Fried chicken comes in many forms. Southern style fried chicken calls for marinating overnight in butter milk and a whole collection of spices, battered in flour and fried in a skillet where temperature control is paramount. Golden brown, crispy skinned and moist on the inside. I tried to make that a couple times. Sometimes I wished my mother was a southern house wife, so I know from very early age how to make fried green tomatoes, fried chicken, biscuits and gravy and other southern classics. Well, than I wouldn't know how to cook Indonesian or the other things my mother taught me how to cook. You can't win 'em all, I guess.
Anyone who has spend some time in the Carribean also knows their version of fried chicken. Or fried pork, or fried fish for that matter. Best enjoyed with rice&beans and fried plantain outside where you feel the Carribean see breeze coming in. You feel a completely different person when done eating. Primary reason why every Carribean stay is at least a 5 pound vacation for me.
And then there is the Taiwanese version: Yen Su Gi. Typical night market food. Chicken conveniently served in a paper bag, fried together with basil, which gives it a sweet and herby aroma and sprinkled with a special salt, which is only sold by a limited number of suppliers and is not available in any grocery store. Talking about garding a trade, eh?
It is my Taiwan obsession: every trip I beg and I plead until I get my fix. I remember last trip coming down from the Alisan mountain, edgy from driving in thick fog, my nerves could finally settle with a bag full of Yen su gi. Comfort snack food like only fried chicken can.
Most formal sit down dinners I completely forget, but I remember where I had Yen su gi, I remember where I had Beef noodle soup and I also remember where I had oyster omelet. And yes, mostly it is from side walk food cards while driving in the Taiwan countryside, or small eateries in crowed places somewhere in Taipei or Tainan.
Funny how most memories of Taiwan evolve around come type of comforting snack food. But on the other end, what do you expect from this Formosa Island where everybody knows their food, talks about food and consumes it with delight and joy?
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Hotpot: Silencing the sliced lamb
Hotpot is a tradition in our household as in many Chinese families. Ok, I might be white as snow, but marrying in a chinese family makes for quick conversion. You eat hotpot with big time events like New Year's when the whole family is gathered around.
Center stage a pot filled with boiling water, lightly seasoned and ready to receive the main event: thinly sliced meats like pork, beef or lamb, an array of seafoods and various vegatables. Each item is introduced to the boiling water, swirled around a couple times and quickly rescued from the scaling heat. That's the idea.
As with most simple cooking methods, it's about quality and freshness of ingredients to make a difference.
Today we had hotpot in Beijing. In a famous Beijing style hot pot restaurant located in a department store of all places. The type with the hot coals in the bottom to which a bowl is attached where the boiling water cooks the main ingredients. A true kitchen marvel.
But the true star of the meal was the meat. When we do hotpot at home, we need a lot of sauce to cover the not so good taste of the meat. It comes pre-sliced, deep frozen and I do not know the process from living beast to sliced meat. In other words: it's the company that makes the dinner.
Here you can come with stangers, do not say a word the entire meal and still leave happy. The lamb we ate was how that meat should taste like, tender, slightly fatty and overall succulent. Also on the table were lamb skewers: lamb meat on a metal pin, grilled to perfection and topped with cumin seeds. Lamb and cumin; a combination I should remember as it completely works. Even my wife, the lamb unafficionado, commented that she could eat lamb like this.
That's something I will remember, as I really like lamb meat. I will find us some New Zealand imported lamb and cook it up with cumin. Garantueed to satisfy even the lamb uneaters in my family.
Center stage a pot filled with boiling water, lightly seasoned and ready to receive the main event: thinly sliced meats like pork, beef or lamb, an array of seafoods and various vegatables. Each item is introduced to the boiling water, swirled around a couple times and quickly rescued from the scaling heat. That's the idea.
As with most simple cooking methods, it's about quality and freshness of ingredients to make a difference.
Today we had hotpot in Beijing. In a famous Beijing style hot pot restaurant located in a department store of all places. The type with the hot coals in the bottom to which a bowl is attached where the boiling water cooks the main ingredients. A true kitchen marvel.
But the true star of the meal was the meat. When we do hotpot at home, we need a lot of sauce to cover the not so good taste of the meat. It comes pre-sliced, deep frozen and I do not know the process from living beast to sliced meat. In other words: it's the company that makes the dinner.
Here you can come with stangers, do not say a word the entire meal and still leave happy. The lamb we ate was how that meat should taste like, tender, slightly fatty and overall succulent. Also on the table were lamb skewers: lamb meat on a metal pin, grilled to perfection and topped with cumin seeds. Lamb and cumin; a combination I should remember as it completely works. Even my wife, the lamb unafficionado, commented that she could eat lamb like this.
That's something I will remember, as I really like lamb meat. I will find us some New Zealand imported lamb and cook it up with cumin. Garantueed to satisfy even the lamb uneaters in my family.
Taiwan Road Trip: Beijing Bunalicious
There are buns and there are buns. The kids love Ro bao; they eat it a lot for breakfast. Sometimes we even go all out and make them from scratch. Yeast risen dough, cut up in small pieces, filled with a pork, ginger water and scallion mixture, and streamed until done. Good eating guaranteed.
I have eaten many Chinese buns, not to mention pain au chocolats, croissants, the real German Kaiser rolls, foccatias and such. So I am a experienced bun eater.
We spent a couple days in Beijing and in a Hutong we found a place when you can buy very cheap buns from the Gan Su province in China. If my chinese is correct these sesame buns are called Lan Zhou Muo Muo. Fried in oil to crisp up the outside, inside warm and soft, flavors like cumin, lao yuo, and scallions fight for dominaton. Serious deliciousness. Heaven disguised as a bun. My wife ordered one for me, I just had one delicious bite before we had to load ourselves in a cab. Getting in a Beijing cab with my long and wide frame is a challenge to say the least, add a fully loaded backpack to the mix and a disaster is about to happen: I dropped the bun.
There are levels of sadness in a human being and this one rose to the top very quickly. I felt that just as heaven was in my grasp, it slipped away. Providence intervened, though. The cabbie did not want to take us to where we wanted to go, so we exited the cab within 50 meters.
The 6 Yuan burned a hole in my pocket to get me two more. Never mind the tourist group blocking the pavements, creating a serious overcrowdedness on the sidewalk. I must have set me a world record 50 meter dash. Or was it 50 meter steeple chase?
I have eaten many Chinese buns, not to mention pain au chocolats, croissants, the real German Kaiser rolls, foccatias and such. So I am a experienced bun eater.
We spent a couple days in Beijing and in a Hutong we found a place when you can buy very cheap buns from the Gan Su province in China. If my chinese is correct these sesame buns are called Lan Zhou Muo Muo. Fried in oil to crisp up the outside, inside warm and soft, flavors like cumin, lao yuo, and scallions fight for dominaton. Serious deliciousness. Heaven disguised as a bun. My wife ordered one for me, I just had one delicious bite before we had to load ourselves in a cab. Getting in a Beijing cab with my long and wide frame is a challenge to say the least, add a fully loaded backpack to the mix and a disaster is about to happen: I dropped the bun.
There are levels of sadness in a human being and this one rose to the top very quickly. I felt that just as heaven was in my grasp, it slipped away. Providence intervened, though. The cabbie did not want to take us to where we wanted to go, so we exited the cab within 50 meters.
The 6 Yuan burned a hole in my pocket to get me two more. Never mind the tourist group blocking the pavements, creating a serious overcrowdedness on the sidewalk. I must have set me a world record 50 meter dash. Or was it 50 meter steeple chase?
Taiwan Road Trip: The Ultimate French Fries
Fries: golden brown and delicious. Crunchy on the outside, warm, soft and mushy on the inside. There are simply no bad fries in my opinion. There are just good, better and best fries.
Fries come in many shapes and sizes: thick cut steak fries, long and skinny french fries, wedges, hash browns, potato croquettes and many more. Truely my only real weak point. Everything else I can ultimately cut out, fries I have to consume. Judging by the sheer volume of fries I consumed in my life, I must be considered an expert by experience.
99 percent of the fries you eat follow the same process. Cut up, sometimes battered, and fried in some kind of vegetable oil. Sizzling when they hit the hot oil, thick clouds of steam rising from the vessel as the outside layer's moisture evaporates. The skin quickly crisping up, the inside slowly warming. In minutes, when golden brown they are rescued from the oil, experience and temperature control paramount for the ultimate result. Guaranteed to satisfy even if the fry handler is new at his job.
And then behold the ultimate fry, the Potato King:
Last night we had dinner in Bistro Du Pont in Taipei. A restaurant dedicated to goose. Taiwanese road stand food with a french veneer. I am not a fan of goose, so I thought I was in for a rough treat. Enter The Fry: the potato who's ultimate goal is to be wedged, sprinkled with fine herbs and cooked in goose fat or duck fat. No vegetable oil, but bird grease. I always say, nothing tops butter. But when it comes to fries, bird fat is cooking with gasoline.
Not for the faint of heart, nor the fainting hearts. This stuff seriously clutters your arteries with each delicious, succulent bite. Who cares! Hearts and minds be damned. This stuff is to be savored, one bite at a time, never mind the morning after indigestion.
I thank the goose whose fat these fries were cooked in. You made my day. I was having a rough patch that day, but this was the turn around moment.
Thank you ultimate fry. Until we meet again in a not too near future.
Fries come in many shapes and sizes: thick cut steak fries, long and skinny french fries, wedges, hash browns, potato croquettes and many more. Truely my only real weak point. Everything else I can ultimately cut out, fries I have to consume. Judging by the sheer volume of fries I consumed in my life, I must be considered an expert by experience.
99 percent of the fries you eat follow the same process. Cut up, sometimes battered, and fried in some kind of vegetable oil. Sizzling when they hit the hot oil, thick clouds of steam rising from the vessel as the outside layer's moisture evaporates. The skin quickly crisping up, the inside slowly warming. In minutes, when golden brown they are rescued from the oil, experience and temperature control paramount for the ultimate result. Guaranteed to satisfy even if the fry handler is new at his job.
And then behold the ultimate fry, the Potato King:
Last night we had dinner in Bistro Du Pont in Taipei. A restaurant dedicated to goose. Taiwanese road stand food with a french veneer. I am not a fan of goose, so I thought I was in for a rough treat. Enter The Fry: the potato who's ultimate goal is to be wedged, sprinkled with fine herbs and cooked in goose fat or duck fat. No vegetable oil, but bird grease. I always say, nothing tops butter. But when it comes to fries, bird fat is cooking with gasoline.
Not for the faint of heart, nor the fainting hearts. This stuff seriously clutters your arteries with each delicious, succulent bite. Who cares! Hearts and minds be damned. This stuff is to be savored, one bite at a time, never mind the morning after indigestion.
I thank the goose whose fat these fries were cooked in. You made my day. I was having a rough patch that day, but this was the turn around moment.
Thank you ultimate fry. Until we meet again in a not too near future.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Taiwan Road Trip: Free Range Chicken
All chickens are not equal. You have the poor chickens with the miserable life in small cages, their happiness non-existent, the inevitable result a mass slaughtered, mass produced plastic bag containing the remains of a former living being.
In my opinion, no animal deserves to be one of these.
A slightly better alternative is the "organic" chicken you find in the better supermarkets like Trader Joe's, Wegmans or Whole Foods. Be aware though that organic in this sense does not mean that the birds had a better life It just means they are not exposed to hormones, antibiotics and their feed is better. It is not an indication of quality of life.
On the complete other end of the spectrum are the free range birds who roam the fields and grounds of your local farms, Now we are taking chicken. These chickens had a good life, containing of roaming free, eating what they can find, running around to get the food. In other words, chicken living a lifestyle meant for chicken.
We were on our way to the mud baths last night and Ma knew of a restaurant who's roasted chicken was famous all over Taiwan. Like when you go to the mud baths, stop by to eat chicken there first. So we did.
And yes, it was all worth it. All the food was locally naturally organicly grown stuff. Needless to say you can taste the freshness.
But the chicken was indeed all it was advertised. Moist, juicy, slight smokyness from the hardwood they used to fire the oven, just honest goodness. But the meat was how chicken should taste like. Natural sweetness, no dead meat at all.
What a delight.
I am facing a big dilemma now. What do we do now when we get back from the trip? Go back to eating the miserable birds? I am still struggling with that. Part of me wants to stop eating chicken until we can find a supplier who has the free range birds; part of me thinks of the weekly uses we have for chicken.
The meat is either stir fried or used in a slow pot, but every week I make chicken stock from the bones. That's a week's supply of flavoring for stir fried vegetables. I was just so happy about using our own stock for everything...
In my opinion, no animal deserves to be one of these.
A slightly better alternative is the "organic" chicken you find in the better supermarkets like Trader Joe's, Wegmans or Whole Foods. Be aware though that organic in this sense does not mean that the birds had a better life It just means they are not exposed to hormones, antibiotics and their feed is better. It is not an indication of quality of life.
On the complete other end of the spectrum are the free range birds who roam the fields and grounds of your local farms, Now we are taking chicken. These chickens had a good life, containing of roaming free, eating what they can find, running around to get the food. In other words, chicken living a lifestyle meant for chicken.
We were on our way to the mud baths last night and Ma knew of a restaurant who's roasted chicken was famous all over Taiwan. Like when you go to the mud baths, stop by to eat chicken there first. So we did.
And yes, it was all worth it. All the food was locally naturally organicly grown stuff. Needless to say you can taste the freshness.
But the chicken was indeed all it was advertised. Moist, juicy, slight smokyness from the hardwood they used to fire the oven, just honest goodness. But the meat was how chicken should taste like. Natural sweetness, no dead meat at all.
What a delight.
I am facing a big dilemma now. What do we do now when we get back from the trip? Go back to eating the miserable birds? I am still struggling with that. Part of me wants to stop eating chicken until we can find a supplier who has the free range birds; part of me thinks of the weekly uses we have for chicken.
The meat is either stir fried or used in a slow pot, but every week I make chicken stock from the bones. That's a week's supply of flavoring for stir fried vegetables. I was just so happy about using our own stock for everything...
Taiwan Road Trip Beef Noodle soup
Taiwan, half of my childrens' heritage. Many of my wife's relatives still live there, So the Taiwan road trip is something we do quite often.
Taiwan has grown on me. Ok, I still need a translater everywhere I go, but that's to be expected. I am just a dumb white boy (red hair barbarian is the correct Chinese phrase for my kind), so a lot of the subleties are just lost on me.
At least there is common ground though. It started a while back when I started to cook for my in-laws and extended family. Gosh, a family of foodies! What a delight. And guess what: Taiwan is an entire island filled with foodies. Everywhere you go there is food, drink and such. From small eateries, mobile food stands and night market food to expensive restaurants exploring every cuisine in the world.
The best is also the cheapest. A steaming bowl of noodle soup filled with stewed beef brisket is easily available, and very good. You can find this at a stall that (surprise, surprise) does one thing only. These guys have the procedure down pat and it tastes consistently fabulous.
Today was the day we would do noodle soup. After settling on a local eatery, the feast could start. Within minutes bowls of home made noodles in a sweet, salty and spicy dark broth arrived, the rest of the bowl filled with a cabbage/ lettuce like green vegetable, some type of pickle and succulant beef. I could taste 5 spice powder, garlic, anise and soy sauce. It all worked, a little spicy, not too sweet not too salty, yin and yang in a bowl of noodle soup.
The ritual involves constant eating until blissfully satisfied, conversation optional. After I finished, the sad remainder consisted of a pair of used chopsticks, a bowl, a soup spoon and some paper towl. A battle field indeed. This war had a clear winner: the ones eating the soup.
Until the next time we eat beef noodle soup
Taiwan has grown on me. Ok, I still need a translater everywhere I go, but that's to be expected. I am just a dumb white boy (red hair barbarian is the correct Chinese phrase for my kind), so a lot of the subleties are just lost on me.
At least there is common ground though. It started a while back when I started to cook for my in-laws and extended family. Gosh, a family of foodies! What a delight. And guess what: Taiwan is an entire island filled with foodies. Everywhere you go there is food, drink and such. From small eateries, mobile food stands and night market food to expensive restaurants exploring every cuisine in the world.
The best is also the cheapest. A steaming bowl of noodle soup filled with stewed beef brisket is easily available, and very good. You can find this at a stall that (surprise, surprise) does one thing only. These guys have the procedure down pat and it tastes consistently fabulous.
Today was the day we would do noodle soup. After settling on a local eatery, the feast could start. Within minutes bowls of home made noodles in a sweet, salty and spicy dark broth arrived, the rest of the bowl filled with a cabbage/ lettuce like green vegetable, some type of pickle and succulant beef. I could taste 5 spice powder, garlic, anise and soy sauce. It all worked, a little spicy, not too sweet not too salty, yin and yang in a bowl of noodle soup.
The ritual involves constant eating until blissfully satisfied, conversation optional. After I finished, the sad remainder consisted of a pair of used chopsticks, a bowl, a soup spoon and some paper towl. A battle field indeed. This war had a clear winner: the ones eating the soup.
Until the next time we eat beef noodle soup
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