15-Minute Dry Chicken Curry

The best curries I ever had were in Kashmir, when I stayed with a friend I had just met on a bus from Delhi to Srinagar. He had three beautiful sisters – Kashmir is well known for having the most beautiful women in India – who made curries. You might think nothing could be more normal than a few Indian ladies making curries but their version was rather unusual. None of the curries they cooked had any meat or vegetables save for, occasionally, some slices of raw onion. It was really more like a sauce/gravy. And yet, every curry (there were a few different types) was absolutely delicious. It was like magic!

Curries and rice were all that I ate during the stay. Plus Lipton tea, a luxury, for the foreigner who wasn't used to the local tea made with salt. I enjoyed every mouthful and still have fond memories of the meals. And the people, of course, the kind and warm people who invited a stranger to their home. And also how three beautiful young women did all the housework and waited on their parents and two brothers (!) hand and foot. It's a damn good life, I tell ya, for the men in Kashmir. They don't have to lift a finger from the moment they're born. The women, on the other hand, have to slog it out till their daughters – or daughters-in-law, presumably – take over.
When I asked the three sisters what was in their curries, all they could tell me was 'masala'. Sadly, I never thought of learning how to make the curries from them (I was busy riding pillion on the brother's motorbike, helmetless, checking out the sights in Srinagar and visiting his relatives). So now I have to resort to meat and vegetables to make my curry taste good. I make it as my mother taught me, either watery with lots of coconut milk, or dry without any. It's nowhere near as good as Kashmiri curries, and I'm nowhere near as beautiful as Kashmiri women. But the good thing is, I never had to wait on my mother or father. In fact, it was more like the other way round. As for me waiting on my brothers, dream on! When pigs fly! When every ocean runs dry!

Check these out:

Hakka Yong Tau Foo	Braised Pork with Red Fermented Beancurd (炸肉)	Roast Chicken with Mixed Herbs	Steamed Pork with Salted Mackerel	Noodles with Red Yeast Rice Wine Dregs (红糟面线)

Salted Fish Relish – Om Nom Nom Nom

The freshly cooked chicken was carefully arranged, piece by piece. And the bits of tomato were artistically draped on the meat, ju…ust so. Steam was curling round the plate so there was no time to lose. I grabbed my camera and . . . beep beep beep! Huh? Aaaaargh! The batteries were flat!

I looked at the succulent chicken thighs stir fried with fresh tomatoes, garlic, fish sauce and a bit of sugar. It was a Vietnamese dish called Ga Chien Sot Ca Chua or Fried Chicken with Tomato Sauce. I then looked at the bowl of piping hot rice which would have been the background in the photo. Finally, my eyes shifted to the batteries in the camera, which would have taken an hour to charge. No-brainer! I chucked the camera aside and grabbed a pair of chopsticks. Om nom nom nom . . . slurp slurp!

Other people may think with their head, heart or you-know-what for men. Me? I always think with my tummy – my very conversant tummy which growls and rumbles to convey its thoughts.

Plan A was aborted, so I had to use Plan B: Salted Fish Relish. I made it a few days ago . . . last Friday when I was out of fresh food. Who needs a recipe for salted fish mixed with lime, coriander and chilli?! Maybe . . . people who are lazy or busy, or both? People who love anything salty, sour and spicy? If you're one of these, crispy salted threadfin (ikan kurau) with a Thai style dressing would be your kind of thing. It takes five minutes to pull together, and it's perfect with rice or porridge.

Then again, if you want something more elaborate, check these out:

Salmon Teriyaki	Claypot Fish Head	Black Cod with Miso	Bombay Duck Soup

Pork Maw Soup – Awfully Good Offal

There're two schools of thought when it comes to cleaning the pig's stomach. You could use an acidic cleaning agent, such as lemon, lime, vinegar or even coke. This is the quicker and easier method, and one that my mother always sniffed at because the acid is usually too strong. It removes not only the yucky smell but also the good, making the maw rather tasteless. She always used the physical method which is somewhat like a . . . sort of facial, with exfoliation and a peel-off mask! I'm not kidding, seriously. First, lots of coarse salt is rubbed on the maw, which is turned inside out. That's the exfoliation. Next comes the deep cleansing. The maw is dusted generously with corn flour which, unlike other masks, requires no waiting time at all. It's peeled off immediately, using a method that you should never try on your face. The maw is seared, briefly and without oil, so that the flour and all the nasty stuff it's mixed with is stuck to the wok/pot. Isn't that brilliant?! In a matter of minutes, the slime is all gone and the maw clean and ready to cook.

When it comes to eating offal – or 'spare parts', as I like to call the 'nasty bits' – there're also two schools of thought: those who don't and those who do. Obviously, I belong to the latter group and I'm damn proud of it. I grew up eating not just the pig's stomach but also intestines, blood, heart, spleen, liver, tongue, kidneys and brain. No lungs though because that was too much work, even for my mother. I also love the 'odds and ends' on the outside, like the ears (crunchy) and snout (spongy)!

Some people think offal is eaten by those who are poverty stricken, or uncivilized, or both. Unless it's foie gras, of course, then it's a different story. Besides the famed goose liver, the French eat an awful lot of offal, such as andouillette (pig colon sausage), boudin (pig blood sausage), tête de veau (calf's head) and duck gizzard salad. In fact, you can buy chicken gizzards in little plastic tubs in French supermarkets, clean and ready to cook. And at the Sunday market in the Marais, you can find rows of pig snout displayed proudly. I tell ya, that was an awesome sight that warmed my heart! If anyone knows about food, it must be the French. If they think offal is cool, it can't possibly be awful, right?

I had watched my mother clean pork maw lots of times but never did it myself until today. It wasn't as tedious nor yucky as I had thought. Now that I know it's a 10-minute job, I'm gonna make pork maw soup more often. I heart pork maw soup. Om nom nom nom . . . .



Check these out:

Tea Eggs (茶叶蛋)	Crispy Pork Ribs with Dried Tangerine Peel	Stir-Fried Crocodile	Sichuan Spicy Beef

Poached Pears – Spicing Up the Ordinary

I just realized something as I stared at today's photos, wondering what to write about pears. It's the Mid-Autumn Festival today, a time for family reunion, and also a sort of Chinese Valentine's Day. But, instead of mooncakes or 湯圓 (glutinous rice balls) which symbolize union/reunion with their roundness, my post today is about pears which symbolize . . . separation! Yikes! In case you don't know, 'pears' in Chinese is '梨' which is pronounced like '離', meaning separate/separation. For Chinese who are superstitious, pears would never be served at weddings or wedding anniversaries when anything to do with separation is taboo! I hope you're not superstitious but, hey, don't worry even if you are. (I can wriggle my way out of anything.) It doesn't matter because this is not a Chinese blog. I'm writing in English, and 'pear' sounds like 'pair'! How's that for celebrating togetherness? Go ahead and eat all the pears you want. You and your beloved will always remain a pair and live happily ever after.

I love having fresh fruits after a meal. Most fruits are delicious as they are, whether they're boring apples and oranges, or seasonal treats like mangoes and lychees. But fruits are also delicious cooked, because the heat makes them softer and sweeter. Or, if they aren't sweet enough, just add some sugar and whilst you're at it, a good dollop of butter wouldn't hurt. Nor would rum, cream and spices like cinnamon and star anise. I add 'em all when I poach pears. These neutral tasting fruits are great for absorbing all sorts of different flavours that totally change their character. Who wants goody-two-shoes, peel-and-eat, au naturel pears when you can have 'em poached in rum, butter, sugar and spices, and served with cream? Not me. Everything should be spiced up now and then, or life would be too dreary.

Happy Mid-Autumn Festival!

Check these out:

Curry Leaf Cashews	Alfajores de Dulce de Leche	Chocolate Tarts	Crème Caramel

Buddha's Delight (罗汉斋) – And Mine Too

It was my mother's birthday a few days ago. To commemorate her, I made a big pot of Buddha's Delight (罗汉斋) or, if you prefer the less elegant name, Chap Chai (什菜). It was a dish she always made for our first breakfast of the Chinese New Year.

Since Mom passed away, my eldest brother has taken over the duty of feeding some 20 people on CNY morning. And it has to be vegetarian, as it always was when Mom was still around. Whilst everyone else is still snoozing, Big Brother is up at 7 am making Chap Chai, vegetarian bee hoon, stir fried kai lan (Chinese broccoli), and Cheng Tng (清汤). I wish I could do it but it's a great honour reserved for the first-born male heir of the clan. The girls and younger ones don't have such a privilege – sob! They have to pay their respects to the first-born son – a slap on the back plus 'Happy New Year!' – then sit down to a home cooked breakfast. Oh, sob sob sob!

My brother's Chap Chai is the low-fat version because, like a lot of people, he thinks fat is evil. But cabbage without enough fat is nasty. You don't want to see a layer of oil floating on the surface but if you don't see any oil at all, you might as well just boil the cabbage. What I like to see is a few globules which, to me, represents the perfect balance – not too much; not too little.

Every year during the breakfast gathering at my brother's place, I feel like crying, 'What have you done to Mom's Chap Chai?!' But of course, I keep my big mouth shut. He might say, 'Fine! You're so smart, we'll go to your place for Chinese New Year breakfast!' Oh no, I can't make breakfast for 20 people! The best I can do is jot down how Mom made Chap Chai:

Cabbage – use flat ones from Malaysia, not round ones from China.

Oil – not too much; not too little.

Dried mushrooms – use lots, the best possible from Japan, stir-fried till fragrant.

Lily buds – knotted tightly and stir-fried separately so that they absorb some oil and light soya sauce.

Sweet beancurd skin – burns easily; use low heat when deep-frying.

Hair moss (发菜) – a couple of small clumps for good luck.

Cooking time – braise cabbage till soft but not mushy.

Quite easy, isn't it? Seems like nothing to it at all but somehow, Mom's version was really good. It was everyone's delight and I hope, given where she is now, also Buddha's delight.

Check these out:

Stir-Fried Shiitake Mushrooms	Grilled Asparagus with Sesame Miso	Silky Squash with Eggs	Roasted Peppers and Mushrooms

Stir-Fried Eggplant with Chicken	Tomatoes in Wasabi Sesame Sauce	Pickled Cucumber with Osmanthus	Braised Shark's Fin Melon

BUDDHA'S DELIGHT (罗汉斋, CHAP CHAI, 什菜) (Recipe for 8 persons) 35 g Chinese dried mushrooms (10 pieces) 35 g dried lily buds (a small bunch) 50 g glass noodles (冬粉 or 粉丝), soaked till al dente 7 pieces sweet beancurd skin, each cut into 4 pieces, and deep-fried in warm oil till . . .darkened and 'blistery' 3 tbsp vegetable oil 80 ml light soya sauce (1/3 cup) 500 g cabbage, washed and cut chunky 2 small clumps hair moss (发菜), optional, soaked till soft Soak mushrooms in water till soft, 30-45 minutes. Drain and squeeze dry, reserving the liquid. Cut into bite size pieces if big. Soak lily buds till soft, 30-45 minutes. Drain and discard liquid. Rinse thoroughly and squeeze dry. Trim off hard ends and discard. Tie each piece into a knot, tightly (or they'll loosen when tossed around). Stir-fry over high heat with ½ tbsp vegetable oil and 2 tsp of the light soya sauce. Set aside. Stir-fry mushrooms till fragrant with remaining oil over high heat. Add cabbage and stir-fry till wilted and wok is hot again. Add remaining light soya sauce. Stir till absorbed. Add liquid from soaking mushrooms, lily buds and sweet (or savory) beancurd skin. Top up with water to almost cover everything. Stir to mix well. Bring to a boil. Cover and simmer gently till cabbage is soft but not mushy, about 45 minutes, stirring and topping up with more water half way through if necessary. Taste and adjust seasoning if necessary. Add hair moss, if using, and glass noodles. Add more water if necessary – glass noodles absorb a lot of liquid – so that it's not too dry, like in the photos. Stir through. Taste again and adjust seasoning if necessary. Serve piping hot with rice or porridge. Reheated leftovers are really good too.

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Mel's Comfort Food

Comfort food means different things to different people . . . and cats. To some felines, especially those that enjoy human food, it might be fish. To others, it might be milk (though a lot of adult cats are actually lactose intolerant). And then there's Mel, whose comfort food is . . .

ME!

Or, to put it more accurately, suckling the base of my left thumb. (The one on the right just doesn't taste the same.) If you're going 'EEEEEW!', that's perfectly understandable. I went 'EEEEEW!' myself the first few times Mel tried to do it. I was like, 'Get away from me! NOOOOO!' But when she couldn't get her 'fix', she kept whimpering and crawling around instead of taking a nap. What could I do? I gave up pushing her away and after a few 'feeds', I got used to it. In fact, I feel quite flattered now since it must mean she really thinks I'm her mother. And, when you think about it, it's not more 'eew' than a dog slobbering over your hand or face. Nothing that a bit of soap and water can't put right.

Kittens which grow up with their cat mothers may try to suckle even when they're several months old and their mums no longer have milk. If they're lucky, they get to do it but if they're not, Cat Mama would smack 'em on the head 'cause all that kneading with their front paws whilst suckling is really painful. Of course, me not being a cat, I trim Mel's nails. Otherwise, I'd smack her on the head too.

At almost four years old, Mel is not a baby anymore. In human years, she's in her thirties. She used to have a go at my thumb once daily but eased off to once in two to three days about nine months ago. Sometimes, I even have to remind her. Maybe she'll stop completely one day? I hope not. I'll miss it when that happens!

Check these out:

'WHAT is that?'	Baby Mel	'Only One Can of Tuna?'	Hungry Tiger

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