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.

Tomatoes in Paradise

So, to find yourself on a desert island, the most perfect desert island that is, and have to cook dinner - well it isn't such a hardship considering the colour of the sea, the purity of the sand and the simplicity of the sky all roll into a neat ball of beautiful loveliness. The only small challenge attached to such assignments tend to be the produce available. We can make fire pretty much instantly, but when there isn't a market or store, what you find is what you've got. This is on of the raw beauties we tend to overlook and take completely for granted given the lifestyles we find comfort in, so there is little more refreshing than to be presented with a limited larder and a hungry belly, and know that this will work out better than if we were spoiled with a limitless supply of ingredients to spoil and waste.


I have a thing for tomatoes anyway, and although your classic castaway island should be teeming with exotic fruit, I went for the tom as centre stage of the dessert. A fruit it is, and as a fruit it shall be treated, in an 'odd but it makes sense' kind of way. We'll call this number 'Tomato 21" as there were 21 ingredients filling it before the slow baking process took place. Of course you needn't go to this number, but a nice balance of nuts, fruits, spices and sweeteners to blend together inside the tomato without drying out is the goal.


Apart from the tomato itself, which I cut the top off and carefully removed the insides without splitting the skin before filling and replacing his hat, here are the 21 fillers, in no particular order of importance.

Pistachio, almonds, walnuts, peanuts, pine nuts, dried plums, dried apricots, sultanas, dried figs, prunes, cinnamon, vanilla, nutmeg, star anise, mixed spice, orange juice, pineapple juice, brown sugar, honey, butter and fresh pineapple. All diced or crushed quite small where appropriate and blended together to fill the fruit.


If there is surplus liquid left over, this is perfect for the basting, if not blend together a bit more of the juices and the honey for this, then pop all into a baking tray and into an oven at 60 c for 8 hours, basting every 30 minutes or so.


Serve hot, with a spoonful of the basting juice and if you have an ice cream machine on your desert island, a scoop of vanilla on the side would be an acceptable luxury.

The only way to cook a steak

It's easy enough to claim perfection in the privacy of your own home, so the boast of nailing the perfect roast beef is simple enough should you wish to master this impressive but basic technique. Grilling a steak truly is a bit of an art in that the timing can be so critical to the point where abject failure is only a minute or two away.


Choose your meat wisely, as the meat is absolutely the most important part of the process and must be able to stand alone. I'd plump for a ribeye pretty much every time, but it is on the pricey side, and if you don't know where to start the trimming process it is easy enough to end up with too much fat in there too. Sirloin is a terrific and slightly cheaper option, but for flavour I love the rump which is completely is under-rated I feel.


Where I'm headed with this is simple. I'm not cutting individual portions and attempting to get a wonderful crust all over while keeping the cooking temperature on the inside just how we like it. All this at home, smoke, pans, grills, fire, hot = fire brigade call out. At work when I cook beef in this fashion, I'm getting my grill ridiculously hot – close to 1000 degrees, and I'm not able or prepared to do that at home. My perfect steak is cooked as a whole joint, then sliced to reveal the tender insides as and when you're ready to eat. This way you won't have a charred exterior all the way round, but you certainly won't run as much a risk of over-cooking your dinner.


Serves 4 of your very closest friends


It is always better to use a bigger joint than you think you need. If the beef is too lean, ask the butcher to tie some extra fat over the joint. Roasting joints are rib of beef, sirloin or topside. Calculate the cooking time at 12 minutes per 450g for very rare, 15 minutes for rare and 20 for well done on the bone. For a joint off the bone, allow 15, 20 and 25 minutes respectively. 


About a 1kg piece of ribeye joint
Crystal salt, ground black pepper and dry mustard powder 


If there is any exterior fat on the meat, score it with a sharp knife and rub it well with salt, pepper and dry mustard powder. 


Preheat the oven to 230C/gas 8. Place the joint into a hot roasting pan and cook for 15 minutes (20 if the joint is over 2.75kg), then turn the heat down to 160C/gas 3. 


Roast at this temperature for the remainder of the cooking time, I would say a 1kg piece needs no more than another 20 minutes for a rare end result. 


Remove and allow to rest for a final 10 minutes on a warm plate before carving and devouring as we did last night...

Tuna and tomato

Not your classic combination when you think of what automatically works, and what does not. But there are times when it is actually a good thing to break out of the mediocre and go bold in the kitchen. Brie on a pizza springs immediately to mind, but that's for another time. Here it's tuna and tomato, odd on the surface, grand underneath.

Tuna tartare with tomato dressing

Serves 4

Tuna tartare

250g sashimi-grade tuna, diced

10g chives, chopped

10g shallots, chopped

5g lemon confit or Moroccan preserved lemon

6 drops of Tabasco sauce

6 drops of Worcestershire sauce

35ml olive oil

Salt and pepper

Toss the diced tuna with all the remaining ingredients, season with salt and pepper and keep chilled till ready to serve.

Tomato pulp

500g red Roma tomatoes

65g sugar

10 basil leaves

Salt and pepper

Cut the tomatoes in half, combine them with the sugar and basil in a large bowl. Season well with salt and black pepper, and allow to rest, covered, for a couple of hours.

Place the bowl over a pan of simmering water, and cook for 1 and a half hours. Let the mixture sit in the fridge for a further 24 hours, then pass the finished pulp through a fine sieve.

Marry up the tuna tartare, the tomato pulp, something cracker like for crunch, something green as in rocket leaves, a sprinkle of the best salt and olive oil you have.

The alternative is - raw tuna, seasoned as you like, cut up some tomatoes, open a bag of pita chips, and the world is already a better place for it.

Lamb grilled with mustard and lemon

At the time of year where spring lamb is once again all the rage, you can do nothing better than take a couple of flavour agents to accompany the meat, and little else is needed. Basically a mild enough seasoning that does not overpower the flavour of the lamb is the name of the game here. Steaks cut from the leg usually come nearly 2.5cm thick - for anything thinner or thicker alter the cooking time accordingly, but really any cut here will do, I've actually used the whole loin here for this version. And a wee bit of wonderfully fresh tuna sashimi while waiting for the lamb to cook didn't do any harm either. 

Serves 2

2 plump cloves of garlic, peeled
a good pinch of sea salt
1 tblsp fresh thyme leaves or 2 tsp dried thyme
2 tblsp grain mustard
2 tblsp lemon juice
4 tblsp olive oil
4 lamb steaks, ribs or chops, weighing about 100g each

Crush the garlic with the salt in a pestle and mortar or in a small bowl with the end of the rolling pin. Add the herbs, mustard and lemon juice. Whisk in the oil with a fork, or small whisk, until the mixture has slightly thickened.

Pour one-third over the lamb, turn over the meat and anoint that side too with another third.

Heat the grill to very hot. Grill the lamb for 3-4 minutes on each side, depending on how thick the meat is.

Brush with the remaining mixture as you turn the meat. The lamb should be a little singed outside, and rare within. 

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...

A first day of spring risotto

As the weather does finally seem to have turned the corner, and today being the first official day of the new season, I think we're finally done with red meat stews for a while, and it is now time to lighten the fridge up a little. This is not a particularly authentic risotto in the true sense, as its low on rice and high on vegetables, but that is just the point of the 'spring' bit. If any of the vegetables prove elusive you can double up on your favourite or substitute young broad beans (my favourite)

1 bunch asparagus
2 red onions
2 pints (just over 1 litre) water
6oz/200g sprouting broccoli
3 tblsp olive oil for cooking
½ tsp salt
5oz/150g risotto rice
½ glass (4fl oz/125ml) white wine
1 tsp tomato purée
6oz/200g garden peas
2oz/50g cold butter
2oz/50g freshly grated Parmesan
Salt to taste
Handful chopped mint or basil


Peel and dice the onions. Reserve the skins, tops and tails. Trim the asparagus
and chop finely, reserving the woody ends of the stems and any peelings. Add the onion skins and asparagus trimmings to the water and simmer for 20 minutes.


Strain and return to the heat so that it simmers next to your risotto pan.
Trim the broccoli and chop the tender part of the stem and florets finely. Set
aside with the asparagus. Heat the oil in a wide-bottomed pan and add the
onions and salt. Stir, reduce the heat and cover. Sweat for 10-15 minutes,
checking to make sure the onions don’t catch.


Turn up the heat and add the rice. Stir it through and add the wine. Let it bubble
and reduce by half, then lower the heat to a gentle simmer. Stir in the tomato
purée, asparagus, broccoli and peas. Add just enough stock to cover everything.
Cook, stirring gently, until all the stock has been absorbed. Add just enough
stock to cover again, and repeat the process.


When this stock has been absorbed remove the pan from the heat. Stir in the
butter and cheese and cover. Let it rest for five minutes, then season, add the
herbs and serve. Contrary to popular myth it isn’t necessary to douse a risotto
like this with more cheese at the table if you've added the right amount in the kitchen.