The Simple and Irreplaceable Taste of Sunshine

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.

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 :)

Banqueting at Bangna Bacco's and pondering the Baritone of the Bandersnatch

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. 

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 - lol :) xx. And suddenly I've completely lost my train of thought... 

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 the other creations I've sampled from their kitchens. And the mome raths outgrabe...

Monks and Mussels in a Dark Dungeon of Delicious Delights

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. 

They don't just serve mouthwatering mollusks. On this occasion, along with a pot of provenÇal 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. 

Peter Pan and the Potato Pasta Pie

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! 

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.

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!