Stewing in Throngs of Tumultuous Tourists

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. 

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. 

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.

Ruby Red Rasberries Caught In Suspension

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 caught in suspension!

Tantalizing Tea Time Tongue Treat

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. 

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. 

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. 

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! 

The Milky Madness of Street Side Beach Buns

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 

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! 

Spicy Stingray: Stand By For Action!

Back to the streets of KL with this delectable delight for any connoisseurs of colloquial cuisine, particularly those with a preference for pelagic provender or in other words foodies fond of fish. Cod, salmon, tuna, sardine – these are all names that we encounter far too often on supermarket shelves and in restaurant menus of every caliber. Aside from problems with overfishing and sustainability, these poor fishes could really use a break from the fisherman's spotlight just as our taste buds should be given a fresh zephyr of seafaring flavours. 

Whether freshwater or oceanic, we all want a taste of sunshine and fresh flowing water when we dine on fish and other aquatic animals. Stingray provides just that. So it may not share the same visual appearance as a stereotypical snapper on a dinner plate, in fact, its broad flat physique may perplex people as to how one could possibly enjoy eating any part of its discus like form. Let me enlighten those who have yet to experience the delicate wonders of the snow white flesh of the stingray. The spines of cartilage that spread through the fish lay flat and are partially fused forming a stiff ridged platform with full steaks of solid supple without any bony interruptions. Just get whatever your eating utensil is (fork, spoon, chopsticks, fingers) and nudge the flesh from one edge and watch as it slides off like a giant tectonic slab of juicy protein goodness. 

This particular piece has been smothered in spicy chili paste and grilled in a banana leaf. It is then served with sliced okra and a cut calamansi for you to squeeze over everything. The chili paste is crammed with intense flavour. You'll get sucker-punched with salt, your sinuses slapped with scorching heat and a smokey savoriness will scintillate your senses and leave you salivating for more. That little calamansi adds much more than its petite size gives it credit for. The tart sour with a hint of sweet and fresh citrus cuts right through the richness of the chili without breaking a sweat. And let's not forget about the star of the show, the stingray! Don't let the pale opaque flakes of succulent flesh fool you into thinking it is meek and flavourless. It stands up to the seemingly overpowering chaos of the chili. The calm gentle cool compliments the fiery madness perfectly. I really do love my grilled stingray :) Stingray! Stingray! Anything can happen in the next half hour!!

Girigiri Onigiri a.k.a. Bumblebee Tuna

Since I've been on a such a nostalgic emotional trip back to my days in Japan, I was more than happy to explore the aisles of a new Japanese supermarket that opened up in Sukhumvit 49 near Villa and Samitivej Hospital, UFM Fuji Super! It's tiny but provides more than the essentials for those looking for a substitute for an actual Japanese grocers. Just a few steps in (through the wrong door... I walked in through the exit first...) and BAM! Onigiri (rice balls) and bento boxes!! I start raiding the defenseless onigiri and hoard them in my dinky basket. What I am astonished by is the price range. You can get onigiri here for 30 baht!! It's like the convenience stores in Tokyo!! or the 99Yen shop!! Usually, sticking anything under the label of "Japanese" food sends the price through the stratosphere. Admittedly, you can get a lunch box of rice and various Thai toppings from the next counter for the same price, but STILL! I could never bring myself to buy 100 baht onigiri from the high end gourmet markets in town, so this made me very happy.

 This particular one looked special. Most of the onigiri have the ingenious Japanese packaging that keeps the seaweed separate so it remains crisp up until you eat it. This one has the nice translucent paper wrapping. I dropped by after work so it was getting late. The shelves of ready to eat food had clearly been ravaged by earlier hungry hordes. This is an onigiri with raw tuna in soy sauce. 50 baht, kinda pricey, but I wanted to give it a shot anyway.

I've always thought that onigiri are adorable. Even as a child playing with miniature food from my Sylvania collection, before I knew what an onigiri was, I would think these tiny white lumps with the black panels look so cute! Here the seaweed has been in contact with the rice so instead of being crisp, it is very soft and won't fight you when you try to bite through it. I think your roasted seaweed should either be fresh and crisp or delicate and soft, when it is in between, it will fight you to the death.

If you are looking for crazy hyper intense flavours then you are in the wrong place. The humble onigiri provides a comforting full bite of wholesome clean flavours. The rice, the hint of salt, the umami of the seaweed and the burst of flavour from whatever is encased in the soft fluffy white grains. The piece of tuna wasn't particularly big or small, but felt like it was just the right size for the onigiri. Like an intrepid explorer working your way through the mysterious vast unknown, you take a bite after bite of your onigiri, wondering if your teeth will strike the coveted cache of taste bud tingling filling. Onigiri excavation adventure! Fun, cute, delicious and filling! Also cheap and very portable! Onigiri for everybody!!