sichuan pepper roasted duck

Whilst very briefly in Beijing recently, I was sent off to a wonderfully recommended Sichuan inspired restaurant. I have only just stopped glowing and my mouth no longer hums with the aftershock more commonly associated with a pretty severe session with a hardcore dentist. As absolutely delicious as it almost all was; the mouth numbing intensity that the sweet and innocent Sichuan peppercorn offers, in combination with the fried red chilli peppers which were in glorious abundance in the dishes, there is only so much a man can take.

Hoping to take the heat and intensity down a notch here, but try and retain the fragrant element of what this amazing cuisine does offer.

Sichuan pepper roasted duck with plum and star anise

Serves 4

4 duck legs

2 tblsp crushed Sichuan peppercorns

For the plum sauce

150g sugar

3 star anise

1 cinnamon stick

450g plums, halved and stoned

Juice of 1 lime

A dash of fish sauce, plus a little to taste if necessary

Steamed rice, to serve

Preheat the oven to its highest setting. Pierce the skin of the duck all over with a fork. Combine the peppercorns with a teaspoon of salt and rub all over the duck legs so they are nicely coated. Place on a wire rack (with a tray underneath to catch the fat) in the oven.

Immediately turn the temperature down to 350F/180C/Gas 4 and cook for two hours until the skin is golden and the meat begins to flake away from the bone easily.

Meanwhile, make the plum sauce by combining the sugar in a saucepan with 200ml water, the star anise and the cinnamon. Bring to the boil, then reduce to a simmer and cook for five minutes until slightly reduced. Add the plums and cook until they are soft and have broken down slightly (how long will depend on the size of your plums).

Take off the heat, squeeze in the lime juice and pour in the fish sauce. Taste and add a dash more fish sauce if you feel it. Spoon over the duck and serve immediately with steamed rice. Smother with a couple of dozen crispy red chillis here at your peril, this is absolutely optional.

the club burger at the lotus cafe

In the sleepy village of Lin Tong Mei Tsuen, there's a buzzing place called the Lotus Cafe. It's properly packed, delicious and outstanding, and there's no more point wasting time in coming up with more superlatives to add to that statement. I had a club burger, everyone else had a bit of everything from BLT pittas through fatty pork belly over rice to deep fried French toast with peanut butter and syrup. After a decent hike in the clouds above Yuen Long, believe me, it was properly outstanding.

In other news, a decent way with a pork burger to do at home if you fancy it.

Pork burgers

Serves 4

200 g minced pork

1 tblsp grain mustard

1 tblsp clear honey

1 tblsp sage, chopped

1 tblsp flat leaf parsley, chopped

1 egg yolk

2 tblsp breadcrumbs

Grated zest of a lemon

2 shallots, finely chopped

Olive oil

To serve

Bun or bread - anything works

Sliced red onions

Gherkins

Shaved Parmesan

Olive oil

Rocket leaves

Watercress sprigs

In a mixing bowl, mix together the pork, mustard, honey, sage, parsley, yolk, breadcrumbs, lemon zest and shallots.

Shape the pork mixture into 4 even-sized burgers.

Heat the olive oil in a frying pan. Add in the burgers and fry until golden brown on both sides and cooked through.

Serve the fried burgers between freshly griddled bread or toasted buns. Top the burgers with red onion, gherkins, Parmesan, a drizzle of olive oil, rocket and watercress.

Sauces and relishes at this stage are totally over to you. I'd throw on a fried egg and a bit of bacon myself, but that's just me.

hong kong bumps into moscow

In a city I'd never made it to before a couple of weeks ago, Moscow; there are some utterly brilliant people, the most amazing sights and some of the most wonderful magical ingredients still to be properly discovered outside the region. Among the fantastically shaped bottles, jars and sachets which I'm now lucky to have at home, is a great big bottle of tkemali. 

Tkemali is the name of the wild sour plum which gives the sauce its name, and I'm to believe is Georgian in origin. It's a ketchup like condiment, and has everything going on from pungently tangy to tart, sweet and sour, but above all else, its insanely addictive now I've opened my bottle.

Fried rice pops up at home an awful lot, and every time it comes out just that little bit differently, I guess the nature of what's at home and kicking about in the fridge will always dictate as such. This time of the year it has to be glutinous rice though, makes the whole thing more sticky and warming, perfect as winter begins to take shape (21°c and blue skies here today)

fried rice, bbq pork, tkemali

For the glutinous fried rice

Serves 4

500g glutinous rice, soaked overnight

50g dried shrimps, soaked and cleaned

50g shredded dried cuttlefish, cleaned

3 Chinese dried sausages, sliced

8 large mushrooms cut into cubes

1 bunch of spring onions, chopped

4 tblsp garlic oil

2 egg omelette, shredded

25g fried peanuts

Seasoning

1tbsp dark soya sauce

1tbsp oyster sauce

2tsp salt

Clean and drain the soaked glutinous rice and steam for about 35-45 minutes. Sprinkle water into the steamed rice every 15 mins and continue steaming. Fluff up the rice after 25 minutes and continue sprinkling water till the rice is soft. You can pinch some rice and try if it's soft enough, if not, just continue to steam.

Remove from steamer and set aside. In a wok, pour in the garlic oil, then put in the dried shrimps and dried cuttlefish and fry them till aromatic, add the mushrooms, Chinese sausages and sauté for several minutes on a medium heat.

Now add in the steamed glutinous rice and seasonings and keep frying till everything is well mixed with the seasonings.

Taste and add more salt if necessary. Toss in the chopped spring onions, shredded omelette and fried peanuts to finish.

Serve with the barbecued pork, and a heavy handed hit of tkemali and your work for the night is now complete.

typically, yet another pumpkin soup recipe

We might be a month or two late on this in some parts of the world, but where I am, we're only just sleeping at night without the air con blasting and instead enjoying open windows and a cooling breeze to fall asleep with. The last of the summer's corn and green beans meet the first of the autumn squashes and pumpkins here. If I am a little late in the day, save this thought for about 10 months form now, otherwise, all year round supermarkets are great places these days. This particular soup is in kind inspired by the delightful Chilean dish porotos granados, but a pumpkin soup is a pumpkin soup at the end of the day isn't it?

 

Pumpkin, sweetcorn and bean soup

 

Serves 4 with the windows open, 6 it they're shut

 

2 tblsp rapeseed or olive oil

1 onion, peeled and diced

2 garlic cloves, peeled and finely chopped

1 tsp sweet, smoked paprika

2 tblsp chopped oregano (or marjoram)

100g small dried beans (pinto or cannellini), soaked overnight, or a 400g tin of beans, drained and rinsed

1 litre vegetable stock

1 bay leaf

750g squash or pumpkin, peeled, deseeded and cut into 2cm chunks

200g green beans, trimmed and cut into 2cm pieces

Kernels cut from 2 corn cobs

Sea salt and ground black pepper

 

Heat the oil in a large pan over a medium heat. Add the onion and garlic, and sauté for 10 minutes. Add the paprika and a tablespoon of the oregano. Cook for a minute more.

 

The dried beans version
Drain the beans and add to the pan with the stock and bay leaf. Bring to a boil, lower the heat and simmer for 45 minutes, or until the beans are completely tender (cooking times for dried beans vary; this may take over an hour). Add the squash, stir and simmer for 10-15 minutes, until the squash is just tender, add the green beans and corn kernels, and simmer for five minutes more.

 

The tinned beans version
Add the drained, rinsed beans, stock and bay leaf at the same time as the squash, and simmer until the squash is just tender, around 10-15 minutes. Add the green beans and corn, and simmer for a few minutes more.

 

To finish both versions, season generously, stir in the remaining oregano, leave to settle for a couple of minutes and serve.
 

more prawns, in a warming sukiyaki kind of a way

Sukiyaki, traditionally being a Japanese winter time soup like stew served hot pot style, gets a Hong Kong Typhoon Sunday makeover with the fast approaching Severe Typhoon Usagi well on her way. Again, mucking around with a bit of tradition, we'd normally expect to see thinly sliced beef slowly cooked or simmered at the table, with the vegetables in a rich mixture of soy sauce, sugar, and mirin. But prawns are all the rage this week, and adaptation is just the thing right now.

The thing is, noodles do on the odd occasion play a part in a sukiyaki, much to my relief, but the tendency to dunk the ingredients in raw beaten egg is there for the traditionalists, your call on that one really.

Prawn sukiyaki

Serves 4

1 litre fresh chicken stock
2 tblsp hoisin sauce
2 tblsp oyster sauce
1 tblsp fish sauce
1 x 10g sachet instant miso soup
2" ginger, peeled and finely sliced
200g rice noodles
100g enoki mushrooms
1 green chilli de-seeded and finely chopped
300g peeled, raw king prawns
200g asparagus, trimmed and cut into 2" pieces
100g mange tout or snap peas, shredded
200g beansprouts

For the garnish
1 tsp sesame oil
4 spring onions, shredded
Small bunch coriander
1 lime, cut into 4 wedges

Bring the chicken stock to a simmer in a large pan along with the hoisin, oyster, fish sauce, miso and ginger. Simmer uncovered for 5 minutes.

Cook the noodles according to the packet instructions.

Add the mushrooms and chilli to the broth and continue to simmer for 3 minutes, add the prawns, asparagus and mange tout and simmer for a further 3 minutes. Finally heat through the beansprouts for 1 minute before serving.

Divide the noodles between four large deep bowls and spoon over the soup (making sure that everybody gets an equal amount prawns and vegetables).

Divide the sesame oil between the bowls, scatter over the spring onions and coriander leaves and serve with a wedge of lime.

the home style chicken curry

You can't really go wrong cooking this curry unless you leave the pot on the stove and go on off to Sri Lanka on holiday expecting to be ticking away nicely upon return. I've found this always best with pieces of thigh meat, still on the bone; if it has to be boneless, again thigh meat will yield better results. Adding the ginger toward the end is a sweet and unique step that does nothing less than to enhance the flavour. I have cooked variations of this this recipe a thousand times - and it just keeps getting better. I brought back some incredible garam masala from my latest visit to the Indian Ocean, with 22 different spices, and most of them still whole. This mixture crushed just before use releases the most incredible headspace of aromas and flavours; something similar is well worth seeking out where possible.

 

Home style chicken curry

 

Serves 4

 

3 tsp vegetable oil
1 bay leaf
4 green cardamom, 2.5cm cinnamon stick, 10-12 black peppercorns, 1 tsp cumin seeds and 2 cloves all pounded together with a pestle and mortar
250g onions, finely sliced
½ tsp garlic, minced to a paste
½ tsp red chilli powder
1 tsp coriander powder
½ tsp turmeric powder
salt to taste
100g tomatoes, roughly chopped
1 tsp tomato paste
600g chicken, cut into 2.5cm chunks
½ tsp garam masala
2 tsp coriander leaves, chopped
1 tsp ginger, finely chopped

 

Heat the oil in a pan, add the bay leaf and pounded spices, and stir until the spices crackle and they change colour. Add the onions and sauté until golden brown, then add the garlic paste. Stir continuously and keep scraping the bottom of the pan to avoid the mix getting burnt.

 

Add the powdered spices, but not the garam masala. Mix quickly without letting the spices get burnt at the bottom.

 

Add salt, the tomatoes and the paste and cook on slow heat, stirring slowly. As the tomatoes melt to form a sauce, add the chicken and cook on a slow heat for 20-25 minutes until the chicken is almost cooked.

 

Sprinkle on the garam masala and simmer to finish cooking. Add coriander and sprinkle over ginger.

daal in the lanka

Every time I attempt to make this incredibly simple and fragrant Sri Lankan dish, I make it ever so slightly differently. Not because I'm in the pursuit of fancy, it just happens like that. Every time Nalaka makes it, it's exactly the same, which is brilliant. Sometimes I put ground chilli in, sometimes green and red chillies. Occasionally some crispy fried garlic shavings, maybe some mint and coriander too. Great with rice, great as a replacement to rice, great on its own, better the way he does it.

Daal, the way Nalaka makes it, I think

Serves 2

200g yellow split peas
1 small onion
6 garlic cloves
2 small, hot green chillies

2 tsp cinnamon bits
1 tsp ground turmeric

2 tsp curry powder
salt and black pepper

12 curry leaves

1 rampa leaf (pandan)

200ml thin coconut milk

200ml thick coconut milk

 

Rinse the split peas in cold water. Peel and finely slice the onion. Peel and cut the garlic in half, chop the chillies into little strips.

Put the peas, onion, chilli, garlic, cinnamon, turmeric, curry powder, leaves, salt and black pepper in with the peas and cover with the thin coconut milk. Bring to the boil, cover with a lid then simmer for 15-20 minutes until the pulses are softening.

 

To finish, add the thicker coconut milk and bring back to a faster simmer with the lid off, cooking until all the milk has absorbed.

 

You can always peel and finely slice more garlic, cook till golden and lightly crisp in a shallow pan with oil, then stir into the daal with a handful of chopped coriander leaves. Nalaka doesn't, so there we have it.

 

the sandwich that lit up the hinterland

All things considered, there's precious little that hasn't been thrown together in the shape of a sandwich that hasn't worked out well in the end.

A sweet little weekend break in the Hinterland has so much to offer, including pies, great markets and legendary sandwiches. There's so much more to add, but just for now the sandwich gets the credit it deserves though.

This beautiful monster should really have served two people and kept them going for a day, but with a cold beer or two it really only took care of lunch for one in the sunshine. A work of double handed genius in a symphony of pork, egg, fried bits and dough.

A proper work of art that simultaneously appetizes and satisfies.

Rock on the sandwich...
 

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...

blue marlin, in a bag, on the beach

Cooking something en papillotte means that you encase it in a wrapping of parchment and essentially steam it in its own juices. Just recently, blue marlin caught that morning in the waters off the south coast of Sri Lanka and baked with a piquant combination of Maldivian dried fish, pickled onions, aubergine, burnt lime, tomatoes, black olives, capers and herbs. This recipe can be made with a wide number of fish, as long as the fillets are the same size and thickness; try tilefish, halibut, cod, haddock, salmon, or sea bass.

 

Blue Marlin en papillotte with tomatoes, olives and a bit of Sri Lanka

 

Serves 4

4 (150 gram) marlin fillets (1 inch thick), skinned
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
4 medium tomatoes, seeded and diced
8 Kalamata or other brine-cured black olives, halved

a small handful of capers

1 medium onion sliced thinly and pickled in the caper brine
1/2 tsp local masala

8 wedges of grilled lime

8 baby aubergines, halved and roasted in olive oil
2 tblsp unsalted butter, cut into bits

8 leaves of basil

 

Put a rack in middle of oven and preheat oven to 220°c. Cut four 12-by-15-inch sheets of parchment paper (or foil)

 

Fold each sheet crosswise in half to crease, and then unfold. Season fish with salt, pepper and a pinch of the masala and put 1 fillet to the right of the crease on each sheet. Top each fillet with the diced tomato, one quarter of the capers and olives, one quarter each of butter and the basil

 

Working with one package at a time, fold left half of parchment over fillet. Starting at one corner of crease, fold edge of parchment over in triangles (each fold should overlap previous one), following a semicircular path around fillet, smoothing out folds as you go and tucking last fold under to seal papillotte completely.

 

Heat a large baking sheet in oven for 5 minutes. Put the papillotte on hot baking sheet and bake for 9 minutes.

 

To serve, transfer packets to four plates; with a knife, slit top of each packet and tear it to expose fish (use caution: steam will escape). Slide fish and sauce onto plates and discard paper.
 

the magic of the biryani of the dubai

Honestly, we all know the biryani isn't precisely local here, but really what actually is? This is by no means an ultra traditional number and I'm not here to divide nations and have battle lines drawn up, I just kind of know what I like. I think it would be proper to have it cooked under a pastry crust, which I'm not going to, so there's my first group offended. Here is simply my take on what has long been a downtown Satwa favourite. If you can do anything which might offer some authenticity to your buryani, do marinate the meat overnight as this helps massively to tenderise it

 

A Mutton Biryani

 

Serves 4-6

 

500g mutton, diced into bite-sized pieces

15g Greek or natural yoghurt

1 tblsp freshly grated root ginger, plus a 2cm knob of fresh root ginger, peeled

1 crushed garlic clove, plus 2 cloves, peeled

1 tsp mild chilli powder

1/2 green chilli, seeded and roughly chopped

1 tsp coriander seeds

Pinch of ground turmeric

2 tblsp olive oil

1 small onion, sliced

100ml single cream

Squeeze of lemon juice

Few drops of rosewater

Handful of coriander leaves

 

1 large onion, finely chopped

3 tbsp olive oil

250g basmati rice, rinsed

2 cinnamon sticks

4 star anise

4-5 cardamom pods, lightly crushed

Peel of 1/2 orange and 1/2 lemon

600ml hot lamb or chicken stock

Knob of butter

 

Marinate the mutton in the yoghurt, grated ginger and crushed garlic for at least 2 hours or preferably overnight.

 

Place the remaining ginger, garlic, chilli powder, chilli, coriander seeds and turmeric in a food processor and whiz to a fine paste. If necessary, add a little olive oil or water to get the paste moving in the processor.

 

Heat a large heavy-bottomed pan or a cast-iron casserole with a little olive oil. Tip in the onion and cook over a medium heat for 4-5 minutes until softened. Stir in the spice paste and cook for 2-3 minutes until fragrant. Add the mutton and yoghurt to the pan and season well. Stir in the cream and cover the pan with a tight-fitting lid. Cook over a low heat for 11/2-2 hours until the mutton is tender. Stir the mixture occasionally and add a splash of water if the mixture looks too dry.

 

Now start preparing the rice: preheat the oven to 200C/Gas 6. Sauté the onion in the oil in an ovenproof pan for 4-5 minutes until soft. Tip in the rice, cinnamon, star anise, cardamom and peel. Season and stir over a medium-to-high heat for 30 seconds. Add the stock, bring to the boil and cover with a tight-fitting lid. Transfer the pan to the oven for 20 minutes.

 

Remove the rice from the oven and leave to stand for 5 minutes. Mix through a knob of butter and season, fluffing the grains of rice with a fork to separate them.

 

Pile the rice on top of the mutton and sprinkle over the lemon juice and rosewater. Cover with a tight-fitting lid and return to the oven for 10-15 minutes to warm through.

 

Bring the pot to the table to serve. Stir through the coriander leaves and mix the rice and mutton together before piling on to individual plates.

the beetrot curry in Sri Lanka, sort of but not really at all

I can't do it nearly as authentic here as I have tasted there, so I'm not going to bother actually worrying about it. Beetroot in any way shape or form is a treat, so simply dressing it up a little makes for something really quite nice indeed

Roasted pumpkin and beetroot with goat’s cheese

Serves 4

200g pumpkin
100g beetroot
20g goats cheese
1 sprig fresh thyme
20ml olive oil
10ml red wine vinegar
10g rocket
Salt and pepper

Preheat the oven to 180c, wash the beetroot and pat dry, rub with a touch of olive oil and put in the oven roast for 30 minutes or until tender. Remove from the oven allow to cool down slightly, then peel and cut into quarters and set aside

Cut the pumpkin in half; remove the seeds and slice into 5mm pieces. Season with salt and pepper and put onto a lightly oiled griddle until golden brown on both sides

Transfer the pumpkin to a baking tray and put into the oven to roast for 8 minutes or so until tender

Mix the red vinegar olive oil, and thyme in a bowl then put the beetroot in to marinate, seasoning with salt and pepper

Place the pumpkin in the centre of the plate then top with the beetroot, sprinkle with grated goats cheese and garnish with rocket; finally drizzle with the remaining vinegar dressing

horseradish vodka, borscht and rabbit dumplings

There aren't all that many dishes at -10 c that cut the mustard, but horseradish vodka, borscht and rabbit dumplings seem to be doing the just just fine here in Kyiv. What a splendid place, even in the dead of winter, where the warmth of the people totally overcompensate for the lacking in the city's temperature. Where else are you welcomed with a glass of 40% proof horseradish to take the chill off I ask? Follow that up with a smoked plum beer and I'd eat a dumpling filled with anything whatsoever. Interestingly enough, these dumplings are so outright delicious, they're served only with some sour cream. No need for chilli, vinegar or soy here - they simply don't need any more flavour - properly rabbity good.

On the soup thing, this is where the source of internal warmth seriously lies. There are way too many variations of this burgundy coloured soup to even start dissecting, all of which reflect the Eastern European heritage of many Romany people. This one is, I hope, is in the Ukrainian style befitting the incredible hospitality of these brilliant people.

Borscht

 

Serves 6

 

1.2 litres vegetable or chicken stock
2 tblsp red wine vinegar
225g raw beetroot, peeled and grated
500g potatoes, peeled and diced
600g red cabbage, shredded
2 large tomatoes
1 bay leaf
2 onions, grated
4 tblsp soured cream
12 chives

 

Put the stock and vinegar in a large pan and bring to the boil. Add the beetroot and potatoes. Simmer for 15 minutes or until the vegetables are soft. Add the cabbage and whole tomatoes.

 

Cook for about 10 minutes, until the tomatoes are soft, then remove them from the pan with a slotted spoon, purée them in a liquidiser or push through a sieve, and return to the soup.

 

Add the bay leaf and season to taste. Stir in the onions and cook for 20 minutes until the onions are soft. Garnish with a blob of soured cream and a few chives and serve.