MooMooFoodie

NY Times: Short Ribs at Home, With a Touch of Sweetness

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February 15, 2013

Short Ribs at Home, With a Touch of Sweetness

By DAVID TANIS

February may or may not be grilling season, depending upon your temperament and the climate where you live. I like to grill year-round, sometimes on an outdoor barbecue (even if there’s snow), sometimes in the fireplace. Also handy is a ridged stovetop grill, and of course there’s the broiler if need be. This means that kebabs, wings and even grilled vegetables are always an option, sunshine or not.

Korean restaurants often have tabletop grills designed to let diners cook their own meal. One day, when my dining room is properly ventilated, I may get one of those, too. In the meantime, my other grills work fine to make galbi, Korean short ribs — utterly simple and completely delicious.

Everyone I know loves short ribs, but most people consider them only suitable for long braising. It’s a tough cut of beef, after all. But most cuts of beef will be tender if they are thinly sliced and quickly seared over a hot fire. For Korean cooks, grilling short ribs is as natural as cooking hamburgers.

Galbi is a fine thing to eat in a restaurant, to be sure, but it also makes for a wonderful and easy home-cooked meal. First you need to get the beef, though. There are two ways to proceed. If you buy English-style short ribs, which are cut along the bone, you must butterfly the meat into a thin, long strip. This is easier than it sounds, and it is what most restaurants do.

Home cooks, however, usually buy their ribs flanken-style, in which a band saw is used to cut across the ribs, creating half-inch slices of beef dotted with three little bones. Most Asian groceries sell packages of short ribs cut just this way. Your butcher may also prepare them for you. Give the beef a cold-water bath to remove any bone fragments, and it is ready to season.

The traditional marinade is a flavorful mixture of soy sauce, garlic and sugar, often with the addition of sesame oil and ginger. Some cooks add honey or even cola, and many recommend adding a bit of puréed fruit, like pear, kiwi or pineapple, to help tenderize the meat (it’s the acidity and enzymes that do it). In Western cuisine, it’s rare to find savory dishes that emphasize sugar (barbecue sauce being the exception), but a balance of sweet and salty is common in Asian dishes, and with these short ribs, sugar is an essential ingredient. It’s a good idea to let the ribs marinate for at least two hours to allow the seasoning to penetrate; marinating overnight is even better.

To eat the galbi, it is customary to wrap a small piece of grilled beef in a lettuce leaf, along with a spoonful of steamed rice and a dab of ssamjang, the spicy Korean bean paste, adding hot chiles and raw garlic to taste. I see no reason not to follow this custom, but if you want to eat your short ribs with a knife and fork, or with your fingers, go right ahead.

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Korean-Style Short Ribs

TOTAL TIME

30 minutes, plus several hours’ marinating

INGREDIENTS

• 3 pounds short ribs, cut in 1/2-inch slices across the bones (flanken-style)
• 1/3 cup soy sauce
• 1/3 cup brown sugar
• 1/3 cup rice wine
• 1 tablespoon sesame oil
• 2 teaspoons black pepper
• 1/4 teaspoon cayenne or gochujang
• 1 medium onion, peeled and quartered
• 8 garlic cloves, peeled
• 1 small Asian pear, peeled, cored and quartered (or use an ordinary pear or tart apple)
• 1 1-inch chunk of ginger, peeled
• 2 teaspoons sesame seeds
• Lettuce leaves
• Sliced red or green hot pepper, optional
• Ssamjang (spicy Korean soybean paste), for dipping, optional
• Steamed rice, optional

PREPARATION

1.

Rinse short ribs in cold water, pat dry and place in a wide shallow bowl. In another bowl, mix together soy sauce, brown sugar, rice wine, sesame oil, black pepper and cayenne.

2.

Put onion, garlic, pear and ginger in the work bowl of a food processor. Grind ingredients to a smooth purée, then add to soy sauce mixture. Add sesame seeds. Thin with ¼ cup water. Pour marinade over short ribs and mix well. Cover and refrigerate for at least 2 hours, or overnight. Bring to room temperature, drain and discard marinade.

3.

Cook short ribs on a hot grill or under the broiler for 2 to 3 minutes per side, until nicely browned but juicy. Pile grilled meat on a platter and serve immediately with lettuce leaves on the side. Accompany with sliced hot peppers, ssamjang and steamed rice, if desired.

YIELD

About 20 slices, 4 to 6 servings

FT: Know your noodles

Source:  http://www.ft.com/cms/s/2/647af5dc-18bb-11e2-80af-00144feabdc0.html#ixzz29qoonBtW

October 19, 2012 7:12 pm

Know your noodles

By Tim Hayward

Ramen, Japanese noodle soup, is a fast food that should be made, say its connoisseurs, with all the finesse of haute cuisine

©Greg Funnell

The perfect serving

It’s too early on a Monday morning and I’m standing with steamed-up glasses in a Soho shop window, trying to drop a pinch of shredded spring onions into the right place on a bowl of ramen soup. My fingers feel like fat frankfurters: first I miss the pork, then the pile isn’t high enough. Finally chef Kensuke Yamada, with polite resignation, lifts out my attempt and replaces it with his own, perfectly balanced, mathematically aligned. He breathes a little sigh. These things really matter…

In the UK, there has already been a surge of interest in ramen noodles, which Kensuke tops with pork belly and egg, and garnishes so skilfully. When Alan Yau threw open the doors of Wagamama 20 years ago, we learnt, falteringly at first, the art of queueing, of eating at a communal table, and of slurping our soup. Now a chain of more than 100 restaurants worldwide, Wagamama is a business success but has arguably lost touch with the original ideas of ramen.

A new book, Slurp! A Social and Culinary History of Ramen by Dr Barak Kushner, who teaches modern Japanese history at Cambridge, both contextualises the soup and hints at some of the reasons behind its global spread. Kushner explains how noodles entered Japan from China and how they evolved in Japanese cuisine in a way that reflected the prevailing feelings of Japan towards its neighbour. It was only during the 19th century, with Japanese cuisine in something of a slump, that the first shops appeared selling “Chinese-style” noodles in broth, initially to workers, students and late-night drinkers – much like the original hamburger or even the doner kebab.

After the second world war, despite famine conditions, Japan was slow to receive a supply of American food aid. When it did arrive, it comprised large surpluses of wheat flour. Though the Japanese Ministry of Health encouraged people to eat bread, there was no indigenous tradition of breadmaking. The sole experience of wheat was the noodle, and so began a second surge of popularity.

©Greg Funnell

Cooking noodles

As Japan recovered and began to prosper, the people embraced the noodle with enthusiasm. Until around 1950 they were known as shina (Chinese) soba (buckwheat noodles), and retained a kind of transgressive, foreign glamour which appealed to the young – much as the American burger did to youngsters in austerity Britain – but they were also convenient and functional. Noodles fuelled students through nights of study; drunks reeling home from work could prop up a noodle stand and slurp; but, like convenience foods the world over, they also entered the home kitchen as time-savers.

In 1958, Ando Momofoku, a Taiwanese businessman, discovered a way of treating and packaging the noodles and dried soup flavourings so that they could be reconstituted in hot water. These “Chikin Ramen” (“ramen” might be a corruption of “lamian”, a Chinese term meaning “pulled noodles”) were the ancestors of today’s Pot Noodle.

©Greg Funnell

Basic soup

Today, ramen are everywhere. There are more than 34,000 ramen shops in Japan, serving over 25 per cent of meals taken out of the home. Many Japanese cities have noodle stadiums where competitions can take place.

In one small chain, Ichiran, diners are led to individual booths where they can pass a note to a server hidden behind a curtain, who will pass them their ideal bowl of ramen, which they can then contemplate and consume in reverent silence. Attempts have been made to mass-cater ramen, in restaurants such as Wagamama, but as refinement relies on daily careful preparation of soups, working at this scale tends to produce disappointing results. Good ramen is very good and – quietly turning our eyes from the Pot Noodle – is best made at an artisanal level by a caring and individual cook. It is part of the beauty of ramen that it will never be haute cuisine, but in the correct hands can be no less sublime.

©Greg Funnell

Topping with pork

In London, a new ramen bar, Bone Daddies, from ex-Zuma and Nobu head chef Ross Shonhan, is due to open in Wardour Street, Soho, in November. And at Tonkotsu in nearby Dean Street, Kensuke takes his ramen very seriously. Only two types are served, one with a spicy Tokyo-style soup, and the signature tonkotsu, after which the place is named. Originating in Kyushu, tonkotsu soup is made by boiling pork bones and fat long and hard. The bones yield flavour while the collagen and gelatin allow the fat to emulsify with the flavour-filled liquid in the turbulence of boiling. It has taken them months to perfect the technique, struggling to source the right kind of pork bones and testing batch after batch.

Noodle shops in Japan tend to be small, independent operations that guard their recipes carefully, so experimentation and refinement are the only routes to a good stock. Today the stock base is exactly as it should be – milky in texture, with a light pork taste but without any hint of “pigginess” in the smell.

The noodles themselves are still handmade elsewhere and shipped in to the restaurant, but they’ve got a noodle machine the size of a small car being imported from Japan at the moment and are in negotiations with British mills to develop exactly the right sort of flour. (Kensuke considers this level of control vital.)

©Greg Funnell

Tim Hayward with Kensuke Yamada

The fresh noodles Kensuke is using are boiled a single serving at a time, using a timer, and constantly agitated in a small basket. Using his free hand he ladles into the large “donburi” bowl a precisely measured shot of “base”. The stock itself is not seasoned – it would be impossible to control flavours while reducing it – so the correct quantity of base is judged in a daily tasting and a suite of measuring ladles are used to portion it out.

Assembly is swift. The base shot is topped with two ladles of stock. The noodles, now à point and shaken dry, are rolled into the hot liquid and topped with two slices of cold pork belly, three strands of menma, sesame seeds, a handful of chopped spring onions, some bean shoots and half a soft-boiled egg. Finally Kensuke reaches for a squeeze-bottle containing a black reduction of long-cooked garlic and swirls an artistic trail across the top.

The effect is simultaneously simple and poetic. This is clearly the very speediest of fast food but the simplicity of the presentation and the purity of the ingredients feels much more like something that Michelin gives stars for. Sure, it can be banged out at blistering speed to queues of hungry diners for very little cash, but the care with which the ingredients are set up means that the balance in the bowl is never less than gorgeous.

Tim Hayward is contributing writer, FT Weekend; tim.hayward@ft.com;Twitter@TimHayward

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©Greg Funnell

Kensuke Yamada

A ramen guide

Ramen differ from other wheat noodles, being made with an alkaline water called kansui which gives them their hagotaeor “tooth feel”. This firm texture is something like the Italian al dente but with a kind of rubbery resistance. Most ramen noodles contain egg, which adds to their yellow colour but those used for tonkotsu are made without and are white.

• The name “ramen” may come from the Chinese “lamian” meaning “pulled noodles” although, confusingly, ramen noodles are almost always machine-cut rather than hand-pulled.

• The boiled noodles are served in a soup, usually made with a stock of differing proportions of chicken and pork. The stock is finished with a carefully judged “base” of concentrated seasoning ingredients which may include the fundamental ingredients of the traditional dashi stock, konbu seaweed and katsuboshi (dried bonito flakes) plus soy, miso or salt.

Varying combinations give us the four main types of ramen:

• Shio is predominantly chicken-based and seasoned with salt (shio)

• Shoyu can have chicken, vegetable beef or fish in the base stock but is flavoured with soy sauce (shoyu)

• Miso, originating in Hokkaido, blends chicken or fish stock with fermented soy paste (miso)

• Tonkotsu is mainly derived from pork bones (tonkotsu) with perhaps a little chicken stock added.

• Toppings vary according to region or noodle shop but can include slices of meat or chicken, charsui pork, chopped onions, beansprouts, soft-boiled egg, menma (dried, fermented bamboo shoot), nori seaweed, spinach, pak choi or other greens.

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Tonkotsu

63 Dean St, London W1; 020 7437 0071; www.tonkotsu.co.uk

Book details

‘Slurp! A Social and Culinary History of Ramen’ by Barak Kushner (Global Oriental, £54.67)

Copyright The Financial Times Limited 2012.

NY Times: Sharing Lessons From a Farm in Japan

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October 12, 2012

Sharing Lessons From a Farm in Japan

By DAVID TANIS

THOUGH she had intended to spend only one year abroad, Nancy Singleton Hachisu has lived in a small village in rural Japan for more than 20.

As she says, “I came for the food, but stayed for love.” A native Californian, she met Tadaaki, an organic farmer, married him and has been there ever since, raising a family, absorbing the culture and cooking up a storm. Her personal stories make her just-released cookbook, “Japanese Farm Food,” come alive.

I first met Nancy when I cooked at Chez Panisse in Berkeley, Calif. Whenever she was in town for a visit, she always came by for a meal or two. She quickly turned from diner to friend, and finally ended up helping out in the kitchen. Her visits always included piles of gifts, a habit picked up in Japan. Sometimes it was a smuggled package of delicate bean curd, sometimes a handmade teacup, but she never arrived empty-handed.

That kind of generosity extends to her cookbook, in which she shares two decades’ worth of cooking knowledge in a disarmingly intimate way.

Nancy is fearless (she says “stubborn” is a better word for it). She simply jumps in and learns. Used to the weather in temperate Northern California, where seasons change only subtly, and it never snows, she needed to change her mind-set when relocating to the Japanese countryside.

Instead of year-round produce, there were harsh winters to contend with, and the concept of real seasonal farm cooking gained meaning. As she discovered, vegetables there during the warmer months are abundant, yet eating farm-to-table often means having the same vegetables for weeks on end, waiting for the next plantings’ offerings to appear.

She writes of tackling daily tasks: pickle-making, rice-planting and the hard labor of harvesting, and joining in seasonal rituals. There’s a lovely description of the communal celebratory pounding of mochi (glutinous rice) for the Japanese New Year to make traditional sweet rice cakes. (Of course, being stubborn as well as foreign, Nancy also insists on her own tradition of Champagne and French gougères for Christmas.)

The book offers a breadth of information, with lessons about Japanese products and techniques, and instructions for everything from homemade tofu to udon noodles. But for me, the recipes for simple vegetable dishes, often flavored with only a bit of miso or a splash of sake, are the most fascinating.

When I made the steamed kabocha squash, I found it astonishingly delicious, straight from the pan or cold the next day. Likewise, the easy salt-massaged cucumbers with roasted sesame proved the point that mindful cooking with minimal ingredients can produce marvelous results.

The Japan Times: Curry - it's more 'Japanese' than you think

Source:

 

Friday, Aug. 26, 2011

FOOD

 

Curry — it's more 'Japanese' than you think

 

By MAKIKO ITOH

Special to The Japan Times

To many people in Japan, summertime is synonymous with hot and spicy food. Spices are believed to cool you down by making you perspire, as well as stimulating an appetite dulled by the sweltering weather. The quintessential spicy dish in Japan is curry, which is so popular that it's regarded, along with ramen, as one of the top two national dishes — ahead of sushi and miso soup.

 

Curry in a hurry: Several brands of instant roux make curry a quick and easy meal for millions around Japan. Meanwhile, eateries from the poshest restaurants to curry chain CoCo Ichibanya take pride in their own special recipes. MAKIKO ITOH PHOTO

 

The spice mix known as curry powder and curried dishes were most likely introduced to Japan via the Anglo-Indian officers of the royal Navy and other stalwarts of the British Empire. They were among the first Westerners the Japanese came into contact with, after Commodore Matthew Perry landed his Black Ships at Kurihama in 1853, opening the country to the world after hundreds of years of isolation. Since this new dish came from the West, as far as these Japanese travelers were concerned, it was classified as yōshoku(Western food).

Nowadays, yōshoku is a distinct type of cooking that encompasses Western-style dishes that have been reinvented to suit Japanese tastes and ingredients. Japanese curry is no exception: Bearing only a passing resemblance to curried dishes from other regions such as India, it has been changed and adapted so much that it now stands on its own as something uniquely Japanese.

In fact, it's a home comfort that many can't bear to be without. Before every Seattle Mariners home game, baseball great Ichiro Suzuki eats the same curry, made by his wife, for lunch (actually breakfast for him, since he "works" into the night). When this was reported on NHK TV in 2009, it caused a short-lived fad for breakfast curry around Japan.

The earliest recipes for raisu karī (literally "rice curry") appeared in Japanese cookbooks in 1872. One of these is very similar to curry recipes that appeared in British cookbooks of the time, such as "Mrs. Beeton's Book of Household Management." It's a simple meat and vegetable broth thickened with a spoonful of flour rather than roux, and contains chopped apple — as does a Mrs. Beeton recipe for curried veal. It does include yuzu juice as an ingredient, presumably in place of lemon, so adaptations were already being made.

Roux (which is a sauce-thickener in French cuisine) seems to have been adopted by Japanese curry chefs quite early on, possibly because it thickens a sauce more smoothly and reliably without making lumps.

 

Filling snack: Kare pan — doughnuts filled with curry paste — can be found in bakeries all over Japan.

 

Rice curry (initially pronounced as karī, and changed to karēsometime around the turn of the 20th century for unknown reasons) appeared on restaurant menus in Tokyo as early as 1877. At first, it was considered to be quite exotic and expensive, like all Western food. Not only was preparing a proper curry sauce a time-consuming affair requiring the skills of a professional chef, but imported curry powder from Britain — considered to be far superior to the domestic kind — was a luxury only affordable by the rich.

This all changed after the great curry powder scandal of 1931, when unscrupulous dealers were caught selling cheap domestic curry powder as expensive Crosse & Blackwell powder from England. This escalated to an international diplomatic incident, leading to several arrests, but it ironically gave a big boost to domestic curry-powder manufacturers such as S&B Foods, since people discovered that they couldn't really taste the difference.

More and more inexpensive eateries started listing curry dishes on their menus, coming up with inventive items such as karē udon (udon noodles in curry-flavored soup), karē nanban (soba noodles in curry-flavored soup) and karē pan (dough stuffed with curry paste, breaded and deep-fried).

The biggest factor in spreading the popularity of curry nationwide was the introduction of "instant" curry mixes. The forerunners of present-day household names such as House Foods and S&B started to distribute powdered curry mixes on a large scale in the late 1920s. The solid-block type of curry mix that is most popular today was first introduced in 1954; containing roux thickener and various flavor enhancers such as vegetable or meat concentrate, they've been a staple of Japanese home kitchens ever since.

These days, the curry-mix marketplace in Japan is fiercely competitive. Besides the aforementioned big names, several noteworthy yōshoku restaurants produce their own "gourmet" brands.

In 1963, House Foods introduced a curry mix called Vermont Curry. Containing apple concentrate and honey, it was much milder and sweeter than other mixes, and helped to change the perception that curry was too spicy for children. karē raisu (curry rice) has been a perennial kids' favorite ever since, and has been the most popular dish on the national school lunch menu for at least three decades.

 

 

It's also a versatile dish, resulting in all sorts of variations. Emperor Akihito reportedly enjoys regional curries during his visits around the country; and when famed TV comedian Tamori revealed his own special curry recipe, it became popular in its own right.

Curry is also a staple of the armed forces in Japan. It's a tradition to serve karē raisu for dinner every Friday on Japan Maritime Self-Defense Force ships, a carryover from the Imperial Navy days. Each JMSDF ship prides itself on having its own unique curry recipe, some of which are featured on the JMSDF's official website.

Ready-to-eat curry sold in "retort" (pressure-cooked and vacuum-sealed) bags that can be heated in hot water were introduced in 1969, becoming an instant hit. They've been a staple of a hungry student's diet along with cup ramen noodles ever since. Curry packs were even introduced to the NASA space program's menu by Japanese astronaut Mamoru Mohri in 1997. Since they need no refrigeration, they're popular as emergency food rations too. Both Ezaki Glico and House have recently introduced ready-to-eat curries that don't need to be heated up to be tasty, as a response to the increased demand for such items after the March 11 earthquake.

Indian, Thai and other south Asian restaurants have proliferated in recent years, exposing Japan to many other types of curry dishes. Japanese curry still holds a special place in our hearts though. It's what we grew up with.

Makiko Itoh is the author of "The Just Bento Cookbook" (Kodansha International). She writes about bento lunches at www.justbento.comand about Japanese cooking and more at www.justhungry.com.

 

Recipe for beef curry with rice  This recipe goes back to the roots of Japanese curry; it's almost a rich beef stew. Beef symbolized the opening of the country to outside influences in Meiji Era Japan. Leftover curry freezes well, but take out the potatoes or they will turn into mush. Japanese curry mixes are labeled with their level of spice. Amakuchi is quite sweet, chūkara is medium and karakuchi is hot. I usually use a chūkara mix and add some red chili powder at the end if I think it needs more heat. Serves 12 Stewing beef such as chuck (neck/shoulder) cut into 1 cm pieces — 500 g Vegetable oil — 2 tbsp Butter — 2 tbsp Large onions — 5, thinly sliced Ginger — 1 large piece, finely chopped Garlic — 3 cloves, finely chopped Medium carrots — 3, sliced 5 cm thick Medium potatoes — 4, peeled and cut into 1.5 cm pieces Water — 1.5 liters plus ½ cup Dried bay leaves — 2 Commercial curry mix — 240g (1 large packet or 2 small packets) Red chili powder (optional) Plain steamed rice Heat 1 tbsp of oil in a heavy-bottomed pan over high heat and add the beef. Saute until well browned. Take the meat out and set aside. Add the rest of the oil and the butter to the pan; add the onion, garlic and ginger. Saute over medium-low heat until the onion has lightly browned. Turn the heat up to high and add the carrots, potatoes and beef. Saute briefly, then add 1.5 liters of water and the bay leaves. When the pot starts to boil, lower the heat to a gentle simmer. 20 minutes in, remove the potatoes with a slotted spoon or spatula (this prevents the potatoes from disintegrating). Continue simmering the sauce until the meat is falling-apart tender, an hour or more. Remove the pot from the heat. Add ½ cup of water to cool down the sauce, then add the curry mix, broken into small chunks. Stir until the mix has melted completely. Add the cooked potatoes back and reheat the sauce over a medium-low heat — do not let it boil. Add a little red chili powder to taste if needed. Put some hot steamed rice on one half of a shallow bowl; pour the curry on the other half. Serve with fukujinzuke (a chopped vegetable pickle, pictured),rakkyo (pickled shallots), grated cheese or a raw or boiled egg.

 

Cook and Share A Pot of Curry From MooMooFoodie's Kitchen! :)

Tom Yam Curry Chicken from MooMooFoodie's Kitchen! :)

Participate in this meaningful event and spread the importance of intercultural understanding between countries and also between the different races and nationalities within one country!

For background info:

http://www.facebook.com/#!/event.php?eid=254441147918239

This is a Facebook Page created by a group of Singaporeans after a report came about that a mainland Chinese family (from China) told a local Indian Family not to eat curry and not to cook curry. The appointed mediator - a certain Madam Giam facilitated the case in such a way that : the Indian family could cook curry only when the mainland Chinese family is not at home. (mediation agreement).

So far, more than 60,000 around the world (mostly Singaporeans!) are joining in. Cook a pot of curry or buy a take-out from a restaurant (if you can't cook or too busy to do so).

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Excerpt from Facebook Page:

http://www.todayonline.com/Singapore/EDC110808-0000102/Number-of-neighbour-disputes-hit-high (this is the link)

and this is the clarification to the case:
http://app2.mlaw.gov.sg/Highlights/tabid/168/Default.aspx?ItemId=568

and 16th Aug 2011 (The Law Minister's clarification)
http://news.asiaone.com/News/AsiaOne%2BNews/Singapore/Story/A1Story20110816-294757/2.html

How we feel
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How could a appointed mediator facilitate the case in such a way that restricts the lifestyle and cooking norms of the Indian family? Or any other local family who practices a cultural lifestyle that we have all made our own? In this case, Curry has always been part of our culture since the 1800s. It can be anything else that you or I hold dear.

There is a native Malay proverb "Di mana bumi dipijak, di situ langit dijunjung" ("You should hold up the sky of the land where you live") - ie one should respect the country in which you choose to live in. ( ie blend/ assimilate/ understand/ tolerate / integrate into the community of your chosen choice)

What we wish for
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When the new immigrants arrive here, we wish for them to respect / embrace the cultural / lifestyle and linguistic norms of this nation. We wish for all new immigrants and citizens to understand and appreciate the various and diverse cultural aspects of the various ethnic-minority groups we have here.

This is Singapore and we are part of Malayan culture. Our hinterland previously was Malaysia and the Indonesian archipelago. Our ancestors came, met and mingled and through an adventurous and open mindset, created something unique and beautiful... (thus our local culture as such- curries/ spices/ a vast melting pot of people and mixed heritages)

* A message to all new citizens: We sincerely hope you integrate into our local culture and make attempts to assimilate and embrace/ appreciate the various multi-ethnic cultures we had built up so painstakingly over the decades. Because at the same time, we are definitely open to taking the best that you have to offer, and to create new and beautiful Singaporean things.

*We Singaporeans are basically nice and tolerant people. We will accept you as new citizens and hope you blend in and integrate with us well.


Upset with CMC
-----------------------
We are mainly upset with the "Community Mediation Centre's" mediation action of actually facilitating such a mediation agreement. It is the inalienable right of the Indian family to cook curry at any time they wish to within the four walls of their home. (having said that, let us all- natives, new citizens or otherwise, embrace the multi-cultural aspects of our nation)

Every Singaporean should just cook a pot of curry and eat it (regardless of race / language / religion). We are Singaporeans and we LOVE our curries - be it chicken curry / fish curry / lamb curry / beef curry / beef rendang / lontong / mee siam/ laksa / Petai sambal belachan / ayam buah keluak etc

Thank You Very Much for supporting "Cook A Pot of Curry" Event!

- from the Admin Group

NY Times: Backyard Bulgogi

 

 

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June 1, 2011

Backyard Bulgogi

By MARK BITTMAN

In looking to create a menu for an early-season barbecue that would appeal to everyone — meat lovers, vegetarians, culinary thrill-seekers and whoever else might show up — I realized that such a menu already exists. It’s just that it isn’t what we think of as “American food.”

Still, it is American to not fuss about the origin of recipes, especially when the menu spotlights both intensely flavored grilled marinated meat and a bunch of quirky, flavorful and mostly meatless side dishes.

In this case, the source is Korean. And with a little planning and advance work, you can make beef bulgogi and banchan (the name for the little tidbits either served first or as accompaniments) at home. And you’ll make them as well as or better than you’ve eaten them on 32nd Street in Manhattan or wherever your local joint might be. In other words, you’ll kick off the grilling season with an appealing, exotic, even exciting menu that will make most others seem dull.

The exoticism and excitement derive from both the ingredients and the techniques. Many of the ingredients you’ll need can be found at any halfway decent grocery store, but there is one important exception: gochujang, or Korean chili-bean paste. This combines the salty, complex tang of miso with a mild fire, and it’s an absolute must as a condiment for the beef. (If you’ve eaten Korean barbecue, you’ve been offered it.)

Gochugaro, Korean chili powder, which contributes heat to the kimchi and scallion-salad recipes, is also difficult to find in most supermarkets, but a substitute of red-pepper flakes or not-terribly fiery ground chili powder will give you a similar effect. Depending on where you live, you may well be able to find mung bean sprouts (which star in a simple salad), daikon radish (pickled along with cabbage in kimchi) and hijiki (which is soaked and then stir-fried in what is quite possibly the best seaweed preparation I’ve ever had) in your local supermarket.

The instantly recognizable profile of Korean food, however, comes not from obscure ingredients but from the relatively mainstream ones: sesame (both seeds and oil), garlic, soy sauce, garlic, rice vinegar, garlic, sugar and scallions. And garlic. I’ve more than once called Korean food “Japanese food with guts,” not as a slight against Japanese food (wonderful in its own right) but as an endorsement of Korean cuisine’s vigorous, muscular, completely unsubtle flavor profile. Korean food’s aggressive seasoning is really just right for grilling, where attempts at nuance are usually in vain.

Some elements of this barbecue are familiar but tweaked. (Some of that familiarity comes from the American presence in Korea, now going on 60 years.) Korean potato salad, for instance, is similar to American potato salad in that its dressing is mayonnaise-based, but the Korean version sometimes uses julienned rather than chunked potatoes and also contains carrots, peas, scallions and chives. It’s far from conventional and far from bland.

I will not (and cannot) claim that every element of this menu is legitimately Korean. In fact one recipe, the plum-and-herb cocktail, is plain made up: a sangrialike concoction of white wine, gin, rosemary-infused simple syrup and fresh plums. I see it as a tribute to the sweet plum wine so often served in Korean restaurants. (If you want to be authentic, drink soju — it will get you drunk in a hurry — or beer.) But if my cocktail isn’t authentic, it is good and, like the rest of the menu, very potent.

Beef Bulgogi
Time: 45 to 150 minutes

1 bunch scallions, roughly chopped

8 or more garlic cloves, peeled and roughly chopped

1 tablespoon sugar or honey

1/2 teaspoon black pepper

1/2 cup soy sauce

1 tablespoon sesame oil

2 pounds sirloin, rib-eye or skirt steak, thinly sliced, or 3 to 4 pounds beef short ribs, boned and thinly sliced

Boston or loose-leaf lettuce leaves for serving

Gochujang (Korean chili-bean paste) for serving.

1. Combine the scallions, garlic, sugar, pepper, soy sauce and oil in blender and purée, adding water as needed to form a smooth mixture. Toss the meat with the soy mixture and marinate for 15 minutes to 2 hours. Heat a grill with the rack 4 to 6 inches from the flame; the fire should be as hot as possible.

2. Remove the meat from the marinade, and grill until browned outside but still rare inside, no more than a couple of minutes per side; do not overcook. Serve the meat wrapped in lettuce leaves, with gochujang for dipping.

Serves 4 to 6.

Sesame Spinach and Tofu
Cook 1 tablespoon minced garlic in 2 tablespoons sesame oil over medium-high heat for 1 minute; add 1 pound chopped spinach and cook, stirring occasionally, until it begins to wilt. Crumble in 1/2 pound extra-firm tofu and stir until warmed through. Stir in 1 tablespoon soy sauce, a pinch of sugar and 1 tablespoon sesame seeds. Serve hot or warm.

Korean Potato Salad
Cook 1 pound julienned or shredded potatoes and 1/2 pound julienned or shredded carrots in salted boiling water until barely tender, about 5 minutes; add 1/2 cup fresh or frozen peas for the last minute of cooking. Drain and rinse with cold water. Whisk together 1/2 cup mayonnaise and 3 tablespoons rice vinegar; toss with the vegetables, 1/2 cup chopped chives and 1/4 cup chopped scallions. Garnish with more chopped scallions and chives, season with salt and pepper to taste and serve.

Grilled-Scallion Salad
Brush 1 pound untrimmed scallions with 1 tablespoon sesame oil; grill over moderately high heat, turning once, until charred and tender, 5 to 10 minutes. Roughly chop and toss with 1 / 3 cup rice vinegar, 1 to 2 tablespoons gochugaro (Korean chili powder) or less if using red-pepper flakes, 1 tablespoon sesame seeds and 2 teaspoons sugar. Serve immediately.

Kimchi
Layer 1 small green or white cabbage (separated into leaves) and 1 small-to-medium daikon radish (cut into 1-inch cubes) with 1/2 cup coarse salt in a large bowl. Let sit until the cabbage is wilted, about 2 hours, massaging and weighting it if needed to help soften. Rinse and dry well. Roughly chop and toss with 15 to 20 chopped scallions, 1/4 cup fish (or soy) sauce, 1/4 cup minced garlic, 2 to 4 tablespoons sugar, 2 tablespoons minced ginger and 1 to 2 tablespoons gochugaro (Korean chili powder) or less if using red-pepper flakes. Serve immediately or refrigerate for up to a week.

Fried Hijiki
Soak 1 ounce dried hijiki in 2 cups hot water. When it’s tender, about 5 minutes later, drain, squeeze dry, remove any hard bits and chop. Cook 1 tablespoon minced garlic and 1/4 cup chopped scallions in 1 tablespoon neutral oil (like grapeseed or corn) and 1 tablespoon sesame oil over medium-high heat for 1 minute; add the hijiki and cook until browned and beginning to shrivel, 5 to 7 minutes. Stir in 1 tablespoon each soy sauce and sesame seeds and a pinch of sugar. Serve hot or warm.

Plum-and-Herb Wine Cocktail
Cook 1 / 3 cup sugar, 1 / 3 cup water and 1 sprig fresh rosemary or thyme over medium-low heat until the sugar dissolves; cool and remove the herb. Combine 1 bottle not-too-dry white wine (like Riesling), 1/4 cup gin, the juice of 1 lemon, 2 to 4 chopped plums and 1/4 cup of the rosemary syrup. Chill for at least 2 hours, taste and add more syrup if you like and serve.

ST: Some like it real hot

I found it!! Been searching high and low for this sauce since 2007... and stupidly did not buy it when I was in US in 2009.

Although this is a truly asian chili sauce, it is from US :P

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Lifestyle

Home > Lifestyle > Taste > Story

May 29, 2011

Posh Nosh

Some like it real hot

By Tan Hsueh Yun

 

There was a time when I took Sriracha chilli sauce for granted.

Every time I went to a pho shop, a bottle of it would be sitting on the table. Before the Vietnamese beef noodles arrived, I would squirt some of it into a dish with hoisin sauce and mush it up with chopsticks, a little ritual I love.

The tear-inducing, tongue-burning, vinegary and fruity hot sauce is perfect as a dip for slices of beef, especially when tempered with the sweet beany flavour of the hoisin.

Outside of the United States, however, this sauce is hard to find. You can find versions of it at the Thai supermarket in Golden Mile Complex but the one to get is made by Huy Fong Foods in Rosemead, California.

The sauce is named after the city of Si Racha in Thailand, and inspired by the spicy dipping sauce served in seafood restaurants there.

In the last couple of years, the sauce has gone viral, with chefs in the US adding it to everything from sushi rolls to cornbread.

It has even inspired a book - The Sriracha Cookbook by Randy Clemens.

But where oh where to find this sauce in Singapore?

After looking high and low, I found it in a most unexpected place: Cut The Mustard, a gourmet shop in Greendale Avenue. It was like winning the lottery, seeing the familiar bottle with the rooster on the front and the bright green cap.

The shop owners brought in a small shipment and it was wiped out within days. I hope there are some bottles left from the second, much larger, one.

Huy Fong Foods Sriracha Hot Chili Sauce, $8.50 for a 435ml bottle from Cut The Mustard, 1 Greendale Avenue, tel: 6466-9436, open: 10.30am to 7pm (Tuesdays to Saturdays), noon to 6pm (Sundays and public holidays). Closed on Mondays

FT: Global menu - Kicking up a stink

Global menu: Kicking up a stink

By Fuchsia Dunlop

Published: May 20 2011 17:49 | Last updated: May 20 2011 17:49

Cheese-tasting in Shaoxing; stinking beancurd on sale in the market; a beancurd vendor

It was lunchtime, in a private room at the Xianheng Tavern, the most famous restaurant in the ancient Chinese city of Shaoxing.

I opened the plastic boxes that I’d carried, sealed, all the way from London, and the stench of farmhouse cheeses began to waft across the room. The Chinese chefs and waiting staff seated around the table eyed them warily. Only two of the younger chefs had any cheese-related experience. None of the others, including the manager and executive chef of the Xianheng, Mao Tianyao, had tasted it in any form.

Cheese is not a favourite food in China, to put it mildly. Traditionally, dairy products were associated with the nomadic people who lived on the fringes of China and who were regarded as fearful barbarians. The Han Chinese, with a few notable exceptions, avoided eating dairy foods altogether: many were, and still are, lactose-intolerant. In recent years, influenced by western lifestyles, Chinese parents have begun to feed milk to their children, and their purchasing power has contributed to soaring worldwide milk prices. Cheese, however, is still generally regarded as beyond the pale. A few sophisticated Shanghainese might eat Stilton just as sophisticated Londoners eat tripe and chitterlings, but many people, especially in the provinces, have never tasted it.

But if the Chinese disdain the cheeses enjoyed by Europeans, they themselves adore some stinky foods that would appal many foreigners. Shaoxing, an hour’s drive from the Zhejiang provincial capital Hangzhou, is best known for its rice wines, but it is also the Chinese headquarters of “stinking and fermented” (chou mei) delicacies. Although I first went to Shaoxing to taste the wine, over several visits I became fascinated by its odorous foods, including the relatively well-known stinking beancurd, and also “fermented thousand layers” (made from beancurd skin), and various semi-rotted vegetables. All were shocking at first taste, with their earthy, old underwear aromas, but strangely addictive. “Fermented thousand layers” reminded me of the part of a high old Stilton that is closest to the rind, that yellow, sandy bit that gets right up your nose, dirty and delicious.

Over several visits to Shaoxing, I wondered what the locals, such ardent lovers of rotted soymilk and vegetable stalks, would make of rotted cow’s milk, otherwise known as cheese. Finally, I returned to Shaoxing with a boxful of artisanal cheeses from Neal’s Yard Dairy in London, including the smelliest I could find in the shop. I had selected one mild hard cheese, Isle of Mull, to serve as a kind of toe-in-the-water; Stichelton, which is an unpasteurised version of Stilton; pale, veined Harbourne Blue; Ardrahan, a fairly whiffy washed-rind cheese that I adore; Milleens, another washed-rind variety with a punchy, farmyardy aroma that acquires a hint of ammonia as it ripens; and a wildly smelly Brie de Meaux. By the time I reached Shaoxing after a week on the road, the cheeses had all ripened nicely, and some were beginning to ooze.

At the Xianheng, a waitress cut the cheeses into pieces, and the assembled tasters began to pick them up with their chopsticks, sniffing and tasting. And where I had been impressed by what cheese and stinky soya products had in common, these culinary professionals were immediately struck by their differences. “Although in some ways you could say the flavours of cheese and fermented beancurd are similar,” said Mao, “vegetable stinky foods are very clean and clear in the mouth (qing kou), and they disperse quickly, while milky foods are greasy in the mouth (ni kou), they coat your tongue and palate, and they have a long, lingering aftertaste.”

Two other chefs said the cheeses had a heavy shan wei (muttony odour), an ancient term used by southern Chinese to describe the slightly unsavoury tastes associated with the northern nomads. Another said that the selection “smells like Russians”. “The difference,” he added, “is that the stinky things Chinese people eat give them smelly breath, while stinky dairy things affect the sweat that comes out of your skin.”

Chinese fermented beancurd, an intense-tasting relish, had always reminded me of a ripe blue cheese, but the Shaoxing tasters, faced with a Stichelton, disagreed. “It does have a rich umami taste,” said chef Chen Judi, “but there’s also a bitter aftertaste that people in this region wouldn’t like at all.” Several of the tasters were repelled by the sourness and astringent aftertaste of the Isle of Mull, which I’d thought was the most innocuous. “Our rotted thousand layers just doesn’t have that sour taste,” said Mao.

The cheeses they found most palatable were the Harbourne Blue (“this is quite close to Shaoxing tastes,” said Mao, “neither bitter nor sour, and quite clean in the mouth”) and, surprisingly, the very strong Milleens, with its ammoniac whiff. “I think people here would be able to tolerate this,” he added. The only cheese that provoked real consternation was the Brie. “It has this animal stench that assaults your nose,” said Dai Jianjun. “Definitely the stinkiest,” said Mao, “I really can’t bear it.” Most of the others agreed. Only one chef, Sun Guoliang, actually liked it. “It has such a complex flavour, like stinking beancurd, rotted thousand sheets and fermented beancurd, all mixed together.”

After our first course of cheeses, we tasted some stinky local dishes for comparative purposes. And I had to agree with the assembled company that, despite the formidable aromas of the steamed stinking beancurd and the rotted amaranth stalks, their flavours were clean, dispersing quickly in the mouth, without the creamy clinginess of cheese. The cubes of fermented beancurd, too, had a magnificent creaminess, but it didn’t hang around: quickly vanishing to leave room for appreciation of the delicate soups and stews that came afterwards.

Much as I love cheese myself, by the end of the meal I was beginning to understand why a Shaoxing local might turn up her nose at Brie, while enjoying the stinking beancurd that perfumes entire neighbourhoods. I was, however, fascinated by how well the mellow tastes of Shaoxing’s amber-coloured wines matched the local stinking delicacies, a marriage as perfect as port and Stilton. The next tasting, perhaps, should be a gathering of European oenophiles around a table of Shaoxing wines and cheese.

‘Shark’s Fin & Sichuan Pepper: A Sweet-Sour Memoir of Eating in China’ by Fuchsia Dunlop, is published in paperback by Ebury Press on June 2

Copyright The Financial Times Limited 2011.

WSJ: Four Perfect Picnics

 

FOOD & DRINK
MAY 14, 2011

Four Perfect Picnics

Globally inspired basket lunches curated by top chefs for your outdoor dining pleasure

Pernille Pedersen for The Wall Street Journal, Food Styling by Karen Evans, Prop Styling by Angharad Bailey

Korean-style picnic

Korean

A Korean-style feast centered around chungmu kimbap (seaweed-wrapped rice rolls served with sauteed squid), with recipes from chef Dennis Lee of Namu, San Francisco.

The recipes: Seaweed-wrapped rice rolls: Season 1¾ cup cooked sushi rice with 2 tablespoons sesame oil and a light sprinkling of salt. Mix it gently with a wooden spoon.

Vote: Pick Your Picnic

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Lay 3 half sheets of nori across lengthwise and coat with a rectangle of rice about ¼ inch high that reaches all four edges of nori layer. Roll it up. Dip your knife in water and slice the roll into long logs, 3-4 pieces per roll.

Sauteed Squid: Place 2 tablespoons butter and 1 tablespoon sesame oil in a pan on high heat.

As soon as the butter begins to foam, add 2 tablespoons gochujang (Korean chili paste), 1 teaspoon sugar, ½ finely chopped onion, 2 chopped scallions, ½ teaspoon grated ginger, ½ teaspoon grated garlic and 8 ounces squid (tube and tentacles) cut into ¼ inch rings. Cook about 4-5 minutes.

Serve with: Pickled daikon, cabbage salad, oranges and daifukumochi (Japanese sweet rice cakes).

To drink: Hitachino Nest Red Rice Ale.

The kit: Scrapwood Basket $225, ABC Carpet & Home, 212-473-3000.

Spanish

A Spanish-influenced picnic starring a parsnip tortilla española recipe from Ba Culbert, chef of Tilikum Place Cafe, Seattle.

Photos by Pernille Pedersen for The Wall Street Journal, Food Styling by Karen Evans, Prop Styling by Angharad Bailey

Spanish-style picnic

The recipe: Combine 5 medium grated parsnips, 1 small diced yellow onion, 3 cloves minced garlic, 2 tablespoons chopped parsley, ¾ tablespoon salt, 1 teaspoon ground black pepper and 4 beaten eggs.

Melt 1 tablespoon butter and 3 tablespoons olive oil in a sizzling hot 8-inch saute pan. Add parsnip and egg mixture. Lower heat and cook for 5 minutes. Place pan in 350-degree oven for 7 minutes (or until egg sets).

Remove pan from oven, flip tortilla to a plate.

Return saute pan to stovetop and add a little more olive oil or butter. Add parsnip cake, light side down. Put pan in the oven for another 5 minutes or so. Let cool.

Serve with: Fava bean salad, cherry tomatoes, Romesco sauce (a Spanish nut and tomato sauce, available at markys.com), sour cream and roasted Marcona almonds.

To drink: Rosemary lemonade.

The kit: Viridian Insulated Picnic Basket, $100, picnicbaskets.com; Alpace Spiral Red Throw, $400, Blue plates, $450,Linen kitchen cloth, $18, all from ABC Carpet & Home, 212-473-3000.

Moroccan

Moroccan-style picnic featuring spice-grilled chicken breasts from Sue Zemanick of Gautreau's in New Orleans.

Pernille Pedersen for The Wall Street Journal, Food Styling by Karen Evans, Prop Styling by Angharad Bailey

Moroccan-style picnic

The recipe: Mix ½ cup plain yogurt, ½ cup chopped cilantro, ¼ cup olive oil, 1 tablespoon ras el hanout (an Arabic spice blend, available at zamourispices.com), ½ teaspoon cumin,½ teaspoon paprika, 1 teaspoon salt and ½ teaspoon cracked black pepper in a medium size bowl.

Coat 2 chicken breasts (skin on, bone in and split to yield four halves) in marinade and let sit in the refrigerator for 4 hours.

Place on the grill over indirect medium heat for 10 minutes on each side, or until cooked through and juices run clear.

Serve with: Couscous with sliced almonds, raisins and currants; cucumber salad; fresh berries.

To drink: Leth Gruner Veltliner Steinagrund 2010.

The kit: Market Basket,$40, brookfarmgeneralstore.com; Vintage quilt,$575, Astier de Villatte Nathalie dinner plates,$115, Small blue bowl, $25, all from ABC Carpet & Home, 212-473-3000.

French

Enjoy a French-style picnic avec Creton (traditional French-Canadian pork spread) from James Tranchemontagne of The Frog and Turtle in Westbrook, Me.

Pernille Pedersen for The Wall Street Journal, Food Styling by Karen Evans, Prop Styling by Angharad Bailey

French-style picnic

The recipe: Melt ½ cup lard or duck fat in a heavy-bottomed 4-quart pot at medium heat. When fat is melted, add 1 large diced onion and 3 cloves of finely diced garlic and sauté until translucent.

Add 2 pounds ground pork and sauté until well cooked, then add ½ tablespoon cinnamon, 2 teaspoons nutmeg, 2 whole cloves, 1 teaspoon salt and 1 teaspoon pepper. Mix well. Cover with water and simmer 2½ hours, leaving lid on the pot for the first hour.

When the mixture is ready, there should be no water above the meat and it will be bound together like a pie filling. Season with salt and pepper. Add ½ cup corn starch mixed with ¼ cup water, stir and let cool overnight.

Serve with: A baguette, Dijon mustard, dried figs and apricots and a good blue cheese.

To drink: Sangria.

The kit: Market basket, $85, aerostudios.com; Scents and Feel fouta throw blanket, $275, ABC Carpet & Home, 212-473-3000.

—Produced by Charlotte Druckman

ST: Sweet on sour (Recipe for Pig Trotters in Black Vinegar)

This dish is something that I will never eat. However, according to my mom, it is good to take this during confinement (i.e. after giving birth). For those out there searching for recipe - happy reading and happy cooking.

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Lifestyle

Home > Lifestyle > Taste > Story

Apr 24, 2011

Sweet on sour

Maisy Koh's confinement dish of pig trotters calls for black sugar and black vinegar

By Rebecca Lynne Tan, Singapore Cooks

 

Chocolate is the one thing Ms Maisy Koh cannot live without.

The housewife confesses shyly that the dark, addictive confection is always in the refrigerator of her Bukit Timah condominium.

'Oh, I love chocolate,' says the 38-year-old mother of two, Sophie, two, and Sonya, nine months. Her husband, Dr Beh Swan Gin, is a civil servant.

Yet, whenever she dines out, she hardly picks chocolate desserts, such as lava cakes which ooze warm chocolate from its centre, simply because she can make it at home.

In fact, the former brand management professional who used to work for a luxury resort chain can bake almost anything - from muffins and breads for her kids to kueh salat (a Nonya cake of glutinous rice topped with a pandan-flavoured coconut jam) to fluffy pandan chiffon cakes and carrot cakes.

And it is for those reasons that she always has a good stash of unsalted butter in her fridge, too.

She says it is important to have certain ingredients such as butter and coconut milk in the pantry, just in case you need them at the last minute.

'We had some black glutinous rice the other day, and it needs a dash of coconut milk to go with it, too,' she adds.

But the home cook more than just bakes in her well-stocked kitchen.

She also smokes her own salmon with herbs such as kaffir lime leaves and thyme, as well as cooks Asian dishes like pig trotters in black vinegar. She shares the recipe below.

She admits she was never keen on the 'sourish fatty pork' dish, but enjoyed the one her confinement nanny Yat Yee prepared for her after she had Sonya.

'It is not my favourite dish, but I learnt to cook it because my mother loves it, and so does my mother-in-law,' she says.

The dish is traditionally prepared for mothers after the birth of their babies during the month-long confinement period, and it is also consumed by friends and family who visit the mother during this time.

Ms Koh likes Yat Yee's recipe because of the balance in flavours - the dish is sour yet sweet.

The recipe calls for black sugar, a very dark brown sugar that can be found at wet markets and supermarkets. Use refined white sugar or rock sugar instead, and you will not achieve the right taste, she explains.

She also recommends the Chan Kong Thye brand of black rice vinegar. 'Any other brand might do but I cannot guarantee the dish will turn out good,' she adds with a chuckle.

She took an interest in cooking when she was in primary school and would help her late paternal grandmother with menial kitchen tasks such as pounding condiments with a mortar and pestle.

As a child, she would also stand by her grandmother's side, watching intently as she wrapped bak chang, a glutinous rice dumpling filled with pork, wrapped in bamboo leaves.

She has since learnt to make the dumplings and also cooks dishes such as char siew, spare ribs and tang yuan (glutinous rice balls).

In fact, it seems no recipe fazes her and she is even keen to make gnocchi from scratch with older daughter, Sophie, some time soon.

She says with a laugh: 'I think Sophie will like it, and the recipe for gnocchi doesn't look like rocket science.'

rltan@sph.com.sg

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MAKE IT YOURSELF: PIG TROTTERS IN BLACK VINEGAR

INGREDIENTS

10 eggs

1 pig trotter, cut into large chunks

800g pork collar, cut into large chunks (about 10cm by 5cm each)

30ml sesame oil

300g old ginger, unpeeled and sliced

375ml black rice vinegar (1 bottle, Chan Kong Thye brand)

375ml water

1 Tbs light soya sauce

5 Tbs black sugar

1/2 tsp ground white pepper

METHOD

1. Put eggs into a pot of water and bring to a slow boil. Allow to boil for six minutes, drain and set aside. When cool enough to handle, peel the eggs and set them aside.

2. Bring another large pot of water to the boil. Blanch pig trotter and pork collar in the water.

3. Remove any impurities that might have risen to the surface of the pot. Take the meat out of the water. Clean it thoroughly and remove hairs from the skin. Set aside.

4. Pour sesame oil in a large pot over medium heat and fry ginger slices for about two minutes, until fragrant.

5. Pour the entire bottle of black vinegar into the pot. Then fill the empty vinegar bottle with water and pour the water into the pot as well.

6. Add soya sauce, sugar, pepper and hard-boiled eggs. Cover and allow to simmer gently for 30 minutes, stirring occasionally to keep the colour of the eggs even. Remove eggs and set aside.

7. Add pig trotter to the pot and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat and simmer gently for 30 minutes.

6. Add pork collar and bring to a boil again. Keep the pot on a rigorous simmer over medium heat, with the lid left ajar. Simmer for 1 to 11/2 hours, or until the meat is very tender.

7. Just before serving, scoop out any impurities that may have come to the surface such as the ginger skin. Place the eggs back into the pot.

8. When ready to serve, bring to a boil again. Serve hot.

Serves 6.

This recipe is featured in Heritage Feasts. The cookbook costs $75 and is available at major bookstores, the Miele boutique, 167 Penang Road, Winsland House II, B1-01, tel: 6738-6286, and online at www.webshop.miele.sg. All proceeds from book sales will go to Kidz Horizon.