Crazy about Pasta, Tomatoes and Anchovies

I've been cooking pasta quite frequently for lunch because it is a quick and easy dish to prepare, allows me to use up leftover bits of ingredients lurking in the fridge, and since I discovered the wonders of anchovies. I can't seem to resist buying pasta every time I walk down the pasta aisle, especially since the variety available in the supermarket has really grown over the years. So this recent pasta phase has proven useful in clearing the many stashes of dried pasta that have been accumulating across the kitchen. 

Along with buying too much pasta, I usually obsess over making sure I have at least a couple of cans of diced tomatoes in the kitchen. Ed knows my obsession very well and knows better than to stand between me and a shelf full of canned tomatoes ON SALE. I can't help it that they are so incredibly handy to have around for last minute pasta sauces or late night gazpachos. But I do admit that it is ridiculous to have anxiety attacks over whether I need to replenish my stock. I think my all-time high must be 6 cans of tomatoes... just hanging around. I fear my latest anchovy phase might join the ranks of canned tomatoes. 

But they really are just. so. incredible. I add only just enough to get the umami kick and this almost imperceptible layer of flavour that leaves people wondering and wanting more. It is like I have finally discovered the magic ingredient (that is not msg) to bring my pasta dishes up one notch. 

Inspired by the amazing mushroom pesto pasta I had in Perth, I concocted something similar from white button mushrooms, hand-chopped cilantro and parsley, mixed with minced garlic, a generous dollop of tahini, and some anchovies of course. I also added some minced beef to the mix for the protein. This was delicious, especially with a heavy-handed scatter of parmesan. 

It also kept surprisingly well in the fridge. The next day, I just added a little more olive oil and some water, reheated it over the stove and added some chilli for a good spicy kick. (Pictured below) I reckon it tasted even better than the day before! Overnight pasta usually gets too soft and even mushy, but the Bavette held up superbly. (Another reason to stock up?)

Unsurprisingly, I also made a tomato-based pasta. I combined just a few simple ingredients - minced pork, anchovies, canned tomatoes and parsley. A deceptively basic dish that was so good I could eat the sauce on its own. 

The many dishes one can come up with, with just those few staples is endless! Okay, maybe not endless, but surely plentiful. And then today, fate led me to this recipe for a Chinese Sausage Carbonara aka Lap Cheong Carbonara. Maybe lap cheong will be my new fetish? 

Tomato Anchovy Pasta

Talk to any Chinese home cook, and chances are that they will admit to having cooked a noodle soup dish to finish up leftover bits of ingredients in their refrigerator. Like fishballs, tofu, bits of mince meat, or limp and almost yellowing vegetables. I am no exception. This was a useful skill I picked up from my mum and frequently practised in my university days. 

Ed is very (sensibly) particular about not wasting food and gives me plenty of grief when he sees me throwing away anything from the refrigerator. Not that he would stop me - moldy anything is impossible to salvage - but a brief lecture would usually follow. Sometimes I resort to throwing it away secretly and hope he never notices. That works... sometimes. 

It does not help that I love cooking a variety of cuisines. This means that while I have a few lady's fingers and tomatoes left over from the Indian fish head curry dish I made the day before, I also have a few stalks of italian parsley (from making a Spanish octopus salad) or dried shrimp (from the Peranakan rempah udang last week). It would require a really creative person to come up with a dish that can combine all of them. Alas, I am no such person, but I do my best. 

This is where pasta - the Italian equivalent of the Chinese noodle - comes in. While thinking about what to cook for lunch today, I rummaged through my refrigerator for some inspiration and found a small tin of anchovy fillets - a tin I had originally intended to use on some pizza one day. A day which never came about. Combining it with the few lonely stalks of italian parsley and half box of cherry tomatoes seemed like a delicious flavour profile for a pasta dish, and it was!

I had never cooked anchovy fillets over direct heat before, since I always eat mine grilled whole on pizza, or neat if they are simply pickled instead of cured. (I really adore pickled anchovy, which can usually be found near the deli section of supermarkets. I'm salivating just thinking of it now.) So I didn't expect the cured anchovy fillets to melt into the sauce, but it made for an incredibly delicious sauce packed with the tang from the tomatoes and salty fermented flavour from the anchovy. I was very pleasantly surprised by how well all the ingredients came together, and will definitely make this again. 

Tomato Anchovy Pasta

serves two

Ingredients

160g dried short pasta 
(I used a mixture of casarecce and fusilli, both of which had similar cooking times.)

3 tablespoons olive oil
3 cloves of garlic, thinly sliced
A 55g tin of cured anchovy
200g cherry tomatoes, halved lengthwise
A tablespoon of chopped italian parsley (or more, if you wish)

Method
Cook the pasta in a large pot of salted boiling water until al dente, keeping some of the pasta water. (Be generous with the salt. I use 1.5 teaspoons for every litre of water.)

While the pasta is cooking, heat olive oil in a large saucepan. Add sliced garlic - it should sizzle gently the moment the garlic hits the oil.  
When the edges of the garlic are turning brown, add anchovy fillets. Feel free to mash it up. When the anchovy fillets are starting to break apart, add cherry tomatoes and stir to combine. 

When cherry tomatoes have softened slightly (they should still be able to hold their shape and yield slightly to pressure), turn down the heat to low, add drained al dente pasta to the saucepan and toss until pasta is well coated in the sauce. Add reserved pasta water if necessary i.e. if the pasta seems a little dry. 

Garnish with italian parsley and serve warm. 

Brain Broth

The actual name of the recipe is 'Brain-Boosting Broth', and I wouldn't have chanced upon it if I did not end up with much more fennel than two people could consume (courtesy of my mum who got an incredible deal at Pasar Bella).

Wanting to find a way to use up more fennel (there was only so much fennel salad we could eat in a week), I went to my usual trusty source - Epicurious. The recipe looked simple enough, so I used the largest cast iron pot I had and set to work. It smelt and tasted delicious - the sweetness from the vegetables, warmth from the fennel and earthiness from all the herbs came together very well. I used it as a base for a risotto on one night and froze the leftover. 

When Ed was feeling peckish this weekend, I made a pasta soup out of it and added some diced green peppers and fresh dill. Good for the body, good for the brain. Also good for the wallet. 

Brain-Boosting Broth

Ingredients

8 quarts water

3 carrots, coarsely chopped

2 white onions, coarsely chopped

2 celery stalks, coarsely chopped

2 bulbs fennel, coarsely chopped

1 parsnip, coarsely chopped

12 cloves garlic, chopped

1/4 cup fresh ginger, peeled and chopped

Stems from 1/2 bunch fresh flat-leaf parsley

1 bunch green onions, green and white parts

1 stalk fresh lemongrass, cut in half lengthwise

1 tablespoon salt

1 teaspoon black peppercorns

2 cloves

1 teaspoon dried oregano

1 teaspoon dried rosemary

1 bay leaf

1 teaspoon ground turmeric

Method

Combine all of the ingredients in a large stockpot and bring to a boil over high heat. Turn down the heat to maintain a gentle simmer and cook, uncovered, for 2 hours.

Strain the broth through a fine-mesh sieve. Use immediately, refrigerate for up to 5 days, or freeze for up to 1 month.

Making Chicken Rice

I generally shy away from cooking Southeast Asian food because they require so many different types of spices and so much effort, not to mention the fact that a very good rendition is probably available a hop and a skip away from wherever I am and can be purchased for a song.

However, ever since I tried making Tom Yam soup and Pho Bo, and realized how easy those were, I've learnt to question these assumptions and have been more open to cooking (or at least attempting to) Southeast Asian food. In some ways, you can say Ed's soft spot for food from around the region has been a key motivating factor as well.

That is not to say that I've been particularly successful at my attempts though. In my previous entry I mentioned how the Assam Laksa took a painful two and a half hours to complete. Mind you, there were three, sometimes four, persons working on the dish at any one time.

Today, I was inspired by Adam Liaw's cookbook with a recipe for Chicken Rice - possibly one of Ed's top five favorite dishes, ever. It sounded simple enough and the ingredient list was not too long nor diverse. All was well - forty minutes into the cooking and I was almost done. Minimal washing up seemed to be required (I cheated and used the rice cooker to fry the rice first) and the smell in the kitchen was promising.

And then I had to chop the chicken.

Even with a sharp cleaver and all the determination I could muster, I could not make clean, decisive chops at the chicken. Worse still, I wasn't prepared for all the juices to spill out of the chicken's cavity, onto the chopping board, countertop and down the kitchen cupboards before finally reaching the kitchen floor in all it's greasy goodness.

But after some (more) struggle and compromises (drumsticks and wings left whole), I managed to get the chicken onto a plate of sliced cucumbers. With newfound respect for those uncles (and the occasional aunty) who chop chicken in the shops, I tucked into the chicken rice with Ed. After all that effort, would I make it again? Maybe!

Adam Liaw's recipe worked quite well and on the whole it was tasty. I liked the fact that I had very little chopping to do, apart from the chicken. Mainly whole cloves of garlic or thick slices of unpeeled ginger were used. I made chicken rice before, using other recipes and Adam's unusual step of wrapping the cooked chicken in cling wrap after brushing it with sesame oil might have lent itself to the silky smooth skin. While I wasn't too sure about the chilli sauce recipe - I doubled the recipe and used a whopping 11 bird's eye chillies - they turned out well in the end. The bright tang of the lemon juice freshened up the dish, and for some reason the sauce was not as spicy as I thought it would turn out to be.

Can't wait to try his other recipes!

Pho Bo

Pho (pronounced 'Fer') is a dish almost synonymous with Vietnamese cuisine over here in Singapore. The closest rival would be those crunchy and delicious rice paper rolls, which cannot do without the piquant dipping sauce of fish sauce, lime juice, sugar, garlic and a touch of chilli padi.

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During Chinese New Year, my mum wanted to do something different and less fussy than the usual Chinese reunion dinner dishes. Since she had just been to Hanoi and brought back many packets of rice paper, she was naturally inclined towards incorporating the rolls into our reunion dinner. This was a perfect opportunity for me to try making some Pho Bo, even though the thought of trying my hand at a dish that Ed eats frequently was terribly stressful.

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By the time I realised the high expectations my family had of this Pho Bo I was preparing, it was too late. I had already filled up two big pots with stock made from beef bones and marrow, fish sauce, star anise, cloves and rock sugar. There was nothing else in the fridge that could stand in as a main dish for the meal. It sure smelt heavenly, but I was plagued with fear that it would taste nowhere as good as the aromas seemed to promise.

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Alas, my worst fears were realised with the first spoonful of stock I tasted. It tasted nothing like the flavourful soup usually associated with Pho Bo - meaty, slightly tangy, with a hint of spice. I took another spoonful and this time tried to figure out what was lacking. Usually, it just needs a bit of salt, so I added more salt. And more. But there was something else missing - perhaps it was fish sauce. So tablespoon by tablespoon I added more fish sauce in desperation to salvage the 2 big pots of nothingness, and them into 'something edible'.

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Slowly but surely, the soup became more and more palatable. Wait, perhaps it is even delicious! I threw in a few stalks of holy basil for good measure, spooned the soup into waiting bowls of noodle and thin slices of beef, then hoped for the best. As I brought the last bowl out into the dining room, I could only hear slurping of noodles.

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I was on tenterhooks waiting for the verdict and was taking my first bite when finally someone spoke. Great news, the Pho Bo was a hit! I watched with satisfaction as my family finished their very generous helpings of Pho Bo, 'garnished' with artery-clogging beef marrow, and then went back for seconds. Ed even paid me the highest compliment ever - that it was the best bowl of Pho Bo he had ever tried. And I believe him, not just because I want to, but also because I know he would never lie. Not especially when it comes to something so close to his heart - Pho Bo.

Pho Bo - Vietnamese Rice Noodles Soup with Beef
(Adapted from Epicurious)
Serves 6

Ingredients
2kg beef bones
1.5kg beef marrow
2 (3 inch) pieces of giner, cut in half lengthwise, lightly bruised with the flat side of a knife, and lightly charred (see note below)
2 yellow onions, peeled and charred (see note below)
1/4 fish sauce, and then some to taste
3 tablespoons sugar or equivalent of rock sugar
10 whole star anise, lightly toasted in a dry pan
6 whole cloves, lightly toasted in a dry pan
1 tablespoon sea salt, and then some to taste

500g dried 1/16 inch wide rice sticks, soaked, cooked and drained
200g sukiyaki beef i.e. beef sirloin, thinly sliced across the grain

1/3 cup chopped coriander
400g beansprouts
10 sprigs of holy basil/thai basil
6 chilli padi, cut into thin rings
3 limes, halved


Method

In a large stockpot, bring 6 quarts water to a boil.
Place the bones and marrow in a second pot and add water to cover.
Bring to a boil and boil vigorously for 5 minutes. Using tongs, carefully transfer the bones and marrow to the first pot of boiling water. Discard the water in which the meat cooked. (This cleans the bones and reduces the impurities that can cloud the broth.)
When the water returns to a boil, reduce the heat to a simmer.
Skim the surface often to remove any foam and fat.
Add the charred ginger and onions, fish sauce and sugar.

When the broth has been simmering for about 1 1/2 hours total, wrap the star anise and cloves in a tea bag/cheesecloth and add to the broth.
Let infuse until the broth is fragrant, about 30 minutes.
Remove and discard both the spice bag and onions.
Add the salt and continue to simmer, skimming as necessary, until you're ready to assemble the dish.
The broth needs to cook for at least 2 hours.

To serve, place the cooked noodles in preheated bowls. (If the noodles are not hot, reheat them in a microwave or dip them briefly in boiling water to prevent them from cooling down the soup.)
Place a few slices of the raw beef on the noodles.
Bring the broth to a rolling boil; ladle about 2 to 3 cups into each bowl.
The broth will cook the raw beef instantly.
Garnish with coriander.
Serve immediately, inviting guests to garnish the bowls with bean sprouts, basil, chilies and lime juice.

Note on charring ginger/onions:
To char ginger, hold the piece with tongs directly over an open flame or place it directly on a medium-hot electric burner.
While turning, char until the edges are slightly blackened and the ginger is fragrant, about 3 to 4 minutes.
Char the onions in the same way.
Peel and discard the blackened skins of the ginger and onions, then rinse and add to the broth.

For I am only human

We all have our weaknesses. Not so recently, I added another weakness to my already ridiculously long list, which includes but is not limited to a soft spot for elegant tableware, a penchant for leather bags (sadly, at my pay scale I can only lust after them), and a perpetual craving for all forms of Japanese food, especially hotate.

This new weakness of mine is the yearning to have supper more often than not, once the hour hand of the clock hovers over '11'. I do not consume tiny dinners, no, that's not possible with Ed around. With a voracious appetite like his, we often order too much than we need. Yet sometimes I find myself craving for something else a couple of hours later.

And so does he.

So we have stashes of food that keep well and can be whipped up in a flash. We have progressed from packets of salt and vinegar crisps that need no cooking at all, to cold soba that's deliciously refreshing on warm, stuffy nights. Our latest is instant fish congee, with a lightly beaten egg stirred into it at the end and topped off with some sesame oil and chopped spring onion. Admittedly, this takes a little more time that many are willing to commit to for a quick late night fix. But good things truly come to those who wait.

Eaten in the comfort of a chilly room set at arctic temperatures (of course this means your room will smell of fish porridge for the rest of the night), it was blissful. It was one of those nights when we could only hear the clock and our stomachs grumbling. But not for long. This is one supper I'm willing to repeat over and over again even though it comes straight out of a packet.

I suppose that means I should add 2 new weaknesses to my list - eating supper (frequently) and eating pre-packed instant food. Eeks.

Christmas dinner

From top left: Fresh oysters, baguette from Culina, brown button mushrooms with garlic and parsley, Habanero Tabasco sauce, pat of butter, lemon wedges, random spatula-wielding hand, and The Paella.

This year's Christmas has been... refreshing. It might be difficult to believe, but it is officially the 27th day of December and I have yet to lay my lips on any turkey since December started, unless you count the turkey ham I bought for a sandwich 3 weeks ago.

I organised a Christmas potluck for the office about a week ago, except it was a Teochew Porridge potluck party. It seemed to get my colleagues far more excited and I thought, what the heck, whatever rocks their boat. It made organising the party far easier than expected, although we did end up with a ton of canned and bottled food items like bottled olive vegetables and (my favourite) canned fried dace with black beans.

In the middle of last week, I helped a dear friend organise a raclette party. The cheese and grill were gotten from La Fromagerie, and my friend practically single-handedly prepared all the dishes to go with the cheese. The raclette was delish and thoroughly filling, and there wasn't a sliver of a turkey in sight.

When my mum suggested we have a small and simple family dinner at home, her suggestion didn't include any turkey either. Instead, she offered procuring live seafood from the nearby newly renovated Sheng Siong and preparing a seafood feast. Ed and my mum share a penchant for paella and I had always wanted to put my anodised Calphalon pan to the paella test, so we decided on an un-Christmas-like menu.

I must say I was pleasantly surprised by the selection of live seafood Sheng Siong stocked, which included lobsters and oysters. Their oysters, at SGD1.80, were not only reasonably priced, they were fresh (well, they were live you know)!

I'm happy to report the paella was a success. As usual, I cooked too much and had to spread out the paella to 2 more cast iron dishes. I'm just glad we managed to finish 2 out of the 3 pans I prepared, with the last simply waiting to be reheated and served to guests we're expecting tomorrow afternoon. With a platter of fresh oysters, some lightly sauteed mushrooms with garlic and parsley, and a couple of slices of baguette gotten from Culina, our family's Christmas dinner was complete.

So there, my Christmas experience this year, with no turkey. Nil, zilch, nada, squat. I'm somewhat happy there wasn't any of that dry, moisture-sapping meat to endure this time around. Yet, I do miss some of that amazing soup my mum makes with the leftover turkey bones. Anyhow, I hope you've all had relatively fulFILLING Christmas dinners!

Merry Christmas!

Ho ho ho!

Paella

Adapted from The Cook's Book

Serves 4-5

Ingredients

1.4 litres fish stock

2 good pinches of saffron

3 garlic gloves, crushed

90ml olive oil

50g chorizo sausage, thinly sliced

2 small bay leaves

1 white onion, finely chopped

2 red peppers, halved, seeded, and cut into 2cm squares

250g squid, cleaned and cut into pieces, including tentacles

1.5 cans skinned and chopped tomatoes, drained

1 tsp paprika

450g Valencian paella rice or risotto rice

300g fresh clams, scrubbed (ensure all clams are tightly shut or discard them)

500g large fresh prawns, shells removed (except the tail) and deveined

400g fresh mussels, scrubbed and beard removed

50g cooked French beans, cut into 2.5cm lengths

50g cooked peas (optional)

lemon wedges and tabasco sauce to serve

Method

Boil fish stock with saffron and 1 crushed garlic clove in a pot. Simmer for 5 minutes.

Meanwhile, heat half the oil in a paella pan (I used the Calphalon Everyday Pan).

Add chorizo, remaining garlic and bay leaves and cook over gentle heat for 1 minute.

Add onion and peppers, and cook for 5 minutes.

Increase the heat, add the squid and fry for 2-3 minutes.

Stir in tomatoes, paprika, and remaining oil. Fry for 4-5 minutes. (This tomato mixture is known as sofrito.)

Scatter in the rice, distributing it evenly over the ingredients in the pan. Pour over the hot stock, reduce the heat and cook gently for 10-15 minutes. Shake the pan occasionally but do not stir.

Add in prawns, clams and mussels, cover and continue cooking for another 5 minutes or until the rice is tender but slightly firm (it may be necessary to add a little more stock or water), and all mussels and clams have opened (those that never open may have turned bad).

Side note: The original recipe calls for the prawns, clams and mussels to be added with the stock, but I find this overcooks the seafood.

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The rice will form a golden crust on the bottom (called a soccarat).

When all the liquid has been absorbed, add the beans and peas.

Serve with lemon wedges and tabasco sauce.

My Monthly Fix

Every month, I religiously head to Kino for my dose of food related magazines. For a very disturbing digression, on one of those trips I spotted a guy in his late thirties or early forties sitting on the floor, with a soft porn magazine open on his lap. Sure, I'm all for free speech and human rights, and whatever men like to do in their own little private space. Lets not even go there.

Bring it out into the open, er... SURE. But to sit there, with a camera phone in hand, snapping photos of the bikini clad, busty model with barbie-type big hair featured in the magazine, now that's just plain disturbing.



Anyway! Fortunately or unfortunately, I head to Kino pretty often to grab a couple of magazines. I'm a terrible sucker for handsome steaks or sexy pies. Throw in some adorable mini scoops of caramel ice cream and I'm sold. A couple of magazines have entrapped my mind and heart. Donna Hay is one of them. The gorgeous photos, reader-friendly layout and useful tips on cooking make the magazine a mainstay in my repertoire of magazines to grab regularly.

Sadly though, their recipes and tips have been grossly used and consulted. And with that realisation, I stacked up my D.H. mags and trawled through, considering a possible menu to provide for some friends. As I was catching a matinee, I only had a couple of hours to prepare the meal and had to (again) look for something uncomplicated.

There were way too many choices, and after much mulling over, I chose to start the meal off with caramelised mushrooms to top off a thinly sliced baguette, smeared generously with cheese (I chose my childhood fav, Laughing Cow Cheese) and scattered with wild rocket leaves. This was such a convenient dish to prepare way before hand, to get out of the way and out of the mind while preparing the other courses. I just had to simmer it for a while, allowing it to cool naturally until it is ready to serve. Although the original recipe asked for goat's cheese, my uncontrollable aversion to goat's cheese led to my substitution, which I thoroughly enjoyed anyway.

Following that, we had salmon gently poached in tomato broth, frugally garnished with dill. Convenient point number 2: the broth is prepared before hand and the salmon poached for just 8-9 minutes for the middle to remain that slightly darker shade of pink. Of course, that means that the salmon should be sliced into individual portions first before poaching.

With some careful timing and prep work, some stew and risotto was served after that. The lamb was stewed with an entire bottle of red wine and the aromatic rosemary, while the risotto was plain and spiked with just a mere hint of thyme.

One thing I've learnt however, after so many attempts to recreate dishes featured in magazines or in cookbooks, is that they almost always never turn out the way it looks like in the photos. My fish broth looked far too red, making me alarmed by the disparity of colour. I re-read the recipe over and over again to make sure I wasn't adding the tomato puree to the broth erroneously. Was it 1 tsp, and not 1 tbspn? Was my tomato puree unusually red?

So yes, I've learnt (the hard way) to accept that I might never be able to make such perfect looking steaks or pies. But when you have friends like mine who mostly don't notice if the carrot sticks were not julienned properly or if the frosting on the cake is slightly uneven, it is easier to let go. Just walk away from the cake Daffy, just walk away from the cake.

Just a couple of months ago, I had to drop all my work responsibilities to attend a two and a half month long (but I say short) course. Since I started work but less than 8 weeks before that, I did not have very much to handover. In fact, the person I was supposed to replace had not even left!

Through the course, I met 60 other new faces I struggled to remember, chinese names I fumbled over, and personalities which kept me constantly amused. By circumstance, providence or confluence of passion, I gravitated towards an endearing handful who gained my respect and love by the end of the course.

Ever since it ended, we have not had much time to meet up again but I was determined to keep in touch with them. And so, I resorted to my usual tactic, and called for a potluck (surprise, surprise). Although I was a little worried that they would end up bringing chips or Mac's nuggets, thankfully I managed to charm (read:coerce) most of them into hands-on work.



SS had been reluctant right from the beginning, giving me countless warnings of food poisoning should she bring anything home-cooked. And so she opted for something that would require little cooking, volunteering to bring a salad. For some reason, I had images of leafy greens, or more specifically peppery rocket and frisee, tossed in a light vinaigrette, floating around in my head.

So you can imagine my delightful surprise when she upped that and instead brought empty shells of avocado skins, with a container full of soft and creamy chopped avocado, perfectly fresh peeled prawns, mixed with chopped mango and little sacs of grapefruit. To serve, she simply scooped generous portions of her personal concoction of avocado 'salsa' into the avocado shells, and placed a few folds of smoked salmon with dill on the side.

It was simple, but she let the ingredients speak for themselves. And speak they did, or more like sing. No drizzle of anything, no touch of what-nots, just pure flavours and a combination of textures. It was lovely, and absolutely touching. Her dish, like her, had both form and content.

To cater to the guys in the group, I made sure someone brought meat. YC initially suggested preparing his 'Lazy Man's Chicken', but while I fully appreciated that he did not cop out by buying roast chicken from a nearby hawker centre for the potluck, I was concerned that the chinese-style cooking would not meld with the rest of the dishes. And although I would like to believe that I managed to exercise my irresistable charm to change his mind, we all know that guys are a little more thick-headed and would need something less like a nudge and more like a shove.

In fact, I had to provide him with another recipe, buy the other ingredients, and instruct him to 'just buy chicken and come over early'. The end result was Chicken with Black-Pepper Maple Sauce that was served in a teapot for self-service. It may not have been termed Lazy Man's Chicken, but I thought it was surely lazy enough. And although there were a few kinks here and there, things worked out with a little improvisation (I henceforth love butter and emulsification) and the sauce was delicious - smooth, sweet and savoury. I helped to prepare some roasted baby potatoes to go with the chicken, but unfortunately roasted them too far in advance. Instead of biting into crisp, brown skins perfumed by sage, we ended up with potatoes a little too tough for anyone's liking.

I still remember one of my first few encounters with D. He was one of the first few who I discovered also shared my joy in entertaining, and eagerness to learn more about food. Always humble and sincere, he even shared his choice of recipe with me and his friend before proceeding with it. The recipe came from Epicurious.com, with a rating of 4 forks no less, and I could not wait to taste it!


He requested for heavy 'supervision', but actually needed little. And at the end of the night, with some help from the rest, the capellini was really worth every ounce of effort in it. Most of the effort went into measuring and chopping though, and is definitely not tedious. It is however, not something you could prepare on a whim though, unless perhaps you have a secret stash of vodka that you keep replenished, a packet of cream you keep for days you crave for hot chocolate (not the wimpy kind of course), and a herb garden with an everlasting supply of dill.


While some would have preferred thicker pastas like linguine or spaghetti, I enjoyed the dainty strands of angelhair. Something about its fragility, making it a challenge to prepare, and all the more precious.





For dessert, PL had planned to whip up his signature dish- cheesecake. He is a Korean Food Junkie, but in his path towards greater wisdom in the USA, he also mastered cheesecake. Of course, what impresses me most is the fact that he once made his own Kim Chi before, and that shall be a story for another day.

But the photo above gives away the fact that this story ends with him being unable to find time to prepare the said cheesecake, opting to bring ice cream instead. The redeeming factor is that he brought most of us our first taste of Daily Scoop ice cream (can't blame us since they are really situated in ulu-ulu-land). Lychee Martini and Durian-Durian were rich with little chunky surprises of lychee and durian respectively.

And of course, I would not organise a potluck without contributing anything myself. I spent a fair amount of time thinking of what else I could contribute to complement the rest of the dishes, and finally decided upon clams. It was light, fun to eat and very importantly as well, able to be prepared on demand easily. A slight touch of luxury was from saffron, of which only a pinch sufficed for an entire 2kg worth of clams.

I discovered however, that washing clams takes alot more than a few rinses under the water. Soaking in salt water is supposed to help, and I'll be keeping that in mind next time I prepare these again. How could I not, after watching my parents slurp up all the clams and saffron-tomato broth that I served them for supper?

My last guest, P, brought a bottle of red wine. But she also brought along her vivacious laughter and stories that kept everyone else entertained through the night. When the night came to a close, I was knackered but in a good way. Is there any better way to re-establish relationships than over food? I think not!

My Indulgence

I used to scoff at the small-portion-in-big-plate concept that I had seen in many 'atas' restaurants. That was until I realised that it was a conspiracy to leave you wanting for more of the good stuff - a conspiracy that worked on me.

And so for dinners at home, I try to put some of that into practice as well, in the meantime balancing that with my conditioned instinct to feed feed feed! I've picked up, from the women in my family, the type of hospitality insisting that having guests practically lifting their tummies off the floor at the end of the night and dragging it out the door with them, signals success.
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When Yin came over for dinner the other day, I tried to control the portions, but still failed. A salad, pasta and a risotto later, we were stuffed. I didn't even prepare a sweet finish to dinner, expecting there to be little space for anymore after two carb-heavy dishes and I'm thankful for that decision. Though truth be told, I did toy with the idea of making AT LEAST an ice cream.

Thinking back though, if I had to choose between some ice cream and more pasta or risotto, I would go with the pasta (even over the risotto!). Not because I think I have unlocked the key to creating the perfect forkfuls of the classic pasta - Aglio Olio (garlic and olive oil), but because of my latest discovery of Tetsuya's Truffle Salsa.

Having passed by Culina (Bukit Timah Road, next to Coronation Plaza) countless times without actually dropping in, I resolved to make a trip down specially to have a look-see. They stock plenty of gourmet goodies that may not be a need, but would be a luxurious bonus to have. Squid ink in little sachets, vanilla fleur de sel, dried ceps that will knock your socks off with a sniff, and even chestnut puree in retro-looking squeeze tubes.


Seeing how they stocked all these deluxe ingredients, I asked if they happened to bring in any truffle-infused Camembert that made one of my trips to Paris absolutely unforgettable. Sadly, they didn't bring any of that hedonistic, creamy cheese in. They did however, recommend the next best alternative - mix some of Tetsuya's Truffle Salsa with a good quality Camembert for my very own sensuous spread.

At SGD$29 for a small 80g bottle of truffle salsa, I guess my reluctance was written all over my face. But they then very connivingly showed me the bigger bottle with better value for money (SGD$59 for 500g), and let me have a whiff of their own personal stash. I was hooked at first smell, and in a heartbeat, I said I'd take a bottle.


Obviously alerted to my nasal instincts, they brought out tiny apothecary bottles that contained super fragrant tea leaves from Gryphon. Of course, I have my own stash of Gryphon tea at home, and am loving it (Moroccan Mint is great for ice cream). Still, I enjoyed the moments sniffing away!

But I digress, yet again.



I haven't actually tried mixing the truffle salsa with any Camembert cheese yet, but using it for the little Aglio Olio 'upgrade' was simply heavenly. The salsa has olives (and I really don't like olives), but the flavours were a perfect balance of olives and truffle among others. The angelhair pasta was tossed in mild garlic-flavoured olive oil and truffle salsa for super silky delicate strands of noodle bathing in the distinct aroma that only truffles can yield. And while that would have been enough, I went over the top and added an extra teaspoonful of the good stuff.

After the delicious pasta, I made risotto with truffle oil, and dried ceps that I bought from Culina as well. Standing by the stove, nursing the starch from the risotto and chatting with Yin at the same time was such an enjoyable and therapeutic experience. The risotto had an extra dimension of flavour from the smooth ceps that triggered images of oak trees basking in gentle early morning sunlight, with chilly fog embracing their trunks.

But like I mentioned earlier, I would choose the pasta over the risotto if given a choice. It's hard not to, especially since the pasta took a fraction of the total time taken to make the risotto. This may seem to sit at the other end of the difficulty-spectrum of home-cooking as compared to the previous post, but it really isn't.

I can't think of a more idiot-proof pasta dish to do than Aglio Olio. And if you happen to have some of the truffle salsa at hand as well, this would be a great way to pamper yourself without too much bustling around the kitchen.

In fact, when Val suggested having a tennis session over the weekend and 'arrowed' (civil service lingo) me to provide a simple one-dish dinner, that came to mind immediately. I just upped the quantities to almost 100g of pasta per person and took just about 10 minutes to put it all together. Together with the smoked cheese that Val brought from Germany (I think), some table water crackers, we were well fed and ready for an intensive round of tennis.

Truffled Aglio Olio

Serves 4

Ingredients

400 g angelhair pasta, cooked according to instructions on packet till al dente (I always salt the water generously so that it needs minimal seasoning later on)

8 tbspns olive oil

3 cloves of garlic, sliced thinly

2 tbspns Tetsuya's Truffle Salsa+ 4 tsps (optional)

salt and pepper to taste

Method

When pasta is almost done, heat olive oil over medium heat.

(Place a slice of garlic in the oil, and if it sizzles, the oil is hot enough)

When olive oil is heated, add garlic and fry until it just starts to brown, then remove from heat.

Toss the drained angelhair pasta through the olive oil, adding 2 tbspns Tetsuya's Truffle Salsa and more olive oil if required.

Season with salt to taste.

Serve with 1 additional tsp of truffle salsa each.

Leave some parmesan cheese and black pepper at the table to add if required (my friends always love a little interactive portion)

My Super Fast Food

Have been going a little gaga over Italian recently, especially since the dishes I usually choose to whip up are so amazingly effortless. Fried polenta cakes with a thick shower of parmesan, yum! You'd think I'd get sick of it by now.

Mandarin Orange Infused Olive Oil

I have no idea when it really started, but I find myself receiving random sms-es from friends and family once in a while asking for recommendations to restaurants and cafes given a particular context. This could be for a special date, an anniversary dinner, a casual gathering, a girly catch up, a formal business lunch or simply for the sudden need to pamper oneself. I guess that's what I get for making it so obvious that I have this (unhealthy) obsession with the preparation and enjoyment of food. Of course, I try my very best to help in whatever way I can with whatever limited knowledge and experience, but when I can't offer something suitable, is when I feel terribly bad.


An extremely positive spin off though, is that friends almost always know exactly what makes me happy. April had just returned to Singapore for a short 3 week break (making Gabe an extremely happy man) and had gone on a tour of Europe before flying home. On one of her stopovers, she picked up a gorgeous metal tin of Mandarin Orange Infused Olive Oil that has the beautiful aroma and taste of Mandarin Oranges, from O&Co. I find their packaging novel and ergonomic with its easy-pour pop up spout.


Incidentally, they had a shop in London that I chanced upon, just around Spitalfields Market. When I was last there (which is such a long time ago), I had purchased some white truffle oil that though pricey, is better than some other brands of truffle oil that I have since tried. I regretted not getting more, or other types of oil that they stocked. So when April presented me with the O&Co paper bag, I couldn't be happier! Actually I did feel even happier when I saw that it was exotically infused with Mandarin Oranges, indulging my perpetual craving for unusual flavours.


For a little 'snack' this weekend, I decided to try it out by adulterating the typical Aglio Olio. Suffice to say, I went back into the kitchen to make another serving promptly after finishing my first. I don't think that tin of oil will last very long in my kitchen.


Typically I would have chosen linguine for this, but I desperately wanted to try out my not-so-recently purchased Yellow Label Sgambaro Mille Righe pasta, made purely out of durum wheat and using bronze dies. I was trying to kill time when I walked into a wine shop. Yet the thing that caught my eye was a crate of dried pasta right in the front of the store. The brand was totally foreign to me, but the pastas' slightly rough quality appealed to me. I was out of the shop with two packets in hand, and eager to try these out.


So fast forward a few months (!!) and here I am. They softened under the generously salted boiling water into floppy short, large tubes. They also did a great job in letting the oil stick to it. So even as I took my time taking a photo of it, they did not dry out and stick to each other. This was a problem I encountered before and always thought it was just a problem with the sauce I had made. This revelation is a helpful boost to my confidence in preparing pasta. Now my only difficulty would be finding the wine shop that I had so randomly wandered into, and hope that they would still have stocked up on these.

Polenta and Onion Relish

When people gather for many rounds of mahjong, food is usually one of the last thing on their minds. Perhaps this isn't true for some of you, but for my relatives and my mum, they would skip mealtimes if only hunger did not bug them enough to make them slightly distracted. I typically do not cook for my mum and her mahjong kakis if I can help it. But if I do, I would work out something terribly simple, that can be eaten from a bowl and with just a spoon.

So when my mum had a mahjong session yesterday, polenta came to mind. I had a bag of polenta sitting around my shelves just screaming to be slowly simmered into a creamy, corny mush. So I did just that, and made a pot of beef stew as well as some roasted vegetables to go with it. Unfortunately, I had grossly overestimated the amount of polenta that I needed, and ended up with an entire tray worth of polenta.

I find that the best way to save extra polenta is to spread it out on a tray, let it cool, harden, then slice it into 2 cm thick pieces. These can be fried with a little olive oil or frozen for future frying. Fried polenta becomes gratifyingly crisp, with incredibly soft middles. Arguably, they are better than their more viscous predecessors.

For a quick dinner tonight, I chose to cube and fry them in a touch of olive oil. Some halved white button mushrooms, a scoop of onion relish, a sprinkle of dried parsley and a splash of white wine vinegar later, I was stuffing myself with spoonfuls of this very, very comforting dish.

The great thing about this meal is that it can be prepared in a flash, on any worn-out weeknight of yours, when the last thing on your mind is having to wait for your onions to caramelise, or your polenta to soften. Just a little planning beforehand, and some leisurely cooking during the weekend, and you'd have created many instant 'TV-dinners' for whenever you really need it.

A Colourful Life

I can't remember when I first chanced upon a recipe that called for ribbons of zucchini and carrot to be added to noodles to add colour and crunch to an otherwise ordinary dish. Ever since, if I felt the need to bring a little colour to a meal, I'd grab my vegetable peeler and get working.

The great thing about making carrot ribbons is that it is twice (or even thrice) as quick as trying to julienne carrots into little matchsticks, and takes only a few seconds to cook through. This brings back fond memories of how Stella and I used to agonise over those idiotic chunks of carrots that would take ages to even start to soften, torturing us ravenous souls. Over time of course, we got smarter and our carrots were sliced thinner. Sometimes I even resorted to microwaving (oh the sin!) them before dumping them into our wok/frying pan to stir-fry.

Of course, other than creating strips of faux noodles, I could also buy those tricolor dried pasta readily available in supermarkets. Or even some jet-black dried squid-ink pasta to toss around in some olive oil and capers for an almost-instant-noodle-dish.

But if you, like me, have recently purchased a pasta machine from your friendly local kitchenware store, then you should probably try creating your own coloured fresh pasta. It is uber-satisfying and almost like working with clay, except that in the end, you can eat your work of art. How cool is that!

Though not at all a fan of beetroot, I ventured into making beetroot pasta because of the beautiful pink it would impart to the pasta. Perhaps an alternative would be to use red dragonfruit, which always manage to stain my fingers a dark pink. A lesson to be learnt for future pasta-making sessions would be to always stain the pasta just a shade darker than is expected since the colour fades a little after being cooked.

Now if only I could find some pesticide-free flowers that can help me attain some deep purple pasta. Wouldn't that be interesting?

Rice and Veggie

Vinaigrettes made with balsamic vinegar, raspberry vinegar, truffle-infused vinegar, fig vinegar, quince vinegar...... you name it, I've tried it. Well, almost. Sadly, my family has gotten terribly tired of these salad dressings, especially when I tried comparing the subtle flavours of the various vinegars through vinaigrettes by making a whole range of them for just one dinner.

Thankfully (for my family), I had gotten tired of them as well and was searching for a different kind of salad. Enough of leafy greens or bitter (but nice) reds. A certain Sesame Chicken and Noodle Salad in The Cook's Book, contributed by Christine Manfield, attracted me enough (food porn WORKS) to make me stop, drink in the picture and savour the recipe. I attempted the salad but chose to substitute the noodles with julienned carrots in light of the risotto I was preparing as well.

It was exactly what I was looking for - aromatic, refreshing, piquant and slightly spicy.

In fact, it was a great prelude to my very simple main course of risotto served with a garlic and saffron aioli. This was taken from a recipe by Anderson Ho in Menu Degustation, of a squid ink risotto served with saffron aioli. Omitting the squid ink in order to accomodate a friend with a rather conservative palate, I created a plain risotto perfumed by the lightest hint of lemon zest. Both risotto and aioli complimented each other, but the aioli might be a little too strong on the garlic for people who are not fans (like me) of that pale yellow bulb. Otherwise, the tangy yet earthy flavour of the aioli helped relieve some of the risotto's weight on the palate.

Sesame Dressing for Salad (of Shredded Chicken, Noodles and Cucumbers)

Adapted from The Cook's Book

Makes about 180ml of salad dressing

Ingredients

3 tbspn sesame seeds

1/4 Sichuan peppercorns, dry-roasted and ground

4 garlic cloves

2 tsp chopped fresh ginger

1 tsp chilli paste or sambal

2 tbspn vegetable oil

2 tbspn light soy sauce

1 tbspn fish sauce

1 tbspn Shaoxing rice wine or dry sherry

1 tbspn Chinese black vinegar

1 tbspn caster sugar

100 ml chicken stock

Method

Process all ingredients in a blender until smooth.

Spoon dressing over salad and serve.

Saffron Aioli

For 200g Risotto

Ingredients

1 g saffron

20ml white wine vinegar

20g peeled and finely chopped garlic

2 egg yolks

1 tsp dijon mustard

200ml olive oil

Method

Soak saffron in vinegar to bleach for 30 minutes.

Remove saffron and keep aside.

Whisk vinegar with garlic, egg yolk and dijon mustard together vigorously.

Add saffron.

Pour in olive oil by the trickle to incorporate.

Season to taste.

Garnish risotto with a dollop of aioli and shaved parmesan cheese.