Eating like a man

While I grudgingly admit my appetite is usually no different from any other Singaporean female (I hear Taiwanese and Japanese ladies have incredibly tiny appetites), I relish in being able to 'eat like a man'. This involves consuming vast quantities of food, a significant portion of which is of meat.

Occasionally, I find myself with an insatiable appetite, needing to eat every 3 or 4 hours, and always craving for something savoury. This is a great departure from my past self where I would happily start at the dessert station of buffet spreads - now, I may even skip the dessert! Whenever I crave for a huge hunk of meat, the uber tender steak at Hooha Cafe immediately comes to mind. Perfect grill marks adorn every piece of 1.5 inch thick steak. Every tenderloin, the epitome of tenderness. Happily, not many people have heard of them, but more on Hooha another time.

When I visited Magma with a couple of friends for dinner, I was having one of those massive meat cravings. The delightful service staff recommended the steak tartare, declaring that many of their diners have said theirs is the best. I snapped up the offer and could not wait to tuck in. The waiter wheeled in the raw mince with all the condiments on the side in pretty sauce jugs then went through evidently well-practiced moves of mixing the condiments with the raw mince then making quenelles out of the final product. Each quenelle was scooped onto a small square toast then served.

It was a dish meant to be shared as a starter, but I had it all. By myself. It had a good balance of flavours and texture, and remains one of the top few carnivorous dishes I'd choose whenever I have a massive meat craving. If not for the fact it is not easy to find, I would be having it far more often.

Lemony goodness

For my farewell present, my ex-colleagues found it within their hearts to dig deep and generously into their pockets and grant me many of my kitchen-wishes. Not only did I receive a beautiful Le Creuset cast iron oven dish (pictured above), along with it came a set of 4 Le Creuset cast iron ramekins. To top it all off, there was also a Kyocera ceramic mandolin that I had been humming and hawing over for many moons, wondering if the ceramic blade justified the steep price. I was truly, utterly spoilt. (Afternote: I'm still perfecting my Thomas Keller ratatouille dish, but my experience with it has been awesome so far.)

The itch to use the oven dish developed astoundingly quickly. One Saturday night, my mum came to me with a chicken and a question, "What shall we cook for dinner?" Coincidentally, the winter edition of Donna Hay featured cast iron pots as le pot du jour for typical winter dishes such as slow braises and roasts.

Flipping through for some inspiration, I found a delicious sounding recipe for Lemon Thyme Spatchcocks with Lemon Gratin that I promptly adapted to roast the chicken we had. Coincidentally, we had almost everything we needed for the dish. While not as pretty as the photo in the magazine (especially since the chicken was mid-massacre) this dish was awesome down to the last sliver of potato. The slices of lemon wedged between thin rounds of potato perked up the flavours in the gratin, turning the usually cloying creamy gratin into a platter of refreshing yet comforting goodness.

Cast iron is known to last for generations and was a popular cookware in older generations. Chicken roasted in a cast iron oven dish must be an old-fashioned way somewhere out there, just not in Singapore. Cast iron has since become less popular out there possibly because of its weight, despite its easier-to-clean enameled cousins. Still, I feel cast iron has gained greater recognition over the years in Singapore. If serious foodies like CH and Ivan believe in them, you should too.

I personally swear by all the small collection of cast iron pots and dishes I have accumulated over the years and love that they go from stove to oven to table with unrivaled ease. My girlfriends might pass down jewellery to their children and grandchildren in the future but I will just have a ton of cookware.

Roasted Chicken with Lemon Gratin
Adapted from Donna Hay (Issue 45)
Serves 4
Ingredients
1kg starchy potatoes, peeled and thinly sliced
1 lemon, thinly sliced
2 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
sea salt and cracked black papper
375ml (1.5 cups) single cream
1 big whole chicken, cut into half
olive oil, for drizzling
Method
Preheat oven to 200 degrees celsius.
Layer potato, lemon and garlic in a lightly greased 1.25litre capacity baking dish.
Sprinkle with salt and pepper and pour over the cream.
Bake for 15 mins or until just tender when tested with a skewer.
Place chicken halves on top of the potato, skin side up.
Brush with oil and sprinkle with salt.
Roast for 30 mins or until chicken is golden and cooked through (meat thermometer should register about 80 degrees celsius).
Serve!

Merry Christmas! Has it really been so long?

I've been so busy with Operation Secret Santa that I haven't even had time to blog about this amazing and incredibly fun French-themed dinner party I had in November! Anyway, besides the mad singing at the SuperVIP room at Party World, Christmas was a rather slow and calm affair with family. The night of Christmas eve was spent pigging out on the usual suspects.

Turkey was bought from Meat the Butcher - super friendly new butchery that opened recently along Bukit Timah Road, next to Coronation Plaza. Check out their adorable logo! And since I was there, I thought I'd also grab a hunk of beef to roast. The staff was very helpful in recommending cheaper cuts suitable for roasting.

From Greengrocer, I couldn't resist ordering oysters as I thought it'd be fun having a oyster shucking session for all the big-bulky-biceped-cousins to get a workout.

A couple of days before Christmas, I also purchased a fat slab of salmon to cure for the first time! It was rather nerve wrecking since I had not done it before, ever. But I'm proud to announce that it was really simple. The recipe was simple, I even added my own twists of cinnamon and mustard undertones. I must warn clean-freaks though, that it was rather messy, but more about it in another post.

The night after the crazy dinner of turkey, beef, salmon and oysters, we had the leftovers sliced and shredded together with some foccacia and wheat bread. And can you believe it, we still have more oysters! I hope they don't die in our chiller before I dig them out again to deep fry in beer batter.

I received a couple of gifts for Christmas too - the number of gifts have sadly dwindled significantly over the years, must be the you're-too-old-for-gifts-mentality. One is NEVER too old for gifts! One of the sweetest gifts I've received was from my brother. Though corny -the book is about a brother-sister relationship- the choice of the book was excellent. The illustrations are beautiful.

Hope you had a meaningful and wonderful Christmas!

Quesadillas

To celebrate a couple of birthdays, my friends and I decided to have some sort of a cookout last Saturday. I say 'some sort' because there actually wasn't very much cooking involved. One of my friends, having studied in US for 4 years, suggested Mexican or at least the American idea of Mexican food - Tex Mex.

We ended up with a rather simple menu of 2 types of Quesadillas, Guacamole and Salsa served with tortilla chips.

All recipes were forwarded to me by a friend who enjoys cooking as much as (if not more than) I do. They were all taken off the Cook’s Illustrated website which, after this experience, I will definitely be visiting more often. We had a simple Ham and (Gruyere + Mozzarella) Cheese Quesadilla/Cubano Quesadilla where everyone had fun, or at least I choose to think so, toasting their own Quesadillas in a hot non-stick pan. Once we all had a go at making our own, we moved to the dining table.

There was an array of chopped pickles, small purple onions, green peppers, sliced lettuce, plenty of plain tortilla wraps and – the star of the show – Mexican Pulled Pork / Carnitas. A whole kilogram of pork was braised in a concoction of orange juice, cinnamon, onion, bay leaves, and cumin for 2 hours in a heavy Dutch oven pot, then pulled apart and grilled till slightly brown and crisp at the edges.

Everyone could then add any combination of ingredients – ALL pork for the ridiculous carnivores, or a little of each for a more balanced diet – to the tortilla wrap before devouring it as daintily and neatly as possible. Of course, that was almost impossible what with guacamole and bits of chopped onion spilling out over the sides.

But it was such a delicious meal. We all ‘cooked’ together to Mexican music and made our Mexican popiahs together.

MEXICAN PULLED PORK, or, CARNITAS

(From The Cook's Illustrated)

In addition to the traditional garnishes listed below, you can serve the pork with fresh guacamole and salsa.

Ingredients

Pork 1 (3 1/2-to 4-pound) boneless pork butt , fat cap trimmed to 1/8 inch thick, cut into 2-inch chunks
Table salt and ground black pepper
1teaspoon ground cumin
1small onion , peeled and halved
2bay leaves
1teaspoon dried oregano
2tablespoons juice from 1 lime
2cups water
1medium orange , halved

Tortillas and Garnishes
18(6-inch) corn tortillas , warmed
Lime wedges
Minced white or red onion
Fresh cilantro leaves
Thinly sliced radishes
Sour cream

Method

Adjust oven rack to lower-middle position and heat oven to 300 degrees. Combine pork, 1 teaspoon salt, 1/2 teaspoon pepper, cumin, onion, bay leaves, oregano, lime juice, and water in large Dutch oven (liquid should just barely cover meat). Juice orange into medium bowl and remove any seeds (you should have about 1/3 cup juice). Add juice and spent orange halves to pot.

Bring mixture to simmer over medium-high heat, stirring occasionally. Cover pot and transfer to oven; cook until meat is soft and falls apart when prodded with fork, about 2 hours, flipping pieces of meat once during cooking.

Remove pot from oven and turn oven to broil. Using slotted spoon, transfer pork to bowl; remove orange halves, onion, and bay leaves from cooking liquid and discard (do not skim fat from liquid).

Place pot over high heat (use caution, as handles will be very hot) and simmer liquid, stirring frequently, until thick and syrupy (heatsafe spatula should leave wide trail when dragged through glaze), 8 to 12 minutes. You should have about 1 cup reduced liquid.

Using 2 forks, pull each piece of pork in half. Fold in reduced liquid; season with salt and pepper to taste. Spread pork in even layer on wire rack set inside rimmed baking sheet or on broiler pan (meat should cover almost entire surface of rack or broiler pan). Place baking sheet on lower-middle rack and broil until top of meat is well browned (but not charred) and edges are slightly crisp, 5 to 8 minutes.

Using wide metal spatula, flip pieces of meat and continue to broil until top is well browned and edges are slightly crisp, 5 to 8 minutes longer. Serve immediately with warm tortillas and garnishes.

Simple Pleasures

How many times have I said 'Alright, today I shall bake a tart!'. Just in the past week alone, I must have said those 7 magic words at least 50 times. Ever since I became the proud owner of a gorgeous cookbook all about tarts (Eric Kayser's Sweet and Savoury Tart), I keep telling myself I really have to get down to baking the handsome Parma Ham and Pear tart. Or even the Bacon and Mushroom Quiche.

Unfortunately, I STILL haven't gotten down to it.

Instead, I succumbed to preparing far simpler dishes. None of the fiddly-diddly dough-kneading, even though the tarts seriously look finger-licking good. Perhaps tonight, tonight!

Many people overestimate the amount of work that is needed for cooking in general, and especially for food that looks fit for the cover of Donna Hay. Alas, it is not true! The effortlessness of wrapping bacon around a piece of chicken thigh, baking it at 180 degrees celcius for about 20-30 mins or until the middle registers 70 degrees celcius then garnishing it with chopped parsley, cannot be ignored.

The bacon bathes the chicken in its flavourful juices and protects it from the harsh heat in the oven hence keeping it moist. Pair it with a big serving of salad tossed in balsamic vinegar and olive oil, and it'd be a meal fit for... well in this case, me.

On another gloriously bright Saturday morning, the day called for something humbly plain. A pack of pork sausages, onions, hotdog buns, strawberries, lettuce and haloumi cheese later, I put together one of my all-time favourite salads, and made some sweet onion relish to complement a couple of hotdogs. 'Delicious' wouldn't even begin to describe it. Beautiful company with such a pure meal made that Saturday one of my most memorable Saturdays ever.

On the single rare occasion I actually bothered to put in just a little more effort, I had 8 spectacular pieces of lamb cutlets to thank for the blast of inspiration. Spotted in the meat section of Cold Storage one very innocent Sunday morning while grocery shopping, I could not peel my eyes off them and found my hands inexplicably wrapped around them shortly after. Somehow, somewhere, they ended up in the chiller section of my refrigerator, coated in a mixture of cumin, mustard seeds and black pepper all freshly pound in my under-used mortar and pestle.

After spending some tender-loving time in the frying pan with just a spot of olive oil, they were served with couscous (dried mint, lemon juice, salt, pepper and dried cranberries soaked in some hot water) and baby spinach salad (balsamic vinegar, olive oil, sugar, raisins, haloumi cheese).

The lamb cutlets (at about 65 degrees celcius on the meat thermometer) had only the faintest hint of pink and were succulent to the last bite. The combination of spices also fortuitously worked marvellously well with the lamb. It imparted an earthiness that complemented the natural gamey flavour one would find in lamb. The tangy and crunchy salad, together with the fluffy couscous grains were side dishes the lamb cutlets were certainly most proud to be placed next to. Or actually, sandwiched between.

Perhaps all I need is to make more grocery shopping trips, and wait for the inspiration to come. But in the meantime, I don't see much wrong with simple pleasures, or pleasures simply put-together.

Alright, today I shall bake a tart!

Ratatouille and Polpette

I am often thankful for being so blessed in life - with a great family, a roof over my head, lovely friends who enjoy food as much as I do, and just as importantly, a kitchen with almost all the equipment I need (except a mandolin for, you know, those frustrating days of imperfectly julienned carrots and zucchini).

I was also fortunate to find someone who enjoyed cooking and eating as much as I did when I was overseas for three long years. Of course, I wished the kitchen were better equipped, and wished I didn't have to worry about taking up more than my fair share of space in the refrigerator that my 7 other flatmates shared with me. But I was grateful for a kitchen at all.

So when Addy asked if I could lend my kitchen to her 2 colleagues from France and Italy, I was more than happy to offer my home for a night. It was a fun and relaxing night for me since all I had to do was set the table, help crack eggs, point out the dried oregano on the herb rack and offer wine. In the meantime, N the Frenchman, was busy chopping and watching over multiple pots of peppers, onions, zucchinis and aubergines at one time. In a different part of my tiny kitchen (and by different part I mean 3 feet away), A the Italian was mixing the meat with eggs, breadcrumbs and herbs.

At the end of the night, we had a feast of Fusilli Carbonara, Sicillian Polpette (meatballs), Ratatouille, and to top it all off, Strawberry Tiramisu from Val.

As we loosened our belts and indulged in numerous portions of everything, N explained that there's no fixed recipe for ratatouille. While adding potatoes to it (as suggested by Val) is not common, one can add absolutely anything to it. N's version of it was tender, with each chunk of vegetable soft and still recognisable. Some like theirs mushy and a great big indistinguishable mass. Others like theirs resembling something along the lines of big chunks of vegetables in a tomato sauce, which I believe is delicious in itself and deserving more credit than my poor description affords it.

I thought that N's version was excellent, and not to mention tedious. Each vegetable had to be stir-fried separately, presumably to retain the flavour of each vegetable before mixing them altogether in a big pot together with a sauce comprised of chopped, peeled tomatoes, bay leaves and herbs. It was comforting and wholesome, the kind of dish I would gladly eat with rice (speaking like a true Asian) for every day of my life. Okay maybe not EVERY day, but for many days for the rest of my life.

The polpette were just as gratifying, and what I know to be common in Italian homecooking. Unlike our usual round suspects, these meat'balls' were shaped into big patties and pan-fried in oodles of sinful butter. Like most homecooked food, and like the ratatouille, one can wing the recipe and perhaps even make it your own with a signature blend of herbs?

It is arguable which was the star of the night though. While the ratatouille was truly delectable with its slight tang and full-on earthiness, the polpette were very tasty and tantalising with their slight touch of golden brown. If I really had to make a choice though, I think I'd go for the Strawberry Tiramisu which Val made and which blew all our socks off.

Okay, I guess I'm a little biased. I've known this girl since I was still sporting a bob-styled mob on my head. She's great at jumping over horizontally placed poles and irritating people with her tremendously skinny frame. But other than the time she had to cook for herself when she was in Milan for an exchange programme (during which she survived on alot of pasta, soup, and eating out), she hardly lifts a spatula, much less a whisk.

But loving Tiramisu so much, she decided to try to make it on her own one fine day. While not really difficult, it is one of those recipes that can easily go wrong. The mascarpone cheese might overwhelm the whole dish, the sponge fingers might not have been soaked through with the coffee and liquor, being too heavy handed with the cocoa powder and you'll end up with a mouthful of powder. Yet it seems that her first try was such a success that she made it again, and again, and again for a grand total of 6 times.

The strawberries provided much relief from an otherwise boring and texturally unexciting dessert. That was probably what did it for me - the strawberries. Even N, who proclaimed that he was just 'alright' with Tiramisu, ended up scraping the last bits. A, who stressed Val out by well, simply being an Italian, said that what she made was really, really good.

I'm super proud of her, and am now hunting for other recipes that don't require cooking, as it seems thats the only factor keeping her away from the kitchen. For the recipe she used, click here.

Mourning for the Turkey

When a couple of old friends came together to throw me a surprise birthday party at a cool flower-themed cafe, I was elated and thoroughly touched. At that very dinner, we made a date to celebrate Thanksgiving together just because. It was a convenient excuse to massacre a turkey, subject it to long periods of gentle heat, drown it with huge scoops of gravy and stuff ourselves with big forkfuls of the white/red meat as well as the accompanying stuffing, green bean casserole and salad.



Of course, one cannot forget the Pecan (Pee-ken, Per-con, Pee-kan) and Pumpkin Pies. To show how grateful I was for the surprise birthday dinner, I volunteered my home and to prepare the turkey, which would be the gargantuan task for the dinner.

Believe me, I was apprehensive right from the moment the words 'I'll do the turkey!' (which sounds really iffy in fact) left my lips. I was more apprehensive when I saw the big frozen Butterball Turkeys sitting in the freezer in Cold Storage. I was even MORE apprehensive when I plonked the defrosted, dripping turkey on my Mario Batali Pizza mat (a gift from my colleagues, and convenient for anything from dough to turkey!) and realised the real enormity of the bird.

But I kept my faith. All throughout slathering the bacon and sage butter in between the skin and the flesh of the turkey, I kept my faith. While fumbling with the twine that came with the turkey, to keep the thigh and wings in place, I kept my faith. While basting the bird with my big 'eye-dropper', I did so with tender loving care, believing that the more effort I put into the bird, the more it would reward me with a beautifully golden sheen.

Thankfully, all the hardwork paid off. As did the diligent flipping of the potatoes and parsnips that sat in all the terribly, sinfully, delicious drippings. It was a huge challenge, moving the turkey from the oven to the biggest plate I had. And thankfully, I had friends who knew how to carve the turkey efficiently while I fussed around the wines and water.

I was really worried that the turkey would end up dry, which it is notorious for. While being one of the healthiest meats, with the lowest calorie and fat count, the side effect for all that is usually tasteless meat. Brining the turkey from about 24-48 hours is known to resolve the dry-turkey, but I did not have the luxury of time for that, being too busy for the entire week before.

So the recipe I adapted from Epicurious (and no less), was one which also promised moist meat from the savoury butter sandwiched between the skin and the flesh of the turkey. I guess from all the rave reviews of the recipe, I was pretty confident that it wouldn't turn out half bad.

It certainly didn't turn out half bad, and was in fact really really good. This of course, has piqued greater interest in the entire brining process that supposedly yields even better turkey! With such a huge turkey, just a salad, a green bean casserole and a stuffing was all that was necessary to satiate everyone's hunger and palates.

I repeated this a couple of times throughout the night, and I'm going to state it here again: It felt so surreal discussing politics, Myanmar and the Shia Crescent in front of an exposed turkey bone. And perhaps I was getting high from all the white shiraz, beaujolais nouveau and chardonnay, but the more I looked at the naked carcass especially surrounded by the beautiful purple flowers, the more it resembled a funeral!

Of course, I brushed all those thoughts aside once the pumpkin and pecan pies emerged. The recipe for the pumpkin pie was also gotten from Epicurious. And despite a failed attempt, my friend admirably perservered! He was a little late, but I was truly touched. Faced with that situation, I believe I would have just copped out and run to the nearby bakery for a ready-made pie or cake. He kept to his word and didn't arrive without a homemade pumpkin pie in tow.

As the night wore on and the laughter got considerably louder, possibly from all the freely flowing wine, and as we debated about the proper pronunciation of PECAN, I couldn't help glowing with joy. It was a wonderful feeling of contentment. That very moment epitomised my motivation for hosting dinner parties. Admittedly, these can be tiring, depending on how challenging the menu is, and whether it is a potluck or entirely cooked from scratch.

But listening to concurrent conversations over the dinner table and watching plates of food get passed around, knowing that people are comfortable and happily full - few other occasions can beat this.

A Shoulder of Lamb

Other than the big four - Chicken, Duck, Beef and Pork, I've hardly tried cooking any other meats. So when I go to the market, I hesitate approaching mutton and lamb sellers for fear of getting cheated. I can't tell my mutton from my lamb and looking rather inexperienced, I won't be surprised if I've already been fleeced of a tidy sum of money. I've stopped going to the market for lamb or mutton, more because I'm a little paranoid about how the meat had been treated than being worried about my purse strings.


So I look elsewhere for my lamb. Green Grocer of course had a variety of cuts. Maybe it is because I have a penchant for all things very small (yes, certain parts of me could afford to be smaller too), among the variety of meats and cuts, I was lured to the mini lamb shoulder roasts. However, seeing how it was pre-marinated, I opted for the Grain-fed Lamb Shoulder Roast instead. If I was going to roast a lamb, I wanted to do it properly without cutting any corners. The pre-marinated version would come in handy for lazy days, but then again if I'm lazy I'm unlikely to even bother popping the lamb into the oven for about an hour, which is how long mine took me.

While diligently researching for a reliable way of cooking the lamb shoulder, I must admit I contemplated using it for another recipe that didn't call for lamb shoulder, until I felicitously spotted a recipe in Damien Pignolet's French. It used easily accessible ingredients and wasn't at all fussy. While time consuming, all the time is just in the waiting. Between popping the lamb shoulder in and until the lamb was medium done, I had sufficient time to prepare a whole pot of veal stock (which of course also required little effort), and slowly concoct an Asian salad dressing just because I was feeling inspired.

I used to shy away from preparing lamb using any method other than stewing simply because I felt that achieving the perfect doneness would be a huge challenge. The traditional press-test is not the most reliable (I really think I have artificially tough palm flesh, being a tennis player) and it is almost impossible trying to determine how pink the juices of the lamb is against the very unhelpful grey background of my roasting pan.

But armed with my meat thermometer, I felt invincible! It was simply a matter of sticking the tip into the thickest part of the meat and watching the needle steadily creep up to 70 degrees celcius. And for anybody trying to roast a lamb for the first time, this recipe would be as good as any to start with. The caramelised garlic was mushily sweet, while the chopped parsley was a refreshing interlude amidst mouthfuls of gamey lamb.

As the Grain-fed Lamb Shoulder from Green Grocer came wrapped in some elastic-twine netting, I just had to slip it off for the stuffing, then reuse the netting for the cooking process. It certainly saved me the hassle of buying twine. So if you have twine and a meat thermometer, you're already two-thirds of the journey towards a delicious Roasted Lamb Shoulder stuffed with Garlic and Parsley.

Roast Lamb Shoulder with Confit Garlic, Parsley and Herbes de Provence
From Damien Pignolet’s French
Serves 4 Yuan Family Members or 6-8 normal appetites

Ingredients
15 cloves garlic, unpeeled
Olive oil
4 bunches curly-leaf parsley, leaves plucked and washed
2 boned shoulders of lamb, without necks – about 450g each
salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 tsps herbs de Provence
300ml chicken stock or water (I used veal stock)
½ bunch curly-leaf parsley, finely chopped

Method
Put unpeeled garlic into small saucepan, adding enough olive oil to cover and slowly heat, using a thermometer to check the temperature: try to maintain oil at 70 degrees celcius (I think 60-65 would be sufficient) until the garlic is soft, about 30-40 mins.

It is important that they do not begin to fry. Set aside. When cool, drain and peel the garlic, reserving the oil [which may be used within 2 days for sautéing potatoes].

Blanch the parsley leaves in boiling salted water for a few minutes until soft. Drain and refresh in cold water then squeeze dry and chop roughly. Set aside.

Lay the lamb shoulders skin-side down on a bench. Scatter lightly with salt, pepper and herbs. Distribute the garlic cloves and parsley between the shoulders and roll up each into a neat sausage shape, securing with twine at 3cm intervals.

Preheat oven to 130 degress celcius. Heat 2 tbspns olive oil in a roasting tin and brown the seasoned shoulders over moderate heat then remove. Discard the fat in the pan, place a roasting/cake rack inside then put the lamb shoulders on top. Transfer to the oven and pour the stock into the tin.

Roast for about 1.5 hours or until the juices run faintly pink (or like in my case, until a meat thermometer inserted into the thickest section reads 70 degrees celcius). Check occasionally and add a little water if the stock has evaporated. Transfer to the warmed platter, loosely cover with foil and allow to rest for 20 mins (I skipped this step and nothing major happened).

Strain the stock into a small saucepan and bring to simmer, skimming to remove the fat. Remove the twine from the lamb and carve into 5mm-thick slices across the width of the shoulders.

To serve, moisten the meat with a little stock and scatter with the chopped parsley.

Online Green Grocers

Some time back, Chubby Hubby had posted a shout-out calling for people who wanted to be the first to try new things in the food scene. I didn't even have time to think before I found myself composing an email to him voluntering myself for it.

Then last month, I received a very exciting email followed by 3 $50 vouchers to spend at Greengrocer. Within minutes of opening my mail, I went online to browse through the online grocery store. And within seconds, I was sending the link to a couple of my closer friends who would understand that I get easily excited by good quality tinned crabmeat (think of all the effort and time saved), fresh oysters, frozen scallops (I know, I know, but where else for the good stuff with roe?), veal bones, lamb shoulder...... you get the drift.


As there was a $30 delivery charge for purchases below $150, I had to use up all the credits at once. So I planned for a big, indulgent dinner and what better day than my dad's birthday? Being a big fan of seafood and red meat, choosing what to buy for my dad should have been pretty easy but it wasn't as there was too much variety!

One of the easier choices though was the oyster. I went straight for the largest - 105mm, which was really huge. I forgot that I had greedily ordered 2 dozen, so when the package arrived with ice-packs and all, I had to struggle for a while, making space in the fridge and making sure every single one of them fit into the chiller.

I bought an oyster knife from pantry magic just for the occasion, did my fair bit of research on the best way to shuck an oyster, then passed on the knowledge AND the oyster knife to my brother to work through all 24 oysters. So that part was easy.

Initially, he took a fair amount of time shucking just one oyster but slowly got the hang of it and managed the rest with little mess. He got increasingly excited the quicker he pried open each oyster, declaring that we had to have an oyster party just for the cousins whom we could picture enjoying every minute shucking the oysters to unveil each glorious jewel.

I had planned for the oysters to be done 4 ways. One was served neat, with nothing but its own creamy juices and the taste of the sea. Two were served with lime granita, that was time consuming but incredibly easy to make and yielded amazing results. I got this idea from Anderson Ho's Menu Degustation and it has officially become my favourite way of eating fresh oysters.

The ultimate for me used to be a Virgin Mary Oyster Shooter (pictured above in foreground) - a combination of tomato juice, tabasco sauce, worcesterchire sauce, lemon juice and salt. But the Kalamansi lime granita was sweet, tangy and tres refreshing. When paired with the plump, creamy oyster, it was a wonderful harmony of flavours and textures.

I decided to have deep-fried oysters as well, even though I'm usually averse to deep-frying, not just because it makes my entire kitchen slippery as hell, but also because it wastes a ton of oil. But I decided I need more diversity and smoking my own oysters would have to be a whole new project for another time. Flipping through The Cook's Book, I spotted a Japanese Beer Batter from Hisayuki Takeuchui, that looked perfect for the job. The recipe was for prawn tempura, but it looked like it could be easily used for oysters too. The batter was simple enough and just needed a Japanese beer, such as Asahi, an egg and a little sifted flour.

My brother, not a big fan of raw oysters, understandably enjoyed this the most. I sprinkled a little of Tetsuya's Truffle Salt that I got from Culina after comtemplating using matcha salt instead. The oysters were cooked just long enough to still be soft under the light and crisp batter. I didn't need to time the deep-frying as once the batter started to brown, the oysters were just about done. It did not shrivel down into miniscule pieces of overcooked oysters encased in a crisp brown shell, and instead remained succulent beneath the fried batter where there was a perceptible presence of fermentation and yeast.

Although you think I would have learnt my lesson by now, after the many dinners I've hosted, I still have plenty of room for improvement when it comes to planning for them. For example, I had not decided what the exact menu would be on the day of the dinner itself. I just knew my fridge was well stocked with exciting ingredients for me to play around with.

One of which was the tinned crabmeat. Okay, I can already hear some of you muttering words of disagreement. How could I even stoop so low as to resort to canned crabmeat? That'd be like saying that canned salmon is as good as the real stuff. But have you ever tried killing your own crab, steaming it and extracting the flesh? It takes too much time, effort and needs more than a pair of hands. Plus, I NEEDED to spend that $150 at GreenGrocer anyway.

When the crab cakes were put together in a flash and left to sit in the fridge until it was ready to be deep-fried and served, I couldn't stop patting myself on the back for the decision well made. The crabmeat may not have been the freshest, but these were decent looking chunks of crab claw meat that were sufficient for the crabcakes.

I referred to Chubby Hubby's recent post on crab cakes, for the recipe by Teage Ezard in Lotus. It was a sound recipe, except I made extra-large ones for each of us and dipped them in flour, egg and panko crumbs before deep-frying for that extra crunch. He was right when he said that they compact and firm like Thai Fishcakes. I would actually prefer something more fluffy and may tweak the recipe a little in future. Still, served with an avocado sauce made from avocado puree, yogurt and lemon juice, the huge crab cakes were very satisfying.

I served the crab cakes with a pair of scallops. One was simply wrapped in bacon before being pan-fried, while the other was seared and placed on a spoonful of homemade onion jam. Scallops are probably the simplest dishes to prepare, easy to perfect with just some careful watching over. Now if only we could get some proper, fresh scallops. A colleague shared with me how she tried fresh scallops at a discreet Japanese eatery at one of the coasts along Australia (Melbourne?) and never looked back.

The last exciting item of the day was the wagyu beef, cubed. When I saw the beautiful marbling I was enthralled and couldn't stop thinking of what to do with it. The fastest way, of course, to find for a recipe involving any random ingredient you have, is to search for it on the internet. For this, I always consult Epicurious not just because it is easy to navigate but also because they have priceless reviews from other users who have tried the recipe before. I can then gauge how much risk I would be taking by using the recipe.


I thought I would take advantage of their cube-shape to make baby kebabs. So the Grilled Steak Kebabs with Orange and Hoisin Glaze from Epicurious really came in handy. I simply replaced the sliced oranges with halved kumquats, and replaced the frozen orange concentrate with some simmered orange juice. The ridiculously simple marinade complemented the deliciously fatty beef cubes and the wonderful meaty smell hung in the air long after dinner. Reminiscing about that smell, I think it's something I actually wouldn't mind having in my home all the time.


My family still talks about THOSE oysters. They were tremendously good and unbelievably reasonable, so much so that we're thinking of getting another batch to share with our relatives for Christmas. And for that, I doubt $150 worth of oysters would be sufficient. My cousins will definitely have a ball of a time shucking their own oysters. The only problem is that they don't deliver on weekends, so if our Christmas gathering falls on a weekend I'm going to have to figure out how to stuff 100 oysters into my tiny fridge and keep them alive for 2 whole days!

Lime Granita

Adapted from Anderson Ho's Menu Degustation

Ingredients

150ml water

75g sugar

150ml Kalamansi Lime Juice

Method

Add sugar to boiling water and stir until sugar dissolves then leave to cool to room temperature.

Add 150ml of sugar syrup to lime juice, stir and pour into a shallow dish (I used a shallow Pyrex glass dish).

Place in freezer, scraping the surface every hour until a homogeneously fluffy consistency is achieved. (Allow at least 3 rounds of fluffing for best results)

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.

Nothing like Granny's food

I just came back from Muar, having met up with a couple of old University friends from Malaysia. One of them, a Kuala Lumpur-ian, made a comment that stuck with me - that home-cooked food tastes the best.

Okay it was something to a similar extent. I think. Or maybe it was something I conjured up in my memory because I too, crave for home-cooked food when I've been deprived of it for too long.

Thankfully while studying overseas, I had one of the best room-buddies one could ever wish for. She was a neat freak, and most importantly as insane about eating, cooking and baking as I was. But while we cooked almost every meal we had there, we both still missed home-cooking because it cannot be defined by anything other than from the only home we know - hers in Mauritius and mine in Singapore.

Every summer vacation back home would be jam-packed with plenty of home-cooked food. I always looked forward to being stuffed to the tip of my head with food lovingly cooked by my mum and my grandma, the two pinnacles of home-cooking in my books. However, and perhaps rather oddly, there is another home whose cooking also makes my mouth water, with a fair amount of envy as well.

Back at the age when I just started picking up tennis, and of course also started taking on darker shades of chocolate, when I never had to worry about my waistline, a girlfriend welcomed me into her home for some exam revision (ah those were the days) and some simple grub.

It was really simple grub. A big pot of thick chicken curry and another even bigger pot of ultra-fine fried beehoon. It was really gorgeous watching the beehoon simply collapse under the delicious weight of the curry, and finally slurping down the tender, moistened noodles. The initially dry and stringy noodles was evidently never meant for any other purpose than to soak up the curry.

The liquid gold was thick, aromatic and truly yummy with just the right balance of curry spices with fresh coconut. I am somewhat averse to coconut milk, especially that which comes out of the packet. The flavour is too overwhelming for me. The curry however was thickened only slightly, and only at the end of the entire cooking process, by the first press of fresh coconut. That, the grandma said, was the secret to thickening the curry without overpowering the dish with coconut.

Her grandma is very old school and, like many other grannies, could not give me an precise recipe for the chicken curry. But something along the lines of 2 whole chickens, 2 bags of fresh coconut flesh, 1 small packet of marigold milk, some chicken curry spice bought from the wet market, a couple of potatoes, and some homemade chilli paste made from fresh chillies, dried chillies, shallots and garlic.

Not surprisingly, my attempt at it was not up to par. Thankfully, I have an open invitation to her place as long as I give some prior warning. Her granny often asks, "When is your 'dark friend' coming over for curry chicken and beehoon?" I don't think any amount of Olay will save me.

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!

Like a fish out of water

A quick glance at my ever expanding collection of cookbooks and it wouldn't be too difficult to identify what kind of food I am more inclined to cook. While my palate takes to Mee Hoon Kuay and Murtabak as comfortably as Aglio Olio and Duck Confit, my kitchen endeavours typically involve more thyme, rosemary and sage, than candlenuts, lemongrass and belachan.



I usually justify this by saying that it doesn't make sense trying to make from scratch a dish like Laksa (springy rice noodles in a rich, coconut-based broth that is indescribably flavourful from all the spices and herbs involved), when it can be easily purchased at a paltry sum of SGD$3 after a mere 5 minute walk, which is great for working up a mini appetite. It just seems like a helluva lot of work trying to match something that has already achieved phenomenal standards elsewhere. It felt like I was trying to reinvent the wheel.



At the end of the day however, I think I was just trying to find excuses not to try something that seemed so labour intensive. So I really admire people who actually bother trying to make Laksa.


Recently, I decided that I would try to push my limits and step out of my comfort zone within my comfort zone, if that makes sense. Basically, I'd still be working in my kitchen, the place I do so much cooking, baking, and smiling. But instead of cream, I'd have to use coconut milk. In place of dried parsley, I'd be using crushed coriander seeds. I would finally try cooking from the neighbouring region, using 'Inside the Southeast Asian Kitchen' as my tutor.



If you ever chance upon previous editions of cookbooks commissioned by ASEAN, I'm pretty sure you'd be, like I was, aghast about everything in it - from the layout to the writing and to the photos, or rather the lack of. As I slowly thumbed through the pages in the latest and far more attractive cookbook though, I could not help but flag out certain recipes I thought seemed easy yet interesting enough to try.





One of these was for Gudeg Yogya, long-cooked chicken and jackfruit (Yogya style). It didn't look like an overly painful process, though it did involve plenty of 'foreign' ingredients to me. When I decide to whip up something from my Damien Pignolet's French, or Jane Lawson's Cocina Nueva, I usually have about 80% of the ingredients in my cupboards just waiting to be used. However, I found that with this, I had to practically start from scratch and source for 80% of the ingredients on the list.



Jackfruit was also something I had never handled before. Thankfully, I met a superb vegetable/herbs/spices lady in Tekka Market, who sold virtually anything I needed to cook dishes from around the neighbouring countries. While wrapping the jackfruit up for me, she also gave me wise tips on managing the sap that oozes out when you slice the skin away (basically, keep wiping the knife with oil in between each slice).


Though, after all that effort I think I'll leave it to the pros next time. Coincidentally, I passed by a fruit seller in Tekka Market today, who was removing the flesh from the fruit. The deft of hand he had when dealing with the jackfruit was amazing, and he did it in a mere fraction of the time too.


Anyway, I went home happy with my loot and set to work almost immediately. Within 2 hours (though the chicken would have benefitted from a little more slow simmering), I managed to put together the Gudeg Yogya and a Chuchi pra kong (Chhouchi fragrant shrimp from Cambodia). The shrimp was supposed to involve some pounding, but a lack of a mortar and pestle meant that I had to resort to using a blender, which I knew would produce an inferior result. But I had no choice at that time, and am now eyeing a particular set I saw in a Korean minimart!


My family seemed pretty surprised that I made something so out of character for dinner that night. But I have to admit that I definitely felt like a fish out of water throughout the entire process. From the time I stepped into Tekka Market, looking for candlenuts without knowing how they even looked like, to the moment I took a peek into the pot of Gudeg Yogya, wondering if the jackfruit was supposed to take on that unappetising shade of earth-brown.


There was definitely plenty of room for improvement - I could have used Jackfruit that was a little more ripe, I could have added fewer than required dried red chillies to the Chuchi pra kong (it was incredibly spicy and my whole family was sniffing away by the end of the dinner), and I could definitely have stewed the chicken a little longer. What I also learnt is that my fears of cooking anything that required asian herbs and spices, were unfounded. Of course, that could be because I merely took the blender out and blitzed the herbs and spices together into a thick paste for each of the dishes.


Still, it is a start. I may not make perfect Indonesian chicken stew or Cambodian fragrant shrimp, but I've tried and can only get better from here.

In the meantime, at least I can say that I can steam fish! It is such a simple process, requiring only the freshest of ingredients for success. And it was one of the first few things my grandma and my mum taught me when I was tall enough to look down on the kitchen counter. I also If I could count the total number of hours I've spent picking fish meat from their bones, that might add up to quite a hefty sum.

Gudeg Yogya
Serves 6-8 for breakfast

Ingredients
1 medium chicken, ready for roasting
1 tsp salt
1 lemon, juiced
850ml thick coconut milk
1.1liters thin coconut milk
3 salam leaves (or bay leaves)
3 cm piece galangal (blue ginger)
900 g parboiled jackfruit segments (or canned green jackfruit drained and rinsed)
6-8 hard-boiled eggs, peeled (which I omitted)

Bumbu Paste
5 chopped shallots
5 cloves garlic, chopped
1 tsp chopped ginger
8 kemiri (candlenuts) or macadamia nuts, or 10 blanched almonds, chopped
2 tsp ground coriander
1 tsp crumbled terasi (shrimp paste)
1 tsp ground white pepper
1 tsp sugar
1 tsp salt

Method
Rub outside of whole chicken with salt, then liberally rub the juice of the lemon all over the chicken. Wrap chicken loosely in aluminium foil, and roast in a pre-heated oven at 330 degrees Fahrenheit (165 degrees Celcius) for 1 hour.
Unwrap and chop the chicken into 8 or 10 portions, discarding some of the large bones.
(Alternatively, the whole chicken can be boiled with water in a separate saucepan, for 50 minutes from the time the water starts to boil.)

Blend all the ingredients for the bumbu with 8 tbspns of thick coconut milk until smooth and transfer it to a saucepan. Bring to the boil and simmer, stirring often, for 6 minutes.
Add thin coconut milk, salam or bay leaves and galangal, and continue to simmer for 10 mins. Add jackfruit, increase the flame and boil for 40 minutes.
Now add the remaining thick coconut milk, the chicken and eggs. Continue to simmer, stirring often, for 30-40 mins or until the sauce becomes quite thick.
Serve hot with plenty of boiled rice. The more the merrier!

As I only started cooking at 6pm, and had to speed through dinner preparation, I could not give the jackfruit nor the chicken the time they needed to soften into melt-in-your-mouth tenderness. It was therefore much yummier the day after. It might sound like a lot of work, but it actually is not. It just needs a little bit more time and patience.

Jeeps, kakis... and Mutton Stew

Cooking from Africa is mighty challenging. When I started to think about what I could cook to the theme of AFRICA, I realised I hardly knew a thing about it. Of course I was thankful I had friends to share the brain work with, who would do their own little research on what makes food in Africa, African.

L brought the other stew for the night. While it was meant to be a lamb stew, it quickly turned into a mutton stew because he didn't realise how expensive lamb was going to be. Together with the dish came an ah-soh-like rave about how wonderful (and cheap) Giant hypermart is. Ask him where you can get some elusive ingredient you've been hunting down for ages and he'll quickly offer 'GIANT!'

Even though the lamb was replaced by its less regarded sister - mutton, the stew was scrumptious. I was heady with herbs and spices, but in a good way. The added chickpeas and sliced almonds brought with them some very welcomed crunch. This is really a labour of love as the mutton will be relatively tough until they have been nursed into resignation given sufficient time. Evidently, there are also many steps to this recipe, but I'm sure would be worth your while.

'Goes great with almonds! I've cooked this twice and I've always used a hotter oven and a longer time, otherwise the meat won't be tender.' - Lawrence

Serves 6-8

Ingredients

2.5 pounds boneless lamb shoulder, trimmed and cut into 1.5 inch cubes

salt and black pepper

3 tablespoons olive oil

2 medium-large onions, chopped coarse

4 medium garlic cloves, minced or pressed through a garlic press

3 tbsp unbleached all purpose flour

1.5 tsp ground cumin

1 tsp ground cinnamon

1 tsp ground ginger

0.5 tsp ground coriander

0.125 tsp cayenne pepper (optional)

2.25 cups low sodium chicken broth

1 can (14.5-ounce) can diced tomatoes

1 cup dried apricots, roughly chopped

2 bay leaves

6 fresh cilantro sprigs

1 (15-ounce) can chickpeas, drained and rinsed

0.25 cup minced fresh cilantro or parsley leaves

0.25 cup toasted silvered almonds (optional)

-

Method

Adjust an oven rack to the lower-middle position and heat the oven to 300 degrees.

Season the lamb generously with salt and pepper to taste

Heat 1 tbsp of the oil in a large oven-proof dutch oven over medium-high heat until shimmering. Add half of the meat so that the individual pieces are close together but not touching.

Cook, not moving the pieces until the sides touching the pot are well browned, 2 to 3 mins.

Using tongs, turn each piece and continue cooking until most sides are well-browned, about 5 mins longer.

Transfer the meat to a medium bowl, add another 1 tbsp of the oil to the pot and swirl to coat the bottom.

-

Brown the remaining lamb in the same manner, transfer the meat to the bowl and set aside.

Reduce the heat to medium, add the remaining 1 tbsp of oil and swirl to coat the bottom.

Add the onions and 0.25 tsp salt and cook, stirring frequently and vigorously, scraping the pot bottom with a wooden spoon to loosen any browned bits, until the onions have softened, about 5 mins.

Stir in the garlic and cook until fragrant, about 30 secs. Add the flour, cumin, cinnamon, ginger, coriander, and cayenne (if using) and stir until the onions are evenly coated and fragrant, 1 to 2 minutes.

-

Gradually add the broth, scraping the pot bottom and edges with the wooden spoon to loosen the remaining brown bits and spices, and stirring until the flour is dissolved and the liquid is thick.

Stir in the tomatoes, apricots, bay leaves, and cilantro sprigs (if using) and bring to a simmer.

Add the lamb and accummulated juices, pushing down the meat to submerge the pieces.

Return to a simmer, cover the pot and put in oven for 1.25 hours.

Remove the pot from oven and stir in chickpeas. Cover and return the pot to the oven.

Cook until the meat is tender and the chickpeas and heat through, about 15 minutes.

-

If serving immediately, spoon off any fat that rises to the top.

The stew can be covered the refrigerated for up to 3 days.

Spoon off the hardened fat and bring back to a simmer over medium-low heat.

Discard the bay leaves and cilantro spirgs. Stir in the minced cilantro and adjust the seasonings. Serve immediately, garnishing each bowl with almonds, if desired.

-

If you can't find boneless lamb shoulder, you can purchase blade or arm chops and remove the meat yourself. Figure that 4.5 pounds of chops will yield the 2.5 pounds of boneless meat needed for this recipe. A variety of fried fruits - pitted rpunes, dark raisins, golden raisins, or currants - can be substituted for the apricots. serve this over couscous or basmati rice.

From the land of giraffes and hyenas... and Groundnut Stew

In this post, I spoke about the confluence of interests and passion. How finding a like-minded soul is such a beautiful thing. That the other two similarly fanatical friends - GM and P - were only going to be in Singapore together at the same time temporarily, was an opportunity I needed to seize before it slipped away.


By some stroke of luck, a couple of mutual friends had also just flown into Singapore either for their summer break or for to bask in Singapore's humid weather for good. GM helped arrange for a dinner potluck (on a weeknight, I wouldn't settle for less) and after some online discussion, we decided to take on the challenge of cooking from Africa.


It was serendipitous that two of the whole gang had been in Africa and stayed with a family for a while - long enough to pick up a recipe or two. One of which was for a Groundnut Stew. For some reason, the first image that popped into my mind was that of soft, braised peanuts floating freely in a thin sauce.


However, the stew turned out fairly thick but deliciously smooth. While you would assume it contained plenty of groundnuts, it actually did not. It simply contained juicy chunks of chicken, a few tablespoons of peanut butter, and a handful of peas thrown on top just before serving. GM graciously passed me the recipe, and while he hasn't exactly told me I could post it, it would seem terribly selfish not to share this with everyone else.


'There isn't really an "authentic" recipe I think. It was made for me in Ghana, and the recipe seems like what the cook told me was in it when I was there, so I think this is reasonably close. I also made some changes on my own, and much of it is to taste, so you can tweak the recipe as much as you like.' - GM

Served 6

Ingredients

500g chicken (I used chicken thighs), cut into small pieces

2 cups water

1/2 medium onion, quarter-inch dice

3 cloves garlic, minced (use a garlic press if possible)

1 tbspn minced ginger

Tomato paste,

2 tbspn 2 cups tomatoes, diced/minced finely (one can of chopped tomatoes with the liquid should do the trick)

Chili, minced, to taste (I used 2 large red chili)

Peanut Butter, about 4 heaped tablespoons (or to taste)

Some chicken powder (if desired)

sugar, salt and (white) pepper;

peas are optional (some recipes add okra or eggplant)

Method

Sear chicken pieces, skin side down, on high heat, in 2 tbspn oil till browned.

Overturn and brown other side then remove from pot.

On medium heat, fry onion till translucent with 1/2 tspn salt, then add garlic and ginger.

When fragrant add tomato paste and fry. Then, add diced tomatoes and chili.

When everything is well mixed and fragrant, add water, deglaze, and nestle the chicken pieces in the water.

Bring to a boil, then down to a simmer.

Simmer for about 1/2 hour (to get the chicken flavour running).

Add peanut butter in batches to the mixture, stirring to get a thicker, more homogeneous sauce. (Some recipes suggest taking some hot liquid out, and adding the peanut butter to it, and then stirring it into the mixture. I don't really see the purpose of this so I'd omit this step.)

Add chicken powder (1/2 to 1 tspn), sugar (about 1 tbspn), salt (1/2 tspn), and pepper to taste.

If the mixture gets too thick at any point, add water. (I might have added more water than 2 cups, and I find reserving the tomato juice from the canned tomato is a great addition.)

Dinner Munching (Part I) - The Butcher

I had been trying to arrange for dinner among a group of 3 of my SC/NJ friends and it was starting to feel like it would never happen because schedules kept clashing. When a date was finally settled for more than a month away, I filed it away in my organiser and started planning for it only a week before by looking through cookbooks and food blogs.

However, the actual cooking started only on Saturday morning (the dinner was scheduled for that night). The early start gave me plenty of allowance to do my tasks leisurely without breaking out into as much as a sweat, except perhaps on my walk to the supermarket under the glaring hot sun. I chose relatively easy dishes that could either be prepared in advance or would require only a few minutes of flash frying. It definitely helped that I had a stash of sausages from the Swiss Butchery, hidden in my refrigerator, calling out to me.

On my way home from Phoon Huat to replenish my baking supplies at Chip Bee Gardens earlier in the week, I popped into The Butcher just to have a look see (as I always do whenever I'm in the vicinity). I emerged $18 poorer and 9 sausages heavier (hardly surprising, really). My family had been savouring them slowly and purposefully. The favourite was the Moroccan Lamb, followed by the Mexican Jalapeno Pork, Pork with Black Pepper and Coriander, then the Beef and Guiness. The Mexican one was unexpectedly very spicy, but popular nonetheless.

For the dinner, inspired by one of Donna Hay magazine's recipes for a Chorizo, Chickpea and Cous Cous salad, I made a Sausage, Broad Beans (it was meant to be chickpeas too, but I accidentally opened the wrong can), and Cous Cous salad. As you can imagine, very little effort was required.

3 minutes for the cous cous to cook and get fluffed up (with olive oil, lemon juice and salt). Less than 10 minutes for the sausages to cook through and get sliced. 1 minute for a can of broad beans or chickpeas to be opened (or much less if you have a very good can opener). 4 minutes for the four fried quail eggs (optional). Put them all together with some basil and they're ready for the table and for any highly discriminating palate.

I have always been of the opinion that it's hard to go wrong with a dish that involves sausages. Furthermore, these gourmet sausages from The Butcher are delicious by themself. This cous cous 'salad' should convince anyone to have a stash of sausages, a bottle of cous cous and a can of chickpeas at your disposal all year round. Particularly handy for last minute dinners, which seem to be happening to me pretty often recently.

I was told that Tuesdays at The Butcher are Sausage Days where you get half kg worth of sausages free with ever 1kg of sausage purchased. But they're not open on Labour Day, so pop by the following week if you want to make use of the offer! 1.5 kg might sound like helluva lot, but I assure you that sausages as good as this never last very long.