kimchi

Absolutely everybody needs to keep a pot of home made kimchi in the fridge for that pick me up some dishes always seem to lack. Making it at home is the easiest thing too, so very rewarding indeed. Dump some on steamed rice for a midweek comforter, pop on the side of a steak for some zing, drop a few bits into your noodles for a laugh.

 

1 large Chinese cabbage

4 litres water

100g coarse salt

1 small head of garlic, peeled and chopped

6cm piece of fresh ginger, peeled and chopped

60ml fish sauce

80ml chilli paste

1 bunch spring onions, cut into 3cm lengths

1 medium daikon radish, peeled and grated

1 tsp honey

 

Slice the cabbage lengthwise in half, then slice each half lengthwise into 3 sections. Cut away the tough stem heart chunks.

 

Dissolve the salt in the water in a very large container, then submerge the cabbage under the water. Put a plate on top to make sure the cabbage stays under water, leave this for 2 hours.

 

Mix the other ingredients in a very large glass bowl. Drain the cabbage, rinse it, and squeeze it dry. Mix it all up, preferably by hand.

 

Pack the kimchi in a clean glass jar large enough to hold it all and cover it tightly. Let it stand for one to two days in a cool place, around room temperature to allow the fermentation take hold.

 

Check the kimchi after a couple of days. If it’s bubbling nice and gently, then it’s ready and should be refrigerated. If not, let it stand another day, when it should be done good and proper.

 

Once it’s fermenting it is basically ready to go, store in the fridge for another few days at least to allow the full potential to develop.  If you want, add a sprinkle of toasted sesame seeds over the kimchi for serving. It’s probably prudent to eat the kimchi within about 3 weeks. After that, it can get too fermented.

gyoza last thing on a Brisbane Sunday night

There’s always a right time to leave the last dumpling on a plate. Any dumpling. No matter how good it is. Some examples of when, quite exactly, one might consider the notion that one has hung around a litle too long could include, but not confined to:

 

1) Your host has to ask you to pay your bill and leave now

2) You’re actually properly tired

3) Eat another gyoza and you'll take someone down with you on the way out

4) You’re properly drunk on great Japanese beer and well on your way to memorably embarrassing yourself and anybody associated with you

5) You’re heading up the last straggle of diners and staying longer would make you seem tragic or desperate

6) Someone slightly more tragic looking than you has just arrived and no possible good can come from you being in the same restaurant with them

7) There’s better gyoza at a new place just opened up down the street

8) Someone really smart kicks the karaoke system into life

9) There is more than one left on the plate

 

all I want is yakitori tonight

I'm absolutely sure there's no-one who has come anywhere close to working out a more beautiful relationship, and I for one, am yet to imagine any possible food that goes better with a really cold beer.

 

 

Any perfectly grilled skewer of bite-sized anything with a bit of a kick and a chilled beer has some beating, and the discovery of a place where these are the only two things on offer is like stumbling upon Nirvana. Truly, when a really popular restaurant has but the one offering, you have to assume they are absolute perfectionist in their field.

 

 

It tends to be the charcoal gives yakitori its unique and irresistible scent and I guess the taste is developed on from the grill through the exact seasoning generally offered. 'Shio' which simply means that it's served with salt, or 'Tare' a salty-sweet sauce, which is basically made from soy sauce, sugar, and mirin. Whatever is on offer, the whole idea of cook to serve without the need to plate up with accompaniments and frills has always appealed in a big way.

 

 

In the event of not being heading to Yurakucho, Shimbashi or Shinjuku tonight, having some of those incredible pickled bamboo shoots with my first beer before the first skewers come off the grill, I now know what I'm having for dinner at home later, whatever happens...

four birthday cakes and great sushi in Istanbul; everything's possible

If you don't expect it, you won't be blown away buy it. If you're not going looking for it, you really can't predict how you'll react to it. Really really good ethnic foods can and do sometimes travel outside of their comfort zone, and if we then declare the food in question here is Japanese, then this makes a wee discovery like this all the more remarkable.

 

The very best sushi I've ever had was in a place called Midori at the back end of an obscure shopping mall in Shibuya, where absolutely everything eaten was total heaven. Their sea urchin I can still remember today. The massive queue for a table was testament alone, and the fact it was in a location easily forgotten meant the treck there my the masses of fans made perfect sense after only those first couple of morsels. I do get a kick out of being the only non local in places like that, and to stand out from the crowd simply because its a local sensation makes it all the better.

 

Fast forward a few years and I'm in Istanbul, a city of no limits, no fears and no decent drivers on the roads! The well worn one foot in Europe, one in Asia tag couldn't be more clear as the city is a heady mix of absolutely everything international that you could imagine. And the passion...oh boy, now there goes a city leaking the stuff all over the place. They love their families, their fanatism for their football is like few other places on earth (and that is Glasgow included) tea is drunk like it's about to be wiped from the face of the earth (the very best is likened to the colour of rabbit's blood, but that's another story), and they drive their cars like they are all in indestructable bulletproof missiles. Oh yes, and they love their food. The very social aspect of it in particular. It is all very animated, social, loud and utterly energetic.

I'm actually writing this in Bangkok on my way back to Hong Kong, but my departure meal last night before I headed to the airport was a proper full on double header of tripe. A soup which was slightly milky and loaded with strips of tripe and some other bits of indsides, albeit a bit bland until it was then loaded with a ton of minced garlic and a sharp chilli sauce clearly meant to bring tears to the eyes. Follow that up with a brilliantly unexpected  tripe sandwich. You know the ones where you're not even half way through it when you want to order another two just incase they sell out. Think strips of stomach lining rolled up into logs about the size of a good fillet of beef and spit roasted over open coals until its charred and sticky. Sliced, chopped and re-fried on a griddle with chilli, peppers, onions and loads of local herbs. Stuff all that fatty crunchy spicy wonderment into a bread roll both crispy on the outside and chewy within and we're sorted for some time to come. Unbelievably good, and I'd go back to Turkey for this alone.

 

Anyway, the Japanese food. If you ever happen to be in Istanbul and in search of really really good sushi, I'd seriously reccommend tracking down Itsumi at İşkuleleri Kule 2 Giriş Katı No:43 4.Levent. In my humble opinion, this was the best all round Japanese food that I've eaten since Tokyo.

 

With Itsumi they seem to really know what they are doing, they keep the product true and un-fussed while concentrating on ensuring true flavours, textures and temperatures are at the forefront of everything they do.

 

The Miso soup was delightful. Nothing more than was needed, although personally I like a little red miso paste and maybe a bit more tofu in mine. The Unagi and Horse Mackerel were superb, texture wise was as good as it gets, and the subtlety of seasoning very good indeed. The sauce with the Unagi was just right for me.

 

Tepmerature of all pieces on the sashimi plate were perfect. The Otoro (I think it was Otoro due to the incredible fat content and as such being served so much colder, and it was incredible) the Scallop and the Uni in particular were very good, and the temperature of their rice was perfect, seasoning very very good and the quantity of wasabi on their Nigiri was superb. The Toro alone was one of the best single things I’d eaten all week until I discovered the tripe roll!

 

The birthday cake too was absolutely perfect, and as it was one of four I was incredibly lucky to have, I could afford to be choosy... If Istanbul is a bit of a hike for something Japanese, a comfortable miso soup might still hit the spot wherever you are.

 

Miso soup for a quiet moment of reflection

 

Enough for 4

4 cups water
1 1/2 teaspoons dashi granules
1/2 cup red miso paste
1 tablespoon dried seaweed (for miso soup), soaked in water
1/2 cup cubed tofu
2 tablespoons chopped green onion

 

Pour the water into a pot and bring to a boil. Add the instant dashi and whisk to dissolve. Turn the heat to medium-low and add the tofu. Drain the seaweed and add the seaweed to the pot. Simmer for 2 minutes.

 

In the meatime, Spoon the miso paste into a bowl. Ladle about 1/2 cup of the hot dashi broth into a bowl and whisk with chopsticks or a whisk to mix and melt the miso paste so that it becomes a smooth mixture.

 

Turn the heat off, add the miso paste to the pot and stir well. Top with green onions and serve immediately.

 

hiking in the shadows of awesomeness

If you know Hong Kong, you'll highly likely to know of the MacLehose Trail in the New Terretories. If you know the MacLehose, you're for sure going to know that stages 4 and 5 on a hot day can break you like a cheap toothpick if you're not ready and prepared.

Starting at Kei Ling Ha to Tai Lo Shan and ending up on Tai Po Road after give or take 23k of some tough climbs and unforgiving descents, days out like these are what makes living in the metropolis that HK is something to utterly respect and appreciate. 

In the same way, whether you know of a fairly straightforward looking Cha Chaan Teng at the top of Nathan Road that's pretty famous for their egg tarts, but also do killer fried noodles and Ho Fun after a six and a half hour trek through the toughest hills is there for you to discover if not. Well done you if you know where I'm talking about, quite brilliant isn't it?

No pain, no gain is what they say, but I guess I'm one of the lucky ones where the hike is what it's all about on the weekend. A fast and hostile plate of noodles with an iced lemon tea served with all the grace and style you need not to distract from what is actually a really very good offering. The challenge, the escape, the wonderment of how you can be at the foot of an incredible little mountain already stretched up and ready to attack just 45 minutes after getting on the train at the bottom of another impressive climb, The Bank of China building in Central.

The opposite end of the day, we jumped in a taxi at the end of Stage 5 on the Tai Po Road with a couple of grazing monkeys giving us the look of 'you're doing all this climbing stuff wrong getting all sweaty and the like' and literally 10 minutes later back in the hustle of Kowloon and settling into that noodle reward.

Simply because a great bowl of noodles can be had here for a small fistful of dollars, what's the point of cooking at home I hear myself ask. Let's just say that there's always a time and a place.

Fried Nathan Road noodles

Serves 2

About 100g dried egg noodles

100g bean shoots

Half a handful of chopped chives

A splash of oil, pinch of salt

1 tsp toasted sesame seeds

For the sauce

1 tsp each light soy, dark soy, oyster sauces

Pinch of salt, same of sugar and 1/2 tsp sesame oil

Cook and loosen the dried noodles in a pot of boiling water until just cooked and when done, immediately drain noodles in a colander and run them under cold water. Drain and dry off any excess water

Wash the bean sprouts and mix together the ingredients for the sauce, set aside.

Heat half tablespoon of oil in wok over a medium heat, toss in the bean sprouts. Quickly turn and stir, and add the noodles and the chives. Season with the salt  and then remove to a small bowl.

Add one more tablespoon of oil to the wok and turn the heat up high, toss in noodles. Stir them constantly to minimize their lumping together or sticking. Swirl in sauce, and stir well with noodles. Then, return bean sprouts and chives, turn over a few more times and remove. Serve up, sprinkle sesame seeds on top and any other chilli sauce you might want to add for an extra oomph.

eating salad with chopsticks

Isn't as difficult as all that. It is though the last few flakes of fish in the bottom of the bowl that will continue to sharpen my dexterity and keep arthritis in my chopstick fingers at bay.

 

In a salad where cold noodles appear, in my opinion, the noodles themselves need to be served really cold, and not at room temperature. Fatty fish on the other hand, is better served tepid than chilled from the fridge. This splendid pairing meet here in this salad, a good contrast to one another. I've used chives as the main seasoning here, but I sometimes add coriander leaves too, a good handful of them, roughly chopped and thrown in at the end. Great picnic fodder this, by the way, especially packed into takeaway containers.

Cold salmon noodle salad

Serves 2

125g rice noodles
2 pieces of salmon fillet approximately 200g each
Groundnut oil
3 tblsp soy and oyster sauce mixed
1 tsp caster sugar
3 limes
1 or 2 bird's eye chilli
A handful of chives, chopped
A handful coriander leaves
2 tblsp toasted sesame seeds

Bring a deep pan of water to the boil. Slide in the noodles, turn off the heat and leave for four minutes. Drain and tip into a bowl. Mix the nam pla and sugar with the juice of two of the limes in a small bowl.

Chop the chilli finely, removing the seeds if you wish (leaving them in will make it hotter) and add it to the dressing with most of the finely chopped chives (and coriander) leaves. Save a few for serving. Toss the dressing with the noodles and leave to cool. Refrigerate for at least an hour so that the noodles are well chilled.

Place the salmon in a grill pan. Rub with a little oil, season with salt and black pepper and squeeze over the remaining lime. Grill for 10 to 12 minutes or so, till the flesh is opaque and the flakes of fish can be pulled easily apart. Leave to cool to room temperature.

Divide the noodles between two plates, then break the fish into broad chunks and scatter with the toasted sesame seeds and remaining herbs.

Eat with chopsticks, naturally...

 

dumplings - little pillows of happiness

Wherever you've lived, visited, even fantasised over, there'll always be one or two resounding features in your memory bank that can take you back there in a nano second. For me it's the East and the dumpling. I've eaten not nearly enough in my life, served up just as many again, and dreamt of a disturbing figure in between the two. 

I'm not going to profess to having an ultimate recipe for any dumpling either, I know way too many people who can wipe the floor with me there, and there's as many again who are serious food experts who still leave it to a small handful of professionals. But in the odd occasion where you're too far away from that fantasy place and the need is great, this'll do fine.

Dumplings

Makes 100 

670g plain flour
330ml cold water
1 bai-cai (Chinese leaf, also called pak choi), very finely chopped, sprinkled with salt, left for 30 mins then squeezed dry
225g extra-lean minced pork, organic or free range
10-12 tiger prawns, peeled and finely chopped
4 spring onions, using both the white and green parts, very finely chopped
15g ginger, peeled and very finely chopped
sunflower oil
2 eggs, beaten
soy sauce
Chinese cooking rice wine
sea salt
sesame oil 

Suan zhi (garlic sauce) 

5 cloves garlic
Chinese dark rice vinegar
sesame seed oil 

Put the flour in a large bowl and drizzle water onto it, mixing the flour. Then use your hands to form a large ball. Leave to rest for 30 mins. For the stuffing add the bai-cai to the pork, prawns, spring onion and ginger. Heat 2 1⁄2 tblsp of oil in a wok and when the oil is smoking add the eggs, moving briskly until they are golden and crispy. Add to the pork mixture with 2 tblsp of soy sauce, 7 tblsp of sunflower oil, 3⁄4 tblsp of rice wine, three pinches of salt and a drizzle of sesame oil. 

To make the skins take a handful of dough, make it into a sausage 2.5 cm in diameter and cut into pieces 2.5 cm long. Form each piece into a ball, then flatten, making a disc about 3.5 cm in diameter. Then roll them (all 100) into circular dumpling skins about 7-8 cm in diameter (you can buy these if you must). Put 1 1⁄2 tsp of stuffing mix into the centre of each skin and press the edges together to form a half moon shape with the middle pushed together and the ends open. 

Seal the corners by creating little concertina-like folds as you press the edges together: it is crucial they don't open during the cooking process. 

To make suan zhi chop the garlic and add to the dark rice vinegar with a drizzle of sesame oil. I also add a tsp of brown sugar, 1 tblsp of soy sauce and 1⁄2 tsp of chilli oil. 

To cook the dumplings boil a pan of water and carefully add 20 at a time - they will sink. Using a spoon stir the water (not the dumplings) to create a whirlpool which will encourage the dumplings to float. When they are floating put the lid on and let them cook for 2 minutes. When the water is really boiling add a little cold water and bring it back to the boil. Do this twice more then add a final drop of water. Remove the dumplings with a slotted spoon. Eat with the sauce - pick up your dumplings with chopsticks and bite off the end to let out the steam.

Nasi return Goreng

Traveling is simply the one thing I need to do to survive. If I don't have a trip on the horizon, I get the fidgets. If I haven't got an e-ticket number, or a booking reference to refer to, I'm anxious.


It's times like these, right now anyway, where I return to a place of familiarity and am reminded why I move around so much, why I do what I do and what kicks me on and off those planes. In a nutshell, this destination has a fabulous Nasi Goreng written all over it.


The ironic part of where I've hit landfall, is in that it isn't some beautiful corner of Indonesia where the humble nasi is as part of the fabric as shortbread is to my youth in Scotland, but rathe where I think 'we' perfected this dish.
It's been a year since I was here, and let the boys loose. But I haven't returned to be disappointed. Delighted more like.


Here's pretty much what we're working off - give or take a splash here and there, and a chicken skewer or two.


Serves 4


2½ tblsp vegetable oil
6 small shallots, finely sliced
250g long grain rice, freshly cooked and cooled
A handful each of stir-friable greens, such as asparagus, mangetout, sugar snaps, beansprouts 
Salt and pepper
Handful of prawn crackers, deep fried in vegetable oil
4 fried eggs

Paste

2 cloves garlic, crushed

2 tsp shrimp paste, toasted

2 mild red chillies, chopped

1 tblsp kecap manis or dark soy sauce

½ tblsp sweet chilli sauce

For the dressing, in a mortar, pound together the garlic, shrimp paste and chillies, then mix in the kecap manis and chilli sauce.

Or just chop and crush everything. Heat 2 tblsp oil in a wok and large frying pan and fry the shrimp paste mixture for 2 minutes.

Add the shallots and stir-fry for about half a minute, then add the rice and stir-fry together for about 3 minutes.

Divide between serving bowls or plates. Stir-fry the beansprouts and greens in ½ tblsp oil with salt and pepper for about 1 minute and pile on to the nasi goreng.

Add rice crackers, fried egg, and serve.

If I was a Honky, where would I eat?

So, it's been a couple of years since I lived in the old colony, but there is not a day that passes where I miss the people, the smells, the colour and above all, the food. If I was to find myself perched on death row, there would be little hesitation in leaning on my memories of Cantonese food for comfort in my final hours. That unfortunate scenario wouldn't open up many options of where to eat, but would easily allow me, in theory the choice of what to eat.

During my time there (Hong Kong, not prison) I ate regally, ate often, ate uniquely, and ate inspired. While there are too many places I partook in dining, for each one of these, there are 50 more that I never got the chance to sample. There will be time still to try and knock a few of those off the list I'd hope. Fun Gwor (steamed rice flour dumplings filled with pork, shrimp and bamboo shoots) in Shau Kei Wan. Fish Ball Noodles in Aberdeen (the first meal I even had in HK. The Char Siu over rice at Joy Hing's on Hennessy Road. The Peking Roast Duck at Spring Deer in Tsim Sha Tsui (which is way less of a con job than what the Roast Goose you get for your dollar at the tourist trap that is Yung Kee. The wonton noodle at Chim Chai Kee on Wellington Street. The Har Gau at Luk Yu Tea House on D'Aguilar Street. Chiu Chow in Kowloon City.

The weird and the wonderfulness of hot pot anywhere in Causeway Bay. The most amazing Roast Pigeon at the brilliant Tai Ping Koon in Yau Ma Tei. Typhoon shelter Crab on Lockhart Road - the kind of crab that rips the roof of your mouth off with the garlic it's packing (try a Guinness as a reliever) The bizzarly delicious Beef Tendon Noodles at Niu Gen Mein in Jordan. Chou Doufu (Stinky Tofu, like really stinky by the way) in Prince Edward. 

The stewed chicken feet and perfectly crispy skinned Siu Yuk they do at Lei Garden. The Congee from Ho Hung Kee in Causeway Bay. The sticky wok fried Razor Clams at Lamcombe on Lamma Island. The delicate beauty of the Beijing style Dumplings in soup they do at Wang Fu on Wellington Street. The thick wide flat noodles with Beef (Hor Fun) they have at Tak Cheong on Electric Street in Tin Hau. I need to stop now before I feel any more faint...

Spicy seafood soup

...and continuing the theme of spice and broth, yesterdays freezing rain just sealed the deal when deciding what to conjure up for lunch. Feeling a bit low with the world always has me turning to soup, as many will testify, it must simply be the 'Mothers warmth factor' in soup that makes most things seem better all of a sudden. Funnily enough I called my Mum after lunch and endured a tortuous but hilarious thirty minute walk through of receiving and replying to an email I'd just sent her! There will be a time, in the not too distant future when I'll be exasperating my own kids over some new fangled technology.

I don't have a blender at home, so more often than not, my soups tend to be chunky anyway, this seafood number is a good example of bunging it all in, getting your timing right, and serving straight from the pot. The recipe below is tried and tested, but really should only act as a starting point. 

Serves 2

2 large shrimp (prawn)

2 boneless fillets from a sea eel

2 pen shell clams

2 ounces (60g) prepared squid

2 large mussels

2 asari clams

2 large clams

½ young corn cob

¼ chingensai (bok choy or pak choi)

15 fluid ounces (440ml) dashi

1 sea bass fillet, cut into chunks

2 tbsp light soy sauce

¼ teaspoon sea salt

2 tbsp sake

1 teaspoon chilli garlic sauce

Coriander leaves

Prepare the main soup ingredients: insert a knife into the back of the shrimp and de-vein. Pour boiling water over it to change partially the surface colour. Plunge the eel into boiling water, immediately drain and plunge into iced water. Extract the pen shell clam from its shell and cut it and the squid into thin slices, about ¹/₁₆ in (3 mm) thick. Rinse well the mussel, the asari clams and the clam. Briefly blanch the young corn and the chingensai.

Pour the dashi into a cooking pot, add the main soup ingredients (including the sea bass) and bring to a boil. When the shells open, add the soy sauce, sea salt and sake to taste, and then add the chilli garlic sauce.

Transfer to a soup dish and sprinkle with coriander. I have this little jar of bonito, seaweed and sesame at home which I scattered over too - remarkable flavours.

Make sure that the fish, young corn and chingensai are all cooked and ready to eat at the same time. The shellfish are ready to eat as soon as the shells open.

Korean rice

비빔밥

Bibimbop literally means "mixed rice" or "mixed meal" in Korean. It's a popular meal consisting of a bowl of steamed white rice topped with vegetables, beef, a whole egg, and kochujang (Korean chili pepper paste). If you know what you're really doing, then the Kochujang is normally served separately to control its spiciness of this rice dish, failure to do this will result in mouth fire as experiences of late will testify.

A variation of this dish, dolsot bibimbop ("dolsot" meaning "stone pot") is served in a heated stone bowl, in which a raw egg is cooked against the sides of the bowl. Before the rice is placed in the bowl, the bottom of the bowl is coated with sesame oil; consequently, the portion of the rice touching the bowl becomes golden brown and crispy.

Vegetables commonly used in bibimbop include cucumber, courgettes, carrot, white radish, mushrooms, bellflower root, and laver, as well as spinach, soybean sprouts, and bracken fern stems. Tofu, either plain or sauteed, may also be included in the dish. Within both types of bibimbops, all ingredients are typically stirred together thoroughly before eating.

This recipe is a mouthful in both senses, but honestly, properly cooked rice topped with anything from the Korean market will be a very close call towards a good thing indeed. If you feel inclined to make your own kimchi then there's another awesome addition, otherwise buy it in, just as good.

1/4 lb of chopped beef (ground beef is acceptable)

100g bellflower roots (doraji)

50g bean sprouts

1 lettuce leaf

3 shiitake mushrooms

1 sheet of vegetable jelly

1/3 carrot

1 cucumber

1 egg

3 cups sticky rice, steamed

4 tbsp kochujang

1 tblsp sugar

1 tblsp sesame seeds

sesame oil

Wash 3 cups of rice, soak for 30 minutes and drain. Put the rice in a heavy saucepan with a tight fitting lid and add 3 1/3 cups of water, then bring them to a boil. After 10-15 minutes boiling, reduce the heat and simmer with the lid on for 5 minutes. Do not lift the lid while cooking.

Season beef and stir-fry lightly until cooked. Cut cucumbers, carrots and shitake mushrooms into match stick size and shred bellflower roots (doraji) and lettuce leaf. Squeeze out excess water and sprinkle them with salt (not including lettuce leaf).

Add 1 tsp of sesame oil to hot frying pan and stir-fry the cucumber quickly so the colour stays vivid. Spread them on a big plate to cool. Add more sesame oil, then stir-fry bellflower roots, carrots, and mushrooms consecutively.

Place cooked rice in a deep dish and add the prepared ingredients on top of the rice (*For hot stone dolsot bibimbop, heat the stone pot until hot enough to burn the fingers and coat 2 tsp of sesame oil. Place the rice sizzling right into the hot stone pot).

Fry an egg sunny-side-up in a frying pan and place it on top of the dish (*For hot stone dolsot bibimbop, place the raw egg on the side of the hot pot so it can slightly cook).

To make seasoned kochujang paste, combine 4 tablespoons of kochujang, 1 tbsp of sugar, 1 tbsp of sesame seeds and 2 tsp of sesame oil.  Mix all ingredients well.

Add seasoned kochujang to taste and mixes it thoroughly with the rice and vegetables before beginning.


For homemade kimchi, have a look here