Bouchon and The Cookbook

After a particularly stressful day at work recently, I picked up the Bouchon cookbook on impulse. At HKD500, it wasn't a cheap acquisition, but it is sooooo good it's like food porn. Needless to say, I've spent many nights drooling over its pages and falling asleep with dreams of creamy rilettes, crispy frites and succulent roast meats. Mmmm...

I haven't had time to make any of the recipes in Bouchon (too busy drooling obviously), however when Christmas vacation plans materialized into a driving trip from San Francisco to Los Angeles, I convinced S that he absolutely HAD to make the detour up to Napa to go to one of Keller's restaurants. We tried to make reservations at French Laundry, but obviously did not get one.

(We actually got through the line after being put on hold for 20 minutes - I think the conversation went something like: Me: "Can I make a reservation for French Laundry for two please? Anytime in December, for lunch or dinner, whatever we can get." Recep: "I'm sorry m'am but we are completely full in December." Me: "(sounding desperate) Nothing at all?? What about January?" Recep: "I'm sorry we are closed first week in January and I have nothing thereafter either. Would you like to put your name on the waitlist? ." Me: "Ok." At this point I'm thinking she probably writes our names down on a piece of paper, crushes it, and jumpshots it into the overflowing paper bin across the room thinking "Another pair of morons." ANYWAY...)

So Bouchon it had to be. I'd been to Bouchon once during my culinary course at Napa, and it had just been perfect - gorgeous, simply prepared bistro fare - so I did manage to raise S's expectations pretty high.

We weren't disappointed. We ordered the quiche du jour, poulet un frites and a salmon rilette. Everything was simply delicious. The chicken especially was perfectly done - seasoned in a honeyed brine (aha - recipe in his cookbook!!) and roasted until it was succulent and not at all overdone. The white meat was still juicy and the dark meat just had the slightest, faintest tinge of blush at the bone (some might say underdone, but it's the Chinese way!). The fries were how fries should be - crisp and fragrant outside, with a touch of creaminess inside. I'd ordered the quiche and rilette last time and had been suitably impressed - this time was no different.

We left, full, satisfied, impressed, and I, inspired. When I return to Hong Kong, I'm definitely plucking up the courage to try to recreate these dishes at home.

Kaya Toast anyone?

Despite having cooked somewhat seriously or otherwise for the last ten years, it had never occured to me to try to make bread. I think it was a combination of the lack of counterspace for kneading, along with the intimidation at working with a live culture (yeast!) that probably deterred me for the longest time.

However now that I have plenty of counterspace in my new(ish) home, the former reason is no longer an impediment. After much hesitation, I read up on recipes and techniques in The Joy of Cooking and decided to give it a whirl.

I have to say, I've been absolutely bowled over by the results. The first time I tried, I made pizza and focaccia. Pizza turned out great, focaccia was ok but a bit hard (the pan was probably too large so it turned out biscuitey). I made foccacia again the following week, and this turned out perfectly - I made little panini sandwiches to serve up for poker night. I was so inspired, I also decided to make a batch of milk buns at the same sitting (they were devoured as hot dog buns after a long night of poker and much $$ changing hands...)

There's just something mechanical about kneading dough by hand that seems to help take the stress of work and daily life off my mind. It's just amazing how it's one of the oldest techniques known to mankind, yet the results are always pure alchemy - how does powder plus liquid plus heat equal crusty-on-the-outside-but-soft-on the-inside substenance?

I am so inspired, I have even attempted to make kaya (coconut curd)! Kaya calls for another post of its own, but for now, all I will say is attempt number one turned out ok except the colour is too light (I'll make sure to caramalize the sugar first next time...).

Now all I have to do is wait for my brioche to finish baking so that I can eat it with kaya and butter... Mmmmm...

Masochism... (aka Tunnel-Boning)

Now before anyone misinterprets the title of this post and thinks tunnel-boning is a BDSM fetish... fat hope! This is only a food blog remember? Now read on..

Last Saturday, I decided to serve roasted quails for the main course again. The last time I served this was about 6 weeks back, and while it was all tasty enough, I didn't manage to tunnel-bone the birds properly (left the spine intact), and also they came out a touch overdone. Practise makes perfect as they say, and I just had to try to perfect this dish.

I could have bought quails at the big Times Square CitySuper that already come tunnel-boned (albeit at a slightly higher price). But no... you see, somehow I had this unexplainable, irresistable urge to tunnel-bone the quails myself. For those unfamiliar with the term, tunnel-boning is the technique of removing the ribcage and spine of poultry though the neck opening while keeping the skin and meat completely intact and unbroken. So when stuffed, the tunnel-boned birds will look like they've never been deboned, but can be cut right through for ease of eating (quails are fiddly to eat if not deboned). Sounds impossible? Well I just had to try it again.

You see, I actually enjoy the prepping process in cooking. Whether it be peeling potatoes, mincing garlic, gutting fish or deboning meat, I view it as a holistic and intrinsic part of the culinary journey. If you know how to prep your own ingredients, you will end up having more respect for the food you cook. Tunnel-boning just sounded like something I had to master.

After brining the birds, I culled some imprecise instructions from the internet and set about deboning the fiddly creatures. First I slid my paring knife under the breast meat near the neck opening and cut out the wish bone, then i used my fingers to slowly work the flesh away from the rib cage. That bit was easy enough. The tricky bit came when I attempted to loosen the skin away from the bony spine. I managed to rip through 2 birds (so had to butterfly them instead). Fortunately I managed to sucessfully tunnel bone the other 2 birds. (One of them did have a tiny tear but it was salvageable). All in, I must have spent an hour and a half working on the 4 birds. I don't know if I was doing it correctly, but when I was done with the tunnel-boning, the birds were almost turned inside out!

I stuffed the birds with a mushroom and bacon breadcrumb mix, trussed them,then roasted them for 20 minutes over a charcoal fire. I have to say, the result was great and the birds turned out not only looking very presentable, but tasted absolutely delicious and were so easy to eat with no finicky bones to pick through. I know you can't really tell from the photo (and yes I do need to start taking better pictures, I can hear you think), but I swear there are no bones in that quail save for the legs... No kidding!!

Babi in Bali

Bali is one of my all-time favourite destinations. Regardless of how far we venture or how exotic the other locales, we always seem to come back to Bali at least once a year (more often than not, 2-3 times a year). Of course we never fail to eat badly here - one would not expect any less of someone like me - and this obviously adds to the allure of the sun, sand and surf.

We have done the old favourites many times over - classics like Made's Warung, Kafe Warisan, La Lucciola, Bebek Begil and many others usually satisfy for a fraction of the price back home. This time, we decided to try the newly opened and VERY upscale Indonesian restaurant Sankha at the Bvlgari Resort. I mean, c'mon, if we can't afford to shell out USD1,500 a night for a room, at least we can splash out at dinner, right?

The restaurant was deserted by the time we rolled up at 10pm (driver got lost...), so we got the best seat in the house, right by the cliff overlooking the private beach. The view was stunning and the atmosphere was very romantic. Most importantly though, the food was absolutely EXQUISITE. We ordered the sambal kangkong, a selection of satay and the tamarind and coconut marinated chicken, all classic Indonesian specialities. You're probably thinking right now we must be mad to make the 45min drive to Bvlgari Resort to order what we could theoretically have had at the warung down the street for next to nothing. But this wasn't just any warung though - it was Sankha, and it was awesome.

Most ethnic cuisines which are borne out of times of need, tend to use judiciously herbs and spices to make the most of the little (or poor quality produce) they have. Indonesian cuisine is one such example, and when you take these beautiful spice blends (rempah) and cook them with better cuts of meat, the results are stunning. Sankha is a great example of this - the satays were made of good chunky cuts, and the chicken was Australian corn-fed, not some kampung bird! Also of note is the use of udang geringo (tiny dried shrimp) in the kangkong - a feature not often seem but which gave it just that extra ooomph. YUM.


Fine dining aside, Bali's most famous dish has got to be the babi guling - a whole spit-slow-roasted pig with the crispiest skin imaginable, melt in your mouth fat, some unidentifiable crispy bits(probably pig innards if u ask me) and meat that is shredded and mixed with a fiery spice mix, served over rice. It is so iconic, Anthony Bourdain has featured it on his No Reservations show, and both significant Singaporean food personalities Chubby Hubby and KF Seetoh have reviewed and raved about the dish.


On our way to golf up in Bedugul, we asked our guide to stop at "the best babi guling shop you know". He nodded silently and seemed to drive forever, finally stopping at a tiny little roadside store next to the padi fields of central Bali. The lady-owner of Agung Ayu Babi Guling was almost sold out of babi, but she did manage to rustle up a few bits for us. Maybe we were just hungry after the longer-than-expected drive, but the food definitely didn't disappoint. Well as they say, fat is flavour, and babi guling certainly isn't short on flavour. And while Agung Ayu might not be the BEST babi guling shop on the island (Ibu Oka in Ubud is reputed to be the best), I've never been to Ibu Oka, and I was pretty damn happy with what we found anyway.

I mean, how can crispy pig NOT taste good?

Popiah

There are certain foods that invoke happy, long stowed-away memories of childhood for each of us. For me, popiah never fails to wash me over with a wave of nostalgia for the times gone past. It’s not just any popiah though – it’s got to be the popiah that my late grandmother used to make, the recipe that’s been passed down through my family for generations.

Some of my earliest memories revolve around Chinese New Year preparations, when my whole extended family would gather around the kitchen table at my grandparents’ little terrace house, each chipping in (or trying to anyway) in his own little way, preparing the mise en place for the popiah which would be served during the Reunion Dinner. Popiah is not a difficult dish to master, but it is terribly time consuming due to the large number of ingredients needed and the need to have to cut everything into small pieces for ease of rolling into the crepes (or popiah skins). To further complicate matters, my family’s recipe consists of grating the yam bean for the main stew – chopping or slicing would have been much easier.

Popiah, for those who have never had it (ie non-Singaporeans or Malaysians), is probably best described as a Chinese burrito or fajita of sorts, except no beans, no tomatoes, and very little meat are involved. A stew of yam bean (jicama), tofu, French beans, dried shrimp and belly pork takes centre-stage (ingredients vary between families – some recipes include carrots, which my grandmother had always staunchly maintained was not authentic). This stew is cooked until tender and fragrant, and laid out in the middle of a large buffet of other ingredients like Chinese lettuce, bean sprouts, coriander leaves, sliced prawns, sliced omelette, shelled crab, sliced Chinese sausage, dried flat fish, ground peanuts, chilli sauce, garlic paste and sweet sauce. The large number of grated, sliced, peeled and pounded ingredients makes the dish a pain the prepare, but it is soooo absolutely worth the effort.

(Mrs Lee’s Cookbook has a recipe for the stew which would probably work well enough for those without popiah family tradition, but hey, my grandmother definitely would not approve, not especially when it calls for the ingredients to be julienned… Julienned?!)

The receptacle that holds all of these ingredients together is a something called a popiah skin, a flour/water/sometimes egg concoction that resembles a crepe of sorts. Now when we make popiah at home, we always outsource the making of these skins (or crepes). One of the last surviving businesses of its kind, Kway Guan Huat is a little shop at 95 Joo Chiat Road which still makes these skins lovingly by hand (the frozen supermarket machine-made variety tastes like cardboard). My family has been buying popiah skins from this shop for as long as I can remember (at least 25 years?). Obviously, now that I live Hong Kong, I don’t have the luxury of popping down to Joo Chiat to pick up some, so I did the next best thing – make my own!

I used the popiah skin recipe from Mrs Lee’s Cookbook, which uses a liquid egg batter (The version my family eats has no egg). Once I had practiced a few times, I managed to turn out thin enough crepes sturdy enough to hold the designated filling, though not quite perfectly round and in all sorts of shapes and sizes. I also improvised a liquid non-egg batter but that turned out dismally. Later on, I researched further on the non-egg version later on and realized that a successful non-egg version requires a 600g floor to 200ml water ratio to make an elastic dough, which is then slapped onto the hot plate with just the right snap of the wrist. Sounds complicated? Well if I recall correctly, the movie Eat Drink Man Woman actually has a scene where the second sister gives an excellent demonstration of the technique.

So anyway that night I held a popiah party for some Singaporean, Malaysian, and not-so-Singaporean-or-Malaysian friends. The wave of déjà vu I get rolling and eating popiah with company never fails to amaze me. It was great of course, having friends over for dinner and having friendly competitions over who could roll the biggest roll without the crepes splitting. More than that though, I always recall funny childhood moments – how my younger brother would wrap his popiah with just egg, sausage, crab, prawns lots of peanuts and lots of sweet sauce (he wouldn’t eat veggies as a 5 year old), or how my uncle would be able to expertly roll the biggest popiahs with any given size of crepe, and wolf down 5 in one sitting, or even myself, how I refused to eat coriander or chinese sausage back as a kid (I’ve since outgrown the childhood pickiness).

That’s what popiah is all about to me – friends and family. Popiah never fails to bring a smile to my face.

K(C)ooking Keller

I bought The French Laundry Cookbook 2 weeks ago and have been completely enamoured by it ever since - S will attest to the fact that most nights I fall asleep rolling on whatever page the book is opened to, and dreaming of how to perfect that recipe.

At around the same time, I also stumbled upon the French Laundry at Home blog, which documents Carol's attempts to recreate ALL of the French Laundry recipes at home, and is absolutely hilarious. Truth be told, some of the recipes are way too technically complicated, and others just too esoteric (braised pig's head anyone)? Don't get me wrong, I love offal (I'm Chinese - I'll eat just about anything), but I don't think S or too many of my dinner party guests will be too appreciative.

Anyway, before I proceed, I've made 2 changes to the blog. First of all, because I have had comments that this blog is too "technical" for non-cooks, I've decided to omit the precise recipes and techniques. I'm happy to share recipes though - just post me a comment and I will respond. Secondly, because I am so craaaaap at photography, I have decided to appoint S as creative director (aka photographer) of my blog (in addition to his official role as chief taster).

We have S's sister, G, visiting for the weekend, so I decided that it would be a great opportunity to try out some of Keller's recipes. I was a touch ambitious and decided to serve 4 courses for dinner last night.

I started out with Parmesan Crisps with Goats Cheese Mousse - a recipe straight out of the book itself. The slight complication was that I did not have the egg carton called for to shape the crisps, so I decided a small rice bowl would have to do the job. Also I don't have a Silpat (don't even know what that is?!), so I used a non-stick pan lined with baking paper, and shaped them with a cookie cutter - it seemed to work fine.

The crisps came out ok. The difficult bit was the shaping part - my first 2 batches crumbled into shards as I pushed them into the bowl. I finally figured out that timeliness was key - I had to shape these just as they were going from hot-and-still-a-little-soft to cool-and-brittle. Also, I found the best way to shape them was to press in the edges with thumbs and fingers to create a tulip shape - you kind of need fingers of steel for that as the crisps are HOT! Ouch.

The goats cheese mousse I decided to do it my way - instead of processing everything in a blender, I handwhipped the cream first, before creaming the cheese by hand, and then folding n the cream. The resulting mousse was light, and yet held its shape through dinner. I actually made about 10 crisps but we forgot about the photography until only 3 were left - oops. For the next course, I served Blinis with Salmon Tartare, Red Onion Creme Fraiche and Ikura (salmon roe). Now Keller serves his Salmon Tartare on home-made cornets, but I looked at the recipe and was sutably intimidated by the technicality. Also I had read Chubby Hubby's attempt at doing the same, so I had been forewarned! I decided then to serve my tartare on mini potato blinis, using the recipe from another part of Keller's book. To take the salmon theme further, and also because it is oh-so-trendy to do the Japanese fusion thing, I decided to garnish the top with a sprinkle of ikura.

Now, my blini did not come out looking "evenly browned with a small ring of white on the edges", like the picture in the book. I attribute this to uneven heat conduction of my pan as well as a slightly too thin batter. However the taste was very delicate, and the combination of textures of the various components along with the richsalty burst from the ikura was very pleasant indeed.

I then served Gazpacho, the recipe for which I followed to the letter in Keller's book, except that I substituted the cayenne pepper for a fresh red chilli. I did omit the balsamic glaze as I ran out of time to make it! However the resulting soup was still one of the better gazpacho I've eaten (drunk), perfect for a warm summer night, and even S, who does not normally take to tomatoey food, liked it. (we forgot to photograph this.. obviously too caught up in the eating at this point!)

For the main course, I did not use any Keller recipes. I had found some beautiful quails from the specialist butcher nearmy home and really wanted to try roasting them (first time cooking quail!!). I also found some very fresh chicken livers, and decided to do an ode to Keller by pairing the livers with the quail, since he does mention throughout the book that he loves to eat offal.

I brined the quails in a mixture of salt and sugar solution with bay leaves and thyme, and then, in my enthusiasm, decided it would be a brilliant idea to tunnel-bone the birds (it wasn't). A brave attempt, given I've never seen a live demonstration of the process, let alone been trained in the technique. I did manage to remove the ribs and breast bones, as well as the thigh bones of the quails, with minimal tearing of the skin, but couldn't quite figure out how to remove the back bone, so I left that in (lame lame!!), after about an hour struggling with the birds. Anyway, with the half tunneled birds, I decided to stuff with a porcini-pancetta mixture. I then grilled the birds on my outdoor barbie.

With the livers, i marinated them in milk for about a half hour (reduces the gamey flavour), then sauteed these over high heat for a couple of minutes until medium rare. I then made a pan sauce by deglazing the pan with white wine, a mixture of reduced duck and quail stock, and added minced onions, dijon mustard and butter (sauce Robert).

I served the quail and liver with a potato rosti (under the quail in the pic) and a side of braised red cabbage. On hindsight, I should have chosen a green vegetable side because everything on the plate just looks too brown. Also my plating skills are terrible - next course I take is going to be one on food aesthetics.

Tastewise however, the quail was quite delicious, as was the liver. The most outstanding thing on the dish though, was the sauce - S is not usually a huge sauce person and he actually remarked on it. I think next time I make this dish, I will make enough sauce so that it is pourable from a side bowl as a proper "sauce".

Leftovers are always an issue for me. This morning, I made bacon croquettes with all the leftover potato and creme fraiche I had - that went pretty quickly. I am also making gravalax with the rest of the salmon... However what do you do with leftover ikura (besides eat it outright)?

Why Vietnamese Girls Don't Get Fat

The pseudo-Vietnamese food found in Hong Kong is, to say the least, pretty dismal, despite the relative proximity of Hong Kong to Vietnam. My theory for this is that the predominantly Cantonese palate of Hong Kong just simply cannot get used to the pungency of the fresh herbs used in Vietnamese cuisine, and the resulting interpretation we get here is well... just sad.

I have loved Vietnamese food since the first time I stepped foot in Hanoi in 2003. Vietnamese cuisine is heavy in its use of fresh herbs to accent dishes, and is refreshing, healthy, low fat and flavoursome. For reasons I put down to sheer ignorance, I have always thought Vietnamese dishes as being too difficult to master. Thankfully, at the Career Discovery course I did at the CIA recently, a number of the dishes we had to prepare were authentially Vietnamese, and this really opened my eyes to the beauty and sheer simplicity of the cuisine.

I tried to recreate 3 dishes 2 Saturdays ago. My recipe adaptations from the CIA versions as follows:

Pho Bo (Vietnamese Beef Noodles in Soup)

This turned out superbly, a decent copy of the real thing you get on the streets of Vietnam. The secret is sloooow simmering of the broth to bring out the beefy goodness, as well as constant skimming to avoid clouding the broth with impurities.

For the broth:

Beef bones. Ask the butcher to chop into 2 inch sections
Enough water to cover (I used about 6l of water)

500g beef brisket

4in piece of ginger, peeled, charred

1 large yellow onion, peeled, sliced, charred

Fish sauce, to taste

Sugar, to taste

Salt, to taste

2 whole star anise (10 pods), lightly toasted in a dry pan for 2 min

6 whole cloves, lightly toasted in a dry pan for 2 min

1 stick cinnamon, lightly toasted in a dry pan for 2 min

1 tsp hole peppercorns

Method:
1. Prep the bones. Put the bones in a pot with water to cover, and bring to a rolling boil quickly. Boil for 2 minutes, then discard the water and rinse the bones in cold water. This helps to get rid of excess blood, fat and impurities in the bones. Then cover with cold water again, and bring to a slow simmer. Continue to simmer for 3 hours.

2. After 3 hours, add the onion and ginger to the broth. Plac the star anise, cloves, cinnamon and peppercorns in a spice bag and add this to the broth. Continue to simmer for another 2 hours.

3. Marinate the beef brisket in sugar, light soy sauce and fish sauce for a few hours. Sear the outside of the brisket in a hot pan. In the final 2 hours of simmering, add this to the broth. Simmer until the brisket is very tender

4. Season with fish sauce, sugar and salt, to taste

For the noodle assembly:

Vietnamese rice noodles, cooked in boiling salted water (like pasta) until soft

Bean sprouts

Yellow onions, sliced paper thin

Scallions, sliced into thin rings

Sprigs of cilantro
Sprigs of Asian (Thai) basil

Sprigs of mint

Sprigs of Vietnamese mint (rau ram) - optional, I did not use as I could not find it

Saw leaf herb - optional and also cannot be found here

Thai bird chillis, sliced

Lime wedges

Rib eye or other good cut of beef, sliced paper thin, raw

Cooked beef brisket, sliced into 1/2 in slices

Method:

To serve, place the cooked noodles in heated bowls, and add the brisket and slices of beef, then ladle the boiling hot broth into the bowls. The broth should instantly cook the raw beef. Garnish with any amount of vegetables and herbs, and squeeze limes into the broth, to taste.

Prawn Rice Paper Rolls

This is actually very simple to make, as long as you have your mise en place all ready to go, and once you have gotten the knack of "rolling". The trick to not having the rice papers disintegrate on you is not to soak them for too long in the hot water. They should feel just on the brink of being completely soft as you take them out of the water, as they will continue to soften slightly as you assemble the roll. Freshness of each of the ingredients is crucial.

Ingredients:

Fresh prawns, medium, cooked in their shells in salted water, peeled, deveined and cooled.

Round rice papers (I used 6in ones, larger ones can sometimes be found)

Red leaf lettuce, washed, dried and torn into pieces

Bean sprouts, briefly blanched (10-15 sec!)

Carrots, julienned

Mint

Asian basil

Cilantro

Mung bean or thin rice vemicelli noodles, cooked (optional, I did not use)

Vietnamese dipping sauce (recipe to follow)

Method:

1. Toss lettuce with carrots and noodles (if using) with some of the dipping sauce, just enough to coat.
2. Set up the rolling station. Fill a roasting tray with hot water. If necesary, keep boiling water on hand to add to the bowl if the temperature drops too low. Use a wooden chopping board as the rolling surface (wood absorbs excess water), or place cheesecloth over the rolling surface.

3. Work with one rice paper at a time. Dip one edge in hot water and turn to wet completely, about 10 secs. Lay the sheet on the rolling surface and stretch to remove any wrinkles. Line the bottom third of the sheet with the lettuce mixture, bean sprounts, 1 sprig of mint, 1 sprig of cilantro, 1 basil leaf, half a prawn. Make sure ingredients are evenly distributed from one end to another, leaving a little buffer at each end.

4. Using your index and third fingers to press down on the ingredients, use your thumbs to flick the bottom end over the ingredients. Still holding down on the ingredients, use your fourth finger to fold the sides in, then use the thumb, index and third fingers to roll. Make sure the roll is tight. (It takes practice! Thanks to my Hokkien family, I credit my rolling skills to a lifetime of pohpiah rolling.). Finish making all the other rolls in the same way.

5. Serve rolls with the remainder of the dipping sauce.

For the Vietnamese Dipping Sauce:

Ingredients:

2 garlic cloves, sliced

4 red Thai brid chillis, chopped, seeds removed

1/4 cup fish sauce

1/2 cup hot water

2 Tbs fresh lime juice

1/4 cup sugar

Method:

1. Place garlic and chillis in a mortar. Pound into a paste with a pestle.

2. Combine the garlic mixture with the rest of the ingredientsin a small bowl. Stir until sugar is dissolved.

3. Ladle into serving bowls

Ga Nuong Xa (Lemon Grass Barbequed Chicken)

All over Indochina, you will see street hawkers roasting these incredibly flavoursome and tasty birds over open charcoal fires. My recipe is a decent home version. I accidentally left it for too long on the skin side, and the wings came out charred, which marred the look of the bird. However the taste was not impacted, and in fact the charring added to the smokiness I wanted to achieve!

Ingredients:

Chicken, 1-1.5kg, butterflied

Lemongrass, white part only, 4 tbs, minced

Shallots, minced, 2 tbs

Garlic, minced, 2 tbs
Soy sauce, 2 tbs

Sugar, 2 tbs

Fish sauce, 2 tbs

Dried chilli flakes, 1 tbs, or to taste

Salt, 1 tsp

Cilantro, chopped, 2 tbs

Canola oil, 4 tbs

Cilantro soy dipping sauce, 1 cup

Method:

1. Set aside half the lemongrass. Combine remaining lemongrass, shallots, garlic, soy sauce, sugar, fish sauce, chilli flakes and salt in a large bowl. Add the chicken and turn to coat. Leave to marinate for at least 4 hours, and preferably overnight. Bring the chicken to room temperature before cooking.

2. Combine the remaining lemongrass with the oil and season with salt and pepper.

3. Gril the chicken, preferably over a charcoal grill. I have a gas grill, so I used the charcoal in foil method as per "Home Smoked Goodness". Periodically turn and baste the chicken with the oil until done.

4. Let rest for 10 min before serving with the cilantro soy sauce.

For the Cilantro Soy Dipping Sauce:

Ingredients:

Garlic clove, 1, sliced

Thai bird chillis, 4 (or to taste)

Fresh ginger, 1in piece, peeled and sliced

Fresh cilantro, 2 tbs, finely chopped

Soy sauce, 1/4 cup

Fresh lime juice with pulp, 2 tbs

Water, 2 tbs

Sugar, 2 tbs

Method:

1. Pound the garlic, chillis and ginger in a mortar with a pestle, until it becomes a paste.

2.Mix well with the rest of the ingredients until sugar is dissolved.

3. Serve in ramkins.

Home Smoked Goodness

I have been dying to try the home smoking techniques I picked up at the CIA course 5 weeks back, and yesterday finally presented itself with enough time for my experiment.

So I had that big slab of spare ribs left over from the roast pork a couple of weeks back, which I had rubbed with a mixture of cumin, paprika, chilli powder, brown sugar, salt and pepper, and frozen. I decided that I would try to create a Southern style meal, complete with smoked bbq ribs, buffalo wings, coleslaw and fries.

Althought my outdoor grill runs on gas, and it was seemingly impossible to smoke anything with a gas grill, I had learnt from the CIA chef instructors that all it takes to permeate food with that smokey aroma is a few briquettes of charcoal (and wood chips if available) in a confined space. I made 2 foil parcels of charcoal briquettes, poked holes in the packs, and left these on top of the gas plate to heat up and smoke. When the grill was hot and ready, I placed the slab above the parcels, and shut the lid on the grill to keep the smoke in. Ribs have to be slow cooked for best results, so I shut the fire off on the side of the grill with the meat, and just left a low fire on at the other side. This I would turn every half hour or so for around 2 1/2 hours until the meat was tender and the bones could be moved from the meat if gently nudged.

The coleslaw called for mayonnaise thinned down with vinegar and sugar, and as I hate bottled mayonnaise, I decided to hand make a batch. I have made mayonnaise and other emulsion based sauces many times in the past, with varying degrees of success, and I have found the secret to a stable sauce is lots of wrist power, and a VERY slow addition of oil. Hand whipping always seems to give the best texture for me - I don't like the blender and mixer versions.With 2 yolks, one cup of oil (7/8 canola, 1/8 a very fruity olive oil), white wine vinegar, salt and pepper,I ended up with slightly more than a cup of mayo, plenty for one salad, so I used the remainder to make a chive aioli as well as a blue cheese dressing for the wings.

For the blue cheese dressing, I blended the mayo with sour cream, chopped parsley, chopped garlic, red wine vinegar, Worcestershire sauce, gorgonzola, salt, pepper and a dash of paprika. It turned out very nicely - smooth and tangy. It went well with the wings, which were ok, but not quite spicy (or red) enough. I only had spice in the last bit of preparation (the tabasco in the sauce used to toss the cooked wings), which was not quite sufficient for our South East Asian palates. Next time I will be adding paprika and chilli powder to the flour mix before frying.

I had also been really eager to try the technique for great fries as taught to me by a coursemate at the CIA. He said the secret to really good fries is to first blanch the fries in 160 deg c oil for 2 minutes until the splattering stops (basically removes some moisture from the potatoes), then lay them out on a tray and refridgerate until very cold. When ready to finish off the frying, heat the oil to 190 deg c, then take the potatoes out of the fridge and put them straight in the hot oil until golden brown. I have to say the technique worked pretty well.

To finish off the ribs, I made a batch of bbq sauce (I think most of my friends have figured out by now that I HATE using anything out of a jar). I did start with commercial ketchup (was not economical to brew my own..), which I cooked down with red wine vinegar, worcestershire sauce, soy sauce, sugar, mustard, chili powder, garlic, ginger, oil, and lemon. 15 minutes before the ribs were done, I swabbed them with the sauce for the final cooking, and also served it on the side.

All in, I have to say dinner was a good result - the ribs were surprisingly flavoursome, the slaw was refreshing, the fries crispy and the wings not spicy enough, but tasty nonetheless. I was especially happy with the smoking - next time I will be adding apple or cedar wood to the foil parcels for more impact.

Crackle and Brine?

I have a bit of an obsession with roasts and as a result, I am always trying different ways and means to inject flavour and texture into the roasts I make. I discovered the technique of brining about a year ago, and it proved so successful that I now brine all the poultry I roast.

Yesterday, I decided to make a pork roast. I have always found pork a tough one to cook with dry heat, because it tends to dry out easily if overdone, and yet cannot be underdone because of the salmonella risk. The meat when sliced, should be juicy with just a faint pink blush (squemish types might want to cook it longer until there is no pink, but that to me is overcooking). In addition, pork on its own is quite a plain meat (unlike beef or lamb) and so needs heaps of seasoning. Getting that seasoning to permeate deep into a large roast is quite difficult.

I had never tried brining pork before, but on the advice of the chefs at the CIA, I decided to give it a go. I find the loin quite dry (unless it is kurobuta pork!), so I decided to use pork belly instead. I got a well marbled slab of belly with with rind and ribs attached, but sliced the bones off for another use (bbq ribs anyone?). I like my pork roast with the rind on, because I love crunchy pork crackling. I did wonder if the brining would affect the way the skin crackles up, but decided to proceed with my experiment anyway.

I mixed about 700ml of apple cider with 120g of salt, 2 bay leaves, 3 cloves of crushed garlic, one sliced shallot and some fresh sage. I then left the pork in to brine for about 5 hours. After 5 hours, I removed the pork from the brine, scored the rind in 1 1/2 in intervals, and placed the pork on a rack in the sink to drain, then poured boiling water on the rind. This supposedly tightens the rind and exposes the fat underneath, enabling the rind to crackle easier.

I left the pork to dry off for a half hour, then placed it into a 220 deg c oven for about 20 mins, then turned the temperature down to 120 deg c and let it cook for the next hour and a half. (The roast must have weighed around 1.3 kg or so).

I was disappointed that the skin did not crackle properly, and this I attribute (correctly or otherwise) to the brining process. The meat however, was wonderfully flavoured, much better than the other pork roasts I have made in the past, and tenderised just right by the acid in the brine.

I served up the roast on a bed of caramalized onions (deglazed with the same apple cider for consistency), baby asparagus with a shallot-balsamic vinegarette, mashed potatoes, and sauces of pan jus and buttered applesauce. The meal was hearty and delicious.

While I was pretty happy with the results, It would have been even better to be able to get the skin to crackle even with the brining. Back to the drawing board I guess...

Comfort Food

After 5 straight days of eating fine European cuisine, S was starting to have a real hankering for some good old Chinese comfort food. We decided to venture out to Tin Hau, where we had previously, on Kylie Kwong's recommendation, found a very nice modern Chinese place right in the middle of a strip of other restaurants.

We could not quite recall the exact name of the street, so armed with only a vague sense of direction and very basic Cantonese vocabulary, we hopped into a taxi and instructed the cabby to take us to "the street in Tin Hau with lots of good food". Thankfully, the driver knew exactly where we were referring to ("Orrrhh Tsing Fung Gai?!?" he exclaimed) and we soon found ourselves back in front of Kin's Kitchen where we went last time.

We were tempted to go back to Kin's, for it was the classiest place on the strip, and we did have a very satisfying meal last time, but I persuaded S to go for the grottier but just as crowded place next door, just for a change. After all, the picture of the braised fatty pork in the window looked absolutely scrumptious, and in my book, one cannot go wrong with braised fatty pork!!

So this place we ended up at doesn't have an English name nor English menu, is at least as raucous as the loudest bar in Lan Kwai Fong, and looks like it needs a complete furnishing overhaul (think plastic stools and formica tables with bright white flourescent lights). In short, ambience wasn't really a selling point.

But heck, we were here for the food. And excellent food it was. We had that beautiful braised pork, which I initially thought was the southern version braised in soy, but it turned out to be the Shanghainese version braised in Zhejiang vinegar - tangy, sweet, salty and fatty all at once. We also had a very interesting century egg dish which consisted of a whole century egg wrapped in cuttlefish paste and then breaded, deepfried, sliced,and dipped in sweet chilli sauce. Sounds bizarre, but it is a great beer snack. We paired these with a palate-cleansing stir-fried garlic chives.

The most outstanding dish however, was to our great surprise, the frog and mushroom congee. Now we ordered this just as aside "by-the-way" kind of dish, in place of the usual white rice because we just didn't feel like rice today. Cantonese congee is, if you are unfamiliar with the dish, simply rice grains simmered in lots of stock with the said ingredients (pork, chicken, or frog in this case) until the grains break down, release their starch, and turn into a gooey mush. It is usually, as it sounds, quite bland, and most often served to convalescing patients. The congee that we had tonight was none of the above. It was absolutely, incredibly delicious, full-bodied and flavoursome, with the right silky texture that a good congee should have. It came with side helpings of sliced scallions, some minced preserved vegetable (THE secret ingredient i think!!), and crisps. I do actually believe it is the best congee I have had in a long time (possibly the best ever). Even S, who is usually not a big fan of congee, was asking for seconds.

It was a great meal, hearty and delicious, the best comfort Chinese food one can ask for. The best part was, for 4 dishes, 1 huge (1L) can of beer and a bottle of water, the bill came up to only HKD208 (SGD40, USD27)! Who says good food has to be expensive?

Hostess with the Mostest

To me, nothing screams "hostess with the mostest" more than fresh home-baked goodies on stand-by to go with the cup of coffee or tea for the unexpected guest who pops by. I'm not normally a huge fan of biscotti, but I did have some particularly delicious chocolate-dipped ones at the De Young Museum in the Golden Gate Park just last week, so I was inspired to create my own at home.

I did not manage to chocolate dip these ones, but they are nutty and fulfilling nonetheless, and extremely easy to make. This recipe comes from a very old cookbook, Beautiful Baking by Carole Clements.

Italian Almond Biscotti (makes 48)
200g whole unblanched almonds
215g plain flour
100g sugar
1/8 teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon saffron powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
2 large eggs
1 egg white, lightly beaten, for glazing


- Preheat a 190 deg c oven. Grease and flour 2 baking sheets

- Spread the almonds in a baking tray and bake until lightly browned, around 10 mins. When cool, grind about a quarter of the almonds until pulverised. Coarsely chop the remaining almonds into 2 or 3 pieces each.

- Combine the flour, sugar, salt, saffron, baking soda and ground almonds into a bowl and mix to blend. Make a well in the centre add the eggs. Stir to form a rough dough. Add the chopped almonds and blend well.

- Divide the dough into 4 parts and shape into logs about 2.5cm in diameter. Place on one of the baking sheets, brush with the egg white, and bake for 20mins. Remove from the oven.

- With a very sharp knife, cut each log at an angle making 1cm thick slices. Return the slices on the sheets to a 140 deg c oven and bake for 25 mins more. Transfer to a rack and cool.

A Tale of 2 Ducks

I now have renewed respect for the humble duck. Or perhaps I have taken the mantra of the CIA chefs to a new extreme: "Waste not, want not". In any case, true to my word (to this blog), I purchased 2 ducks from the local poultry stall on Wednesday to start on my duck stock (in place of veal/beef bones, Chef Mike had suggested that duck bones would work just fine) and duck fat.

So I dutifully butchered the ducks, separated the breast fillets and the legs from the bird, reserved the excess fat, etc etc. I then chopped the bones into small pieces, browned them in the oven, and plopped them into my stock pot to simmer away. I followed most of the instructions in "The Professional Chef" and what resulted after 5 hours was a beautiful, brown stock which I further reduced into a syrupy glaze and froze in an icecube tray. (Obviously I have used a cube, and I have to say it is THE secret to a great pan sauce.)

Moving on to the fat, I cut the pieces of reserved skin and fat into smaller pieces before placing in a pan to render. That done as well, I turned to consider what to do with the rest of the duck.

I decided to marinate the breasts in champagne vinegar, olive oil, honey, shallots, garlic and various herbs (recipe adapted from "The Joy of Cooking") and sauteed them to medium rare - that turned out beautifully - I felt the sweetness of the marinade gave depth and balance to the duck. I tried 2 pan sauces with the duck - poivrade (white wine, peppercorns, butter) and robert (white wine, onions, mustard and butter). Robert was the better suited sauce I felt but of course it did not help that my poivrade sauce broke (pan too hot when butter was put in... DUH).

With the legs, I decided rather ambitously to attempt confit du canard. Now, my best ever encounter with this dish was back in 2004, in a tiny little country bistro in the town of Moret-sur-Loing. I don't even remember the name of the bistro, but all I can say is that the confit was the most delicious, the most melt-in-your-mouth-tender, the absolute BEST confit one can possibly imagine. It was so heartbreakingly good, I have been afraid to order confit ever since at any other restaurant.

Now, in my attempt to commit culinary blasphemy, I culled tips and recipes from "The Joy of Cooking", "The Professional Chef", and Kuidaore. I did not possess the recommended enamelled cast iron cocotte, so I had to make do with with my small glass casserole dish, and work with just 2 legs at a time. After 9 hours of slow poaching in an 80 deg c oven (not the 2 hours called for in both Joy and Pro Chef), the legs emerged tender and flavoursome. They weren't quite Moret-sur-Loing, but they were a decent first attempt I thought.

The flavour of confit supposedly develops in complexity after being stored and matured for 2 weeks, but happily enough, the first batch of legs did not last even the first night - S got home hungry from the day's sporting events and proceeded to demolish the confit in between comments of "sedap!" and "deeelish!".

As an added bonus, the garlic bulb which had been roasted with the legs had turned into into this sweet, sticky, smoky paste - perfect spread on crostinis. Mmmm-hmmmm.

Reflections

The course has come to an end now and I could not be sorrier. After 4 days of doing nothing but eat, sleep, and dream food, I suddenly feel like the bottom has fallen out of my world. I still wake up at 6am with the anticipation of cooking the day's menu, only to realise 2 minutes later that "hang on, there are no classes today - I don't have to be up so early".

Looking back, I just think this has got to be one of the best "vacations" I have ever taken. It was not relaxing - on the contrary, it was exhausting and sometimes stressful, what with the 7am starts and 4 hours on the feet rushing for lunch service. However,I am in my element in the kitchen, and to me, a cohesive team working together like that feels like a well-tuned orchestra giving a recital. I have not been so intellectually challenged and motivated since university, and I can't think of a time that I have ever been happier in my day job.

I took out of the course more than just mere recipes. I acquired techniques and tricks, learnt all about flavour dynamics, and rediscovered just how passionate I feel about food. I made good friends on the course as well - it is just absolutely amazing how that instant connection is established through the one single commonality - the love of making good food.

Where do I go from here? Well, I know now where my heart lies, even if I am unsure whether it is something I want to do for a living. I know I am a more-than-decent cook right now, and I could be really great at this, but I don't know if I could ever be a great chef. I know the restaurant business is hard, and I am under no illusions that the reality is quite different - not just about the food, but really about the entire package that is delivered to the consumer. This dilemma continues to befuddle me.

What I do know is this - the minute I get home, I'm getting started on my demi-glace from duck bones, and with the rest of the duck, I'm going to have fillets to make steak (like magret), legs to make confit, and a 6 month store of home-rendered duck fat. YUM.

Recipes

This is intended for the team members of "Team Amateur". For easy sharing, I've decided put the recipes of the extras I prepared on this blog. All measurements are not precise because I normally just taste and adjust as I go along.

Hainanese Chicken Rice

The chicken
Ingredients:
Chicken stock
Scallions (to taste)
Garlic (to taste)
Ginger (to taste)
Salt (to taste)
Chickens
Sesame oil
Soy sauce
Scallions
Cilantro

I start with a chicken stock (or water and chicken backs). Flavour stock with scallions, garlic, ginger and salt to taste. Cook chickens in stock. Most Chinese cooks prepare the chicken such that there is sometimes still a touch (just a touch) of pink at the bone of the thigh - this prevents the breast of the chicken from being too stringy and dry. The proper technique is to take the chickens out when done and immediately dunk them in a salted ice bath just long enough to stop the cooking process. Then take them out and rub sesame oil over the skin. This prevents discolouration and drying out. Do not butcher until ready to serve. (Obviously I didn't quite follow the proper technique...). 15 min before serving, cut into pieces and dress in sesame oil, soy sauce, scallions and cilantro.

The rice
The ingredients:
Garlic, half a large bulb
Ginger, about the same quantity as garlic
Long grain rice, pref Jasmine, about 4 cups
Rendered chicken fat (enough to coat rice, say half cup)
Chicken stock, about 6 cups or so
Pandan leaf. 2 (optional, but adds lots of flavour)
Salt (to taste)

When cleaning the chickens, I would cut out and reserve any excess fat I can find (lots near the neck, around the skin of the neck, and near the butt). Render this fat in a dry pan without excessive browning. Remove chicken skin remnants. Puree the garlic and ginger together, then fry this garlic and ginger in the fat until aromatic, but not coloured. Pour dry uncooked rice into the fat and fry until some of the grains turn opaque - this shows the fat is being absorbed. There should be just enough fat to coat every grain evenly. Pour rice mixture into pot or rice cooker, add stock, salt, and pandan leaf, anf cook until done.

The chilli sauce (or relish)
(Will - if you bottle some variation of this, you have to send me one.)
Ingredients:
Red mild chillis or red bell peppers, 1 part
Garlic, 1 part
Ginger, 1 part
Thai bird or habernaro chillis, to taste
Lime juice, to taste
Fish sauce, to taste
Sugar, to taste
Kaffir lime leaf, 2, rib removed (optional)

Blitz everything in a blender until smooth. It is meant to be a dip but I think it's probably fine to leave some of the red pepper pieces chunky if preferred.


Sweet and Sour Sauce
(This is for Lisa.)

Ingredients:
Ketchup
Zhejiang vinegar (or white rice vinegar is fine)
Sugar
Chilli puree or Tabasco sauce
Pomagranate molasses (optional)
Soy sauce
Cornstarch mixture

Mix all of the above except cornstarch solution to taste (Sorry it's so imprecise). I would use a vegetable base of garlic, onions, bell peppers, chillis and some acidic fruit (like pineapple or strawberries) for the sweet-sour, and thicken with the cornstarch mixture The main protein is usually deep-fried in a light batter or dry cornflour coating before being mixed with the sauce, but grilled items work as well for a low fat version.

Nazi in the Kitchen

There were 2 parts to the final day of our course. The first part was to prepare a Vietnamese menu (pho, stirfry, rice paper rolls) and the second was to perfectly panfry steak to medium-rare in a pan, and then make a classic pan sauce. My course mates would be surprised to hear that even the Vietnamese menu was challenging to me because, truth is, while I know most of the individual ingredients and have eaten authentic street food in Vietnam, I have never combined the ingredients the way the Vietnamese do it.

Anyway at least for the frst part the menu, I was a bit of a Nazi (I hope I didn't step on anyone's toes!). I took it upon myself to coordinate the soup and the rice rolls, and because there was so much left over chicken, I also decided to make classic Hainanese chicken rice with the chilli sauce to go with it.

Everything went fairly smoothly. What I did not anticipate was the rice paper being so difficult to work with (sticky %^#*$ bastards), and I forgot to think ahead about how to present the pho. Also I could not find the big slightly spicy sweet red chillis we typically use for the chilli sauce, so I improvised - I used red peppers (no heat, just for the colour) and added thai bird and habenero chillis (lots of heat) to the mix. It turned out perfectly.

For the second part of the menu, my group made the classic brown sauces of bercy, financiere and robert sauces. Ooohh YUM. I think the minute I get home, I'm going to start a beef/duck stock for demi-glaze and just freeze a batch. I'm also going to buy a nice bottle of Madeira - It was such a revelation to discover how awesome this liquer tastes flambed in a sauce! I can't wait!!

Beans Beans Beans

Mexican food in Asia is dismal to say the least. I think of it as greasy, sloppy, tomatoey, beany (oorgh), one-dimensional hot-with-no-other-spice-overtones food. Today however opened my eyes to another side of the cuisine.

Today the amateurs got placed into the same group, an arrangement which worked much better. We had to prepare a Mexican menu (excellent for me because I have zero experience preparing the cuisine), and dishes of note were the snapper stuffed with seafood and the seviche. I learnt how to remove the backbone of a whole fish without butchering the skin (not easy), as well as how to prep a cactus (spiky slimy bastards!). What really struck me was how similar to South-East Asian cuisine the marinade was for the fish - chillis, coriander, limes and garlic - it's like Thai without the lemongrass and galangal.

What do I think of Mexican food now? Well, I still don't like beans and sloppy tomatoes, so I'm yet to be convinced about chili and chili-derivative dishes. And I still think the spice and herb overtones can be turned up. But I guess that is an unfair comment as I am used to associating spicy-hot with other equally strong herbs and spices. I really did enjoy the seafood-based and non-bean dishes.

Flied Lice Paladise

Fwah. Todayy ah my gloup cooka Chinesey and all them lestaunt plofessional donno what dey doin. Dey all cooka clappy Texa-Mexi fooda in deir lastaunts. Yukk. I sooow dem how to flavour a flied lice and make-a sweet sour shlimp.

Ahhh. Some molon luin da flied shlimp. Forget to season batter and underfly da shlimp. Soggy batter. Ooorgh.

Fwah. I speaka gooda Englis and I make-a good sweet-sour. Flice lice paladise!!

Out of My League

Today was the first day of classes at the Culinary Institute of America where I am dong the "Career Discovery: The Flavours of Napa Valley" course, and I found myself completely out of my league here. For a start, of the 18 participants in the class, 14 are sponsored food professionals, of which 12 are men. Only 4 are paying students (all female, myself included). All 14 of them have had some form of professional kitchen experience, and I count 2 current sous chefs, 2 or 3 line cooks, one head pastry chef, a few kitchen operations managers, and a couple of senior executives... PHEW!

To say I learnt a lot about cooking today would be a complete understatement. Without doing the course proper justice, but for the sake of conciseness, I will list a few of these new insights here:

1. I worked in a professional kitchen for the first time. WOW. Makes my relatively well-togged out home kitchen look like kiddy-play.

2. Everything is hot. Burners and ovens work at much much higher temperatures. Do not ever grab a pan or pot without a mitt or a towel.

3. Everything is heavy. I almost keeled over under the weight of a not-that-big pot of boiling water.

4. It is physically challenging. For close to 4 hours, I was on my feet chopping, moving, mixing, kneading, rolling. It was hard work and my feet still hurt right now.

5. I learnt how to clean a fresh artichoke for the first time.

6. I made gnocchi for the first time. (I don't even like the stuff...)

7. I learnt proper knife skills.

8. The pros in my class have a lot of industry experience and tricks up their sleeves, but they are not perfect. My lunch quail for instance, which was made by 2 line cooks, was beautifully flavoured but undercooked (tsk tsk...).

9. Presentation, presentation, presentation.

10. I discovered I actually already know quite a number of the techniques they teach (it feels good...) :)

Pet peeves? Just a few.

1. I can't help but think that some of the pros aren't that passionate about food. I guess for them, it's a job, it pays the bills, they are here because their employer sent them. 'Nuff said.

2. The pros have their own set ways of doing things, and I can't help but feel I'm slowing things down.

3. Someone trying to explain authoritatively to me what an emulsion is (this person by the way, is not even a kitchen person, but runs "front-of-the-house"). I mean - HELLO, I know what an emulsion is. I aced chemistry, I make bearnaise, hollandaise, aioli all the time.

4. Getting asked why my English is so good. Uh................................. Because I am a native speaker, I scored 6/6 in GMAT writing??! (sorry could not help that...)

But I had fun. A lot of fun. Would I recommend the course to others? Well I think if one came fresh without any home cooking experience at all, it would be very tough and demoralizing. Granted, the instructors did mention that to have a majority of food professionals in the course is quite atypical, but I think the instructors themselves assume some level of basic kitchen proficiency even among the amateurs. But for me, it is the right level. It pushed me to think about food at a different level. I can't wait for tomorrow.

PS. CIA did not manage to score us a table at The French Laundry. What they did manage to get us was a table at Thomas Keller's new restaurant. Ad Hoc. I had the best cheesesteaks and cayenne crisps there today. YUM.

Strange Animal Parts

I will admit, I like to sample strange animal parts. I think the complex flavour of most offal adds an almost primal dimension to tastes we associate with "meaty" or "gamey". So I could not really pass up the chance to sample that French classic, veal kidneys in a brandied creamed sauce, when I saw it on a menu today.

Onroute from sussing out the 20-minute drive between Calistoga (where my hotel is) and the Culinary Institute of America (where I start my course tomorrow), I decided to stop at Bistro Jeanty at Yountville for dinner, where I ordered those veal kidneys.

Now if you have ever had pork kidneys, you will know what strong tasting means. Pork kidneys are so strong in flavour they have to be soaked in salted water overnight to rid them of the urea-ry (for lack of a better word) smell and taste. But prepared well, the flavour and texture are superb, rich and complex. I happen to be a fan of that disappearing Hokkien heritage dish of highly acquired tastes, yeo chee mee sua (braised pork kidneys with wheat vermicelli in broth) - my late grandmother had a kick-ass recipe which she unfortunately did not manage to pass on to any of her children.

Veal kidneys, on the other hand, are a lot milder. I would almost describe the taste as sweet and delicate, a slightly gamier version of sweetbreads, and the texture somewhat like firm mushrooms. Deelish!

Surprise your Palate

I have always found bagels to be plain, heavy and stodgy, but I discovered this morning the reason for that is because those found in Asia exist solely from the deep-frozen variety.

I nipped into the beakfast room at my hotel for a quick snack before venturing out to find a decent coffee. The croissants looked distinctly "warmed-from-frozen" so I made the unnatural choice of a bagel. I was very pleasantly surprised.

The bagel was soft, and chewy, and dense but light at the same time. Although untoasted, it was not unpalatable like the ones from Starbucks in Singapore, and certainly did not taste of freezer burn. What a revelation!

I can't say bagels have become my favourite bread - I still find them to be on the heavy side - but at least I know to ask "Is it made from scratch?" next time I see one.

A Day of Many Firsts

It has been a day of many firsts - first day in California, first time in California, first time taking a solo driving holiday, first time driving on the other side of the road, first time putting petrol into a car (!)... the list goes on.

So anyway, I arrived rather uneventfully in San Francisco last night. Having enjoyed a very peaceful slumber for most of the 11-hour flight here, I obviously had a sleepless night at the El Rancho Motel (which by the way is a faux Mexican, pink cattle ranch smack next to a 4 lane highway a mile from the airport!!)

I did not let the pink, nor the terrible brown liquid masquerading as coffee, nor even the grouchy Hispanic servers (why oh why do I still have to tip bad service?!) get me down. This morning, I picked up my geeky little rental car and I was off, down Highway 101, across the Golden Gate Bridge, and into Wine Country!

It was noon by the time I wound my way through various bits of traffic into Sonoma, which was, despite being overrun by lots of tourists, easy-going, leafy, and very cute. I decided to stop for lunch. Unfortunately, I did not realise my first port of call, Cafe la Haye (Lonely Planet: "One of Sonoma County's best"), only served dinner. Second destination was girl & the fig, which turned out to be an awesome choice - the courtyard was perfect, food delicious, and service impeccable.

I ordered the "pastis-infused steamed mussels", guessing that patis was some sort of liquer - after all, I would make this dish myself with white wine or vodka. (Wikipedia says "pastis" is "an anise-flavoured liquer" from France.) Of course being extremely hungry and greedy as usual, and always forgetting that I go from very hungry to very full in about 3 bites and 5 minutes, I ambitiously decided to go for the optional extra of "matchstick fries with tarragon aioli". YUM.

The food was faultless (or maybe I was just very hungry?). The mussels came steeped in a creamed liquid which had a base of garlic, shallots, fennel, parsley, and another herb (thyme?). The matchstick fries were perfectly done, and the tarragon aioli fresh and homemade. Unfortunately I barely got close to finishing the mussels, and most of the fries went untouched. Oh well.

Hitting a wall after lunch (by which time it was about 5.30am in Asia), I ordered myself a strong macchiato before getting on the road again. I had booked myself into a motel in Healdsburg (which at $229 was the cheapest available anywhere close after many phone calls and walk-ins), but what looked like a 50 mile drive turned into an-hour-and-a-half slow chug through the horrific traffic of Santa Rosa.

From what little I have seen driving through the centre, Healdsburg is a very pretty little town. Lonely Planet also says of Healdburg: "Foodies may think the've died and gone to heaven." However all I was prepared to do when I arrived was to pass out. I'm also too full from lunch to savour a big dinner, so I think I'll have to save the Healdburg dining experience for lunch tomorrow!