No-knead Bread – Spread the Word

I'm a Johnny-come-lately to kneadless bread, that wonderful recipe invented by Jim Lahey in Manhattan, but certainly not the last. I feel I should help spread the word on the no-knead method since there are still lots of people kneading bread and sweating it out. They might be kneading because they need to. Maybe they don't have time for the long rise that the no-knead method requires. Or they find kneading a great way to work out their stress and frustration – which it is, of course. But if they're kneading because they haven't heard about kneadless bread, then please send them this post. Or maybe you've never tried baking bread because you think it's too difficult? Thinking of getting a breadmaker? Banish the thought. The no-knead recipe is so easy even a four-year-old can do it. Jim Lahey says so.

When I first read about kneadless bread, I was a bit skeptical. I was sure it worked since so many people had tried it before but I wasn't sure how good the bread would be. After all, you reap what you sow, right? So, compromising on the kneading part should mean a compromise on the quality. Well, I was wrong. Even though I used plain flour, not bread flour, the loaf turned out chewy and elastic with lots of little holes, and the crust was thick and full of flavor. These are the hallmarks of a slow-rise bread made without chemical improvers. It actually ate like the traditional French loaf I had in Paris. And it should, because the ingredients are the same: flour, yeast, salt and water. Of course, it looked nothing like a French loaf or baguette because the no-knead dough was too wet to be shaped into one. But it was good enough for me since no one sold crusty and chewy traditional French loaves in Singapore anyway. It didn't look like a duck but it walked and talked like a duck. A score of two out of three wasn't bad.

A homemade loaf is best enjoyed with some homemade apricot jam. Don't miss the next post.

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Gingerbread Men	Carrot Cake	Almond Biscotti	Banana Peanut Butter Crumble

Perfect French Toast – Crispy, Creamy, Caramelized

There used to be a Hilton Hotel in Hong Kong, where Cheung Kong Centre now stands. It was a pretty nondescript hotel in Central and most people probably never thought of it once it was gone. Neither would I except that was where I had the best French Toast ever. It was really special because it was crispy. I've had good French Toast elsewhere but the crispy part was always missing. After the hotel was torn down, I had no idea where their chefs went, so that was the end of crispy Hilton Hotel French Toast. And the beginning of homemade French Toast.

When I first made French Toast, it was bland, it shrank after it was fried, and it just wasn't crispy. Over the years, I've tweaked the recipe many times. I started with just eggs, sugar, milk, vanilla extract and bread. Now, cream cheese is a key ingredient. It keeps the texture creamy and custardy, and stops the bread from shrivelling after it's cooked – provided the bread isn't oversoaked. It also adds depth to the flavor, which is enhanced with a splash of dark rum. Most importantly, it's crispy with a sprinkling of sugar caramelized under the grill. And it's not oily because it's not fried. I now have the perfect French Toast for a weekend breakfast or even dessert. Yay!

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Chocolate Chip Cookies	Staverton Ewe Marmalade and Jams	Gingersnaps	Chocolate Truffles

French Toast (For 2 persons) 4 slices stale white bread, cut a bit thicker than normal, such as Gardenia brand's Junior White 2 eggs 40 ml milk 20 g cream cheese 1 tbsp fine sugar 1 tbsp dark rum 1/2 tsp vanilla extract 1 tbsp butter at room temperature 1 tbsp fine sugar (for sprinkling) The amount of egg mixture is for 'regular white bread', i.e. the type most commonly sold/purchased. This type of bread must be cut thicker than normal, or it would turn soggy and not make good French toast. Denser bread would need more time and more liquid. A few slits in dense bread and a thinner cut would help speed things along, and make the soaking more even. The idea is to saturate the bread evenly with the eggy liquid without making it soggy. If possible, make egg mixture the night before so that flavors have time to mingle and develop. Stale bread is essential; fresh bread turns soggy and shrinks after it's grilled. Let some butter come to room temperature before starting to cook. When you're ready to make toast, preheat grill to 230°C, and line grill tray with parchment paper. Put cream cheese and sugar in a bowl and beat till smooth. Add dark rum, vanilla extract and milk in stages, beating till smooth after each addition. Add eggs one at a time and – you guessed it – beat till smooth. Remove bread crust. Do it by hand if you have time; jagged edges turn really crispy. Cut each slice into four pieces. Soak bread thoroughly in egg mixture, turning over half-way so that both sides are evenly saturated. (If using dense bread, cut a few slits in the bread, then peek in the middle to make sure it's saturated all the way through.) Do not let bread get soggy. Place bread on grill tray. Dot each piece with butter – just a bit, not too much. (You could put butter on a knife, then push small blobs onto bread with a tapered chopstick. Or, if you're making a lot of toast, make a small piping cone with parchment paper, then use it to pipe the butter. Third option: Keep butter chilled and hard, then shave with a vegetable peeler directly onto the bread.) Sprinkle bread with sugar, making sure edges are well covered. Grill with the door closed till bread is golden brown or even slightly burnt, then repeat butter-sugar-grill procedure for the other side. Enjoy French Toast piping hot with its best buddy, maple syrup. Or drizzle with melted butter and honey and serve it as dessert for a change. How about a light coat of icing sugar, some fresh fruits and cream or ice cream? I'm sure that'll win you lots of 'Ooh!' and 'Aah!'

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Salted Caramel – In Chinese Teacups

Salted Caramel Cups actually started as Malt-Candy-on-Two-Sticks. I wanted to make the malt candy I had when I was a kid, usually sold where there was a Chinese opera performance. Or rather I think it was malt candy – 麥芽糖 – but it was so long ago the memory's a bit hazy. The soft, sweet candy twisted on two wooden skewers had bits of peanuts and dried cuttlefish which was grilled, then minced or julienned. It was sweet, salty, aromatic, umami and a little bit fishy – a complex mix of flavors that was unique. The consistency changed as I licked the candy, gradually melting to a soft goo which I 'bit' with my lips, so that the candy didn't stick to my teeth. In between chomping toothlessly, I twisted the candy from one stick to another, sometimes pulling it apart to see how far it could stretch, before catching the broken strands in my mouth. What more could a kid ask for? Lollipops simply paled in comparison.

Hiding the little kid in me one Saturday morning, I trotted to a provision shop at the neighbourhood market and asked for 麥芽糖 (malt sugar). '隔壁有!' 'Next door!' the shop keeper said. I went next door and the lady there said, '隔壁有!' pointing to the first shop. Oh dear! I crossed my fingers and hoped I was third time lucky. And yes! I found malt sugar at the third shop. Armed with a tub of the gooey stuff, roasted peanuts and grilled cuttlefish, I set about making Candy-on-Two-Sticks with great anticipation. When I took a bite, however, my heart sank. It didn't taste right. The malt sugar was barely sweet. And when I thought about it, the color didn't look right either. It was too pale. Maybe I had to cook and caramelize the sugar . . . ? Nope, that didn't work. Googled . . . nothing. Sigh! Project Nostalgia would have to wait. I had to come up with some candy the next day. It was party time again for my nieces and nephews! Cue Salted Caramel, a mix of burnt sugar, cream and crunchy undissolved sea salt, to enter the picture. It was too soft for a stick, so I put it in tiny little Chinese teacups. These were really small ones that held about 11/2 tablespoons. Some roasted peanuts were sprinkled on top – who could say no to such a classic addition? The dried cuttlefish, however, was a bit controversial. Most liked it; a few preferred the shortbread fingers I also provided. On the fun scale, it was right up there with Candy-on-Two-Sticks. We had an impromptu contest to see who could lick his cup cleanest!

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Christmasy Rubies and Emeralds	Golden Apricot Jam	Lemon Lovers' Lemon Curd	Nyonya Kueh Baulu with English Custard

Chwee Kueh (水粿) – A Timeless Favorite

Over the years, many dishes which used to be simple peasant fare have been glamourized. You can, if you want to, add prawns and squids to Fried Carrot Cake. Roti Prata is no longer just with or without eggs but come in chocolate, cheese and banana flavours, to name just a few. Tired of Prawn Noodles? You can have King Prawn Noodles. How about Cold Crabs with Teochew Porridge or abalone and Cognac with noodles? Better check the prices and your wallet before you order! Chwee Kueh, however, is still the same old Chwee Kueh. Just two main ingredients: steamed rice flour and fried chai poh (salted turnips/radish, 菜脯). No embellishment whatsoever. In fact, it seems to have descended further into peasantry over time. It used to be served on ceramic plates, then melamine plates, plastic plates and now, it's just a piece of waxed paper! If you're eating outdoors, hold on to the paper or it might fly in your face! Chopsticks were never provided but there were, sometimes, plastic forks. Now, plastic forks have completely disappeared and wooden skewers are de rigueur.

At four for a dollar, Chwee Kueh prices fortunately reflect the minimalist serving style and humble ingredients. However, if you aren't in Singapore, Malaysia or the Teochew region in China – the hometown of Chwee Kueh, yeah! – I don't think you can find Chwee Kueh for love or money. So, what do you do when you are craving for Chwee Kueh and you can't buy it anywhere without getting on a plane? Well, you could wait for Singapore Day and hope that Chwee Kueh is on the menu. At the Singapore Day in New York, 1,200 Chwee Kueh were served in 1 hour 20 minutes. That's one every four seconds! It was the most popular dish, far more popular than Hokkien Mee, Laksa or Fried Carrot Cake! But when is the annual event coming to your part of the world, if ever? It's a long, long wait.

The far better option is to make your own Chwee Kueh with my good friend's recipe which – according to the fellow connoisseur of Teochew cuisine – beats the best available commercial Chwee Kueh hands down. After trying it, I must say I have to agree with her. Her Chwee Kueh has the consistency that even Goldilocks would approve: not too soft and not too hard. The smooth texture and subtle flavour of the steamed rice flour is a perfect backdrop for the salty and sweet fragrance of crunchy chai poh. It's one of life's simplest and greatest pleasures. In fact, it's so good I make it whenever I feel like having Chwee Kueh even though I can get four for a dollar any time.



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Fried Anchovies and Peanuts – A Sugar Antidote

Most people eat Fried Anchovies and Peanuts with rice. In Nasi Lemak, for instance, it's one of the standard side dishes. Not me, though. I find it a bit dry with rice. I would eat it with Teochew Porridge but mostly, I eat it as it is as a savory snack. You know how too much chocolate – especially the cheaper variety – leaves a sweet aftertaste in your mouth and you long for something salty? That's a little craving I have not infrequently, especially in the afternoon after my Kit Kat break. Being a well organized person who doesn't like to panic when confronted with such a culinary emergency, I like to keep a ready supply of the antidote in the fridge. The key component of the antidote for sugar is, of course, salt, of which dried anchovies have plenty. So, I make a good size amount of fried anchovies, more rather than less because I want to make the most out of the oil I'm going to throw away. And since fried anchovies and fried peanuts are a classic combination and I don't have the heart to separate them, a few peanuts are tossed in for good measure. The additional calorie count hardly causes a crinkle in my diet since there isn't one. It flies out the window every time I set my eyes on chocolate. The dosage for the sugar antidote is two tablespoons immediately after sugar consumption. Unfortunately, the antidote is addictive and more often than not, I eat a whole plateful! You know how too much salt leaves you craving for something sweet? Back to Kit Kat . . . . Oh dear, I think I need help.


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Carrot Cake	Apricot Jam	Salted Caramel	Sticky Toffee Prune Pudding

Roasted Eggplant – With Nam Pla Prik

I was at my desk when I heard a soft thud from the kitchen. I thought Mac, my cat, had pushed something to the floor again. But I didn't get up from my seat immediately because it went plop instead of CLANG! When I finally went to check what it was, I found an eggplant that looked like it had done a hara-kiri, bent double with its insides on the outside! The poor eggplant had exploded in the oven 'cause I had forgotten to prick it.

Oh well, never mind. The explosion had ripped the eggplant's skin apart and made it easier to remove. I went about gathering the ingredients for the Thai sauce, Nam Pla Prik . . . and realized I didn't have any chillies. Oh well, never mind. I knocked on my neighbor's door and asked if I could have four chillies from his chilli plant. '沒問題!' 'No problem!' said the retired school teacher, who's a big fan of my homemade cookies. He gave me four plump, red chillis, freshly picked. There's nothing like a good neighbour for culinary emergencies, eh? Good thing he was so generous since I really felt like having something sour and really spicy. The explosion didn't affect the eggplant's taste, by the way. It performed admirably the mission it was destined for – be eaten.

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Black Pepper Chicken Chops	Spareribs with Dried Tangerine Peel	Fried Spring Rolls (Popiah)	Braised Beancurd with Veggies

Princess Mel – A Tough Negotiator

The deal was sealed at two cans of tuna in exchange for half the chair for 45 minutes. 'Half' means half of my butt is sitting on half the chair. The princess is sitting on the other half, still languidly licking her paws. I don't have much time, and there's a whole lot of email to go through. This has to be a short post 'cause I don't have any more tuna.
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Savoring Sweet and Savory Beancurd

Sweet and Savory Beancurd is a very homely dish that's dead easy to make but tastes quite unusual. Mum used to make this and I thought she made it up when she added too much soya sauce to the beancurd, then tried to save it by adding some sugar. That's what it tasted like, but in a nice sort of way because the Chinese celery pulled the flavors together. Then the other day, I saw an old lady on a TV program cook this exact same dish! So Mum didn't invent Sweet and Savory Beancurd out of the thin air after all. I suddenly craved for this dish which I hadn't had for yonks. Mum made it when I was a little kid, then she stopped. I think it was because drizzling fried beancurd with dark soya sauce was easier but tasted just as good. There was always dark soya sauce in the kitchen, but not Chinese celery. For someone cooking everyday for a family of 10, the easier the better!

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Stir-Fried Eggplant with Chicken	Wonton Soup	Crocodile Stir-Fry	Bombay Duck Soup

Teochew Pork Porridge – Father's Masterpiece

20 years after my father passed away, my sister-in-law still talks fondly about his Teochew (潮州) Pork Porridge (肉糜). That's how good it was. There was a period when he made Pork Porridge every night for supper and my sister-in-law, who lived across the road, would wander over for a bowl, sometimes two. I don't have many food memories of Father because he didn't cook much but this is one that I recall fondly.

The quick way for making Pork Porridge is to add stock to cooked rice, toss in some pork slices and seasoning, and garnish. Father never did it that way, though. In fact, adding stock or soup to steamed rice had some kind of stigma in my family because it was always associated with someone sulking. For instance, if I were late for dinner and there was very little food left, I would slurp down some soup and rice, then go to my room and sulk. Or, if I had a fight with Mum and I wanted to protest by not eating but couldn't because I was starving, I would slurp down some soup and rice, then go to my room and sulk. So, adding stock to cooked rice as a shortcut was unthinkable and a definite no-no in my family. It was something that we looked on with disdain.

Father made Pork Porridge by boiling uncooked rice with dried shrimps. Done this way, the umaminess of the dried shrimps and subtle fragrance of the rice have time to mingle and come together. Some Chinese dried mushrooms, soaked and thinly sliced, could also be added but he rarely bothered. What he did bother with was to leave the TV program he was watching and stir the furiously boiling rice and dried shrimps once every five minutes or so. One day, I will test what difference the stirring makes but for the time being, let's take it that stirring was essential, shall we?

After boiling the porridge for about 15 minutes, Father chucked some pork that had been marinating into the pot, brought everything back to a boil, turned off the heat, tossed in some dried cuttlefish and the water it had been soaking in, garnish generously with scallions and fried shallots, add a dash of white pepper and - voilà! - it was done. My sister-in-law turned up like magic every night for this steaming hot pork porridge that was stirred, not shaken.

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Kiwifruit Trifle	Chocolate Truffles	Lemon Curd	French Toast