THE CONSEQUENCE OF TOUR DE BEIJING DE STUPID COUPLE…
IS A COUPLE OF VERY SICK STUPIDS.
EXCUSE ME, YO MAMA’S BEST HOT COCOA-WHO?!
CONGRATULATIONS, MOLLY.
YEH!
lyrics adapted from bernie taupin
it’s a little bit lovely, this filling inside
i’m not one of those who can take just one slice
i don’t have much money eggboy, but what I will do…
I’d move to this Dakota farm house, just for you
if i was a domestic goddess… but then again, no
or a woman who makes potions on a food-network show
i know it’s not much but it’s the best i can do
my gift is my pies and this one’s for you
and you can tell everybody this is your pie
it may be quite simple but now that it’s done
i hope you don’t mind
i hope you don’t mind that i put down in slices
how wonderful life is now you’re in my world
~
hair smelled like hummus and feet white in flours
i made many messes the day you… made me one promise
the snow will be falling when i make this pie
and i’ll too be in white on my sweet twenty-five
so excuse me forgetting, but these things i do
you see i’ve forgotten if they’re… one cup or two?
anyway the thing is you’re what i choose
a sweet oh quiet farm boy… the day i saw you
and you can tell everybody this is your pie
it may be quite simple but wait till you try
i hope you don’t mind
i hope you don’t mind that i put down in slices
how wonderful life is now you’re in my world
~
i hope you don’t mind
i hope you don’t mind that i put down in piiiieees~
how wonderful life is…
now i’m in your world
for molly
the closest thing to sunshine a stranger can be
WE, THE POT-HEADS, NOW ALL DO THIS…
THIS IS HOW, THROUGH NUMBING PAIN, THAT WE GIVE THANKS.
Do you know that the Chinese applies an ancient wisdom originated along the Yellow River, to an age-old question that has long plagued the minds of all mankind? It’s the monthly family gathering next weekend… It’s the awkward dinner with newly-made friends/colleagues… It’s the unavoidable meal with the in-laws… Hell, It’s the freaking birthday of Confucious! No matter what the occasions really, we all found ourselves asking: What should we eat for that? True, it’s no easy question but the ancient wisdom has answers. Yes. Yes, we have an answer to that. All of that. As a matter of fact, it’s a one single answer, a last minute answer if need be, a one-pot-fix-all solution to any gatherings large or small, where no one, truly, wants to bear the responsibility of putting the foods on the table. To that we say…
Let’s do hot pot!
It’s not overstating to call it a wisdom. Hot pot is the perfect answer to any large dinner parties, especially where there’s equal importance to being well-fed, as well as simultaneously, feeling well-entertained. First of all, instead of conjuring a meal of a dozen courses, there’s only one cooking to be done. Then instead of being splattered into small groups, every guests gravitates from a feasting table with a dramatic pot of boiling stock in the center, and everyone cooks what they like -from an array of offerings such paper-thinly sliced meats, dumplings, meatballs, vegetables, even starches like noodles and fried doughs (yes!) – and how they like it, all from and in the mothership of a pot that just gets better and better throughout the meal. Perhaps there’s something to the theatrics, or to having a “center piece” so lively and fluid… but what I can tell you is this, that strangely, the conversations around a hot pot table, is never cold.
YOUR DESIGNATED DIM-SUM PLACE CAN’T TOUCH THIS
Have you had Chinese turnip cake with X.O. sauce?
Well, the thing is, you probably have without knowing. Over the dizzying array of small dishes on a dim-sum table, your friend passed you a plate of square white cakes with browned and crispy exteriors, served with a small oily dollop of brownish condiment. You ate it, mmmmmmm…., probably even asked for the name of the dish, but let’s be honest, who the hell can remember any names from a feeding-frenzy over a dim-sum table?
Well, that, my friend, you just had Chinese turnip cake and its side-kick, X.O. sauce.
I’ve been long trying to come up with a X.O. sauce recipe. X.O. sauce, suggested from the name given, is made with a large proportion of expensive ingredient, being soaked and shredded dried scallops, and thus lands as a prestigious condiments on the table of Chinese banquette. It’s usually served in small spoonfuls, as an intense, savoury and spicy flavour-booster to highlight stir-fry dishes, rices and noodles, or dim-sum classics such as the turnip cake. It’s wonderful. I love it. So why not just make that?
Well… I mean, dried scallops are great. Fancy stuff. One of those things that are pocket-burning to buy, a pain in the ass to prepare, and in the end of course as all fancy stuffs must be, highly fucked-able. One miss-step in the prepping and cooking procedure, what was supposed to make this sauce supremely “X.O.”, will also easily turn it into a pile of rubbery and teeth-flossing donkey-hide. In this particular juncture in my life where several “bad apples” are on the brink of collapsing, I’m not going to risk my iphone 6-fund on something that could potentially malfunction, too. Especially, not when I believe the beauty of X.O. sauce could be replicated with ingredients that are more, literally, down to earth.
Instead of shredded dried scallops, I’m using dried shitake mushrooms. In combination with dried shrimp which is also a traditional ingredient in X.O. sauce, this poor man’s version came out well beyond my highest expectation. It’s robust, complex and intense, embodying the sea-essence from the dried shrimps and oyster sauce, as well as the earthiness of mushrooms and ham. It’s a symphony of notes that cannot be described unless personally experienced. And it’s my next it-sauce to be slathered on a bowl of rice, a quick slurps of noodle, or if I’m feeling like going the extra mile, this cauliflower rice cake.
Wait, what happened to turnip cake? Because I’ve also, long been trying to come up with a turnip cake recipe. Turnip cake, suggested from the name given, is made with a large amount of Chinese turnip aka daikon, along with Cantonese sausage, dried shrimps, and a batter made with white rice flour. It’s usually steamed inside a rectangular mold, then sliced and browned over a hot skillet right before serving. A humble, homey and delicious staple that’s as beloved as anything can get if you came from an Asian background. It’s wonderful. I love it. So why not just make that?
(THEY CAN) TRANSFORM INTO SURPRISING DELICIOUSNESS OF ELEGANCE AND COMPLEXITY
THIS is the last post (for awhile at least) of the new week-long segment, The Shits I Eat When I’m By Myself. Jason is coming home tomorrow, and if you were any decent, none of us is ever going to speak of what happened here in the last few days… But even though we’re near the end of an epic run, I have meticulously kept the best, and I hope you agree, for the last.
I’m going to share with you what I eat, sunny or rainy, broke or stashed, then-young and now-old, then-slim and now-lumpy… by myself or not, doesn’t matter. This. This is what I actually eat, love to eat, and I mean, like all the time. This is what raised me, put me through college, and every other weekday-nights along with the lovely grin of Jon Stewart. This, completes me. I never had a name for this before, but for the sake of easy reference, I will now call it – The 3 Founding Donburi, The Art of Eating Canned Meats.
Donburi, is Japanese “rice bowl”, with various toppings that ranges widely. The integrity of well-cooked short-grain rice is, of course, important, which is a subject I won’t even touch today for it’s so not the focus here (fine, two words, rice cooker!). The focus here is the topping, and the topping, my friend, is a promiscuous playground for something that we all, at any given moment, got 1 or 2 stashed in a dark corner within the pantry.
Canned meats.
Good sardines in olive oil from Europe, bad sardines in olive oil from Europe, not-bad sardines in tomato sauce from Southeast Asia, corned beef, tuna, salmon… SPAM! Misunderstood and badly represented, where people see them as shunned practices of desperation, I see them as cherished and indulging delicacies. Good quality canned sardines (or even just the OK ones), with just a light touch of acidity, grated ginger and scallions piled over warm rice, can transform into surprising deliciousness of elegance and complexity. How can I douse sichuan chili oil over diced SPAM, with a few drops of black vinegar and calling it a thing?! Well, that is too, what doubters said at the historical moment when somebody thought why not smearing a bit of mustard over hotdogs… Then browned corned beef, mixed with chopped kimchi and gochujang, toasted sesame oil and grated garlic… will have you breathing stinky and happy.
Each of the donburi will take… 2 min to put together at the most (not including the cooking-time of the rice). Less than the time it takes to boil a pot of water. And they will have you asking yourself, where have they been all your life?
Well… they’ve been right here.
MY “HURRY CURRY”… GOT MC-DED.
YESTERDAY, rising above a sea of flaming red and orange, I pulled myself together and decided to eat like a real human being.
I ordered McDonald’s.
That’s the danger of leaving me alone with myself, in an obscured reality and a space where I have nobody to impress, culinarily or physically. Things… can get really low. I ordered 2 large fries and 20-pc of nuggets, all of which are items I believe to be the gooders among evil, the first being undeniably an extension of real earth-grown potatoes, and the second, … protein. So on the couch there I was, horizontally, feeling really good about myself consuming a conscious choice of – really, when you think about it – potatoes and chicken protein, and forgot all about WHAT shits I eat when I’m by myself? I wasn’t at all anticipating a relapse.
The downfall was that I was being too good. In an applaudable demonstration of restrain and wellness-living, I left a whole 10 pieces of nuggets untouched. I was practically Gwyneth Paltrow. But today, when I walked into the kitchen to make one of my absolute favourite of all The Shit I Eats, which is an one-pot, instant-yet-homemade Thai curry with broken thin spaghettis and something legitimate like tofu and shrimps, something unprecedentedly horrid happened.
Unprecedentedly, was the key word. I don’t. Do this. Except for this time. My “hurry curry”… got Mc-Ded.
Broken, torn pieces of what’s possibly one of the greatest invention in the history of food, thrown into another greatest invention – curry. And they married. I mean, literally. In the land of curry where it yearns nothing more than substances that can soak up all its complex glory, everything that a curry could ask for, the nuggets answered. The breading and the porous interior of the nuggets became a sponge that drank up this bowl of good brown, along with broken thin spaghetti as a hearty backdrop, this was one of the best of the worst things I could possibly do.
Just to say… people probably shouldn’t do the same. Even I. Don’t do this. Except for this time.
Shouldn’t. Was the key word.READ MORE
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THE ARUGULA IS NOT JUST THERE TO VALIDATE THAT I’M STILL A HUMAN BEING…
If you thought, we shared a passionate connection yesterday over orange ramen for our new segment – The Shits I Eat When I’m By Myself – well, here comes true love.
True love is… true love is… I say true love is when your other half walked in on you, with this throbbing in your mouth, said nothing, walked away and pretended like nothing happened, and didn’t cancel your credit card… Uh, what was in your mouth oh I mean, my mouth you asked? Uhem… even the mere pronunciation of the words, has to come with great courage… It’s sharp gouda grilled cheese. …………….. OK. OK… that’s not entirely honest. Wwwell, it’s sharp gouda grilled cheese with baby arugula, and something tangy, spicy hot and fabulously crunchy in between… What? Now you’re just prying…
Fine! FINE! It’s flaming hot crunchy cheetos! It’s FLAMING HOT CRUNCHY CHEETOS! And I fucking love this shit! Ya happy now? It’s gooey melted gouda grilled cheese, but with a crunchy and contrasting texture sandwiched right in between, releasing neon-red powers that are, possibly, the last surviving legal addiction. And didn’t you hear that there’s A-RU-GU-LA? Which is, a ve-ge-ta-ble. Which is, not just there to validate that I’m still a human being, but to elevate the entire flavour profile to please anyone, who obviously, isn’t insane.
What’s not to like? Don’t answer that…
IT REMINDS ME OF (HIGH SCHOOL CAFETERIA), MINUS THE SIDE OF CONSCIENCE THAT CAME WITH ADULTHOOD
So… I guess here we go. Day 1 of my new segment – The Shits I Eat When I’m By Myself. Listen… if you were gonna dump me after this, please do it gingerly, ok?
And really, there’s no point talking or paining an elaborate narrative for this “shit”. It’s pretty self-explanatorily wrong which, unfortunately by the same definition, also guarantees to be uber-tasty. Any form of instant ramen-noodle drenched in a bastard-sauce between something tomato-ragu-ish and cheez-whiz-ish… cannot taste bad. It reminds me of the very popular, tomato/cheese ravioli they sold at my high school cafeteria, minus the side of conscience that came with adulthood.
But what I should point out is – given that if you were gonna do the same – this is something one should only do when utterly alone. I will not be held accountable for what happens when other human beings walk in on you doing this…
THIS COULD VERY WELL BE, THE ONLY SENSIBLE THING THAT SHOWS UP HERE FOR THIS ENTIRE WEEK…
Jason is going away for this entire week. This isn’t the first time it happens, nor is it a rare occurrence. But what you’ll feel differently about this week, not including this particular post, is going to be somewhat of a breakthrough. Thing is, if you had any presumptions about me, as someone who likes to cook and carries out every meal big or small, with a sense of class and dignity, for the next 7 days, you’ll find your theory… horrifiedly misguided. Pretty scallion-oil chicken rolls on a pedestal? Gourmet popcorns to accompany DVD-binging? Pffff~ pleeease… you’re too cute.
The fault, is mine. For I haven’t exactly been honest about what goes on in here, when there’s absolutely nobody watching. Truth is, like comedians being freakishly quiet off stage, cooking for me, is a hobby that erodes with the absence of audiences. Truth is, what I “cook” for myself and myself only, is inexcusably, for lack of better words, horrendous. So here I am. I don’t know where I found such commitment, but I’ve sternly decided that we (as, you and me) have entered a phase in our relationship, where “truth” is required for the hope of a sustainable future together…
Which prompted this new segment I would call, as previously mentioned: The stuff Shit I Eat When I’m By Myself.
Do not be mistaken that these are products of desperations. You’d hurt my feelings. They are all – and it takes great courage to admit – “foods” that I sickeningly and hopelessly, love to eat. Regardless the fact that you may find them only socially excusable, if I was a college student who just spent the the last $20 on alcohol school supplies. Some of them may be accompanied with a “recipe”, as others may, thankfully, not. But whatever you will take away from this, I hope that they at the very least, entertains you.
So enjoy this one before “The Shit” hits the fan, the last proper dinner I made before the “audience” decided to leave me to rot in the land of culinary-ruin, creamy and nutty miso carbonara with tiny sausage meatballs. For this could very well be the only sensible thing that shows up here for this entire week.
18 INNOCENT YEARS OF UNSUSPECTEDLY CONSUMING THE SAME WEIRDNESS, CAN GROW INTO POWERFUL, LIFELONG BRAINWASHER
WE are all cursed with weird, nonsensical foods that we’re obsessed with eating, for absolutely no other explanations but the mere fact that… we ate them growing up. They were often times the legacy of our great mothers who one day, out of desperation, whipped it out of a dirty kitchen sink and thought she shall repeat, for however long until the day we broke free for college. Beware, that on top of the obliviousness that such “foods” were not nearly considered legit one step out the front-doors, 18 innocent years of unsuspectedly consuming the same weirdness, can grow into a powerful, lifelong brainwasher. Mommy-to-be should take note.
I have, about a mile-long-list of such things. A list that should worth a new segment called, The Stuff I Eat When I’m By Myself (stay tuned). And rest assured, it ain’t pretty. But Jason, on the other hand, has but one, one single childhood nonsensical food-fetish that has long menaced his reasonable adult-life. And that is, a congealed tub of dead-cold… stiffened cadaver of something, that once in its previous life, was perhaps a barely sweet, borderline-edible plain oatmeal. Yes, laid bare… it’s gotta be cold. It’s gotta be stiff. It’s gotta… make no fucking sense. Yuuum?… well to him it certainly is. He could eat a whole tub of that shit…
So by my manipulative caring nature, I thought, for the second instalment of the shortbread-marathon I’m preparing for Food52, that this presents a perfect opportunity to redirect his relationship with dead oatmeals, into a more… socially acceptable scenario. But first, speaking of shortbread cookie-doughs, I should point out how utterly amazed I was at how straightforward, fuss-free, versatile and most of all, failsafe they are – and for the same exact reasons, under-appreciated. No confusing science behind baking powder/soda, nor is there any factors left to chances, I mean there’s none but one rule, just one simple rule to ensure you that at the end of a short amount of time, something crumbly and exceedingly buttery shall parade triumphantly out of your oven. The rule being, a stern ratio between 2 parts solid fat (often butter) and 3 parts dry ingredients (could be a combination of various flours), by weight. READ MORE
THE PROBLEM WITH AN ANTIPASTO THAT TASTES THIS GOOD, IS…
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