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 shriveling 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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Belgian Almond Cookies	Ginger Caket	Gingersnaps	Lemon Curd Marbled Cheesecake

French Toast (For 2 persons) 4 slices stale sandwich bread, thick-cut (I use Gardenia brand's Junior White) regular-cut sandwich bread would turn soggy and not make good French toast 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) Depending on the type of bread used, the amount of egg mixture and soaking time required may vary. Please adjust as necessary. For dense bread, a few slits in the middle and a regular rather than thick-cut would help speed things along. The bread should be thoroughly saturated with the eggy liquid without turning soggy. If necessary, cut the bread in the middle and check. 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. 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 bread.) Sprinkle bread with sugar, right up to the edges. 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. 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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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

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

Salted Chicken Wings – Delicious Simplicity

Making Salted Chicken Wings is almost as easy as boiling water. It needs only three ingredients: salt, oil and chicken mid-joint wings (the middle part of the wing). Some say it’s like salted fish. Others say it’s like bacon. Everyone says it’s amazingly good with just three ingredients. But really, who wouldn’t love piping hot, succulent chicken on the bone, wrapped in salty, crispy skin? It’s delicious with steamed rice or washed down with lots of beer.
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M: How many dishes can you cook with just three ingredients?
KT: I don't know . . . a few.
M: Can you do 20?
KT: Hm . . . . 20's a lot; maybe 10.
M: I'll give you a present if you can do 20!
KT: You're on! (HA!)

I think the challenge is just M's ploy to stop me from buying too many things for the kitchen. He reckons I'm the only home cook with seven types of flour – that can't be true, can it? – not to mention the umpteen number of spices, sauces and whatnots. Anyway, the rule is that I have to use only three ingredients or less, not including water, oil, soya sauce, salt, pepper and sugar. Gosh, I will really have to crack my brains to come up with good recipes using so few ingredients!

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Kou Shui Ji (口水鸡)	Drunken Chicken & Eggs	Steamed Pork Ribs with Fermented Black Beans	Crispy Pork Ribs with Dried Tangerine Peel

Pork Blood Plasma, Anyone?

I was wandering around the supermart the other day and picked up a can of Tulip Skinless Sausages to see what sort of ingredients it had. You know, just for a laugh.

There were the usual preservatives and ‘mechanically recovered pork’, a euphemism for abattoir floor sweepings. And then, I did a double take on ingredient number three. Pork blood plasma? What on earth is ‘plasma’ other than that flat thing hanging on my wall, which I paid $2,888 for and is now going for $688? Google . . . google . . . . Aaaah! Blood plasma is everything that's in the blood except for red blood cells. Ewww! Double ewww! It’s used as a binder to hold the ingredients together. Triple ewww! Who eats this thing? I wouldn’t feed it to my worst . . . . Hey, hang on! I haven’t seen my mother-in-law for a long time. I think it's about time I invite her over for some skinless sausages! I’m sure she would love some pork blood plasma. Mind you, it will cost me a small fortune. It's $6.20 for 250g of sausages. That works out to $24.80 for each kilogram of extremely doubious meat, fat, starch fillers, blood without red blood cells and chemical preservatives. The best cut of fresh pork, in comparison, is less than $20. Ah well, never mind. It's a treat for the old lady.