a ball.

Anyway, we’re not here to discuss my exercise issues. We’re here to talk about pie. Puckery, caramelly, absolutely irresistible mini pies to be exact. Parcels of slushy pink fruit encased in flaky buttery pastry.

I made these pies last week to celebrate the start of the school year. Truly, the aroma of pie is the most welcoming thing to come home to after the first day of uni. I know I just complained about summer heat but with pies this good, I can be persuaded to tolerate a little oven-generated warmth in my apartment. Besides, the temperatures last week were much more bearable.

These pies were filled with rhubarb, which I love. It makes a sweet tart filling. So, unlike pastries made from more cloying fruits; these pies are frighteningly easy to eat. The filling recipe came from the ever so reliable Orangette, while the pastry recipe came from the cookbook, Chocolate and Zucchini: Daily Adventures in a Parisian Kitchen. Consistent, easy and tasty, in my experience, that pastry recipe is infallible and should not be toyed with. I did however make a little substitution to the filling. I had no white sugar on hand and swapped it for brown. The brown sugar gave the pie filling an appealing caramel-like quality. I liked the flavour so much, the next time I make this pie, I might not change a thing.

This post is my contribution to the Pi Day celebrations over at Kitchen Parade. Happy Pi Day everyone!

Caramel Rhubarb Mini Pies with Orange Zest
Adapted from Orangette and Chocolate and Zucchini: Daily Adventures in a Parisian Kitchen

Pastry:
1 1/3 cup flour
1 stick (about 125g) butter
1 egg
a pinch of salt

Filling:
1 1/3 cups granulated sugar
6 Tbs unbleached all-purpose flour
A pinch of salt
2 ½ to 3 tsp freshly grated orange zest
1 ½ pounds fresh rhubarb, washed, trimmed, and chopped into ½-cm (1/4 inch) slices
1 Tbs unsalted butter

6 4cm (2 inch) diameter tart tins

Preheat the oven to 220C (450F).

To make crust:
In a food processor, pulse the butter, flour and salt till they look crumb-like. Add egg. Process till the mixture clumps together in a ball. Wrap the dough plastic wrap and put in the fridge for 1/2 an hour (do not skip this step, it seems to help the dough absorb all the flour and makes it more pliable).

Divide the dough into 12 pieces. Working one piece at a time, roll the dough out on a floured board. Press it into one of the 4cm (2-inch) diameter tart tins. Trim away excess pastry from the rim. Smooth out the sides. Repeat with another 5 of the dough pieces. Slip the tart tins into the refrigerator while you prepare the filling.

The filling:
In a medium bowl, combine the sugar, flour, salt, and orange zest, whisking to mix completely. Remove the tart tins from the refrigerator, and divide a ¼ of the sugar mixture amongst the pastry-lined tart tins. Heap the chopped rhubarb on top of the mixture. Distribute more of the sugar mixture evenly over the rhubarb. Cut the butter into a few small pieces, and disperse them over the filling. You will have extra filling.

On a lightly floured surface, roll out the other 6 pieces of pastry dough. Gently lay each round of dough atop a prepared pie, trimming away excess and then pinching and crimping along the edges to seal the top and bottom crusts together. With a sharp paring knife, gently cut three or four slits in the top crust to allow steam to escape.

Place the pies on a baking sheet (for ease of transport), and slide it into the oven. Bake for 15 minutes; then reduce the oven temperature to 180C (350F). Continue to bake for another 15 minutes, until the crust is lightly golden.

Makes 6 mini pies, with filling leftover

Note: I stewed the extra filling ingredients in a pot with some water to make a rhubarb compote.

Atonement scones

2008-02-17T15:31:00.010+08:00

To my dearest father and mother, I apologise. You feed me. You clothe me and allow me to stay under your roof. You pay for my expensive overseas education. You even tolerate my constant and irrational urges to bake. And what do I do? I deny you home-made baked goods.

You see, I thought you didn’t want my granola muffins. You declined them fresh from the oven, choosing instead a breakfast of pillowy Chinese buns. As any breakfast pastry aficionado knows, leaner, morning-suitable muffin varieties are just not up to snuff after a day or two. Especially when kept in our humid tropical heat. Sure, I managed to down two toasted and slathered with butter. But to you my discerning parents, I only want to serve the best. I fed the last two to our koi. Idiocy. There is no excuse. I’m sorry.

To atone, I offer drop scones. I know how you share my love for the versions at Da Paolo. You have impeccable taste. I’ll even throw in some chocolate chunks and cornflakes like they do. Please forgive me.

Atonement Scones (aka Cream Scones with Dark Chocolate Chunks or White Chocolate Chunks and Cornflakes)
Adapted from Orangette, who got the recipe from Leslie Mackie’s Macrina Bakery and Café Cookbook

I know, I know, not yet another recipe from Orangette. If it’s any consolation, this one is heavily adapted. Her recipes are just so tempting. Really, why do I even blog? I promise this is the last one…at least for a while.

Fennel seeds and currants were integral to the original recipe’s appeal but I needed to make something I knew my parents would love. These are afterall, atonement scones. You’ll be glad to know, they were very pleased with this tender cakey rendition of the cream scone. It is less greasey than the scone it was modelled after.

½ cup dark chocolate chunks
¼ cup white chocolate chunks
¼ cup cornflakes

3 ½ cups unbleached all-purpose flour
¾ cup granulated sugar
2 Tbsp. baking powder
1 tsp salt
2 ½ cups heavy cream, plus 1-2 Tbsp. for glazing

Preheat the oven to 180C (350F) and line two baking sheets with parchment paper. In a large bowl, whisk the flour, sugar, baking powder and salt until thoroughly blended.
Pour 2 ½ cups of the cream into a medium bowl, and beat just until it begins to hold small, soft peaks. It should not be stiff. Using a rubber spatula, gently fold half of the whipped cream into the dry ingredients, and then fold in the second half. When the dry ingredients are absorbed, turn the shaggy dough out onto a floured surface. Coat your hands well with flour, and gently work the dough – pressing and massaging and gathering, but not really kneading – into a rough ball. Do not overwork it: you want it to just come together.

Press the dough into a large, thick round, and cut it in half. Press the dark chocolate chunks into one half. And press the white chocolate chunks and cornflakes into the other half. Form the halves into two smaller rounds. Cut the rounds into 6 pieces each. Roll the pieces into balls. Gently transfer the scones onto the prepared baking sheets, press down to flatten (to 2 cm/1 inch thickness) and brush their tops with cream. Bake the scones for 20-25 minutes, rotating the pans halfway through, until golden. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Makes 12 scones (6 dark chocolate and 6 white chocolate and cornflake).

Granola Muffins
Adapted from Nigella Lawson’s cookbook, Feast

I keep this recipe (which I halved) here as a reminder. From this day forth, I will always remember to save baked goods for my dear parents.

225g (scant 2 cups) plain flour
1 tsp baking powder
¼ tsp salt
250ml (1 cup) fromage blanc
1 egg
175g (3/4 cup) brown sugar
80ml vegetable oil
250g (1 ½ cups) granola

Preheat oven to 200C (400F). Grease a 12-cup muffin tin. Combine the flour, baking powder and salt in a large bowl. In a jug, whisk together the fromage blanc, egg, sugar and oil. Pour this into the dry ingredients and stir to combine. Divide mixture among the muffin cups. Bake 25 minutes, till risen and golden.

Makes 12.

Cookie baker, insect slayer

2008-02-03T21:08:00.001+08:00

As I write this, I am sweaty, insect bitten and inordinately flustered. What activity has got me so worked up? Unbelievably, baking. Oh yes, now I remember why I always think twice about baking in Singapore (not that it ever stops me). The heat! The humidity! The insect infestation! Don’t even get me started on the irony of our pest control service’s name, Lucky Pest. Hrumph! Lucky pest indeed!

I have long been convinced that baking in Singapore should only be undertaken in the morning, before the sun and its evil rays reach the island. Failing this, rainy weather also makes afternoon baking somewhat bearable. Still, what was I doing in the kitchen on this damp sticky Sunday afternoon you ask?

Baking chocolate chip cookies with dried apricots and espresso. For Chinese New Year no less. I know, I know, they’re not very traditional but it seems that non-traditional is “in” these days. Anyway, with cookies this sweet, tart and warmly chocolately, I don’t think anybody will mind a little innovation.

Making these cookies was easy enough; I just stirred the dry ingredients in one bowl with the chocolate and apricots then proceeded to cream the butter and two sugars. This is where the nightmare began. Believe me, within a minute of chopping the chocolate and measuring the sugar, the kitchen top was overrun with ants.

Picking up my mixer and bowl of dry ingredients, I scurried over to the dining table and deposited them safely. I then grabbed a kitchen towel and began wiping frantically back and forth on the kitchen top. This seemed to either kill or chase away most of the blasted ants, clearing my work area somewhat. I returned my baking implements to their rightful place and continued with the cookie making.

Sporadically, the ants would return, hindering my progress. I did however manage to fall into a rather rhythmic routine, alternately folding the cookie dough and swatting ants. All this while, I also stomped my feet in a marching-cum-tap-dancing motion, vainly trying to prevent mosquitoes from landing on my legs. Gosh, I can be ridiculous.

After a brief stint in the fridge, the cookie dough was rolled into balls and baked. I ate three fresh from the oven. Mmmm…let’s hope at least some of them reach my relatives in Penang.

Chocolate Chip Cookies with Dried Apricots and Espresso
Adapted from Orangette, who got the recipe from Leslie Mackie’s Macrina Bakery and Café Cookbook

This recipe is yet another keeper from Orangette. I made these cookies a little smaller than suggested because they are for Chinese New Year and have to fit into one of those festive round jars my family hoards every year. The baking time was reduced to 10 to 12 minutes.

2 ¼ cups unbleached all-purpose flour
1 tsp baking soda
¼ tsp salt
½ tsp finely ground espresso beans
10 ounces good-quality semisweet chocolate chips, such as Ghirardelli
¾ cup unsulfured dried apricots, diced
8 ounces (2 sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature
¾ cup granulated sugar
¾ cup light brown sugar
2 large eggs
2 tsp pure vanilla extract

In a medium bowl, combine flour, baking soda, salt, and espresso. Stir with a whisk until well mixed. Add chocolate chips and apricots, and mix well with a spoon. [Adding the apricot bits at this stage and coating them with flour helps to keep them from sticking to one another.] Set aside.

In the bowl of a stand mixer (or in a large mixing bowl), combine the butter and sugars. Using the paddle attachment (or the regular beaters of your handheld mixer), mix on medium speed until the mixture is smooth, fluffy, and pale in color about 5 minutes. Add 1 egg, and mix to incorporate. Scrape down the sides of the bowl with a rubber spatula; then add the remaining egg and the vanilla extract. Continue mixing until incorporated, about 1 minute. The batter should look very fluffy, almost like frosting. Remove the bowl from the mixer, if using, and scrape down its sides again.

Using a rubber spatula, gently fold half of the dry ingredients into the batter. After the first half is fully incorporated, add the second, and continue folding until all of the flour has been absorbed. Scrape down the sides of the bowl, and cover it with plastic wrap. Chill the dough in the refrigerator for at least 1 hour and up to 4 days.

When you are ready to bake the cookies, position a rack in the center of the oven, and preheat the oven to180C. Grease a rimmed baking sheet.

Roll dough into 2-cm balls. Place balls on the baking sheet, leaving 2 cm between each ball. Place the remaining dough in the refrigerator while the first batch bakes.

Bake cookies for 10 to 12 minutes, or until golden brown around the edges and slightly soft in the center. To help them bake evenly, rotate the baking sheet every four minutes. When the cookies are ready, remove the pan from the oven, and carefully slide the sheet of parchment paper and its cookies onto a countertop, cutting board, or cooling rack. Allow to cool for about 10 minutes, if you can possibly wait, before eating. Repeat with the remaining chilled dough.

Makes about 40 cookies, I too found the raw dough irristable.

On scones, and having a mouth big enough to eat them

2008-02-01T21:10:00.001+08:00

I had my first scone in Cameron Highlands. I immediately pronounced it “the best thing ever” and downed two all on my own. This was quite and achievement. For reference, my five-year-old mouth wasn’t yet large enough to bite into even a squished down (my parents were um, very helpful) Egg MacMuffin. Generously dolloped with clotted cream and strawberry jam, no scone I have eaten since has ever measured up. Or ever been as messy.

Till yesterday however, my own scone making skills have been limited to drop scones and cream scones. These are delicious yes, but they are not what we, here in once colonial Singapore commonly term “scones”. And sometimes, you just want a pastry you can smother, and I do mean smother, with butter and not feel as if your stomach were a brick later.

This is where Molly, of Orangette fame comes in. She first bestowed her sister’s Scottish Scone recipe upon her grateful readers more than three years ago. I am ashamed to say I only just tried it yesterday. What a pity. Had I known how simple these lovelies were to make, I would have made them regulars at our house.

There are just so many things that please me about these scones. I am pleased by their pointy tips and golden finish. I am pleased by their affinity to one of my favourites, orange honey butter. But most of all, I am pleased that they are dainty enough so that I, with my once inadequately sized mouth, can enjoy them.

Orange Scones
Adapted from Orangette

When these scones rise, a little crack appears all around the perimeter, allowing them to be easily split and buttered. Thus prepared, they make a neat portable breakfast, more delicate than the egg muffins of my childhood and a whole lot tastier.

½ c milk
1 egg
2 cups all-purpose flour
2 tsp baking powder
½ tsp salt
½ stick (2 ounces) unsalted butter, cubed and chilled
3 Tbs sugar (I used brown)
1 tsp boyajian orange oil

Preheat oven to 210C.

Beat together the milk and the egg and then set aside. In a large bowl, mix flour, baking powder, and salt. Rub the butter into the flour mixture, working until you have no lumps bigger than a pea. Add the sugar and orange oil, and stir or toss to mix. Pour the wet ingredients into the dries, reserving just a tad of the milk-egg mixture to use as a glaze. Bring dough together gently with a wooden spoon.

Turn dough out onto a lightly floured counter and knead it no more than 12 times. Pat dough into a round approximately 1 cm thick, and cut into 8 wedges. Place on an ungreased baking sheet or a Silpat, if you have one. Using a pastry brush, glaze wedges.

Bake for 10-15 minutes, or until golden. Cool on a rack.

Makes 8.

Something like Christmas in July

2007-07-28T19:29:00.000+08:00

I baked ham!

It wasn’t demanding but it feels like such an achievement. It was just so pretty. Alongside the ham, my friend L and I feasted on cornbread, French onion soup, a variety of unconventional condiments (sweet-and-sour prunes, peach chilli jam, eggplant pickle) and cupcakes (orange blossom and tiger).

L’s onion soup was thick and rich with flavour from both chicken and beef stock while her tiger cupcakes were moist and friand-like.

The aforementioned ham was glazed in a mixture of ginger marmalade, brown sugar and Djion mustard. This sweet hot glaze complemented the salty ham and cut the richness of the cured meat. I found the peach jalapeno jam in a little farmers’ market in Washington D.C. It made a most intriguing accompaniment to the ham. At first taste, the jam seems like any other chunky peach conserve. Then, the candied chilli hits you. The chilli's heat is a shock and it takes a moment for your brain to register that the combination is actually quite good. For the other accompaniments, I braised some prunes in sweet balsamic syrup till plump and swollen and bathed slithers of eggplant in savoury garlic oil.

The orange blossom cupcakes required a bit of improvisation as I couldn’t find pistachio meal or the particular icing flowers I intended to use in the cakes. So, I bunked a few recipes together and voila…a new cupcake recipe was born. They weren’t too bad actually, the orange blossom flavour was neither too intense nor too weak. Also, the cakes were relatively tender with a fine crumb. The orange blossom glaze proved a little runny, but nothing a tiny pastel flower (even one from Safeway) couldn't help cover.

The best part is…I had ham leftovers. This is very special for the girl who has never had a traditional Christmas dinner in her entire life. Oh, how I love the feeling of plenty ham leftovers give you.

Leftovers

2007-06-17T21:44:00.000+08:00

In my household, the main culprits are stale cookies and past-its-prime chocolate. Impossible you say? Who can resist cookies or chocolate long enough for them to get stale? Easy, if the sweets in question are sale items, free gifts or substandard confections bought on vacation.

You see, my father has a penchant for buying cheap and on-sale cookies, thinking he will get round to eating them all or at least give them away as gifts. Unfortunately, price is usually an indicator of quality and massive quantities of mediocre biscuits do not an empty cookie jar make. This often means wastage. I love my father dearly but goodness knows he should have learnt his lesson by now.

Spurred on by my typically Chinese anti-wastage gene, I decided to do something about the leftovers. I made chocolate peanut slice. Waxy Russian souvenir chocolate, crushed Chinese New Year love letter cookies and a little baggie those salted peanuts I saved from the airplane formed the base. Eating 5-month old wafers is probably akin to asking for a belly ache. I know. But remember the aim here, avoid waste.

I slathered on some fudgy milk chocolate icing, shoved it in the fridge and hoped for the best. The result was almost too rich. Yet, the saltiness of the peanuts against the sweetness of the chocolate is a tried-and-true combination. I don’t know about you but I find inferior chocolate much easier to swallow when mixed with other more palatable ingredients. Also, I’m not much of a milk drinker but an accompanying glass is requisite here. The slice seems far too intense to be savored without alternating bites with sips of the mild creamy drink.

Chocolate Peanut Slice

As a product of improvisation, this recipe is open to adaptation. I used love letter cookies, inadvertently giving the slice a coconutty flavour but of course any cookies can be substituted.

75g dark chocolate
1 heaped tbsp butter
75g love letter wafers, crushed

For icing:
75g milk chocolate
4-5 tbsps milk
1 tsp butter

Melt the dark chocolate and butter in a metal bowl over a pot of simmering water. Add crushed wafers (the mixture should look like a coarse paste, if it’s too liquid, add more wafer crumbs). Mix to combine. Line a 15 x 15 cm container with foil and grease it. Press the wafer mix into the pan.

For icing:
In another clean bowl, melt the milk chocolate together with the butter and milk. Stir well and pour over the slice mixture. Leave in the refrigerator overnight or until the slice is completely set.

Serves 4.

Procrastination

2007-06-01T21:03:00.001+08:00

Just a quick post today, really shouldn’t be wasting time. I’ve got 3 essays to complete. But as I always, I’m eating lots, if not more than usual. Here are just some of the things I made to put off doing real work.

Meringues (which were good alongside some soy passionfruit ice-cream).

Peanutty Asian Coleslaw.

Milk Chocolate Coconut Truffles (was going to use white choc but I had milk choc on hand...).

Pork with Apple Chutney and Sweet Potato Mash.

Prawn Salad with Cocktail Sauce.

White Chocolate Mousse (ended up buying white choc later anyway).

Broccolini with Seeded Mustard Cheddar Mayonnaise.

Got to go back to work now. Need to look away from the computer screen.

Big batch, small oven

2007-05-22T21:20:00.039+08:00

I usually drastically reduce the proportions of my muesli and granola recipes. Sadly, this sometimes results in slightly burnt (ahem…over-browned) cereal. The oats are spread too thinly and cook too fast.

So this time I thought I’d make a full batch of granola. Two full batches actually. The first was this delectable Crunchy Coconut Macadamia Granola with Honey from Cream Puffs in Venice and the second was an Orange Blossom Granola inspired by this recipe at Orangette. The only problem was that I have a tiny oven and an even tinier baking sheet so I spent the whole morning shoving in and pulling out small batches of granola. Kinda defeating the purpose of making a big batch. Oh well.

Anyway, I made the Crunchy Coconut Macadamia Granola with a few slight changes. I omitted the pumpkin seeds and substituted dried paw paw for the dried currants and apricots. It was definitely the richer of the two granolas I made. After all, it contains ½ a cup of butter.

The Orange Blossom Granola was floral and fruity. I added orange blossom water instead of orange juice as an experiment and am happy to report that it worked out well. This unusual flavouring gave the granola a special touch, making it taste like something one might eat on an exotic holiday to the Middle East.

Orange Blossom Granola
Adapted from Orangette but originally from The Rancho La Puerta Cookbook: 175 Bold Vegetarian Recipes from America’s Premier Fitness Spa

3 cups old-fashioned rolled oats
½ cup chopped raw almonds
½ cup sunflower seeds
½ cup oat bran
1 Tbs ground cinnamon
¾ tsp ground ginger
¾ tsp ground cardamom
¾ cup honey
½ cup apple juice
2 tsp oil
1 Tb orange flower water

Preheat oven to 120C. Lightly coat a baking sheet with vegetable oil spray. In a large mixing bowl, combine rolled oats, almonds, sunflower seeds, bran, cinnamon, ginger, and cardamom. In another bowl, whisk together honey, apple juice, and oil until the honey is thoroughly incorporated. Add the orange flower water. Pour wet ingredients over dry ingredients and mix well. Spread the granola evenly over the baking sheet and bake for 1 ½ hours, checking every 15 or so minutes. When the granola begins to brown, stir and turn over gently with a spatula. Take care that the outside edges do not burn. When golden and dry, scrape onto a cool baking sheet and set aside to cool. Granola will crisp as it cools. Store in an airtight container.

On the back of the pack

2007-05-21T16:50:00.004+08:00

Recipes on the back of food packages and I have a long history together. The first “from scratch” cake I ever made was from a recipe printed on a box of Sunshine-brand flour.

I couldn’t wait to get my chubby 7-year-old paws onto our manual cake mixer. It mattered little that I was stamina-challenged and that my mother ended up doing most of the mixing. The resulting raisin butter cake gave me the greatest sense of accomplishment all the same. It was served to some of my father’s friends for tea and they dutifully complimented our baking skills.

More than a decade later, I’m still cooking from the backs’ of food packs. Except now, the recipes are slightly more complex in flavour. But by their very nature, recipes printed on food wrappers still have to be simple and easy, or they wouldn’t fit onto the limited space available.

So whether I’m making a Ghiradelli chocolate cheesecake or Blancmange from the reverse side of a cornflour container, I know it won’t require too much effort. This is especially important when you have a mountain of research to wade through for your Uni essays.

The instructions for tonight’s dinner came from an empty bag of Vetta pasta. I used the sauce recipe on some spelt pasta instead. The sauce came together painlessly. I just shoved some tomato halves in the oven to roast up and made a relish-like crushed olive mixture to go on top.

Sweet silky tomatoes punctuated by bites of briny olive. Bliss.

Pasta with Roasted Tomatoes, Garlic and Crushed Black Olives
Adapted from the back of a Vetta pasta pack

180g pasta
3 tomatoes
2 large cloves garlic, peeled
70g pitted black olives, chopped
Juice of half a lemon
Olive oil
Salt and pepper, to taste

Cut tomatoes in half and place on a baking sheet with the garlic cloves. Drizzle liberally with olive oil and season with salt and pepper. Roast in a 220C oven for 30-45 minutes.

Make olive mixture. Combine olives, lemon juice and a splash of olive oil.

Boil the pasta and drain. Chop the hot tomatoes and toss through the cooked pasta. Divide between 2 serving bowls and top each with a glistening ebony mound of olive mix.

Serves 2.

Aversion

2007-05-19T19:38:00.000+08:00

About a week ago I did something crazy. I’ll tell you but you’ve got to promise not to judge me.

I made pasta with chocolate and anchovies. Yes, yes…I know that sounds awful but just take a look at the recipe. Promising…no?

Well, as it turns out, the pasta won’t win any prizes in the flavour stakes. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, it gave me a terrible case of indigestion that kept me awake all night. But by far the worst effect was the aversion I acquired for my dear friend, chocolate.

Determined to overcome this distaste, I endeavoured to make some chocolate and candied citron bars. The bars were inspired by this recipe by Jamie Oliver. I halved the recipe and used candied citron in place of the nuts, smashed meringue and glace cherries.

I’ve wanted to try candied citron for the longest time. I usually see it sold as an accompaniment to cheese. There's a nice picture of the funky looking fruit here. Thin slithers of the citron with aged cheddar and water crackers were quite satisfying but I was curious to see what else I could do with it.

The bars were a good choice. They tasted rather like a sophisticated hedgehog slice.

Chocolate and Candied Citron Bars

100g digestive biscuits (about 6 biscuits)
3/4 cup candied citron, chopped
75g butter, cut into small cubes
100g dark chocolate, chopped

Put the biscuits into a ziplock bag and crush them (with a rolling pin or your hands...whatever works). Pour the crumbs into a large bowl. Add the candied citron. Put the chocolate and butter into another bowl. Heat over a pan of simmering water until they have melted. Combine the biscuit mix with the chocolate mixture. Line a loaf tin with baking paper. Pour in all of the bar mixture. Place in the fridge to firm up (for about an hour) then turn out and cut into chunky fingers.

Makes about 8 bars.

Freezer Space

2007-05-18T21:52:00.001+08:00

I’m running out of it. It can’t be helped. Rainy weather is just perfect for cooking. Firing up the stove warms the room and makes it cosy. All that food has to go some where and there are limits to the capacity of the human stomach. Plus, I hate wasting food. So into the freezer everything goes.

Stews and soups freeze beautifully. Today’s additions were Thai style lamb curry and chicken and rice soup. The curry was nice and punchy. Great for a dreary day, really perks up your taste buds.

Fiery red...

The soup, on the other hand, made me feel quite virtuous. It was packed full of nourishing and wholesome ingredients like brown rice and veggies.

Clear and healing...

Still, I need to stop cooking.

Cake day

2007-05-17T22:41:00.000+08:00

I bake when I’m stressed. When the days get short and essays abound, I hear the song of the kitchen beckoning me. “Bake cake…bake cake…bake cake…” it calls.

Ok, so I exaggerate. But the orderly steps required of baking and the comforting fragrances wafting from my oven really do calm my nerves.

The first cakes I made today were green tea almond syrup cakes filled with red bean paste…whew…what a mouthful. In line with their Japanese origins, green tea cakes are usually light and fluffy. So I was curious to see what a friand-type cake, with heft, would do if given the green tea treatment. Taking my favourite dense almond cake recipe, I added a double hit of green tea – matcha powder and green tea syrup – and filled the cakes with red bean paste.

I thought the matcha flavour in the cakes came through quite well until I tried it with the red bean filling. While I love the combination of green tea and red bean, the store-bought red bean paste was just too sweet and overpowering to complement the cake.

The syrup upped the green tea quotient a bit but I really only see one solution to this problem – make my own red bean paste. Sadly, dear reader, I am far too lazy for that right now.

The second bake of the day, individual almond tortes, came about simply because I wanted something to accompany this caramel dessert thingy I bought…insert appropriate plug for King Island Dairy here…

These little tortes were relatively light and dare I say much drier than the green tea cakes. But they served their purpose to offset the dairy richness of my dessert.

Green Tea Almond Cakes filled with Red Bean Paste
Adapted from the Women’s Weekly Midweek Meals in Minutes

80g butter, softened
1 tsp matcha powder, mixed with 2 tbsps of water
1/3 cup sugar
3 eggs
1 ½ cups almond meal
1/3 cornflour
Sweetened red bean paste

Green Tea Syrup
½ cup very strong green tea, made with 3 tea bags
1/3 cup sugar

Preheat oven to 180C. Grease 4 dariole moulds. Beat butter and sugar in a small bowl with an electric mixer until light and fluffy. Beat in eggs one at a time. Stir in almond meal and flour. Divide ½ the mixture among the moulds and then dollop about 2 tbsps of red bean paste into each mould. Top the paste with the remaining batter (the moulds will be filled to the brim) and bake for 20 minutes.

The syrup:
Place the tea and sugar into a small saucepan. Heat the mixture over low heat, stirring, to make sure that all the sugar is dissolved. Boil the syrup until it thickens slightly. Transfer the syrup to a glass or transparent serving vessel.

Makes 4.

Individual Almond Tortes
Adapted (almost beyond recognition) from Epicurious

I baked these tortes in tartlet tins, giving them a pretty flower shape. But the original recipe from Epicurious makes one large round torte. Since the torte was meant to be topped with coffee-flavoured whipped cream, I thought it would marry well with my caramel cream dessert.

¼ cup plus 1 tbsp almond meal
1 large egg, separated
1 ½ tbsp sugar

Preheat oven to 180C. Butter 2 8-cm diameter tartlet tins. Using electric mixer, beat egg yolk in a small bowl. Add sugar, beating until well blended. Stir ground almonds into yolk mixture. Using clean dry beaters, beat egg white in another bowl until stiff but not dry. Fold white into nut mixture. Transfer batter to prepared pans. Bake cakes about 20 minutes.

Serves 2, paired with little cups of caramel dessert.

Soup

2007-05-15T21:29:00.000+08:00

Addictions are usually kept secret. They are supposed to be shameful. But I’ll never hide the fact that I, dear reader, am a soup-a-holic.

There’s nothing like a bowlful of liquid goodness. Soup is tummy-filling comfort food and the perfect go-to dinner after a long day.

Soup-eating is a sort of ritualistic for me. Tuesdays and Thursdays, that’s when I it eat the most. Uni lessons end late and it is very appealing to make dinner a simple slurpy affair. A few ingredients quickly chopped sautéed and stewed make an interesting dinner that can be adapted in a myriad of ways.

Tonight, the contents of my stockpot were thick, rich and West African. Peanuts and tomatoes are not often thought of as bosom buddies but I was assured by a number of recipes that my African Peanut Soup would turn out fine. The flavours were indeed complementary. Think Chinese peanut noodle dressing but spicier.

African Peanut Soup
Adapted from Epicurious and Allrecipes

It is not in my at times precariously neurotic character to merge recipes. However, on this occasion, inspired by a new foodie friend, V, I decided to be more spontaneous. The recipe here is a combination of this recipe form Epicurious and this recipe from Allrecipes. I have never been to the Western parts of Africa so I can’t vouch for this recipe’s authenticity. What I can say is that the soup made a satisfying, slightly adventurous dinner with plenty of leftovers for later. Methinks a cupful will go well with the Panzanella I plan to make for lunch tomorrow.

2 tbsps olive oil
1 clove garlic, chopped
1 bell pepper/capsicum, chopped
400g canned tomatoes
1 litre chicken stock
¼ tsp red pepper flakes
¼ cup uncooked rice
1/3 cup tomato paste
2/3 cup peanut butter

Heat the olive oil in a pan and cook the garlic and capsicum for about 5 minutes. Add the tomatoes, stock, rice, tomato paste, peanut butter and red pepper flakes. Simmer for 45 minutes or until rice is tender. Thin out with a little water if it gets too thick for your liking.

Makes about 4 cups.

Pork and Veal Terrine

2007-05-13T19:18:00.000+08:00

I'm posting this for no other reason than I love this picture. A friend came over for dinner yesterday and she "fixed" my camera. It can focus now! My happiness knows no bounds...