Great Moments in Eating History: Little India in Singapore, August 2006
February 25, 2008
You’ve heard it before, I’m sure: Someone begins a travelogue entry by stating that “stepping off the plane was like stepping into a sauna… I felt I was swimming through the air, not breathing it.” It’s delicious, of course, that first sensory experience in a tropical country, and I enjoyed it again when I flew from cold, rainy Beijing into muggy, humid and wonderfully sweltering Singapore in August 2006.
Poblano Tacos
February 17, 2008
If I’m ever caught slacking at work, it’ll be because I wasn’t vigilant enough to cover my tracks as I scrolled through my favorite food websites.
I’m most likely to get pinched while reading the Dinner Tonight posts on Serious Eats. I tend to fixate on what I’m making for dinner in direct proportion to how hectic work’s gotten that day, and why I like DT so much is that it helps clear my head and focus on what really matters—you know, the evening meal. (I ascribe this to the fact that the featured recipes are always precise, contextual and simple to execute.)
So this past Monday, J and I made this DT recipe for poblano tacos. Missing the char of summer barbecues, I’d zeroed in on the description of the roasted poblanos as being “chocolatey” in flavor; a minute later I was clandestinely on the phone with J, who gets off work much earlier than me, dictating a grocery list to him in sotto voce. Read the rest of this entry »
Torquing Two Reliable Standbys
February 12, 2008
What you see above, a smackdown of inspirations drawn from chicken-and-rice soup and tom yum goong (but with some distinct departures from either), has reintroduced me to the easy pleasures of poached chicken. What alchemy could be simpler? In this case, it’s bringing galangal, lime zest and a seeded, sliced habanero to a boil in a few cups of water, lowering it to a bare simmer, slipping in a cut of uncooked chicken and covering it all. When the pot’s uncovered after a few minutes have passed, it reveals a lovely, fragrant broth and chicken that’s evenly flavored and juicy, even if you use historically dry boneless, skinless breast meat.
Don’t Look the Dead Fish in the Eyes
February 11, 2008
We all have our culinary fears – areas of cuisine we tend to avoid. Perhaps it’s because we’ve had spectacular failures trying our hands at them, or were never introduced to the proper methods, or – in this case – because the mere idea scares the living daylights out of you.
I know N shares this particular fear: that of preparing and eating whole fish. I’ve heard her stories of bulging fish eyes covered with napkins at expensive restaurants. In my case, it’s been unplesantly close encounters with fins, skin and bones that put me off the delicious adjacent flesh in a pretty disappointing way.
Sumac
February 7, 2008
Sumac, that “tart, ubiquitous spice of the Middle East,” has become my newest kitchen plaything. I’ve sprinkled it on fresh pita bread and wee falafels, mixed it with yogurt and fenugreek for a muddily delicious marinade, used it in onion-pickling brine and vinaigrettes—basically, I’ve done everything but spackle a layer of the darkly rosy stuff over ice cream.
For those uninitiated, sumac (the spice) is the powder that results from grinding the dried berries of the sumac plant, which is native to the Meditarranean and Near East. When fresh, the berries have raspberry-like drupelets, but are sourer than any framboise by miles. Dried sumac is used as a primary souring agent in many Middle Eastern culinary practices, and I can see why it’s prized: Unlike other tart flavorings, such as lemon juice and vinegar, sumac doesn’t curdle delicate, dairy-based sauces, and it lends cooked dishes a distantly fruitlike aroma that’s quite pleasant.
And, of course, there’s that gorgeous color, a glowing vermilion hue to wire home about. A shake of it into some braising liquid turns wan grocery store carrots into doppelgängers of Kyoto Reds. Can you imagine what it could do when paired with beets?
Shrove Tuesday
February 6, 2008
Yesterday morning, my flatmate K burst into my room while I was blow-drying my hair, yelling gibberish nonsense words: “Mardi Gras!” “Fat Tuesday!” “Pancakes!”
Her reward was my open-mouthed confused silence — confused, I gaped at her, my hair dryer still raised halfway up to my head. I even wondered for a moment if she was playing some kind of word association game with me.
K, in her sweet excitement, tried again: “Pancakes!”
My power of speech returned. “K! It’s really early in the morning to be yelling random words at me!” I exclaimed.
K slowly explained. Fat Tuesday and Mardi Gras are also referred to as Shrove Tuesday (who knows why!), and Shrove Tuesday can also be known as Pancake Tuesday. My confused vision of Mardi Gras revelry conjoined with images of a Denny’s breakfast special faded. K wanted to eat pancakes, and she wanted me to help her do it.
