Small sausage in big sausage from Taiwanfoodculture.net

Lately, I've been going to a lot of Taiwanese restaurants but it's still not really clear to me what Taiwanese food exactly is. So I was really grateful that my husband sent me this article by Clarissa Wei: Pork-chop Gate: Why Pork Chop Over Rice Isn't Classically Chinese + Death of Authenticity. I'm not really sure if the article answers all my questions because there seems to be a lot of controversy over what she says but it's an interesting start. Clarissa is Taiwanese and her criteria seems to be "would my grandma know what it is?" Classic or not, pork chop over rice is awfully nummy. I also love the pickles you get at Taiwanese restaurants. Check out the article if you'd like to know more.

Pea Pod Shells

 

Just saw the most interesting use for pea pod shells on a Japanese cooking show. Put the washed and depodded shells in a pot of water. Add konbu (a type of seaweed often used in Japan to make stock). Bring to boil. Cool the broth and use to cook rice with! You can add peas if you'd like.

Rose-petal sandwiches

Photo from Wikipedia; author Frank Vincentz

I was doing some research on roses and their uses when I stumbled across the most interesting recipe for rose-petal sandwiches at botanical.com. Usually, rose petals are the decorative part of a cake or other pastry and I've never seen them used to flavor a sandwich before. The recipe is quite simple. Just put rose petals in the bottom of a container (I'd advice organic). Then add butter that's been wrapped in wax paper. Put the container in a cool place overnight and you should have butter with the fragrance of roses. Spread the butter on sandwich bread and voila! I haven't tried the recipe but it's intriguing. Sounds perfect for an afternoon tea.

Okonomiyaki

Ah...just looking at this picture makes me want to whip up another batch of okonomiyaki. What is okonomiyaki? It's a big, fat savory pancake filled with vegetables and meat. In Japan, you can go to restaurants that specialize in okonomiyaki. Each table will have a large flat grill and the pancake is made right in front of you. Lots of fun. But you can also make okonomiyaki at home. It's pretty easy—in fact, learning to say okonomiyaki is the hardest part of the dish.

Recipes will vary greatly because you can add pretty much any ingredient to the basic flour batter. But I have found that one ingredient is pretty important: nagaimo (a.k.a mountain yam).  The yam won't add any flavor at all, but it will make the pancake light and almost cake-like.  I have to warn you that nagaimo takes a little getting used to. The raw vegetable is pretty darn slimy and trying to peel it (which you must) can be a bit tricky. The Japanese really enjoy slimy vegetables (okra is another favorite) and believe their mucilaginous properties are very good for your stomach. I don't mind slimy. And all the slime will have disappeared by the time you've cooked the pancake. Another odd property of nagaimo is that when you grate it, the yam instantly turns into a snot-like gel! Just bear with it and continue to grate in a very gentle manner (I find a Microplane is great for this). Interestingly, if you just slice it into large chunks and braise it in a stew, the nagaimo has the same texture as a potato.

As a guide, click here for a very dependable recipe from Harumi Kurihara, a popular cookery writer in Japan (she's known as the Martha Stewart of Japan). Warning! The recipe calls for "taro". This is a translation mistake. What they really mean is nagaimo. You will not get the same effect using taro!

Going out to eat okonomiyaki is such a popular thing to do in Japan, many TV shows feature it in a scene or two. My favorite depiction of okonomiyaki feasting is in Kekkon Dekinai Otoko (The Man Who Wouldn't Marry). In the following clip, Abe Hiroshi demonstrates the perfect way to cook okonomiyaki.



KekkonDekinai06.2 2/4

Vivian | Myspace Video

Yotam Ottolenghi's Butternut Squash and Tahini Spread

Sometimes you read a recipe and you know instantly that it's going to be good. Like Yotam Ottolenghi's recipe for butternut squash and tahini spread. The title of the recipe says it all—the heart of the recipe is just squash, tahini and yogurt. I tried out the recipe today and the dish was fantastic, probably because I was able to get an incredibly sweet and aromatic butternut squash. That's the trick to recipes like this: very good, fresh products. Hope you try it.

For the full recipe, go to The Guardian's webpage.

Soy Sauce

I grew up using Kikkoman soy sauce and never really thought very seriously about soy sauce at all. Kikkoman seemed like a good all-purpose sauce and I used it whenever a recipe called for soy sauce regardless of what cuisine it was. But lately, I've been thinking a lot about soy sauce. Initially, I was mostly concerned with finding a sauce that didn't have sodium benzoate, a nasty preservative that's in practically everything, including liquid vitamins. But now, I'm concerned about taste. I had no idea how different soy sauces can be, from Kikkoman to Yama to Marukin.

Marukin is the one I've been using most. According to the label, it has no preservatives at all and must be kept in the fridge. It's much more salty and intense than Kikkoman so a little goes a long way.

The second soy sauce I now have is a brand called 수복표 국간장. Yup, the name of the brand is only in Korean. Strange for a soy sauce made in Los Angeles. In English, the brand name is Soo Bok. Like Marukin, there are no preservatives (again, I have to trust the label). But unlike Marukin, there's no wheat. That's really the difference between Japanese and Korean soy sauces, Japanese being a combo of soy beans and wheat, Korean being pure soy beans. 수복표 국간장 is absolutely lovely. The sauce is light and clear with a delicate, though very salty, taste. Really recommend it for all Korean food.

Of course, if you're cooking Chinese food, you really should use a Chinese soy sauce, but I haven't found a really good brand yet. Pearl River Bridge is the brand most available in the U.S., but I've never been terribly impressed by Pearl. Any recommendations out there?

What I Did For Pho

My short story "What I Did For Pho" is going to be included in an upcoming anthology. For the accompanying bio, the editor suggested I include a personal recipe for pho. Pho is the iconic noodle soup dish of Vietnam. It's true that I make pho at home, but my recipe is far from authentic and I hesitated. But what is really authentic? I've had so many phos at so many different restaurants (although sadly, never in Vietnam) and they've all tasted different. Why not include my own version?


Simple Homemade Pho

1 large beef shank (preferably from a grass-fed cow who's been treated in a humane way)

1 large stick of lemongrass

1/2 onion or three shallots

clove of garlic

a good chunk of ginger or galangal

1 lime

salt

fish sauce

Thai basil (optional)

cilantro (optional)

mint (optional)

bean sprouts (optional)

hoisin (optional)

chili sauce (optional)

Vietnamese or Thai rice noodles (often labeled as "rice stick")

Put the beef shank in a large bowl of cold water.  Let it soak for about one to two hours.  This gets some of the impurities out.

Transfer the shank into a large pot and fill with fresh cold water.  The water should completely cover the shank by at least an inch.  Bring the water to a boil.  As soon as the water boils, turn it down to a good simmer.  In about five minutes scum should start floating to the top.  Remove as much as you can with a skimmer or a spoon.  To the cooking liquid add lemongrass (if using), garlic, onion (or shallots), and ginger.  Turn the heat down to a slow, gentle simmer and cook the broth for some four hours.  Keep checking every half hour or so to make sure there's still a nice level of water in the pot.  If you need to, add more water.

After four hours, the meat should be falling off the bone.  Which is what you want.  Take the shank out of the broth and let it cool until you can touch it without burning yourself.  At this point, remove everything else, like the lemongrass, and discard.  When the beef has cooled, remove the bone and slice the beef into thin pieces. 

Meanwhile, season the broth with salt.  How much salt you'll need will depend on how much broth you have.  Start with a small amount.  Taste.  Add more if needed.  You don't want it to be too salty because you'll be adding fish sauce next, about a teaspoon.  Keep tasting and adjusting the salt and fish sauce until the broth is the way you like it.

Now for the noodles.  Rice noodles can come fully dried or partially dried.  The fully dried ones need to be soaked in water for about half an hour and then put into boiling water for about five minutes.  Cooking times for noodles vary greatly.  What I do is check the noodles every few minutes to see if they're done, usually by dipping a noodle in cold water and eating it.  The partially dried noodles need no soaking time.  A gentle dip in boiling water should do the trick.  But again, you must test the noodles as frequently as possible or you will get a mush.

To assemble, put the noodles in a warmed bowl.  Garnish with beef and any combination of bean sprouts, cilantro, Thai basil, mint, etc.  Slice the lime and squeeze lime juice into the bowl.  Add piping hot broth.  Flavor with hoisin sauce or chili sauce or both.  That's the beauty of pho—you decide how it should taste.