tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-87389962603704483372024-03-13T16:23:42.315-07:00JellyrowlsStephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10931019910532547499noreply@blogger.comBlogger50125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8738996260370448337.post-10576632884244933072013-08-13T11:43:00.000-07:002013-08-13T11:43:36.285-07:00One Hand on my Pastry Pocket<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Travel food is always fun. The engineering that goes behind every snack or meal that can be eaten on the go without the stable support of a table or the use of utensils is pure genius. Steak and stew that I can eat with one hand while walking or travelling on a bumpy train ride? Yes, please. Yes, please very much big time. Welcome to the wonderful world of the pasty. It has many cousins across the globe: curry puffs, empanadas, calzones, turnovers and more. But this is the classic British incarnation of working man grub. Now catering to more commuters than coalminers, thanks to the widespread prevalence of franchises like the West Cornwall Pasty Company, it still provides tasty, filling and transportable treats for the busy traveller. </span><div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">At a train station, I couldn’t help but stop and get one of my favourites, a good old fashioned steak and ale – or Steak and Tribute, as the Company calls them. I also wanted to introduce my all-American husband to the flaky delights of these warm savoury pastries. I think he chose a Chicken and Mushroom. I must confess that despite spending many years as a customer, I have yet to pick anything but my beloved steak and ale. I am such a sucker for steak and ale. Typical hypocrite. I usually do make an effort to try new and different things, but I suppose everyone has those things to which they keep going back. The sultry malted tones of the ale just work wonders on the rich meaty bite of the melting steak. All the vegetables are stewed in the velvety juices and have sucked up all the goodness from both of the star players. And the flaky pastry is crisp and golden on the outside but soft and saturated in scrumptious sauce on the inside. It is such a warm and cosy treat that can be so comforting on a tedious journey. I am salivating just remembering its savoury silky scent. </span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /><br /> </span><br /> </div>
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Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10931019910532547499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8738996260370448337.post-85239565587636072922013-08-12T13:06:00.000-07:002013-08-12T13:06:07.185-07:00The Slippery Feels of Jellied Eels<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I take so much pleasure in trying new dishes. It’s like a miniature adventure, a microcosmic window into history and culture, feeling and smelling a cool breeze of fresh air after being numb in a stale and stagnant room. Even after spending most of my summers in England, I had yet sample the slippery pleasures of the traditional dish of jellied eels. The eels popped up during a conversation with my brother-in-law at my sister’s house and I was fortunate enough to receive a (rather large) portion for my birthday. </span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /><br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The chopped eels are stewed with vinegar and spices until a stock forms. The natural proteins and gelatine from the fish are released into the cooking liquid and cause it to set when cool, thus forming the wonderful wobbles of the illustrious English dish. I am quite fond of savoury jellies and if you like terrines or soft cold meat dishes, then jellied eels should be right up your alley. The jelly itself is very flavourful. Imagine a set seafood stock that has been lightly spiced. It had a very clean and refreshing seafood fragrance. The eels themselves were much like any other poached fish with flaky white meat. As this was my first experience with jellied eels, I wasn’t entire sure where this particular recipe sat on the scale of jellied joy. My sister said they were slightly overcooked, which I could understand. I really enjoy eel in other dishes so I could see how the meat in this particular batch had probably been taken a bit too far. But even so, the method of cooking the eel in the rich jiggly stock still produces a very tender fish meat with a texture similar to that of canned tuna or salmon. It went great on crisp buttered toast or just on its own to get the full jellied eel experience.</span></div>
Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10931019910532547499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8738996260370448337.post-60774970994906490682013-08-08T07:33:00.000-07:002013-08-08T07:33:52.866-07:00Pan-fried Pork and Pestiferous Postponing Plumbers <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">This
was another lunch prepared in the little kitchenette of the London
apartment I was residing in with my brother this summer. It was the
day the apartment management had promised the plumbers would come,
plus we had no plans, so it was another ideal opportunity to put the
seemingly newly furbished kitchen to be put to proper use. Mind you
there were already clear signs of use, or should I say abuse. In
addition to those previously listed, the surface of the cabinets
above the stove, toaster and electric kettle had shrunk and warped,
despite the fact that they were all shiny white and new looking.
Also, the walls were reasonably clean except for the confusing faint
mystery splatter that stretched from the floor to the ceiling (yes,
actually on the ceiling) in a pattern that gave a layman like me no
clue as to the directional forces or point of origin that created it.
But regardless, these superficial problems did not stop the pursuit
of proper pukka nosh. It doesn't matter if your kitchen is big or
small, old or new, equipped with hot water or not, if you put the
effort in, you can make a decent meal (insert motivational fist
pump).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The
plump pink pork loins looked great in the store and were pretty good
value to purchase. They were simply pan fried, again, in the world's
largest frying pan using the amazing
rotate-the-gargantuan-pan-over-the-tiny-hob-in-the-corner-to-try-and-heat-the-whole-surface
technique. The meat was seasoned with salt, black pepper, garlic
powder and fresh sage leaves. After browning both cut sides and when
the steaks were almost done, I made sure to hold them upright with
the fat edge in contact with the bottom of pan to ensure it cooked
the luscious white stuff all the way through. The apple confit was
made by peeling, coring and dicing apples (with a paring knife as
there was no peeler. And yes, the potatoes for the mash in the last
post were also peeled by paring knife) then heating them in a
saucepan with butter, oil, a splash of water, salt and sugar until
they were tender and caramelised. The pork and apples were served
with a simple side of boiled green beans and baby carrots, the latter
of which I did not bother peeling or trimming as they were so dinky I
didn't want them to disappear completely. I was never a fan of fruit
and meat in my younger years, but I have grown to really appreciate
how the contrast in flavours and textures work together and create
delicious magic. The savoury bulk of the rich fatty pork was
beautifully balanced out by the sweet gentle softness of the apples
and all the flamboyant flavours were refreshed by the clean
simplicity of the beans and carrots. Happy home-cooked food to warm
the heart (because the boiler had yet to be fixed...).</span></div>
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Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10931019910532547499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8738996260370448337.post-58305152862405083722013-08-07T06:05:00.000-07:002013-08-07T06:06:00.089-07:00Babies, Birds and Broken Kitchenettes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My
dear sister and her husband welcomed their first baby boy into the
family in June so we were all very happy and excited to be able to
spend some quality bonding time with the little bundle this summer. I
was in the UK for about a month, dividing my time between London and
my sister's house. I've always liked visiting the UK because of
particular produce items that are rare or ridiculously overpriced in
my hometown. As a result, I can be frequently found foraging the
refrigerated shelves of food-filled supermarkets, specifically for
dairy products and berries. I adore good dairy and the UK has plenty
of it. When I was younger I was allergic to cows milk, but as the
years progressed I seem to have shed those ailments (that or I'm just
ignoring any discomfort, which is much like how I allow my affinity
for four-legged friends to overthrow the fact that I am completely
allergic to pretty much all of them. Whatever. Puppies and kittens
for all!).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Whilst
in London, I was residing in a short-stay apartment with my brother.
The cost of eating out for every meal in the city will eat through
your wallet so we like to cook ourselves whenever the opportunity
arises. On this culinary occasion, we had chicken thighs. It's so
much more worth it to get those big packs of bone-in chicken thighs
than it is to get those individually packaged filleted breasts, and
they pack so much more flavour and moisture, I have no idea why
people don't use dark meat more. Plus the stores frequently have
offers on chicken legs or thighs and I think when we got our packs
they were “buy 1 get 1 free”. The thighs were pan-seared with
lemon thyme before being finished in the oven with some cherry
tomatoes. This was served with a side of mashed potato and drizzled
with pan juices. All this was done in a small apartment kitchen with
a dodgy oven door suffering from dislocated joints, a dinky fridge in
which every shelf was broken and a flat glass stove top with a raised
metallic rim which prevented the largest frying pan in the world (the
only pan that was in the apartment) from fitting in a sensible spot
over a single stove (in order to cook anything you would have to
place it in the corner of the pan that was receiving heat or
constantly rotate the pan to try and even it all out). But regardless
of the issues, the scrumptious lunch was a success. The chicken was
very tasty and tender and went great with the sweet juicy sunshine of
the warm tomatoes and garlic-spiked spuds. It even temporarily took
our minds off the fact that there was no hot water for three days due
to a broken boiler (also the world's largest). Temporarily being the
operative word. Washing up was not as nice. </span>
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Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10931019910532547499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8738996260370448337.post-46602137476655778902013-06-14T05:24:00.000-07:002013-06-14T05:24:23.696-07:00Setting the Savoury Stage Atop Sizzling Hot Plates<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So after frequenting our usual Bangna haunts to death, my brother and I have now begun to gravitate towards one place in town to fulfil our epicurean cravings: Central World. This is one of the largest shopping malls in Asia, but it appeals to us because of the epic amount of food outlets and restaurants housed beneath its sprawling roof. Isetan is of particular interest as it is a Japanese department store catering to locally-based Japanese expats and Nipponophiles, much like ourselves. It has a compact supermarket stocking ingredients you would think could only be found in Japan, a little food court/stall area where you can pick up things to go or have a quick counter-top meal and also, its own range of Japanese restaurants which vary in speciality.</span><div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /> On this occasion we wanted to venture into uncharted restaurant territory. After surveying the field, we chose the Grill Kabuki Honten as our target. This is a restaurant that specialises in Japanese style hamburg steaks (salisbury steaks to our American cousins) served on sizzling hot plates. The menu, although quite specialised, is very generous. Every set meal ordered comes with an all-you-can-eat buffet of salad, soup, rice and the surprise item, Japanese curry! Not just the sauce either, it had diced vegetables and a pot of red pickles to bejewel your plate.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /> The salad includes your basic choices like lettuce, carrot, tomatoes and cabbage, but it also includes edamame! These are green soy beans that are still in their pods. They are often served as a bar snack but are very healthy and delicious. Even though the buffet looks quite small and reserved, the items really could serve as a hefty meal themselves.<br /> My dish of choice was the rib eye steak and hamburg combo set. My brother had the fried chicken and hamburg combo and we also ordered a yakisoba to share (like we needed more food with all-you-can-eat curry rice o_O). Our main objective was to try as much as possible though, not to greedily over-indulge...no, really.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /> The hamburg blew my mind. It is ridiculously tender and juicy but was still packed full of flavour. Now, some may prefer a solid meat patty charred with grill marks on an outdoor barbeque, but keep in mind, this is a Japanese restaurant, so naturally expect everything in a Nippon-fashion. It was a similar story with the steak. Stupidly tender and stupidly tasty. It was adorned simply with a garlic butter, but that alone was enough. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I didn't even think about reaching for the trio of sauces that came with it, although I later did make a conscious effort to taste each on their own. There was a Thai-style spicy dipping sauce, a Japanese ponzu and then the attention-grabbing fuchsia pickle mayonnaise. That, despite the alarming bubblegum colour (which I assume came from the pickles), was very tasty.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">For the hamburg steaks we had radish and ponzu sauce and a demi-glace. I preferred the resonant savoury tones of the demiglace but if you want a lighter alternative, I would recommend the citrus-like tang of the ponzu.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /> The karaage, or fried chicken, was very tender and juicy and the breading was a softer crumbly texture. It went very well with Japanese mayonnaise. As did the yakisoba, which is packed with slices of pork and shredded cabbage and came crowned with an undulating mass of bonito shavings. It was much more generous than most establishments would be willing to provide, in every aspect too. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Even the prices were extremely reasonable, comparative to local mid-range chains. I think the noodles also came with an entire bottle of Japanese mayonnaise served on the table. And did I mention the complimentary scoop of matcha ice cream? Hell yeah.</span></div>
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Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10931019910532547499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8738996260370448337.post-32779066140677843542013-05-19T09:12:00.000-07:002013-05-19T09:12:20.501-07:00The Fabulous Flavour of a Furtive Flower and Fire<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> This is a homemade treat that I have yet try anywhere else. The entire dish is made from scratch, including the curry base which is made from a flamboyance of fresh ingredients including large red chilies, shallots and turmeric. There is one magic ingredient which provides that distinctive non-replicable flavour and it is something that has always been shrouded in mystery. I know that my mother procures it from Malaysia and cannot seem to find it anywhere else, and I know that it is a flower. It looks like a banana flower, but it isn't. It’s like an untrimmed bamboo shoot, but not. And my mother always referred to it simply as 'that flower' so I have unfortunately yet to be initiated into the wonders of the Pineapple Curry Club nor made privy to their savoury secrets.</span><div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /> What I can tell you, though, is that this curry is always a delight to eat. It is so wonderfully light and fresh but packs a payload of flavour with a good hot kick to boot. My mum sometimes crafts this with king prawns instead of poultry. Either way, I have no problem polishing off a plate full of the stuff. The sweet and acidic pineapple chunks provide these explosive bursts of juicy sunshine to wash over the gentle heat of the fresh spice base. The turmeric really gives the whole thing a consistent savoury hum to compliment the piquant of the fresh red chilies. Just take care not to spill any as this luscious sauce will stain anything it comes in contact with. A delicious delicacy to be enjoyed on non-plastic dinnerware while dressed in your less-than Sunday best.</span></div>
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Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10931019910532547499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8738996260370448337.post-3150316823791950172013-05-14T19:54:00.000-07:002013-05-14T19:57:22.988-07:00Many Colours in a Nonya Rainbow<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Whilst we
were in Kuala Lumpur, my Uncle John dropped by with a box of Nonya kuih. These
are little chewy snack-like treats that tend to feature glutinous rice, rice
flour, coconut and pandan as well as many other local flavourings (most of
which I can’t name… ). I had just come downstairs as we had all planned to go
to a nice dim sum brunch (that is a whole other story) and was greeted with
this adorable rainbow of squidgy goodness. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">As a child,
I was never fond of your typical kuih. Even now, I tend to be quite picky with
anything involving sticky rice. So I opted for one thing I knew I would like
and another that piqued my curiosity. The first was kuih ketayap, a green
spring roll which consists of a soft and sticky pandan crepe rolled around a
toasted sweet coconut filling. The gentle flavour of the skin really helps cut
through the sharp sweetness of the smoky brown shreds of coconut flesh. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The second
thing I sampled was pulut tekan, the blue glutinous rice square topped with
kaya (the brown egg custard jam). That vivid indigo shade comes from the
butterfly pea flower, which is a popular flavouring in Southeast Asian cuisine.
There is a tea in Thailand that uses these flowers which results in a bright
blue or indigo translucent drink; very pretty. But back to the kuih; this
little rice square had a rather prominent salty note which worked well against
the sweet kaya. You could still see the individual grains of rice on the cake
but they were very soft and merged together to form a sticky chewy bite.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10931019910532547499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8738996260370448337.post-26834871293793550942013-05-13T02:54:00.000-07:002013-05-13T03:03:27.066-07:00A Wanton Want for Warm Wantans<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So the plan for the day was to go have a dim sum brunch at one of our favourite morning eateries but arrived to find a crowd of people waiting outside for a table. It only took us a couple minutes to decide to move on to a different dim sum restaurant we also like. As our car slowly rolled past the second establishment, we saw an even bigger crowd of Sunday brunchers huddled around the entrance. Without even bothering to stop, we drove on and decided on a nearby recently opened noodle shop called Tek Kee Noodle House.</span><div style="text-align: left;">
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Located in a row of small shops and eateries in Subang Jaya, the modest decor and semi-fresco dining environment provided a casual atmosphere where you could really just sit back and enjoy a quick bite. The menu was focused, which is always a good sign; if a restaurant is specialising in something, it should run with that and not try to cover every conceivable concoction under the sun. They had noodles and rice with meats and a few simple vegetables and a small range of traditional soups. Nothing quirky or novel about the menu items really. It was the pure quality of what they served that blew my mind.Often, you will find that small coffee shops and noodle stalls will serve a char siew (barbequed pork) that is a vivid crimson red or, in some disturbing cases, an intense dark pink. These tend to be over cooked, under seasoned, dry, stringy or any combination of slightly unpleasant epicurean experiences which they attempt to mask with neon seizure-inducing colours. </span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #222222; line-height: 115%;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span></span>
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The char siew that arrived upon a hefty pile of noodles was a toasted sultry caramel brown and was oozing clear meaty juices beneath the sticky shiny surface. Oh, yeah. You see how good that looks? Yeah, it tasted better. The meat was succulent and tender with just the right balance of fat and lean to create that scrumptious melt-in-your-mouth sensation you would only expect in a pretentious, all-white decor, fine-dining, fusion-Chinoise gastro-club. And that was just the pork. The steamed chicken was incredibly moist and tender without sacrificing flavour or texture. Texture really counts for a large part of how your body experiences flavour. This is what made the noodles - the real speciality of the store - so exceptional in every respect. Tender, but still with a spring in their bite, they were smothered in just the right quantity and viscosity of sauce. The quality of all of the dishes they presented us was truly surprising especially considering they offer their wonderful wares at almost the same price as your standard street side hawker's stall.</span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #222222; line-height: 115%;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span></span>
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Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10931019910532547499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8738996260370448337.post-49700406319251204792013-05-12T08:50:00.000-07:002013-05-14T20:25:13.755-07:00Popping Pills and Sucking Eggs<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Every time
we land in Kuala Lumpur, my family and I tend to beeline towards our favourite
food haunts and the one that often ends up first on our list is Uncle Lim’s at
Subang Parade. Quick, easy and simple, it never fails to provide that instant
fix for local flavours whilst still being light enough to stuff in our faces
straight off an airplane. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">As mentioned
before, I am still suffering from a bout of gastritis. If I had been at full
cast-iron stomach power, I would have ordered their Nasi Lemak at the drop of a
hat. Nasi lemak is coconut rice that is served with a variety of meats or
seafood in curries or chili sauces. But as my tummy was tender, I steered away
from the rich rice n spicy sauces and ordered a Roti Bakar, two half-boiled eggs
and a soya cincau. Roti bakar, also known as kaya toast, is an egg custard jam
and butter or margarine sandwiched between thick-cut slices of toasted bread. I
love toast. When done properly, this simple staple can be a magical thing.
Crisp and warm, light and fluffy; the roti bakar at Uncle Lim’s always makes me
happy. The toast came with the typical
breakfast accompaniment of two half-boiled eggs. Just with a sprinkling of
pepper and a splash of soy sauce, the runny golden yolks and slippery whites go
down a treat. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Then I was
stupid; in place of a nasi lemak I decided to try their Kari Mee. The yellow
noodles in a curry broth for some illogical reason seemed less offensive to my
stomach. Of course I was wrong. The soup definitely had a hot spicy kick but
seemed to wane a bit when it came to the rest of the flavour. In all honesty,
it felt a bit weak and watery with little strength to stand up to the bold
flavour and texture of the yellow noodles lurking beneath the surface. However,
the fishballs, fried tofu and crispy wantons that decorated the top were quite
tasty and helped to redeem the dish a little. Due to the Scoville rating of the
soup, I nibbled on the noodles and half the topping before passing the torch on
to my dear father, who inexplicably transforms into a bottomless pit every time
we come to Malaysia, Singapore or Hong Kong or anywhere else where he can find
food he likes that we can’t get back home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My drink of
choice was not surprisingly a soya cincau (‘chin-chow’). In recent years I have
found it difficult to resist such promise of light refreshment with a soft
gently milkiness, a delicate yet hearty drink and dessert all rolled in to one.
I know it is only slivers of grass jelly in soy milk, but I adore the combination. Bubble
tea can go suck an egg. Speaking of sucking eggs, I did take a straw and poked
into the yolk of my second egg and proceeded to drink it from the inside out; a
novel experience which was quite pleasant until I tapped into a small reservoir
of pure soy sauce towards the end of my egg drinking escapade. Should anyone
else try this, I recommend stirring your eggs and sauce first and make sure
your eggs are soft enough for the size of your straw. Size can matter. </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10931019910532547499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8738996260370448337.post-1392162951085397802013-05-10T10:36:00.001-07:002013-05-10T10:37:47.005-07:00The Gentle Joys of a Jentacular Porky Porridge<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So much time
has passed since my last entry and now I found myself lying belly down in bed
in our house in Kuala Lumpur nursing a tummy-tormenting bout of gastritis. It
all started last year when my bestie and I decided to get married. In January
of this year, we registered our marriage in Thailand and began planning for the
big receptions in Bangkok and Johor Bahru, my maternal hometown. As part of the
preliminary preparations I went to JB to scout some potential places for the
festivities. As JB is closer to Singapore than KL, we flew from Bangkok to Singapore
and drove over to JB. For the return journey we planned to do the same in
reverse but also stop over for a couple days in Singapore. This of course
brought the promise of many a tasty delight for my insatiable taste buds. But
alas, it was not meant to be. On the last day we were in JB, I awoke to the
tumultuous twangs of stabby tummy pains. And so began a short but intense stint
of stomach flu. However, I find myself here, a week and a half later, still
suffering from the turmoil of a sensitive and bloated belly. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It was
during those few days we spent in Bangkok before flying back to Malaysia (this
time to KL) that I had the chance to be extra kind to my delicate digestive
system which brings us to the star of today: homemade pork rice porridge. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Now this is
rice porridge is pretty much your everyday Southeast Asian savoury jentacular
grub, but that does not in any way detract from the delectable delight that it
can bring, especially on recently bruised bowels. The raw rice is boiled with
pork bones and plenty of water until the grains split and begin to dissolve
into the brewing liquid. It is seasoned quite modestly with salt, pepper,
minced garlic and soy sauce just to highlight the natural savoury sweetness of
the stock. It is finished with a smidgen of minced pork and a scattering of
sliced spring onions for a little splash of freshness. This should definitely
be on the menu of gentle foods for the sick and will provide a welcome hearty
meal amongst the deluge of dry toast and clear chicken broth (mind you, I still
adore a good crisp slice of toast, sick or not). But even if you are fortunate
enough to have a perfectly happy tummy, this makes for a tasty light meal that
is extremely easy to prepare.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10931019910532547499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8738996260370448337.post-66282198078137909482012-10-10T06:05:00.000-07:002012-10-10T06:14:41.102-07:00The Simple and Irreplaceable Taste of Sunshine<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pgBEhg_sDe8/UHVu6PjBKlI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/3OFYJTHFSsg/s1600/IMG_0299.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pgBEhg_sDe8/UHVu6PjBKlI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/3OFYJTHFSsg/s400/IMG_0299.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">My mother
recently came home from a trip around Italy, and like any other
vacation-returnee, she brought back a typical assortment of giftable memorabilia.
There were some tea towels, aprons and t-shirts but the real treasures were
epicurean in nature. Among these priceless jewels were some sundried tomatoes.
Dried with some salt to within an inch of their lives, these once voluptuous scarlet
pomodoro were ripe and juicy have taken on a whole new persona as intensely
dark and rich, twisted, tightly clenched nuggets of deep burgundy fruit that
are smoky and earthy but still thrust through with a sharp tang. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">As per
directions, I soaked a handful in warm water for a few hours. The smell was
intoxicating. Like a concentrated tomato consommé brewing, the tomatoes steeped
in the water and created a thick burnt sienna tea from which wafted wondrous
whiffs of wholesome tomato essence. I sliced some garlic, tossed it with some
liberal lashings of olive oil, some fresh tomato and the now softened and
sliced dried tomatoes and then let it simmer while I cooked my penne rigate to
a couple minutes short of the package directions. Then leaving some of the
pasta water in the pan, I ladled on some of the sauce and allowed the pasta to
finish cooking and really soak up all of those delicious flavours. I turned off
the heat and then stirred in a generous handful of freshly grated grana padano.
I adore this cheese. The creaminess helps to balance out the sharp acidity of
the dried tomato but it still has that depth of flavour akin to a good
parmigiano reggiano. The mix of the fresh and the dried tomatoes provided a
playful dynamic dining experience as your senses kept being pulled in different
directions: sweet, sour, salty, fresh, smoky, soft, chewy. It was a delight to
eat and the pure simplicity of the dish really kept things light. The taste of
the sundried tomatoes resonated throughout every morsel but never seemed
overwhelming to your taste buds as much of that flavour is aromatic. There
really is something magnificently magical and curiously comforting about a big
bowl of homecooked pasta <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d15MBSwHoa4">:)</a></span></div>
</div>
Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10931019910532547499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8738996260370448337.post-35183660121232184582012-10-07T08:27:00.000-07:002012-10-07T08:27:06.565-07:00I Can Be Crabby But It Keeps Things Captivating<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Much like Tom Yam Gung, Som Tam is likely one of the most lionized lip-smacking local delicacies of Thailand. It is a spicy, sweet and sour salad of shredded green papaya pounded in a mortar with fresh chilies, tomatoes, long beans, fish sauce and palm sugar. As with many other national iconic digestibles everyone seems to have their recipe, but there are some standard variations from the tourist-friendly Som Tum Thai.</div>
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<br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">If you have noticed the crawly critter in the corner, </span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MbGNcoB2Y4I" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b>DON'T PANIC</b></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">. Allow me to introduce the often overlooked Som Tum Poo (no, not that, poo as in “bpuu” meaning crab in Thai), procured posthaste from the purveyor of portable “papaya pok-pok” who parks at a spot preceding the precincts of my domicile. I also added a portion of Khanom Jeen, a soft white fermented rice noodle often eaten with spicy sauces and raw vegetables (which transforms the salad into Tum Sua). The simple addition of the small crustacean is akin to slipping a sliver of white truffle into an unembellished salad. The result? Sensational alchemy. The fresh piquant flavours of the tangy green papaya, lime juice, hot red chillies sweet tomatoes and palm sugar and the refreshing crunch of juicy long beans can start to fight against each other as the shout for space to scintillate the same senses, so the earthy savoriness of the seafood umami emitted by the tiny crab is a welcome deep undercurrent that dramatically expands the depth of flavour of the dish as a whole. Some may be squeamish at the sight of spindly legs and shiny black shells peeking through your fresh clean veggies but I assure you it is not as extremely exotic as you may think. As a scrumptious shropshire blue is to a plastic wrapped sliced of processed cheese, or a fragrant black truffle is to a can of brine soaked button mushrooms, Tum Poo has a prodigious flavour profile to the straightforward Tum Thai (sans crab) even though both can be as equally satisfying in the right place and at the right time. Besides, isn't it fun to just run around in the streets shouting to strangers that </span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F3jFTzhdZF4" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">you have crabs</a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">?</span></div>
Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10931019910532547499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8738996260370448337.post-39186003562275765132012-06-17T10:35:00.000-07:002012-10-07T08:32:47.194-07:00Fresh Fruitiness Frolicking Over Lusciously Milky Lamellae<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-g4bzBouk9sY/T94T-l03Q-I/AAAAAAAAAJE/dSUydePoC00/s1600/IMG_0138.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-g4bzBouk9sY/T94T-l03Q-I/AAAAAAAAAJE/dSUydePoC00/s400/IMG_0138.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I’ve been
craving thick heavy silky smooth dairy products for a while now. Craving like a
starved dehydrated dog in the middle of a barren desert staring up a thorny cactus
at a fat juicy house cat fanning itself beneath a golden parasol sipping a
Moroccan mint tea frappe though an oversized bendy straw from a tall frosted
glass. So my friend suggested a quick stop at the Amor kiosk as we foraged the
walkways of Central Bangna. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Jl2EqMdvkE8/T94UNCdkNFI/AAAAAAAAAJM/BVpuCxiL_6A/s1600/IMG_0140.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Jl2EqMdvkE8/T94UNCdkNFI/AAAAAAAAAJM/BVpuCxiL_6A/s400/IMG_0140.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Her
suggestion was the neatly assembled Mille Crepe with Strawberry Sauce. The pale
yellow of the wafer thin crepes set off the clean milky white of the cream
delicately sandwiched between each layer. The slice was not particularly large.
I would say it was a sensible size though. I ordered one slice to go and was
thrilled to see the generous pot of deep red strawberry sauce taped to the top
of the slice box. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Cordia New"; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-language: TH; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">The slice lifted out
very easily. The delicacy of the crepes and cream beguiled the seemingly absent
structural sturdiness. Even unwrapping the protective plastic film from around
the perimeter left little lickable residue upon its see-through surface. After
taking a moment to admire the soft cleanliness if the alternating white and
yellow stripes, it was time to ramp up the volume with the viciously vivid rich
red strawberry sauce. It was the foodgasm-inducing food porn money shot. The seed-speckled
pulpy coulis of fresh ripe strawberries poured out beautifully from the petit
plastic pot. It was not a cheap corn starch concoction of coloured gloop devoid
of any sign of actual fruit. It had the naturally sweet fragrance of fresh
strawberries and it tasted even better. It was smooth and sweet but not too
sweet. The fresh flavour washed over and cleansed your pallet so it was the
perfect accompaniment to the creamy crepes. There were about 20 neatly stacked
crepes held together by a fluffy Chantilly cream. The crepes themselves may
have been ever so slightly underdone, so they could have been too soft if they
were meant to stand on their own. But with safety in numbers, the multi-layered
culinary construction created a titillating texture for your tongue to play
with and the thinly spread cream was sparse enough to let each crepe to be
fully experienced in every bite. Some mille crepes are assembled with fewer
crepes and thicker layers of cream slathered between them to create greater height
with less effort. I must say that Amor has done a delightful deed by deciding
to deal with the trouble it takes to stack each crepe upon one another with the
optimum amount of subtly sweetened cream without sacrificing structural or textural
integrity. Soft and light but still sinfully satisfying, the sharp sweet
strawberry sauce and the delectable crepe cake slice are highly recommended for
anyone seeking a scrumptious treat. </span></div>
</div>
Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10931019910532547499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8738996260370448337.post-73988661650388492862012-06-15T07:52:00.001-07:002012-10-07T08:31:30.865-07:00The Sultry Silk Road to Bracing Ant Bites<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Most people
out there have had nightmares or seen or heard horror stories about creepy
crawly critters so it is fairly understandable that many would find the
prospect of putting these petite partitioned pests into their protected pie holes.
Of course, your environment plays a big part in your tolerance for unique
ingredients. If you’re in Seattle, you’ve got Starbucks. If you live by the
sea, you’ve got seafood. If you’re in the forests of South East Asia, you’ve
seen silk worms and red ants.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Both dishes
were brought down to Bangkok from North East Thailand. These miniature morsels
have been lightly seasoned and fried. The silk worms are, as the name suggests,
the cute chubby worms that spin cocoons of pure silk which are processed to
make your silky soft shirts, skirts and ties. They also make a dainty delectable
dinner. The fat and soft contents are encased in a thin crisp capsule that
bursts with a lighter force than that of salmon caviar. The flavour is very
comparable to prawn, or more specifically prawn heads. They have a savoury
sweet shellfish umami swirled in with the musty hums of tiny dried shrimp. I
would even describe their texture as akin to a dried shrimp that has been
soaked or rehydrated in a cooking process. <o:p></o:p></div>
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These red
ants have been cooked, dressed and tossed into a simple Thai style salad. Their
tough exteriors have been softened but still provide texture when you bite
through their soft bellies, much like a soft boiled pea. The delicate body
structures have taken on a lot of the flavours of the salad dressing which is
rich with the fragrant flavours of South East Asia. The ants themselves were
sweet, salty and savoury with the freshness of lemongrass and the herbal hum of
aniseed and nutmeg. You may have to overcome the visual challenge of placing a
bug you would usually beat with a baseball bat between your teeth and
swallowing but I assure you, the flavour experience is not something to be
feared. The textures on your tongue and between your teeth are very much like
eating peas, beans or pulses and the flavours provide a welcome wake-up call,
interesting but not offensive, to your palette. <o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10931019910532547499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8738996260370448337.post-67354075734661865082012-06-10T04:16:00.000-07:002012-10-07T08:34:46.045-07:00Chicken goes Cluck-Cluck, Camel goes Moo<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Recently
came back from a trip to Abu Dhabi. It was my first time in the Middle East and
I was looking forward to stuffing my face with ample array of Arabic eats. For
me, the reason why travelling is worth the effort of packing up a boiled-down
reduction of the essentials in your life and subjecting yourself to the
torturous turmoil of commercial air travel and the moody bipolar whims of
airport staff and those who supposedly enforce security by not looking at their
screen when a passenger puts their bag through a scanner and forgot to discard
her bottle of water and subsequently has a neat souvenir from the UAE that also
provided some needed hydration in the car on the way home in Thailand, is the
fact that we can experience first-hand a fundamental fragment of a foreign
culture by simply sampling the local food.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Extending
this idea further, you can find the basic building blocks of a cuisine and culture
by looking at the base products and ingredients on hand which is why I love
exploring supermarkets to see what the locals favour. I must say, walking the
isles of a big supermarket somewhere in Abu Dhabi, the one section that made my
jaw drop was the cheese counter. Or counters I should say. Never in my life
have I seen such a large and varied selection of cheese on a commercial level.
I am certain their repertoire could rival many specialty cheese stores out
there. Of course I am still speaking on a commercial scale, so if you want that
one type of homemade cheese they make in that one place in the world, by
definition, you will not be able to find it anywhere including this vast
library of cultured cow juice creations. Cows –now we come to the main subject of
this particular post. We are no longer talking about cheese. We are going back
one more step and talking about that primal provider of life for all of us
mammals: milk. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jY4e0ArlXo4/T9R_-Z_WckI/AAAAAAAAAIY/qwwwvUugb7A/s1600/IMG_1559.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jY4e0ArlXo4/T9R_-Z_WckI/AAAAAAAAAIY/qwwwvUugb7A/s400/IMG_1559.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Step back
for a moment and recall where we are in the world. We have landed in the United
Arab Emirates. Aside from the ridiculously indulgent 7 star hotels and the most
expensive, tall, large, ornate (etc. etc…) structures in the world, what do we
think of? Sand dunes, endless desert, sand storms, sand surfing, sand skiing, sandy
beaches, sand, sand and sand. And what do we envision ourselves riding across
these surreal sand swept landscapes? Jerboas! … Ok, I didn’t have the
opportunity to go camping and encounter these adorable desert mice as they
bombard you during the night, but I am determined to meet them next time. But
seriously, we are talking about the iconic camel. If you have cows, you have
cow milk. If you have goats, you have goat milk. So if you have camels, yep,
you have camel milk. I was ecstatic to have the opportunity to sample some fresh
camel milk plucked off a fluorescent-lit supermarket shelf next to the comparatively
boring basic bovine variety. </span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Cordia New"; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-language: TH; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">The inconspicuous
plastic packaging in a sense diffused some of the exotic mystery but it also
emphasised that wonderful feeling of being somewhere new. I could not walk into
a Big C in Bangkok or a Sainsbury’s in London or a QFC in Seattle and grab a petite
plastic bottle of camel milk from the refrigerated shelves. Before cracking it
open, you can already see that the colour looks like most varieties of milk. A
clean opaque pearly white peeks up at you when you pop off the top. It has the
faintest blush of a rich cream. Putting it up to my nose, I could smell a rich
dairy scent with only a very light hint of a fresh game protein. This
experience was reflected in the flavour. I was anxious and excited as I brought
it to my lips and took a sip. I let the liquid spread across my tongue and
slowly inhaled through my nose to try and experience as much of the taste as
possible. It was a rich and heavy milk, akin to the thicker cow milks you find
in England, but still not crossing over in to the consistency of cream. The
initial hit is a luscious creamy dairy that morphs from a familiar milky taste
as it enters your mouth to a grassy game meat scent as it slides down. As you
swallow, you notice a salty savouriness which is the stronger flavour in the
yoghurt culture finish. The salted yoghurt taste lingers and melds with that
fresh grass fragrance to create a unique aftertaste. It was quite an intense
experience so I was more than satisfied with the small portion. It is highly
recommended for those who are fond of goat, ewe or alternative milk sources but
also for anyone curious or wanting to step out of their box, or in this case,
milk carton. </span></div>
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Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10931019910532547499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8738996260370448337.post-36603085209862369172012-02-13T02:40:00.000-08:002012-02-13T02:40:36.201-08:00Banqueting at Bangna Bacco's and pondering the Baritone of the Bandersnatch<div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The respect and admiration for the cuisine of Italy is apparent across the world. The wide range of styles, ingredients and flavours provides gentle bridges for people coming from more isolated gastronomic environments. Italian restaurants are a dime a dozen, the challenge is finding a genuinely good one. But, as with any restaurant, I find it a tall order to judge a restaurant as a whole purely based on your meager selections on a single dining experience. People are quick to pass judgement, good or bad, even if based on a single experience at a single point in time. We are back in Bangkok now and Bacco's are nice mid-level Italian restaurants, with the branch near Thonglor having a more boisterous family style atmosphere and the one in the Bangna area emulating a more adult and intimate setting with stylish dim lighting and cozy covered tables. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; text-decoration: underline;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Z8EH0XeQwFo/TzjoNjiYoyI/AAAAAAAAAIA/pM1ncIVFuOk/s1600/bacco0001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Z8EH0XeQwFo/TzjoNjiYoyI/AAAAAAAAAIA/pM1ncIVFuOk/s400/bacco0001.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; text-decoration: underline;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">There are a few dishes on my”frequent retrieval” shelf of sensory food porn for recreational use. This truffle soup is one of the well thumbed entries. It's a creamy soup that is simultaneously bold and delicate. The smokey tones of truffle are evenly dispersed in the rich creamy and offset by sharper twinges of sweet and salty. This is a definite must for any fans of the funghi. Deep and broad, the multifaceted flavour and all-encompassing aroma swallows your entire being and reverberates through your very soul, burning sultry scars of orgasmic sensory delight like warm bath on a cold winter's day. Or the delicious voice of Benedict Cumberbatch - <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KpoRT4PW428">lol :) xx</a>. And suddenly I've completely lost my train of thought... </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; text-decoration: underline;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TkZquF-3j4A/TzjoVSaVdCI/AAAAAAAAAII/eHTnVti1HIc/s1600/bacco0002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TkZquF-3j4A/TzjoVSaVdCI/AAAAAAAAAII/eHTnVti1HIc/s400/bacco0002.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; text-decoration: underline;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Nothing quite as indulgent as carb on carb action. Whoever decided on smushing soft floofy spuds into their pasta dough was a bloody genius. Gnocchi, for those innocent souls that have yet to encounter it, are little pasta dumplings that usually (not all the time, as I have been told) include fresh potatoes in their mix. It is one of my favourite pasta options, so it was easy for me to decide on this gnocchi and pesto dish for the evening (these little dumplings may appear small but they are dense and very filling so I prefer having them accompanied with a lighter fresher sauce). These gnocchi were made in house. The appearance was nice enough, generously portioned and vibrant and appetising. Sadly, I felt they were a bit too squishy. The flavour, although pleasant, felt diluted and lost as each bite seemed to melt into nothing. Bacco usually satisfies my cravings for Italian without breaking a sweat but on this particular occasion I was left wanting more. Alas, having been raised by a mother obsessed with not wasting food, I could not abandon my plate for another order. That's just mean. It wasn't bad, just not up to par with some of th</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">e other creations I've sampled from their kitchens. <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GsekSA34j7s">And the mome raths outgrabe...</a></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"><b><br />
</b></span></span></div>Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10931019910532547499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8738996260370448337.post-31665328882560884542012-02-10T01:49:00.000-08:002012-02-10T01:49:29.905-08:00Over-ordering English Indian Takeaway Treats<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Ah the delightfully spiced concoctions of Southern Asia. One of the reasons I return the UK is to seek out their national cuisine, Indian food. As with any national food, there is a wide range of regional styles and delicacies. The one in question here is the mystical realm of the British Indian takeaway. As you should know very well by now, I value comfort. Perhaps it's my often suppressed sociopathic tendencies that lead me to feel such successive stresses in daily life and consequently seek the soft warmth of a humble and satisfying meal. Perhaps I just encounter one too many stupid people per day and the frustration just makes me want to bite things. Whatever it is, every one needs some sort of relief – or indeed stimulation – to alter the otherwise linear course of their existence. </span><br />
<div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">What better way to escape than to curl up under a fluffy duvet and await the nice delivery man's arrival at the door with a smorgasbord of piping hot ready-to-eat delicacies from the exotic reaches of the not-so-far East. Indian takeaway – the salvation of those with un-stocked pantries and zero motivation to step back outside into the world for a meal in a more social setting. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qLe_t8hX9UA/TzTe_HfwxDI/AAAAAAAAAHI/mObJD-3dzQk/s1600/41120001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qLe_t8hX9UA/TzTe_HfwxDI/AAAAAAAAAHI/mObJD-3dzQk/s400/41120001.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So one lazy night whilst I was residing on my not-so-little brother's floor, we decided to indulge and over order from one of his new favourite internet-order-enabled Indian takeaways, Pukka Tiffin in Chertsey. Our initial order plan would probably have fed the entire street with leftovers for the next day. We are easily excited by the promise of mouthwatering magic food that appears at your door. After some vaguely sensible order slashing, we decided on the Chicken 65, Tandoori Chicken, Aubergine Masala, Gurkha's Revenge, Keralayan Fish Curry, Fish Masala, Mushroom Rice, Lemon Rice, Garlic Naan and Lychee Lassis (is that the plural for lassi?) – which I think were changed to Mango Lassis due to unavailability. Just the thought is making me salivate again. Damn my addiction to food porn. The total added up to about fifty quid. For three people, seventeen sterling each for a massive supper with plenty leftover for another meal the next day plus the added comfort of having to do naught but sit on out lazy arses playing video games? Yes please. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-u2pfkCxrR3s/TzTfc1BLPpI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/brEgaiRgME8/s1600/41120004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-u2pfkCxrR3s/TzTfc1BLPpI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/brEgaiRgME8/s400/41120004.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Chicken 65 was the </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">osusume</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> number one super sparkling recommendation from my dekke otouto (big little brother). He had me at lime. I'm a sucker for citrus. We were obviously craving copious portions of protein with the double orders of chicken and fish. Even through our vigorous screening process of filtering out unnecessary orders we settled on both a Chicken 65 and the more common takeaway staple of tandoori chicken. It would give us the chance to conduct a comprehensive comparative analysis of the two varieties of grilled poultry. Yes. Not just being greedy bastards, I swear. The plethora of spices that adorned both portions naturally had similarities, but they still remained unique in their own respects. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eLA9A-HfNMk/TzTgArLOj4I/AAAAAAAAAHY/fRcn7mq8UbQ/s1600/41120005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eLA9A-HfNMk/TzTgArLOj4I/AAAAAAAAAHY/fRcn7mq8UbQ/s400/41120005.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">That's the glory of good Indian cuisine which I adore. That ability to harness the subtleties of hundreds of flavours and meld them into one sensationally titillating cohesive culinary experience that does not overwhelm all of your senses and make you blind for a day. In regards to the Chicken 65, I would describe this as an Indian variation of honey-lemon chicken. The citrus flavours are quite apparent, but not in an alarming manner. I find some dishes that advertise the promise of tart lemony tantalisation for your tongue fail to deliver. or indeed rape your tonsils and leave you gagging for a glass of water. The balance of spices and citrus in this chicken was beautifully infused into the succulent flesh and provided plenty of excitement for my ever eager taste buds. The smokey depth from seasonings and the tandoor preparation was apparent in both, with the basic tandoori chicken emanating a stronger barbecued savoury fragrance and the 65 providing a brighter sharp splash of refreshment. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tBxazgOG2lg/TzThkZK8qBI/AAAAAAAAAHg/WjjodMR6NUY/s1600/41120002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tBxazgOG2lg/TzThkZK8qBI/AAAAAAAAAHg/WjjodMR6NUY/s400/41120002.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I adore aubergines. I get ecstatic about eggplants when I see them on the menu. From baba ganoush to grilled miso, the soft and juicy flesh of a nice fat eggplant in any style is hard to resist. The sponge-like qualities of the pale vegetable is perfect for absorbing and mellowing out flavours. The delicate custard texture adds a creaminess on your palette but the fibers create just enough structure to retain its structural integrity even when submersed in a rich curry sauce. Sensational saucy dish but I would recommend caution for those with a fear of the squishy. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LQFcS5sycZQ/TzTi1q83cWI/AAAAAAAAAHo/afdpWp2DrZM/s1600/41120003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LQFcS5sycZQ/TzTi1q83cWI/AAAAAAAAAHo/afdpWp2DrZM/s400/41120003.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">You can have so much fun when ordering from an Indian takeaway menu, especially because there is so much variety in the components of your meal. My carbohydrate choice for the evening was the mushroom rice. I have a fungal fetish. Also, who doesn't feel a flash of excitement when the fluffy foliage of rainbow pilau rice sits sparkling on a platter in front of your face? Steamy and soft, the long grains hold their succinct shapes but unify in a magnificent flurry of delicate flavour in every mouthful you take. The generous sliced button mushrooms add that extra umami punch and lends a hand in calming and aspirating the stronger flavours of the rich curries for a fuller prolonged experience. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g-cnSVsbJBs/TzTkqczk0MI/AAAAAAAAAHw/L2AmmN4xhXw/s1600/41120007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g-cnSVsbJBs/TzTkqczk0MI/AAAAAAAAAHw/L2AmmN4xhXw/s400/41120007.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It's always a pleasure to order fish from a restaurant or takeaway. I find the convenience of the already filleted and mostly boneless slabs of seafood so deliciously convenient. The Keralayan fish curry consists of fried cod chunks covered in a copious coating of piquant curry. With plenty of spices to last you till next Tuesday, the potentially tumultuous menagerie are tamed by the coconut milk base and reawakened by the tart tang of tamarind. The delicate white cod pieces are shielded by their deep fried casing which allows the flaky white flesh within to stay as such despite the fervent surroundings. It is a pleasant dish, quenching my craving for both a juicy stimulating sauce and a nice hefty bite of lean protein.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hlkSlCLRl4o/TzTmHDcw3aI/AAAAAAAAAH4/l0tH4QM0wJo/s1600/41120006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hlkSlCLRl4o/TzTmHDcw3aI/AAAAAAAAAH4/l0tH4QM0wJo/s400/41120006.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This last order was made out of curiosity more than an actual craving for any of its features in particular. Gurkha's Revenge. Is that a challenge? Consider it accepted, sir. This particular curry is advertised as a dangerously spicy entity that should only be approached by professional fire eaters in hazmat suits. With such potential volcanic heat, we decided on lamb as the sacrificial meat of choice as it is far stronger in texture and flavour than its companions. Perhaps it would appease the curry gods and they would not burn us from the inside out. We were excited. The excitement continued when we lifted the lid and gazed upon the whole dried chili nestled menacingly atop the fiery red sea of sauce. Our forks penetrated the glossy crimson surface and eased into what we could only assume was a morsel of mutton. We retracted our prongs with the samples firmly attached and braced ourselves. After a final glance towards each other with looks telling of the mutual respect, fear and courage we shared in the face of the imminent torture we were about to inflict upon ourselves, we lifted our forks and bit down. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Nothing. Nothing? Perhaps it was a delayed heat. We proceeded with caution. There were definitely some strong tastes coming through, but I think we were too distracted by the overwhelming anticipation of Scovillian suicide to concentrate on the subtle qualities of the sauce. It was not hot. This wasn't just coming from two palettes that were raised in the fiery kitchens of Thailand. No. It was not hot. In terms of pure heat, it was on par with Keralayan curry providing only a faint susurration on the Scoville scale. A bit of a tingle but definitely not the roller coaster ride we were expecting. A sharp sourness was strongest presence in the dish. After forgetting about indulging in our masochistic tendencies, the lamb and the sauce was reasonably enjoyable, although it may have been a touch too tart. It was quite nice as leftover lunch the next day. Gurkha's Revenge was indeed a dish best served cold.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"><br />
</span></span></div>Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10931019910532547499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8738996260370448337.post-3115688408332488402011-12-12T22:05:00.000-08:002011-12-12T22:05:23.354-08:00Chronicling the Courageous Character of Clotted Cream<div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Some people fear it, others covet it. It is as rich in history and tradition as it is in controversy and calories. The dairy devil presents an air of soft mildness but fears none and stands sturdy on its own solid feet. It has ripped through the crumbs of many a scone and clung like an iron sloth to the back of countless butter knives. The delicate yet treacherous terror of the tea room, I present to you, clotted cream. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZORN4BFkfS8/Tubp2zU7FnI/AAAAAAAAAG4/Aflot7tYwWI/s1600/IMG_0050.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZORN4BFkfS8/Tubp2zU7FnI/AAAAAAAAAG4/Aflot7tYwWI/s400/IMG_0050.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Cream is a common word used in the contemporary languages of today. Whipped cream, ice cream, shower cream, hand cream. The list goes on. Most conjure up sensations of softness, fluffiness, things that are light and airy and sweet and gentle and moisturising in nature. Not the case for the clotted cream. If all the palatable powers of milk were boiled down into a thick viscus syrup and then encased in the deepest bowels of the Earth to be forged into a solid diamond of epic dairy divinity, that jewel would be clotted cream. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QMOxjnuSsJk/TubpvJn67sI/AAAAAAAAAGw/I-yQ0M51BkM/s1600/IMG_0054.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QMOxjnuSsJk/TubpvJn67sI/AAAAAAAAAGw/I-yQ0M51BkM/s400/IMG_0054.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This cousin of cream concoctions is more solid than liquid. The pale white of milk has given way to a rich gold tinted beige epitomising the colour that is cream. Straight from the tub, it has the grain of frozen ice cream and the sticky viscosity of ice cream that has been slightly thawed. Once agitated, the consistency softens to a few steps harder than a refrigerated honey with less drip and more pull. This stuff will hold its shape at room temperature. Butter will melt and liquify the more you move back and forth over a piece of toast or a split scone slipping easily off the knife and soaking into the crumb of your edible platform. You will most likely have to fight clotted cream and sacrifice the beauty of your baked good if it is your first time dealing with this dairy product. But it is worth it. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JvgJi0grUxc/TubqMW1i9yI/AAAAAAAAAHA/rBMWVut6Iqg/s1600/IMG_0055.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JvgJi0grUxc/TubqMW1i9yI/AAAAAAAAAHA/rBMWVut6Iqg/s400/IMG_0055.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It has the essential velvet creaminess that all good milk produce should have, but amplified into this luscious creme de la creme of creams. Whipped and poured creams have their uses, but they are so easily lost beneath the stronger flavours of whatever they have been paired with. Clotted cream is what you want if you want to taste what dairy is, what milk is, the reason why those gorgeous globules have been floating around in that opaque colloid. Clotted cream has all the delightful silky dairy flavours intensified in a sturdy body that sits with its head held high atop your scone supporting the fruity conserves you have dribbled over it. I encourage you to indulge, but in moderation, or you will end up like me... </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"><b><br />
</b></span></span></div>Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10931019910532547499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8738996260370448337.post-36252447289817638272011-11-29T02:16:00.000-08:002011-11-29T02:16:16.215-08:00Monks and Mussels in a Dark Dungeon of Delicious Delights<div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Belgo is a well-known chain of Belgian restaurants in London and the one that I have frequented through the years is Belgo Centraal in Covent Garden. Tucked away between the cobblestone streets, this quirky dungeon-like basement bistro is brimming with epicurean delights. They are most famous for their mussels which are prepared in a variety of ways and presented to patrons in polished pots by waiters clad in monk-like robes of the middle ages. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GNxGKijNS3A/TtSwJdB-3bI/AAAAAAAAAGo/6Xab6LXPwUQ/s1600/IMG_0088.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GNxGKijNS3A/TtSwJdB-3bI/AAAAAAAAAGo/6Xab6LXPwUQ/s400/IMG_0088.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">They don't just serve mouthwatering mollusks. On this occasion, along with a pot of proven</span></span><span style="font: 12.0px UPC-Quakerlady;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Ç</span></span></i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">al moules, I ordered the spaghetti with roast artichokes and vegetables in carrot sauce. The portion was generous and I had to marvel at the massive size of the asparagus spears that perched upon my pasta. I was most curious about the carrot sauce, which is what motivated me to order the meal in the first place. It was light, as advertised, and carried the faint sweetness and orange tint of the tapered root. The roasted vegetables were nice and chunky which always makes me happy as it enables you to experience a range of texture and flavour within the same bite of the same vegetable. You get the softer sweeter epidermis of the cooked ingredient followed by the cleaner milder essential fragrances that are locked away inside, which is particularly prevalent with the multi-layered artichoke pieces. It was both fun (copious culinary components to play with!) and satisfying (nice hefty mound of al dente pasta) to eat and the dish complemented the saucy mussels very nicely. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"><b><br />
</b></span></span></div>Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10931019910532547499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8738996260370448337.post-51984349083304078462011-11-28T23:54:00.000-08:002011-11-28T23:54:44.660-08:00Floudering around a Rocking Plaice to Perch your Soles<div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">When someone is asked to name a signature British dish, what do they usually say? Bangers and mash, toad in the hole, bubble and squeak? More often than not, one answer will trump all others: fish and chips. First time tourist, born and bred local or pub crawler, you are bound to have bite of this British classic when you are in merry England. Some are good, some are bad, some are cheap, some attempt to go gourmet. Salt or ketchup or vinegar, whatever your condiment of choice is, most people are open to munching down on this meal, even those that tend not to like seafood. Hurrah for chippies and their perpetual peddling of plumping provisions! </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We walked down to a well-known chippy near Covent Garden that advertises itself as being the oldest existing chippy in London. The quaintly named Rock and Sole Plaice (get it?) is a standard small and simple shop with a few tables that sprawl out on to the sidewalk. They have freshly fried fillets of cod, haddock, plaice and a few others that have faded from my feeble memory and of course, plenty of chips. Chips meaning real chips. Chunky cuts of deep fried potato. None of that anorexic shoestring nonsense.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-G_GnVmUsTBI/TtSNC3WraoI/AAAAAAAAAGI/PhdzftEcGbw/s1600/IMG_0084.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-G_GnVmUsTBI/TtSNC3WraoI/AAAAAAAAAGI/PhdzftEcGbw/s400/IMG_0084.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I ordered haddock and chips. Service is quick there, as it should be in any plaice (get it?) whose primary means of cooking is a deep fryer (ever thought about the irony of that? I'm more likely to be fat and slow if i frequent fried food franchises but cheap chippies and chippy-like chains have to provide my food fast... and often skinny...shoestrings and such). </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7QuizPGAtOw/TtSNJw4toNI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/fZ3X4gbdEHY/s1600/IMG_0085.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7QuizPGAtOw/TtSNJw4toNI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/fZ3X4gbdEHY/s400/IMG_0085.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The fillet was generous and encased in a golden brown batter that had a real crunch in its bite. Battering through the barrier of batter revealed a thick slab of succulent white fish flesh. The batter was crisp, and although pack a hefty crunch, was still light and did not weigh down and dull the delicate flavour of the fish meat. The chips were similar in terms of internal structure: crisp coating protecting a moist and fluffy core. The house made tartare sauce was scrumptious but they provide a decent array of condiments for diners to choose from including staples like salt and malt vinegar.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sUQyeKdf-ys/TtSNT2GD3jI/AAAAAAAAAGY/sSfS7_3Cg5c/s1600/IMG_0086.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sUQyeKdf-ys/TtSNT2GD3jI/AAAAAAAAAGY/sSfS7_3Cg5c/s400/IMG_0086.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">In addition to various fish fillets, the shop also has other humble traditional offerings like spotted dick and steak and kidney pie, which we couldn't help but order. The pie was surprisingly satisfying and well made. Of course, the massive platter of fish and chips was more than filling alone, we wanted to sample the savoury pocket size pastries we spotted in the display case. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-C8-0kOvXxnY/TtSOKJVTPKI/AAAAAAAAAGg/CFTOPf8NQ0E/s1600/IMG_0087.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-C8-0kOvXxnY/TtSOKJVTPKI/AAAAAAAAAGg/CFTOPf8NQ0E/s400/IMG_0087.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The sturdy little bugger was bigger than I expected. Still a single serve portion, it seemed ever so slightly bigger than other little pies. It held its shape beautifully, round and upright like a mighty colosseum, but still cute and relatively petite. The filling was well seasoned and had just the right viscosity and ratios of ingredients to accompany the flaky pastry crust. Kidney and steak... <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JtLMzIOlmbs&feature=relmfu">wee-bull... mmm pie... </a></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"><br />
</span></span></div>Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10931019910532547499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8738996260370448337.post-70091856687060288132011-11-17T22:40:00.000-08:002011-11-28T23:58:08.264-08:00Stewing in Throngs of Tumultuous Tourists<div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It is no secret that I adore food that comforts. I am not referring to spray cheese, triple decker burgers, chips or ice cream. When I use the term comfort food, I refer to flavour, texture, history (not just in the worldly sense, but your history as an individual with personal experiences regardless of how old you are), food that conjures up a sense of tradition (again, how ever long-established that may be for you) and familiarity (in a good way!), taking you to that warm safe cosy place in your subconscious where your senses breathe a welcome sigh of relief and you forget all the troubles of the day for the time being. That is what I feel comfort food is, a private culinary refuge through the doors of your taste buds and olfactory senses. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gRnWzCKwwY0/TsX9mso6qmI/AAAAAAAAAGA/d_KNXm8JEMo/s1600/IMG_0083.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gRnWzCKwwY0/TsX9mso6qmI/AAAAAAAAAGA/d_KNXm8JEMo/s400/IMG_0083.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">For me, nothing can get more comforting than a good hearty stew. The textures of the individual components of each stew can vary from carrots with a smooth bite, soft fluffy chunks of potato, tender juicy meat, soft succulent cabbage to the fluid broth that cradles everything in its warm embrace. But the beauty of a slow cooked stew is that all theses textures meld together in one pot within a single broth so that the once isolated flavours and textures are forever bound together in a harmonious household of gastronomic wonder. They may maintain their unique characteristics but they have joined hands in a united accord to stand together for the greater good of the stew. </span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><div><br />
This particular encounter came on a day out with my parents in London. We had been walking for a while in central London and were caught in the overflowing throngs of the city's omnipresent tourists. We needed an escape, fast. The next restaurant in our sight was a Garfunkel's. We thought. We dove in. The horror. Every table was packed with cameras, shopping bags, maps, water bottles and foreign multi-accented conversation. Tourists had already invaded the diner. But we weathered the unrelenting xeno-storm and wedged ourselves into a tiny table in front of a till. I needed a way out. One look at the menu and I knew I had one. Irish stew. Overpriced? Yes. Quality? Not that great. But it still did the job. The lamb was tender but lacked the depth of flavour a quality piece of meat carries with it. The pear barley provided the sustenance I required to fight of the flocks of foreigners (I know, I'm not an Anglo-Saxon but I don't consider myself a tourist in the typical sense when I am in the UK). Pearl barley is so fun to eat. Soft and slippery but with an oat-like bite and substantial density like an oversized grain of rice. Also, even though it is great as soaking up other flavours, it never loses its own fragrance of sweet grain. Despite being mass produced from a run of the mill family restaurant chain, the stew was still a stew, hearty through and through, delivering the smoky delicious depth that one should always encounter when diving into a bowl of satisfying stew.</div></span><br />
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</b></span></span></div>Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10931019910532547499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8738996260370448337.post-82228482459586312092011-11-14T23:35:00.000-08:002011-11-14T23:36:46.492-08:00Ruby Red Rasberries Caught In Suspension<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-e_6cPZE_An4/TsIV4ieGP0I/AAAAAAAAAF4/Xpbh4QUDxvU/s1600/IMG_0060.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-e_6cPZE_An4/TsIV4ieGP0I/AAAAAAAAAF4/Xpbh4QUDxvU/s400/IMG_0060.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Does jelly have a bad reputation? I'm not sure anymore. I think at one point people seemed to think that gelatin based desserts were a cheap and sugary cop out for a sweet finish to a meal. Perhaps the ridged mountain mould of translucent jiggly red stuff is a bit dated. Truffle terrines, champagne jelly and mango caviar are just some examples of the culinary hydrocolloid at work in our contemporary cuisine. I will still love jelly as a dessert. It is light, soothing, sweet, refreshing whilst retaining that satisfying bite and sensual slippery jiggle that makes it so easy to eat. On a tea break at Marks and Spencer with Mummy dearest, I couldn't help but pick out a petite pot of ruby red raspberry jelly. I think the colour and fruit appeals to people of all ages: if you're a child with no teeth, an adult wanting a treat, if you're a granny with no teeth, it's all good! And who can resist those fat whole red raspberries suspended in their original form in a sea of delicate but supportive and sweet bovine based extracts? Healthy stuff <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HDYGj5CWdXQ">caught in suspension</a>!</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"><b><br />
</b></span></span></div>Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10931019910532547499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8738996260370448337.post-6666821175036142502011-11-07T06:41:00.000-08:002011-11-07T06:41:17.460-08:00Tantalizing Tea Time Tongue Treat<div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">As a child, I never really liked to eat meat. Perhaps my initial encounters with carne were unpleasant and so sparked an extended resentment towards anything meatier than a chicken. Actually it was only quite recently that my taste for flesh has shifted. My carnivorous side seems to have been awakened during my habitation of the land of jellied eels and spotted dick. Honestly, I don't think it was any particular spectacular foogasm over a steak that triggered it, more like a gradual transition from carb-dependency to flesh-friendly feeding. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_zbZE75qMXU/TrfswuchlBI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/5YdzP13jRl0/s1600/IMG_0057.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_zbZE75qMXU/TrfswuchlBI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/5YdzP13jRl0/s400/IMG_0057.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div><br />
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<div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">This, however, is not what most people would consider the ordinary cut of beef. Even at the Brass Rail, this is kept hidden under the counter until someone asks for it. Ox Tongue. The Brass Rail's main attraction is the salt beef. Salty, soft and beefy. But in my book, there's no way it could stand up against the ox tongue. Don't let the anatomical reference put you off. Ox tongue has all the savoury beef flavours you look for in regular beef but with a lighter cleaner finish. The meat is ridiculously tender you could tuck in to a platter without any teeth. It's also not as salty as the beef, so I find it much easier to shovel down my gullet. Honestly, it's like a softer beef with less sinew or grain to fight through with just as much, if not more, flavour. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9GSHqjD2WUo/TrftB0bpNpI/AAAAAAAAAFY/fesvNso-iD8/s1600/IMG_0058.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9GSHqjD2WUo/TrftB0bpNpI/AAAAAAAAAFY/fesvNso-iD8/s400/IMG_0058.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">My favourite order is a regular ox tongue on focaccia with mustard and a gherkin on the side. We've been going to the Brass Rail as far back as I can remember, and I was glad to see it still around after they renovated the building a while back. Before my red meat days I would get a plate, a knife and a fork and steal my parents' pickles to munch on whilst everyone else worked on their sandwiches. Now, this sandwich is one of the reasons I am more than happy to return to London every year. That and clotted cream, but that's another story. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"><br />
</span></span></div>Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10931019910532547499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8738996260370448337.post-86403455775455540712011-11-04T01:47:00.000-07:002011-11-04T01:54:06.580-07:00Peter Pan and the Potato Pasta Pie<div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-h4238DrGHrM/TrOl5MMg9_I/AAAAAAAAAE4/ycp9_xVaLd0/s1600/IMG_0721.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-h4238DrGHrM/TrOl5MMg9_I/AAAAAAAAAE4/ycp9_xVaLd0/s400/IMG_0721.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> I love carbs. Did I tell you I love carbs? I love carbs. Always have. I can eat carbs with carbs and have carbs on the side with carbs for dessert. Admittedly, it's probably the primary contributor to my corporeal chub but it has made me happy. I remember reading a children's book that involved a messy little girl who had spaghetti sandwiches for lunch. I was inspired. Since then, almost every time we have spag-bol at home I have to make a spaghetti sammich. Sometimes just a sloppy joe (bread and meat sauce) but a spag-bol-buttie is much more fun. The noodly excitement and saucy goodness with the double whammy comfort punch of starch and starch? Eureka! Tis like magic to my (slightly warped) taste buds! </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LvYk74XZerM/TrOmTrjVwVI/AAAAAAAAAFA/w1A--ff-f_4/s1600/IMG_0723.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LvYk74XZerM/TrOmTrjVwVI/AAAAAAAAAFA/w1A--ff-f_4/s400/IMG_0723.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Getting more to the point, I was at Hong Kong Disneyland some time ago and just after the parade we went into a bakery on Main Street to sample some of their old time wares. I love nice display cases and Disneyland has yet to disappoint. Cakes, pies, puddings and sandwiches lined the shelves that were bathed in a cosy golden glow. One thing immediately caught my greedy eye. The traditional treat with a quirky twist. The Pasta Bolognese Pie. I had to get it.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wqNyDjy90wg/TrOmgTMNjKI/AAAAAAAAAFI/skA488Wqou0/s1600/IMG_0725.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wqNyDjy90wg/TrOmgTMNjKI/AAAAAAAAAFI/skA488Wqou0/s400/IMG_0725.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">After purchasing the potato topped pie we adjourned to an alfresco table to bask in the fairy tale fanfare of the bustling fantasy boulevard. On the surface, the pastry appeared to be nothing more than a petite personal cottage pie. Cute and comforting, I dove into the creamy mash crust. Suddenly there was a burst of texture! Soft, but noodly, the al dente strands sent tempting vibrations up through my plastic spork. The spark of red meaty sauce glistened through the sea of smushed spuds. A golden crust encased all the carb rich calories from beneath. I wanted to eat it. Seasoned mildly, the contrast of silky smooth mash, slippery saucy spaghetti and flaky pastry crust melded together into a celestial carb concoction I still crave for today. It's probably not for everyone, especially since it's the antichrist for Atkins, but for those who dwell in the devilish delights of carbohydrates, indulge in the hot carb-on-carb action! </span></span></div>Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10931019910532547499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8738996260370448337.post-84407179177286780672011-11-04T00:49:00.000-07:002011-11-04T00:49:27.780-07:00The Milky Madness of Street Side Beach Buns<div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Going to the beach has always been an integral part of our family recreational habits. Whether on a short stay to scout new seaside sites or on a lazy long weekend for lounging around the littoral with the lobsters and limpets... “Will you walk a little faster?” said a whiting to a snail, “There's a porpoise close behind us and he's treading on my tail!” See how easily the lobsters and the turtles all advance. They are waiting on the shingle, will you come and join the dance? ... :D </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-knZ-uSAWPt4/TrOY4rmF0ZI/AAAAAAAAAEw/hh4oPYEcufk/s1600/Picture+029.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-knZ-uSAWPt4/TrOY4rmF0ZI/AAAAAAAAAEw/hh4oPYEcufk/s400/Picture+029.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Anyway, we were in Hua Hin in the Gulf of Thailand a while back and after a spicy seafood smorgasbord on the sand we heard the familiar chimes of an ice cream vendor slowly sauntering by. Like Pavlov's dogs we start salivating for our sweet treats. This particular vendor was selling a street stall staple of Thai hawker food. It's basically homemade ice cream (milk or coconut in flavour) with different toppings like corn, peanuts, nata de coco, jellies, condensed milk, evaporated milk, taro, yellow peas, red bean etc and the list goes on. You can choose to have your cold collation served in a plastic cup or, as I thoroughly enjoy being a carbohydrate devotee, in a hotdog bun. The soft fluffy nature of the bread is perfect for soaking up all the sweet goodness of your melting ice cream and makes a great insulator between your fingers and the frozen frostiness it radiates. Results? Your delicious dessert stays contained within itself, your fingers don't freeze, the milky meltwaters are sucked up by the spongy bread thus keeping you dry and you can eat the whole darn thing! And it's DELICIOUS! </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"><b><br />
</b></span></span></div>Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10931019910532547499noreply@blogger.com0