tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-186280082024-03-19T12:37:54.493+08:00the hinata diariesPoking. Dipping. Sniffing. Peeling. Licking. Tapping. Picking. Peering. Shooting. Prodding. Slicing. Dreaming. The joys of playing with food!hinatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14670681037946872386noreply@blogger.comBlogger87125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18628008.post-61621455015084183182007-05-07T16:52:00.000+08:002007-05-09T17:29:00.966+08:00Picks of the week<span style="font-size:85%;">After what seems like an age and a half of sticking to comfort zone restaurants, finally ventured out last week to catch up on much belated eating. Here's what I discovered:</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">I'm surprised <strong>Brasserie Wolf</strong> isn't a more popular Sunday lunch destination. The neighbourhood is quiet and breezy, the big Dedan sofas look made for lounging, broad tables are perfect for spreading out the weekend paper. Oh and the food is pretty good. I had a ridiculously crispy <strong>confit de canard</strong> that was mostly moist on the inside, and Philippe the Frenchman gave a satisfied thumbs up to the <strong>coq au vin</strong>. The <strong>crepes suzette</strong> had a nice touch - a liberal sprinkling of orange zest in the crepe mix itself created a citrus flavour that was fresh instead of cloying. Service was hit and miss, but on a lazy Sunday I'm not complaining.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>Artz Pizza</strong>, now known as <strong>Baraounda</strong>, serves in my opinion the best pizza in the East Coast, easily knocking the socks off Al Forno. Like Brasserie Wolf, I thought this was a lovely weekend lunch location with the non-stop sea breeze and view of the beach. Biting into their incredibly gooey pizzas feels all the more sinful when you're watching people painfully jog or cycle by :) We tried the <strong>Mike Pizza</strong> (i-heart-anchovies-and-garlic-in-pizza) and a standard <strong>prosciutto e funghi</strong>, both of which were excellent. Service was faultless thanks to a particularly friendly and obliging young server.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Finally made the pilgrimage to <strong>Eng Seng</strong>. Their black pepper crabs were worth my year long wait (I had always feared the queues) - the tarlike sauce burst with (of course) black pepper but also hints of coffee and burnt caramel. But it was the meat that surprised me more, firm and thick and so sweet you can't help but be reminded the crab had been alive barely minutes ago. Am plotting my return already. Wonder if you can tapao the leftover sauce? Black pepper ribs, black pepper beef, black pepper fried rice...</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">So there you go, my eating highlights for the week! What were yours?</span><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Brasserie Wolf</span></strong><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">80 Mohammed Sultan</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">#01-13 The Pier at Robertson </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">(Robertson Walk, between Brussel Sprouts and River Cafe)</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Tel: 6835-7818</span><br /><strong><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Baraounda</span></strong><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">920 East Coast Parkway</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">(Inside Parkland Golf Driving Range, and next to Singa Inn Restaurant)</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Tel: 6344-0900</span><br /><strong><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Eng Seng Restaurant</span></strong><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">247 Joo Chiat Place</span>hinatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14670681037946872386noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18628008.post-62028316799573011592007-04-23T10:15:00.000+08:002007-04-23T11:11:03.316+08:00Sign of life<span style="font-size:85%;">Hallo to whoever is still visiting and thanks for all the comments!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">As you might've guessed from the silence over the last few months, my blog's been going through a bit of an <strong>existential crisis</strong>, primarily centered around the question "To eat or to blog?" given that work travel hasn't accommodated both in recent times. An upcoming job change (hooray!) isn't going to help either - blogging at work doesn't seem such a good idea when I'll be seated right next to my new boss.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">So a faint pulse, slow, steady breathing... but hey, onto the food and let's see how things go. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Food blogging lite - what's been good in the last couple of months:</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">The <strong>Melbourne Food and Wine Festival</strong> featured a <strong>Bill Granger</strong> designed dinner executed by <strong>Broth</strong>. This was definitely one of the best meals I've had in a long time - typically Australian freshness, crisp flavours, excellent service, and all for a fairly reasonable price (c. $100 including 5 different glasses of wine). I've not dined at bills so I'll give the credit to the team at Broth - I'm sure we all know how easy it is to stuff up a menu that sounds good on paper. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Good in another way, the <strong>Thierry Marx</strong> dinner organized as part of the <strong>Raffles Hotel Wine, Food and Arts Experience</strong> served up rather traditional French fare heavy on sauces and flavours. Surprisingly, the food took a distant backseat to the wine - while the representative from <strong>Chateau Lynch-Bages</strong> was given the mic between each serving, all we got to see from the kitchen were backstage scenes played on television screens scattered across the Raffles Grill. Not a peep or hello from the chef. The wine was often exceptional but equally often mediocre, with the real highlight of the night being seeing well-heeled men and elegantly coiffured women, straight from the Tatler pages, drunkenly staggering to the restroom.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">The last Paris trip helped me rediscover modern French cuisine. I highly recommend <strong>L'Atelier de Joel Robuchon</strong> - although I found his famed mashed potatoes quite disappointing (my mashed potatoes would be silky too if I'd used 90% butter), Philippe's starter of <strong><em>macaroni topped with cepes and foie gras, accompanied by white asparagus</em></strong> were fabulous. The wines were also exceptionally good with spot-on recommendations by the sommelier. The dramatic red and black interior and modern counter seating is more fun than intimidating, and the restaurant takes on the atmosphere of a chic neighbourhood hangout, where servers ply regulars with free tasting samples of new dishes and wines. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>Helene Darroz</strong> was also loads of fun, serving up modern French food in tapas-sized portions. Sit in the lower priced salon, a chic yet cozy drawing room with a view of the open kitchen. I had an amazing first course of <strong><em>toast topped with beef marrow and slices of the season's last black truffles</em></strong>, which came accompanied by an asparagus veloute. This is now my ideal breakfast, all I need is a crateload of truffles. Anyone?</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Also have some great food recommendations for <strong>Fukuoka</strong>. If anyone is heading there anytime soon, email me!</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Closer to home, <strong>Dian Xiao Er</strong> at Vivocity was great food, great view, fun retro teahouse decor. I've been dreaming about their Mongolian spare ribs since I ate there last Friday. Their roast duck also proved worthy of its reputation - we had the ginseng based gravy which was wonderful slathered over rice. Next door at <strong>Red, White and</strong> <strong>Pure'</strong>s boutique, their chocolate truffles filled with wolfberry, ginseng, red dates etc. were surprisingly subtle - no joke candies here - but my favourite discovery was the <strong><em>Japanese tomato and lime dessert vinegar</em></strong> recommended by the staff. Promptly brought a bottle back to the office where it was universally (if a universe can consist of 7 people) declared "hao he" (i.e. yummy). </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">A visit to <strong>San Marco</strong> post the arrival of its new chef was also extremely enjoyable save for the snotty service from the maitre d' and female hostess. Our group of six, three of which were funky media people in sneakers and ripped tees, clearly stuck out from their ideal customer type as evidenced by the suits and couples that dominated the room. That said, we enjoyed the food thoroughly and the local waitstaff were incredibly friendly and efficient. The <strong><em>kurobuta pork</em></strong>, in particular, was outstanding. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">And old favourites revisited - I still love <strong>Min Jiang</strong> for its Peking duck and Sichuan food, <strong>Sin Huat</strong> for everything they put on the table. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">So thanks for listening. This was pretty fun after all (especially without the stress of fiddling with photos and all), so hopefully that means we'll see each other again here soon. Ciao till then!</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span>hinatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14670681037946872386noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18628008.post-18268341098917651062007-02-12T17:57:00.000+08:002007-02-12T18:49:13.284+08:00hungrygowhere.com<div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeQ4kBD53kriRanK5HOIFYN0Iv8XLfoHq8WTw03hWmYrdA4NL4yG8gDr0vQYaBU82LyBSRBffO9O7pCjehwstosRGVgopNnuBOlKNAoPGFoF91SNNUwHMpVDnQx3MOjspftJRAGQ/s1600-h/masthead_01.jpg"><span style="font-size:78%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5030594763247015234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeQ4kBD53kriRanK5HOIFYN0Iv8XLfoHq8WTw03hWmYrdA4NL4yG8gDr0vQYaBU82LyBSRBffO9O7pCjehwstosRGVgopNnuBOlKNAoPGFoF91SNNUwHMpVDnQx3MOjspftJRAGQ/s400/masthead_01.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Picture shamelessly lifted from hungrygowhere.com without permission. Don't scold, hor?</span></em><br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>Every Singaporean has them.</strong></span></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;">No, not the Esso tiger tail.</span></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;">No, nor the pile of individually paper-wrapped toothpicks lifted from your favourite restaurant.</span></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;">By them, I mean those distant and not-so-different relatives who you only meet once a year at Chinese New Year, at the odd wedding or granny's birthday bash. You greet each other with the usual questions - "how's the spouse", "how're the kids", "how is school" - all designed to enable the questioned to respond politely yet generically, and for the questioner to nod equally politely and generically in return, <strong>a timeless and well-rehearsed ritual that generates no pain, but often affords little pleasure as well</strong>.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">What most Singaporeans would readily admit is rarer though, is finding the family member that you enjoy catching up with at such occasions, each conversation rekindling memories of shared friends and experiences, or resulting in the discovery of<strong> new interests in common</strong>. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">It was thus that my cousin (or specifically, our parents are cousins) and I both discovered the other was a closet foodie. <strong>Hoong An</strong> spotted my grinning mug on <a href="http://chubbyhubby.net">Chubby Hubby's </a>site, in the photos from the food bloggers' dinner at Sage, and in turn revealed that he was embarking on a great foodie project in a professional capacity. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Fast forward to today, the offical launch date of <a href="http://hungrygowhere.com">hungrygowhere.com</a>. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">At first glance, <a href="http://hungrygowhere.com">hungrygowhere.com</a> is one of those <strong>"why didn't I think of that before???"</strong> sites. It offers a respository of member-contributed <strong>food reviews</strong>, a <strong>search</strong> function to help you find your grub of choice in your neighbourhood of choice, and an online list of all the <strong>credit card promotions</strong> offered by restaurants. Plus cool <strong>interviews </strong>(currently with local theatre personality Jonathan Lim) and a really cute <strong>Ask Auntie</strong> section. </span><span style="font-size:85%;">Sign up as a member and you'll be alerted of dining promotions over email, and can also contribute reviews for a chance to win a weekly cash prize. You'll also be able to login to your account, create a profile, list your credit cards (and so have an instant overview of all promotions applicable to you), access your list of favourite places, and read bookmarked reviews from your friends, favourite reviewers or even (ahem, ego bloating now) your own personal admirers.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">In our little island, where people are either always <strong>calling up their friends</strong> for dining recommendations, or being called by their friends for the same, hungrygowhere.com may just reduce everyone's phone bill (Singtel, M1 and StarHub beware!) and make discovering a new eating place that much easier.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Functionality (and there's plenty of it) aside, I love <a href="http://hungrygowhere.com">hungrygowhere.com</a> for its <strong>honest approach to commercialism</strong>. It aims to help food establishments get their promotions across to a hungry and often cost-conscious public while refraining from endorsement disguised as objectivity. (We all know sites like these, yah? When you only realize that upon the third reading that the product being reviewed as God's gift to foodies is mysteriously stocked only by the site's advertising sponsor.) </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Reviews are instead contributed by members and are both fun and interactive. As a member, if you were impressed by the review and want to try the restaurant, you can add it to your list of favourite places for future reference. You can give the reviewer props, or even <strong>add him or her as a food buddy</strong>. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">So hope you guys will check the site out! It's not every day that three young professionals quit their jobs to serve the greater purpose of food and feeding, so <strong>support support</strong> yah? :) I'm personally really excited about the prospect of a new online food community and am looking forward to reading the various user reviews. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">To Hoong An and your team, <strong>congrats and all the best!</strong></span> </div></div>hinatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14670681037946872386noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18628008.post-51754943817298820932007-01-14T20:25:00.000+08:002007-01-25T14:45:49.046+08:00Christmas flog exchange meet-up<a title="Photo Sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/37776992@N00/356825580/"><img height="180" alt="2-13012007075" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/149/356825580_892f1f21c6_m.jpg" width="240" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Once again, a very belated post. Excuses this time: business trips (the usual, except for a first trip to freezing cold and miserable Wuhan) and also my beloved Casio Exilim has suicided *moment of silence*. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Tried taking photos with my new and not so beloved Nokia N73, have to say the macro is fairly impressive, but uploading photos is a super bitch. All the supplied software only works with Windows PC, so I literally spent an entire night attempting all these fancy technology tricks that up till then I'd only heard of and never imagined as being practically relevant. Eventually managed to Bluetooth the pics to Philippe's laptop, then spent another 2 hours trying to upload photos to Flickr. Even then, my pics came out different sizes, of funny orientation and with these weird blue borders around them, please bear with me while I figure all this stuff out!</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">This is why I am a mere food blogger and not a Google billionaire.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Anyway, here are pics from our Christmas flog exchange get-together! In attendance: <a href="http://loveatfirstbite.wordpress.com">Jasmine</a>, <a href="http://thehungrycow.blogspot.com">Leroy</a>, <a href="http://whisky-lullaby.blogspot.com">Callen</a>, <a href="http://food.recentrunes.com">Ivan</a>, <a href="http://joonelovesfood.blogspot.com">Joone</a>, <a href="http://superfinefeline.blogspot.com">SuperFineFeline</a> and <a href="http://skinny-epicurean.blogspot.com">Mia</a>. Venue was Tea Bone Zen Mind Cafe on Seah Street, a charming and homely place recommended by Umami for its tea eggs. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">My wishee, <a href="http://monstrousappetites.blogspot.com">Brenda</a>, had wished for "Jewish or Mexican delights", but couldn't make it at the last moment, so she kindly gave us permission to share her gift - a store bought bag of tortilla chips with homemade salsa, guacamole and Mexican wedding cakes. I'd gotten the recipes from <a href="http://www.epicurious.com">Epicurious</a>, which I strongly recommend as a repository for great recipes of various cuisines. I especially like their feature whereby cooks who have tried the recipe can post comments - often, following their recommendations leads to quite a few surprising discoveries. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">The salsa was a fairly standard mix of fresh chopped tomatoes, white onions, garlic, red chilli and cilantro, flavoured with sugar, lime juice, salt and pepper. Nothing terribly original but definitely much more enjoyable freshly made.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><a title="Photo Sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/37776992@N00/356817457/"><img height="180" alt="2-13012007051" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/140/356817457_e21ebf9ceb_m.jpg" width="240" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">The guacamole, on the other hand, was far from any guacamole I've ever tried, and, as proclaimed by many of the Epicurious reviewers, possibly the best (and prettiest looking) guacamole ever. This was cos, in addition to the usual hand mashed avocado and chopped onions and chillies, this guacamole also contains halved green seedless grapes, finely diced pear and loads of scarlet red and delightfully crunchy pomegranate seeds. Some coarse salt and lime juice is all you need for flavouring.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><a title="Photo Sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/37776992@N00/356817453/"><img height="375" alt="2-13012007050" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/144/356817453_ac1c3a7e41.jpg" width="500" /></a></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">As for the Mexican wedding cakes, these were also quite simple, and fun to make on account of being able to play with all the icing sugar. The shortbread-like cookies, studded with chopped nuts, have a very basic, "didn't I make that in Home Econs" sort of taste, but the icing sugar lends some elegance and keeps them incredibly addictive. Brenda - sorry couldn't share them with you this time, will definitely start on a Jewish cooking project for you soon!</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><a title="Photo Sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/37776992@N00/356817461/"><img height="500" alt="2-13012007054" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/162/356817461_e4a1556b34.jpg" width="375" /></a></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">As for my wish of Japanese mochi desserts, Leroy brought a box from Minamoto Kitchoan in the Takashimaya basement that had all the girls cooing over the gorgeous packaging:</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><a title="Photo Sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/37776992@N00/356821027/"><img height="180" alt="2-13012007060" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/133/356821027_d1f14bdb7c_m.jpg" width="240" /></a></span><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">The wrapped box</span></em><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;"><a title="Photo Sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/37776992@N00/356821029/"><img height="240" alt="2-13012007062" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/128/356821029_6f84dbc1d7_m.jpg" width="180" /></a></span></em><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>The unwrapped box</em></span><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;"><a title="Photo Sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/37776992@N00/356821032/"><img height="500" alt="2-13012007064" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/154/356821032_a6029ba297.jpg" width="375" /></a></span></em><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">The desserts!</span></em><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">The assortment was hand selected by Leroy, and contained several special items for the new year (in particular, the two wrapped ones in the top right hand corner of the photo). </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Each piece was a beautifully shaped and coloured combination of two or more of the following ingredients: mochi, red bean, green tea, white chocolate, chestnut paste and sakura, and felt like such an absolute treat. We managed to finish about half the box as a group, surreptitiously dividing each piece into 6 and devouring when the proprietress wasn't around (no outside food lah). The rest of the box was quickly finished the next day at home in front of the computer in true pig-out form. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Thanks Leroy for the wonderful gift!!!!!!!</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">As for Tea Bone Zen Mind cafe itself, we each had ordered a pot of tea and a tea egg to earn our squatting rights. </span><br /><p><span style="font-size:85%;">The cafe's tea variety is quite impressive, as is the delicate presentation on a fern-lined wooden tray with a dish of dried dates on the side. The extra tea leaves were even wrapped in an elegant brown sleeve for taking home. That said, it was rather on the pricey side at $10 upwards for a pot of tea - ok if you plan on spending a long lazy afternoon at the cafe, but a bit much if you only have time for a quick pop-in.</span></p><a title="Photo Sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/37776992@N00/356821037/"><img height="180" alt="2-13012007067" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/164/356821037_936e9327c3_m.jpg" width="240" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">The tea egg that Umami had recommended likewise came beautifully presented, and surprised in being soft-boiled. The advantage is that the runny egg then mixes effortlessly with the herbal tea steeping mixture, which gives you much more flavour than just a dry egg. Again the pricing was on the high side though at $3.50 an egg, which is gone in a couple of spoonfuls.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><a title="Photo Sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/37776992@N00/356825576/"><img height="240" alt="2-13012007071" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/147/356825576_7446649315_m.jpg" width="180" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">All in, it was a fun afternoon seeing regular food blogger friends again and meeting new ones. Giving and receiving presents in mid-January also extended the Christmas joy a bit longer. It was, presumably, high on guacamole and visions of strawberry shortcake, that Jasmine volunteered to organize the next get-together. Jasmine, here's a little reminder *nudge nudge* :)</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Hope everyone else who was there that day had a great time as well. And thanks to Joone for helping organize the exchange, sort out pairings and send e-mails, it was fun being your buddy-in-crime :) 11 more months till the next flog exchange!</span><br /><br /><a title="Photo Sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/37776992@N00/356825578/"><img height="180" alt="2-13012007074" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/141/356825578_06989f3469_m.jpg" width="240" /></a><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Professor Ivan</span></em>hinatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14670681037946872386noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18628008.post-91046360735075204232007-01-14T19:29:00.000+08:002007-01-30T15:55:50.690+08:00Kaisan 3<a title="Photo Sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/37776992@N00/356771255/"></a> <a title="Photo Sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/37776992@N00/356806628/"><img height="375" alt="2-10012007043" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/142/356806628_3436bbcfa3.jpg" width="500" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Why <strong>Kaisan 3</strong>? Cos that's the number of times I had to upload my mobile phone photos onto Flickr to in turn get them on to Blogger (tech retard). It's also probably the number of weeks I'm late posting this restaurant note. Bah. So in case you're wondering why all these dishes sound familiar, it's probably cos you read them on <a href="http://skinny-epicurean.blogspot.com">Mia</a>, <a href="http://superfinefeline.blogspot.com">Karen</a> or <a href="http://food.recentrunes.com">Ivan</a>'s blogs weeks ago.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">The upside to my blogging this late (i.e. my big excuse) is that by this time I've forgotten many of the minor details and technicalities that I'd stored in my head with the intention of dedicating a full paragraph of long unpunctuated sentences to. What's left for me to report is that warm fuzzy feeling that stays in your tummy long after a great meal, indistinct but pleasurable memories that make you just... <strong>want more</strong>.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">So that was Kaisan. The ambience on a weekday evening was clean, crisp, refined and relaxed, without the hustle and booming voices of the business suited lunchtime crowd. The chefs looked laid back and welcoming, sharing about the day's specialties with quiet pride and a cold beer on hand.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><a title="Photo Sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/37776992@N00/356795139/"><img height="240" alt="2-10012007011" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/163/356795139_65c8cfdd0e_m.jpg" width="180" /></a><a title="Photo Sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/37776992@N00/356799114/"><img height="240" alt="2-10012007017" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/137/356799114_eb22f71981_m.jpg" width="180" /></a></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">The sashimi was faultless; still, in my biased mind, one step short of Akane's orgasm on a plate, but perfectly fresh and beautifully presented. Even the smallest, trickiest river fish was deftly sliced to almost <strong>physically impossible levels of thinness</strong> with notable precision and uniformity. The variety, including many seasonal specials and several off-menu secrets, is sufficient to melt even the most jaded sashimi lover's heart. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><a title="Photo Sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/37776992@N00/356799126/"><img height="500" alt="2-10012007024" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/162/356799126_2ddd928dd6.jpg" width="375" /></a><a title="Photo Sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/37776992@N00/356799110/"><img height="500" alt="2-10012007016" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/147/356799110_40be68df90.jpg" width="375" /></a><a title="Photo Sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/37776992@N00/356799118/"><img height="375" alt="2-10012007019" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/158/356799118_6f61be1c38.jpg" width="500" /></a></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">As tempting as it was to stick with just sashimi, we ventured to try some hot foods and sushi at the chef's behest. All were enjoyable and provided an extra dimension (i.e. <strong>hot and rice</strong>) to the meal. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><a title="Photo Sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/37776992@N00/356806618/"><img height="240" alt="2-10012007037" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/129/356806618_c138463c1d_m.jpg" width="180" /></a><a title="Photo Sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/37776992@N00/356799108/"><img height="180" alt="2-10012007010" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/148/356799108_7dd297e3f3_m.jpg" width="240" /></a><a title="Photo Sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/37776992@N00/356806629/"><img height="180" alt="2-10012007044" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/133/356806629_dcb8b38526_m.jpg" width="240" /></a></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">My only gripe was that, although the sushi is perfectly formed (large strip of fish, small mound of rice, proportions and texture primed to show off the quality of the fish), the sushi rice vinegar was sometimes a bit strong and competed for attention with a couple of the more delicate fishes. A minor gripe compared to everything that went so well that night. Honestly, who cares when you have <em>this </em><strong>monstrous<em> </em>otoro</strong> sitting in front of you? </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><a title="Photo Sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/37776992@N00/356806614/"><img height="375" alt="2-10012007034" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/157/356806614_6988800a2d.jpg" width="500" /></a></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">We were also fortunate to have been received with such hospitality. Upon the realization that we were a group of food bloggers (one person angles the dish, four people take photos, pass down and repeat. Chef says must eat this one quick and everyone screams "nooooo, must take photo first!!!" We're a pretty obvious bunch), the chef pulled out all the stops, accompanying each dish with a description of its origins, how to appreciate it, and so on. And far from getting the sense that this was being done for a good review, it seemed more that he was keen to share his passion for his craft and show off his treasure chest of secrets. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">So yes, admittedly, we did benefit from a lot of chef love that night. But my suspicions that this is just a pretty damn good Japanese restaurant was independently verified by Philippe yesterday. He'd brought some colleagues for a weekday lunch and was very impressed with the quality of the food, especially the sashimi. His only gripe was that he'd asked the waitress to organize a mini-omakase with an emphasis on crab. Everything that came was very good, but no crab ever appeared, which the waitress explained at the end of the meal was because it didn't fit into his budget. Clearly a communication problem that is quite inexcusable, but, five minutes after telling me this, Philippe was back to musing <strong><em>"but that beef was amazing... that sashimi was so fresh... I do want to give it one more try..."</em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">And that's my Kaisan story. For sashimi it's now #3 on my list after Akane and Nogawa, but its convenient location at Raffles Hotel and <em>slightly</em> lower price tag means I'll probably be back more often. Great place to suggest for a business lunch, or for a quiet catch-up night with a couple of good girlfriends. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Just to end off, here's my little tribute to <a href="http://umami.typepad.com">Umami</a> and her husband. They were the ones who recommended Kaisan to us in the first place, and chef Thomas immediately recalled their personal favourites. So here are their initials, painstakingly sculpted out of onion slices, next to their faves. Guys, we're thinking of you!</span><br /><br /> <a title="Photo Sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/37776992@N00/356806621/"><img height="180" alt="2-10012007041" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/133/356806621_50f1bcbd87_m.jpg" width="240" /></a><a title="Photo Sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/37776992@N00/356806625/"><img height="240" alt="2-10012007042" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/130/356806625_b36e2f0939_m.jpg" width="180" /></a><br /><br /><a title="Photo Sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/37776992@N00/356799110/"></a> ******************************************************<br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>Kaisan</strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">#01-21 Raffles Hotel Arcade </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">T: 6339 4929<br /></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">P.S. Chef Thomas mentioned that his daughter is an avid food blog reader and a passionate baker. Didn't catch her name but, if by any chance, his daugher is reading this... you're one lucky girl if you get to eat like this at home :) Hope to read about your baking exploits on a blog some day!<br /></span><a title="Photo Sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/37776992@N00/356799118/"></a><br /><a title="Photo Sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/37776992@N00/356799126/"></a><br /><a title="Photo Sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/37776992@N00/356806614/"></a>hinatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14670681037946872386noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18628008.post-7742798729949593892007-01-08T15:29:00.000+08:002007-01-08T16:52:56.479+08:00The Great Pork Knuckle Quest<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5017559911992286850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgufWARVo9YOO9kvkWVYbYuLQtzdeD31V8NkR7YsTJfkp523xWJbjKIQuu5HR2zn91cntlNPHCgVIrq4mbwmnJl4lS6ygjVFPzSqcwcXHASKfxN0xw6tnhT5lGUh5eJiJZxLDE5aA/s320/CIMG3466.JPG" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Gonna try and keep this short(ish) to get back to regular blogging... </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Spent 3 days of our Christmas holiday in <strong>Hamburg</strong>, a 10-hour drive from the in-laws' in France. I hadn't been terribly keen on visiting Germany, picturing only <strong>humourless crewcut blondes</strong> (male and female), rows of cold industrial warehouses and drug-filled rave parties, but the chance to visit old friends and sample some <strong>pork knuckle</strong> won over in the end. </span><br /><div></div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5017559920582221474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbaNCQZeBt_yxvsgcqAGGXFC2lsZ22xrhGgisijhskKmxvp6Sl4fQv-NZbXKh2gsM0oeD7yISoaS5gS1wXmAXVtZlk2Ieok12_JuDNt8WOEPLfS7Qdq2MsngfQSMPERJFzTvtycA/s320/CIMG3426.JPG" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Turned out to be a great suggestion on Philippe's part. Hamburg is a charming, </span><span style="font-size:85%;">cosmopolitan city with well-preserved storybook architecture (it managed to avoid most of the wartime bombs), a bustling port, elegant, tree-lined shopping streets, picturesque canals (<strong>"the Venice of the North"</strong> said the guidebook) and best of all, heaps of good food. Because of the port, many of the city's specialties are seafood dishes, a far cry from the stereotypical sausages and sauerkraut. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">A trip to Hamburg also has the added benefit of snickers (the laugh, not the candy bar) every time you see the descriptive Hamburger, meaning "from Hamburg". Example:</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>Hamburger Hof</strong> is the name of a shopping mall.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">A local football team is called <strong>Hamburger SV</strong>.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">There's even a dessert that begins with Hamburger (Hamburger Rote Grutze), which had us confused on menus to no end. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">This works in Frankfurt too but Hamburger still sounds funnier than Frankfurter. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Anyway, the flip side of Hamburg being such an international city is that German food is decidedly untypical daily fare. A quick call to our friend Lam to ask for recommendations yielded a puzzling "German food? I've only eaten that once in my life." </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">This from a guy who was born and raised in Germany. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Surely enough, a wander around several of the more popular eating neighbourhoods in Munich, such as <strong>Grosse Neumarkt</strong>, uncovered only Irish pubs, Italian pizzerias, sushi joints, even Mexican hole-in-the-walls. The first lunch that Gloria and Lam took us to too, while supposedly very German and packed to the brim with locals, turned out to be a bonafide fish and chips restaurant in the English tradition, down to the Pakistani guy manning the newspaper wrapped takeaway service. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">But eventually Lam came through on our pleas for a REAL German place, and off we went for dinner at the still-not-so-German-sounding<strong> Old Commercial Room</strong>.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">And here you go, genuine Hamburg specialties!</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Aalsuppe</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5017558894085037602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiMEjpVJRdoyLcioNhvhK1Q4R0fYkI0YoDtIcCf7PaUcsx-wrSjkjmMFDUX96HDEBFp0KEui99XLRyUBl71SKs1GuwgdSmkTL9CufWqA7Ns0uDnrOiH4Cu7_-hm2eJwWN74WDCRg/s320/CIMG3437.JPG" border="0" /></span></strong><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">A sweet-and-sour version of minestrone filled with assorted veggies, stewed fruits and slices of eel. According to the good folks at Wikipedia, the eel was never an original ingredient in the soup. Rather, the name <em>aalsuppe</em> is literally soup with all in it, i.e. <strong>a toss-everything-in-and-clear-the-fridge kinda soup</strong>, but after many confused people ordered it expecting to see <em>aallool </em>or eel in it, the eel came to be a staple.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">This was really fun. I'm a big fan of all things vinegary, so enjoyed this very much as a 'kai wei' opening to what I (rightly) anticipated was a heavy meal. The stewed fruits also seemed appropriately festive with the snow falling outside.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">This was also the closest thing I'd be getting to Asian food for a while (giam chye soup?!) and so was deserving of a fair amount of lingering and licking of spoons.</span><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Labskaus</span> </strong><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">My queries to Gloria and Lam on true Hamburg food earlier in the day engendered a fit of childish giggles from Gloria. <strong>"The Vomit!" she cried to Lam, "they must eat The Vomit!"</strong> She then admitted there was a very traditional dish from Hamburg called <em><strong>labskaus</strong></em>, which neither of them had yet dared to try (Lam in his almost 40 years of being a German, and Gloria in her 10 years of being married to one), on account of its uncanny resemblance to, you guessed it, vomit.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">So, at dinner, we ordered The Vomit. Here it is, oozing out, swamp-creature like, the colour of exposed flesh, from under the fried egg.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5017558894085037586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjFVdch87fxeo3eMuKBgQELG2bMx9HKkAzkZ0iCvPYz_ilmv-LwrjFaFLSwiOjOdq_uPve6EKucFqUFkBhwMnSpqIq1eShcROHs_O4iXt_0lXvq4hlWmH52iuosPS9c8_L6PSavQ/s320/CIMG3435.JPG" border="0" /></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">The Vomit turned out to be a fairly tasty but aesthetically unappealing ladle of mushy corned beef (imagine creamed corned beef without cream, if that makes sense. Or regurgitated corned beef without Grandma's false teeth in them). Served with beetroot and mashed potatoes, it seemed like <strong>something you'd make for yourself in college when the funds run out</strong> - thrown together from tinned cans, nothing fancy or delicate, but still digestible and pretty filling. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">This was fun from a tourist perspective ("Look Ma, Germans eat puke!"), but not sure if I'd voluntarily order it again or attempt to make it at home.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Mains</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></strong><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Our mains turned out to be more generically pan-European than German. I had duck breast with braised red cabbage and potato hash balls; Lam had a highly recommended fish and Philippe pork medallions with tagliatelle. All were very well prepared and had us eagerly swopping samples across the table. Still, it was hard to get past the mental block of "I'm in Germany and I want pork knuckle dammit!", despite Lam and our server's gentle protests that these dishes are truly Hamburgian.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5017558894085037618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIFFr51UeGpfDpJHDkFBo2t-0h9Zm2IhMMP02gKhyphenhyphen3VksZNHoAtDDaG_q3P_KskNVwY3_l2kbBv5Qw_xlmRmFGCBOqXrk4ogq6Ai3Ainycr7mzZw0zI0YbAIoF9fDVa5naHCJ-Lg/s320/CIMG3438.JPG" border="0" /></span><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5017558898380004930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOKka8Qvt1WgMMLYQFTYCYY7WQOCdJIkOOKwBGM9AcW848KI0U6mE3AiFuVujnwvpa1nvnnqgUBv1ygJz2wrhQIBr5MPq432AA20Qjv-wkfPuD0ce2iehCerM_38uB1IpyfBcmww/s320/CIMG3439.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5017558898380004946" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYvBZ9dT1oou-NIGIjgXQxRBZB0-lVDbwaOd553nqehpcZz7O4OTcA_-hFQpMHCuoYtaWrY3jk3fIRrSz-BYDa2mmMCb2eT-qZij9aax9_aUEElWuKBdMaW0Cu1xTmBsNrQi_HfQ/s320/CIMG3441.JPG" border="0" /><br /><p><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Hamburger Rote Grutze</span></strong></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">At least there was no denying that dessert was authentically local - after all, it did bear the Hamburger appellation. This turned out to be an innocuous plate of mixed berries in cream, oddly summery in the midst of bleak winter, but deliciously tart and cheerily coloured. </span></p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5017559907697319522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivjhmUn7IAI3ZNRsuFXuH6BRuo-MzSAywvYIQAQ4cieF_0uJf680Z1Lgav1Zsv0qVuezVj2_vB92_rOQ_O_k_YgU8P2RLJOYZRLmabMCFUtaDR-ocAVSkI7VM8MYHwMmM7Qtf_0g/s320/CIMG3445.JPG" border="0" /></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Our meal was accompanied (for me at least) with glass after glass of <strong><em>Spezi</em></strong>, a popular localsoft drink which is really a mix of Fanta Orange and Coke. Caramel brown and tepid, it brought back guilty childhood memories of the Kickapoo-Sarsi-Cherryade combinations my primary school drink stall aunty would allow us to concoct for 20 cents a pop.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">I'd highly recommend the Old Commercial Room if you're in Hamburg looking for a good meal. The restaurant is very much a local institution, and a first encounter with one of the <strong>formally dressed, silver-haired servers</strong> is enough to impart that "hallowed hall" feeling. It's also a great place to gain insight on Hamburg's people and its development as a city, with newpaper clippings and photos covering every available inch of wall space. Oh, plus they have some kick-ass looking booze hanging around.</span></p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5017559907697319538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeM__FG-le2uWSE0J30cCNvtoaFJM4UHIBYS5bHvIkYI_n4-HYKaAz6WKS72kVIrS08S8sADdXJcef3AiP2HOFKtY9LFhDVLBjHmpiCmPgZf05nTROWP3Y3u_pgQE0uJ88R06P3A/s320/CIMG3448.JPG" border="0" /></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">P.S. I finally got my pork knuckle on the way back to France during a one night stopover in Frankfurt. Nice looking city with impressive office towers and cool sculptures dotting the streets, but completely dead during the holidays. We ended up finding my precious <strong><em>schweinhaxe</em></strong> at a restaurant in the middle of the Markt with more tourist than gastronomic value. Nothing worth recommending but it looked impressive and I'm just glad I finally got it. Here's the baby!</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5017559916287254162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWlIHcAKfNnpC5W2nm2YsHVFH3wwMDEmMmb0CXAeIjaBRtjgOrmCr7bvOvgy9tUr65J5el0RScIVJsrVIMEmQzEVehVNFIcoflVmsJOw6fyhDjv9axI31551hggz9SpvRXSDyV8g/s320/CIMG3470.JPG" border="0" /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Back to local blogging next!</span></p>hinatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14670681037946872386noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18628008.post-10244672944323499642007-01-03T15:32:00.000+08:002007-01-04T11:13:50.993+08:00Christmas in France<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinYQXd0I3_HDKF_98aN_6g4ZVT6_ky-ltHidEzx-EWVdQ4Y9G1SUZyxWVUcTpvMSZIPy7eA9yj1oQwU2EPJ-1h83fBaG9gcFljS1Vk0DS98znHhsLxK56MIzOGkce1d8Dysa7OXw/s1600-h/CIMG3320.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5015722562131798770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinYQXd0I3_HDKF_98aN_6g4ZVT6_ky-ltHidEzx-EWVdQ4Y9G1SUZyxWVUcTpvMSZIPy7eA9yj1oQwU2EPJ-1h83fBaG9gcFljS1Vk0DS98znHhsLxK56MIzOGkce1d8Dysa7OXw/s320/CIMG3320.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">Just got back from a short but good Christmas trip to France, my first Christmas back in three years. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Quite a bit's changed since the last time I was back in my in-laws' hometown, a 3 hour train ride to the east of Paris. <strong>The nieces are, I suppose understandably, much bigger</strong> - Jade at 6 has lost most of her baby fat, and now has the vocabulary befitting her cheeky precociousness (a more recent gem being her indignant reply, when asked if she had good girlfriends in her new primary school, that <strong>"I'm not a lesbian you know!");</strong> Camille and Manon are towering fashion plates traipsing around mid-winter in patent pumps; and Justine, who I'd hoped would be impressed by my young funky aunt wannabe pink highlights, turned out to have a head of blonde-streaked hair herself, and sniffed that my own colour was closer to orange than pink (despite my protest that it was simply the <strong>poor lighting</strong>). </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">I'd also forgotten how indifferent my French family is to my earnest attempts to <strong>display good Confucian filial piety</strong>. Shooed out of the kitchen, banned from food preparation or cleaning up, I felt useless... betrayed. Didn't my in-laws know that I'm supposed to willingly chop off my own arm to boil them medicinal soup in times of ill health? Bah. A perfectly nutritious arm (slim and nicely tanned at that!), wasted.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Having reluctantly hunkered down to the realization that my dusty skills of friendship-bracelet weaving (for the nieces) and table setting (for the in-laws) just wouldn't cut it any more, I decided to stick to what I do best in France - eating.</span> </div><div><br /> </div><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5015721612944026258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpv-1JG32lQ5klVQyAVLVE603v5JIzUnfsXgHI_AQw0uMPFEeVnz-EKw7_b4iQxQA8Y-3ve1pA32ah8tTNU852DNmvnYRS3aLSz3IVDJK96gSCzmOB3oWj5AtbbiNOs_TqopB22g/s320/CIMG3291.JPG" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">This started with a 6am <em>chocolat chaud</em> and <em>pain au chocolat</em>, my usual arrival foods, while killing time at the <strong>Gare de L'Est station</strong> waiting for the train. Unfortunately, in the freezing cold, I was done with both in about 30 seconds, and eventually yielded my much sought after counter space after many purposeful glares in my direction. This led to 45 minutes of sitting perched on my suitcase in the middle of the station, <strong>a magnet for crazy old ladies</strong> who seemed to enjoy nothing more than (1) pushing their suitcase trolleys at me full speed, and getting a good laugh as I started up off my seat, (2) admonishing me with repeated utterances of <em>"c'est grave, c'est grave</em>" <em></em>and finally (3) I suspect, tapping me on the top of my head with an umbrella. I say I suspect because I had a stiff hoodie on, and turning my neck to look behind me only resulted in my seeing the interior of my hoodie back. By the time I'd exerted the considerable effort needed to turn my entire person around, said crazy old lady was nowhere to be seen. But I'm sure it happened. That or the insanity is contagious.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Anyway, on to Christmas foods. Being a tech dummy, I still haven't figured out how to make those fancy collages that seem to come from Flickr, so here they are, old skool.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>Christmas Eve dinner</strong> at Philippe's sister's started with <strong>fresh oysters, followed by foie gras, fresh figs and onion confit.</strong> </span><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5015721612944026274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS7riXn_dJPMZQNZfcMuDlZpiplbREafzkivzPGbLMDmwaskvw447vsnyL1MPzc5sHZ8RtGZUidIrLz0Jp8dX_zsVAFWauR-6VbnHz80QOxxufqCEH1iczxaM2jUoAujuCDkRonA/s320/CIMG3294.JPG" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5015721617238993602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvzMBlM4Pid2Z5jR785Q2rMJ-aj_xA2sNMqIiXRzowheGCqFkKah0-6f1b-oShGL8bYiCThvD4N3oZm6UpS90Z1WVYeCivh1c1EYykGFZvB3daBQt5YvFQ5uyO7SVDELed-Riy7w/s320/CIMG3301.JPG" border="0" /></span></div></div><br /><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Then an entree of <strong><em>coquilles Saint Jacques</em> with caramelized endives in cream</strong>. The endives were fascinating - crisp yet soft, bitterly sweet. The cream is added later but quickly takes on the flavours, making it a rich and fitting complement to the <em>coquilles.</em></span><br /><br /></p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5015721617238993618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEiAz1D3d86OwOXQf_BHfdZIAPfETfr7D-QYYTPnRUy09FO7rZidRVmqFsaPFt4jJadiTCpnwj-HBIpyDClJSe_dtqtG27046E9_ssPqWMKaXGJOu53bhCCfT01rv3TiyhKww1RA/s320/CIMG3304.JPG" border="0" /></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">The main dish was Philippe's mom's traditional <em><strong>capon</strong></em>, a <a href="http://www.umaine.edu/umcecumberland/caponizing_illustrated.htm">castrated rooster</a>. Little did baby Jesus know that his birth would be celebrated centuries later by Frenchmen enthusiastically lopping the balls of hapless male chicks, albeit that said balls are innocently <strong>"the size and colour of a kernel of corn".</strong> Nonetheless, the <em>capon</em> was delicious, served with sides of stewed apples and chestnuts (Patrick from Azhang notes that French chestnuts are a completely different breed from Chinese chestnuts and therefore more appropriate for cooking, no innuendo intended.)</span><br /><br /></p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5015722562131798786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0qiMNnvVZClFCsG-fR30QALM9vq4OhJwO5TG0MkzsfI2ofINMtel_qdsIOH3dF6lg6t6TyV4YOTdoHjdI0JlZtGRguo9OQRh_-NcXoSimLtxw8KxdE05cb3b2wCCwtzcMipkk8g/s320/CIMG3334.JPG" border="0" /></p></div><p><span style="font-size:85%;">The kids got to eat the severed rooster testicles, breaded and baked, a popular TV time snack apparently. </span><br /></p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5015722557836831458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB3XNC4gJdPnWGJwOb4OP1Gd-4RfQyBsPyZU748dBNTEd3mgrNlR7Hds2EMHUe96-dwzozBa4GWtU79OJ4d9auhr7clgfFc0uFSOb2yoj2RUFPQBSiFVBMiX5Kk1hmclmgoxBecQ/s320/CIMG3312.JPG" border="0" /></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Nah, ok, so they're just <em>pommes noisettes</em>. I've been reading </span><a href="http://food.recentrunes.com/"><span style="font-size:85%;">Ivan's blog</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> too much methinks, the mind's getting fouled up.</span> <span style="font-size:85%;">I took the pic cos growing up <em>pommes noisettes</em> were my favourite dinner side (peel the skin then eat the centers), and I was surprised to find out that kids in France eat them too. (Another surprising note, did anyone know that Bata, trusty manufacturer of cardboard white school shoes, is also French? As is the Ayam Tuna brand?) </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Cheese plate for dessert, then <strong>homemade log cake</strong>! Philippe's dad is quite the baker, and proudly insisted that I spend a good 5 minutes snapping photos of his cakes before he carved them up (this is the chocolate version, there was a similar vanilla one as well).</span></p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5015722566426766114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFNuy5pQ6daatGNfMUjntdvu_p43bPXnCShUTiqEDiY55xPyBpE59szy8B_HE_KSmYHuD0iIZOcZIETjMpQHU5uIqViPpV16gtRzsbWSh6_j1T0f8Ja8R3VxvnFFDSh1w5vFqJrg/s320/CIMG3337.JPG" border="0" /></p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5015722738225457970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj15at4UAlET9FHIJKNrs3QfoWnICIYgwe46hXDSETlKGWu88EuAC_9p9ae_e6rcY7v7ue3DwpxvqpEDiC7Aln3xp61yzGGzuKtGh8EUBFNIvGl5k0Sv3sFvR9FWFIv-xdbjwcc_A/s320/CIMG3354.JPG" border="0" /></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Lastly, a pic of the lemonade bottle that now serves as water pitcher, cos I thought it was cute and also because it served as my beacon of salvation through the endless bottles of wine we went through (more on that later).</span><br /><br /></p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5015721612944026290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrgE70m1oa4K-jyBLUo82pd3b-8SYlvjTIBNC0yK__UWsafIR6bhyQ_YA1ZyvB1AwZVmvVqyyEQeTjZOpRh2eoRBEEvoQAwvMXsezb3NInGYOfhO1VxhM4sFBtUC1hn8qvgvgorA/s320/CIMG3298.JPG" border="0" /><span style="font-size:85%;">Christmas day lunch with my brother-in-law's family at the surprisingly nautical themed (we're hours from the nearest ocean) <strong>L'Hippocampe</strong> (aka The Seahorse). The meal turned out non-traditional in the Christmas sense, but good. </span></p></div></div></div><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5015729807741627298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC2DNz5XFD9pDaDZ82U8jt2XhkuREv4RMBqJeN5Ss2atHokaF3C8IGmLRxePKWSq2nT1zW3y00pwbelEKggxcZyhd3yZttVo55jfy0b0L3XQDC1zA3nVsKVeo6tFSTIFI8Bl-UjQ/s320/CIMG3398.JPG" border="0" /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Turns out that the owner/chef is a certified disciple of Monsieur August Escoffier himself, which puffed me up no end with a false sense of pride. I married the man who is brother to the woman who married the man who organized lunch at an Escoffier restaurant! It's as if The Man cooked a special meal for me himself! My hands got quite sore from <strong>patting myself on the back</strong>. </span></p><p align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">The Man and his disciple</span></em></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5015728648100457346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAwUvZ_7lrizbYXetkKoWqomqQ_sJvc5Tq6f7M-QbkGbTpK0w3XNHgbHdwunF0d_WfIPYVBBwAdygs4mhJkyVHMVIVf1rZvLy9kbYWH47xjHwLccf4To53zKpZydS0tXAwUH3wmA/s320/CIMG3392.JPG" border="0" /></span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>The cute handpainted lamps. Note that at any French family celebration, it is de rigeur to scatter little bits of sparkly paper across the length of the table.</em></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5015728643805489986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_nuJ4zYUd_AQjMxhKC8e_vslO_7GGIT0zWHUQKkulXMYXWns2RnkmzWWA8yqHD-hvp3iRFkVy4at_UZZEl7lteNIMGAJ7FId35ONwyusrqQpzZRmF0boD23uSLwHAKB_rzY_sww/s320/CIMG3359.JPG" border="0" /></span></p><p align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Folding boat-shaped serviettes. Ahoy!</span></em></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5015729803446659986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx3zjXy-x8_g15b3v0Y55kcIl81SupAXtI6lEVy0kXjwt_-SGFguNjFpiaMl868aYw5I-D13LOCLpdMEmsVp5HjUDyFoTftCmrozhKsnNuVDM-MFW2BmXkIv92cGG1rxj5KF62BA/s320/CIMG3396.JPG" border="0" /><br /><p align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>Starter: Foie gras (again), with toasted baguette, a smattering of loose spices, and an apricot chutney</em></span> </p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5015728643805490002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX6dzqqRe35NgtrdPxW16WLvhATwFCqKV9jJJlJUHFZGtje1vtCtyQJsLe9ba3lzw86OhK10HG7CnaPZdVUjgKeQ0eXcrUYsQM5h9jpbw2Ufb2UhLcMgiMNP_kuFgC3nmx2WHxNg/s320/CIMG3364.JPG" border="0" /></p><p align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Main: trio of fish with pasta</span></em></p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5015728648100457314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkMjhSwWrkW21Brx6yzHAXNgo7Qb8hx24FWjROi1nrq0k1UpdVxDZ9P5pnSdmaRXmmTTdwqCHREUugTDBYZOZhTWTlD7XvvbeW29oVwPguBPZ7JM7x9QpIHXCQE5zBP3hj2OTGjQ/s320/CIMG3366.JPG" border="0" /></p><p align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Dessert: a Bomb Alaska (which failed to spectacularly ignite, but tasted good anyway)</span></em></p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5015728648100457330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEAv-3lEDsU0ZDuBMfFKvV7HZ6jOURnunYFIls-PcSeQ4arYIH0y9gMkjSLWnS4SitCMKVubHw1Z19FaNRzJxM8gEGYSLnlxr6BmtZ5z7hY8ZpWBOs_XMC8Wmy5AhEQqHbkHdQmw/s320/CIMG3379.JPG" border="0" /></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Fast forward to New Year's Eve as this post is getting way too long. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">End of the day, festive holidays in France are not more exotic than anywhere else in the world. There's the countdown TV specials featuring the <strong>best of "Candid Camera"</strong> type gag shows and champion ice skating, kids still run off between courses to ping friends on MSN, and when mom finally gets tired of cooking, you order home delivery. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Fortunately, French home delivery from the local <em>traiteur</em>, albeit ordered in advance, is still way snazzier than anywhere else in the world. Take a look:</span></p><p align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Foie gras (yes again) with spiced bread and onion and ginger confit (or to be atas, confiture des oignons et du/de la gingembre - is gingembre masculine or feminine?)</span></em></p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5015729807741627314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMV8LwIsNwUGzTQOtKpjg-59PKOp6K5NfbbgGzZekX0bTzzEZ0wK231hH4N1mnBAjlJeU0URAMPiLAREGD_PGioTRBPgbDE6vJ8QFE42ApAzNIj0CYkzEz15vkoOQSOo1JF_I_0A/s320/CIMG3481.JPG" border="0" /></p><p align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">A kind of bouillabaisse of coquilles and ecrivisses (shrimp, the little-ish ones), served in individual copper pots (provided by the traiteur. To use the phrase my nieces just taught me, "c'est classe!")</span></em></p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5015729812036594642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU6UEfwPgFWBNQwdLeZpDzQcpHTo1romyNi_Vnoap_JC_Rdii5Akm40KTVDEc5THixi2ls4hvNW5XR44EDJtyY6bEf5jmpnV98UlH2pPGAcDAjOP3MC0Pu_5NR3jGMZMwH2WgSKQ/s320/CIMG3492.JPG" border="0" /></p><p align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Poulet bresse with a morels and cream sauce, with a slice of potato hash </span></em></p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5015730301662866418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfh9wt0c0zVX8XP3AltBu0a6i3neBJsp_dnB3lrdfwyfs7RUJz8WHpFKj33pDH5gT1NUiti1fP7jGY7z1pzAYXRvTRyFwafSzh4u-h1qUaW0AV9FH6bec4lz5eVulPfHO5BCdRDA/s320/CIMG3494.JPG" border="0" /></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Unfortunately, that was as far as I lasted on New Year's Eve. Having held my own in finishing, between 4 adults, a bottle of champagne, two bottles of white and a bottle of red in the span of just over an hour, I excused myself during the cheese course, ostensibly to visit the bathroom, but in reality passed out on the bed <strong>with a dustbin by my side for good measure</strong>, visions of cream, foie gras and wine spinning in my head and churning in my stomach. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">I can only imagine that I missed some pretty good cheese, two cakes (I saw them on the table earlier - one pistachio, one mandarin) and about 2 hours of hilarious footage of people falling down at weddings (the gag special continued in the background).</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Here are some of the culprits by the way:</span></p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5015730305957833746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizG4DmMts_hpawHhHKrGoT49UWuWItqMeZ9xi992nl9Ag3eKTI2AC9FC6OIsxYe1v_Ha9erkAcckAIqGZv3nqm_ppCYIT98jh1Qm9xy8ieehs_qqCg_JkBcNzcBx6r80zJa-Ek3g/s320/CIMG3495.JPG" border="0" /></p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5015730305957833730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcZTrEcqRf8bIJc4t158vb_rg4aziEqT-eY2-yRpk8_-QyvpY8XO74HnQErGiJ4nkMMLDwtVWEV_rShgQ9He01gPt3DTEMjjI9e9K542MqMgI50EjQ02nsO9WBynPekoaNRhq48w/s320/CIMG3490.JPG" border="0" /></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">As an aside, the two nieces who joined us for dinner at the last minute decided to bring their own. Their food of choice? Cantonese from the local supermarket freezer section! To be specific, <strong>frighteningy large and soggy spring rolls</strong> and a mystery box of microwavable <em><strong>riz du cantonais</strong></em>, or white rice with carrots, peas and corn. I was sitting on my hands trying not to grab the rice, fling it into a wok and at least top it up with egg, scraps of meat, anything, ANYTHING! that would at least add some flavour, colour to that flagrant insult to fried rice. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5015729812036594626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUMehLJ5lkBIG7Mbqhw3zUhfHzztXLkzBGhDfVCzm5Q42nc-6M5_pFQMITQM7gPzkypErRwS6Ye8zQwi_58fYLzE4oFD27iFx9NHktSdN8znxL9AKg7m5jZ8wYqCezN9GSQUBwLQ/s320/CIMG3486.JPG" border="0" /></span></p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5015730301662866402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7sv_Pw-2gumNHA-A7-rncCkYD2icim2u0TsTAJuPAPZsjNiJYGsZNUmOZZEjdiT2Z5cZ-rbkmJURDY1E927jNPPfSR6G941grTdsFvPIbOSYO9doV30r0Mrl8O1jppZLvezNfbQ/s320/CIMG3493.JPG" border="0" /></p><br /><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Last meal of the trip, promise! Lunch on New Year's day was <em><strong>raclette</strong></em>, a kind of upside down fondue where you melt little pans of cheese over an electric hotplate till it gets bubbly and runny, then pour the cheese on your plate over potatoes and various hams. Fun for the winter, and it seems to arouse the same nostalgic, communal, comfort food feelings as a good steamboat does here at home. </span></p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5015730305957833762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcC-LKCoYcumBd1ZxPJ7DxkUkraCpIshajRRO14YQbXN5qUzR9Enasd3wMhfLHSt-JWMcKmSR-a_SUa2g57s5y_-3iOcXH4vB8yMiL9E0wHZcYeY5XVF7g3jYJd9dY3SnUwsetZA/s320/CIMG3497.JPG" border="0" /></p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5015730761224367170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTre2C_cMaFnp3z5WK1wXzxUBTwgS2S28eQY511GE_KHId1Bdmd667i3OjENZu0kQ6urqCpSNzb-dDHmMgH5sRojpNcXhEt12bEqaGgBw1-2s6ZVAG1DMSH2x8SVYLkxLq5Mph-g/s320/CIMG3505.JPG" border="0" /></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Tipple of choice this time was a 1982 bottle of Bordeaux that came from the same Chateau that supplied our wedding wine. We'd had a 150 bottles of reds and whites (albeit not from 1982) from this Chateau shipped to Singapore for our wedding here, and since the dinner was a fairly intimate affair by local standards, ended up with about 50 bottles leftover which we spent the better part of a year finishing. Was fun to see the bottle again, especially the day after our 5th wedding anniversary (child bride, me).</span> </p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">And then a little something something to keep us intoxicated through the train ride back to Paris - <strong>home made alcohol! </strong>Eau de vie if you want to be snooty about it.<strong> </strong>Note the handwritten labels/post-it pads - the one on the left is mirabelle, the one on the right prune. Plus some nasty chartreuse unpictured - 55% alcohol made from a secret blend of vegetables. v8 left unattended. But I was told it was good for me, so no choice (just like the night before, when I warned my in-laws that I would soon be drunk if they didn't stop pouring all that wine, their only reply was "so what else do you have to do anyway?"). Gan bei!</span></p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5015730765519334482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuX4wuIJWelVCWVIWPGGvwc2a42GsKwYmJJZET1jiYmUAIq7Dn94iwRwVaLa5kP9WkvCXuTklcAlhGVXNmZX6HNjb53q7fhLd-aGVSQ0N3456hJJXdqAwI-e29igmoJxwCCDhSpA/s320/CIMG3517.JPG" border="0" /></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Thanks for putting up with (yet another) marathon post. In case you're observant/really bored, you might've noticed a few days missing in between Christmas and New Year's. We spent those driving up to Germany to visit some friends and hunt down some pork knuckle. Will post on how that went shortly! </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">In the meantime, happy new year all! May 2007 be full of good eats!</span> </p>hinatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14670681037946872386noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18628008.post-75251154851330303442006-12-22T15:24:00.000+08:002006-12-26T01:29:09.734+08:00Christmas Flog Exchange: Pairings!<span style="font-size:85%;">Sorry for the delay as some peopl needed a bit more time to get back to us... but here we go, the moment you've all been waiting for! </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Below are the pairings for the Christmas Flog Exchange. You'll each be getting an e-mail from Joone and I providing you with the contact e-mail and address of the person who's wish you'll be fulfilling - do get in touch directly to arrange how to exchange gifts! Sorry if some of us couldn't get first choice wishes, it was difficult to match everyone up exactly :) For detailed wish descriptions, please refer to previous post. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">1. <strong>Brenda's </strong>wish for Mexican/Jewish delights will be fulfilled by <em><strong>Hinata</strong></em>!</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">2. <strong>Cheryl's</strong> wish for dark chocolate will be fulfilled by <strong><em>Nadnut</em></strong>!</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">3. <strong>Nadnut's </strong>wish for personalized cupcakes will be fulfilled by <strong><em>Mia</em></strong>!</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">4. <strong>Umami's</strong> wish for a surprise will be fulfilled by <strong><em>Jasmine</em></strong>!</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">5. <strong>Viviene's</strong> wish for Christmas goodies will be fulfilled by <strong><em>Umami</em></strong>!</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">6. <strong>Samuel's</strong> wish for chocolates will be fulfilled by <strong><em>Viviene</em></strong>!</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">7. <strong>Jasmine's</strong> wish for strawberry shortcake will be fulfilled by <strong><em>SuperFineFeline</em></strong>!</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">8. <strong>Callen's</strong> wish for German chocolate cake will be fulfilled by <strong><em>Vivien Teng</em></strong>!</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">9. <strong>LeRoy's</strong> wish for macarons will be fulfilled by <strong><em>Joone or Brenda</em></strong>!</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">10. <strong>Mia's</strong> wish for risotto with truffles will be fulfilled by <strong><em>Callen</em></strong>!</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">11. <strong>Ivan's</strong> wish for a t-shirt will be fulfilled by <strong><em>Samuel</em></strong>!</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">12. <strong>Joone's</strong> wish for a serving plate will be fulfilled by <strong><em>Ivan</em></strong>!</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">13. <strong>Hinata's</strong> wish for Japanese confectionery will be fulfilled by <strong><em>LeRoy</em></strong>!</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">14. <strong>Viviene Teng's</strong> wish for chawanmushi cups will be fulfilled by <strong><em>Brenda or Joone</em></strong>!</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Do post up on your gift and giver, or even your meeting session! It would be fun to see what ideas everyone came up with and how they turned out :)</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Merry Christmas everyone!!!</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span>hinatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14670681037946872386noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18628008.post-68157075652792973232006-12-15T10:42:00.000+08:002006-12-22T15:52:16.224+08:00Christmas Flog Exchange Part 2: Fulfil a Wish!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO2-lNeXHiNkssay5uS0kiUowVgt_LiS2c42bkIom7Ptmu3p5nt6JjJKwyjyhYbd_76uTQ0-C1iEonm-BL_T1FTdONPbRPZp6IaIIAe9elE05oRYKOCi0vzKHqbXlzvMT1qcse-Q/s1600-h/CIMG3187.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5008588792143911426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO2-lNeXHiNkssay5uS0kiUowVgt_LiS2c42bkIom7Ptmu3p5nt6JjJKwyjyhYbd_76uTQ0-C1iEonm-BL_T1FTdONPbRPZp6IaIIAe9elE05oRYKOCi0vzKHqbXlzvMT1qcse-Q/s320/CIMG3187.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="left">Thanks everyone who's participating in the Christmas Flog Exchange!<br /><br />This is the fun part now, seeing everyone's wishes and <strong>choosing a wish to fulfil.</strong> We've got 14 wishes, listed below. Please reply to the same email as before - <strong>christmasflogexchange.yahoo.com.sg</strong> - by next <strong>Thursday, December 21</strong>, stating your 1st choice, 2nd choice and 3rd choice of wishes to fulfil (need 3 choices in case everyone wants to fulfil the same wish lah). Joone and I will post up the pairings next Friday, and then off to gift-swopping land we go!<br /><br />Don't forget to reply soon - if you're not fulfilling someone's wish then obviously it's not fair that you get your wish fulfilled, and you don't want to get scratched off our Santa's helper list :) </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5008588963942603282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO5jKABF_Sg4nMe2p-DThF0YrIqe5csZxVjtCzdjfBnwLtT4vEAA_T-DifLP-gf-6kx2GeVUhq2p4274bMWwLztzPS2CkP96mJQa2eebLhYd_Z33EhjzafztwoHbaK8CzlocIHDA/s320/CIMG3192.JPG" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>Wishers and wishes:</strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">1. Brenda of <a href="http://monstrousappetites.blogspot.com">Monstrous Appetites </a>would like some Mexican/Jewish delights, e.g. chili, falafels and tortillas.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">2. Cheryl of <a href="http://thebakerwhocooks.blogspot.com">She Bakes and She Cooks</a> would like your favourite dark chocolate.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">3. Nadnut of <a href="http://nadnut.liquidblade.com">nadnut.liquidblade.com</a> would like 6 pretty decorated cupcakes spelling out her nick (i.e. one with the letter N, one with the letter A, etc.)</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">4. Umami of <a href="http://umami.typepad.com">Umami</a> would like to be surprised :)</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">5. Viviene of <a href="http://sweetsformysweet.blogspot.com">Sweets For My Sweet Tooth</a> would like any Christmas-related food items that can be conveniently posted to her in KL.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">6. Samuel of <a href="http://yummydummy.blogspot.com">Yummy Dummy </a>would like "nice, yummilicious chocolates" (preferably dark), or anything chocolatey.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">7. Jasmine of <a href="http://loveatfirstbite.blogspot.com">Love At First Bite</a> would like to eat the best strawberry shortcake ever.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">8. Callen of <a href="http://whiskey-lullaby.blogspot.com">Whiskey Lullaby</a> would like the German chocolate cake (dark chocolate) featured on <a href="http://bakingsheet.blogspot.com/2006/09/german-chocolate-cake">http://bakingsheet.blogspot.com/2006/09/german-chocolate-cake</a></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">9. Superfinefeline of <a href="http://superfinefeline.blogspot.com">Superfinefeline</a> would like (1) a chocolate cake baked by Cheryl :) or (2) organic tea or walnuts from Bunalun</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">10. LeRoy of <a href="http://thehungrycow.blogspot.com">The Hungry Cow</a> would like macarons and their recipe.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">11. Mia the <a href="http://skinny-epicurean.blogspot.com">Skinny Epicurean</a> would like a creamy dish of risotte with white alba truffle shavings.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">12. Ivan of <a href="http://food.recentrunes.com">Recent Runes</a>, in a non-food related request, would like the T-shirt featured on <a href="http://www.thinkgeek.com/tshirts/gaming/84ce">http://www.thinkgeek.com/tshirts/gaming/84ce</a> in black, size XL.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Lastly,</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">13. Joone of <a href="http://joonelovesfood.blogspot.com">Nibble & Scribble</a> would like a serving bowl/plate, or something Japanese for her kitchen.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">14. And <a href="http://cocotterouge.blogspot.com">I</a> would like Japanese confectionery (like those pretty mochi cakes), preferably winter themed. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">So what are you waiting for? <strong>Harness your inner Santa/Santarina</strong> and let us know which wishes you'd like to fulfil!</span> <div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></div></span>hinatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14670681037946872386noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18628008.post-19998064126732135612006-12-11T15:46:00.000+08:002006-12-22T15:51:44.765+08:00Christmas Flog Exchange!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgySUqJ23QCECKWWqKvNfkc-zPxfmUPWu7tmOC040_IYPq-DK_Tn_T_3VVw24sQUvR8eZ_ANM58ENRx4xjoyb5XzaCM-E-RDFBb2ssuO2da-lzMdbgQoDzqkWnqv6p18wncvORTkA/s1600-h/CIMG3165.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5007176995514912018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgySUqJ23QCECKWWqKvNfkc-zPxfmUPWu7tmOC040_IYPq-DK_Tn_T_3VVw24sQUvR8eZ_ANM58ENRx4xjoyb5XzaCM-E-RDFBb2ssuO2da-lzMdbgQoDzqkWnqv6p18wncvORTkA/s320/CIMG3165.JPG" border="0" /></a> <div><span style="font-size:85%;">Attention all food bloggers! Since 'tis the season and all that, <a href="http://joonelovesfood.blogspot.com">Joone </a>and I are organizing a <strong>Christmas Flog Exchange</strong>!</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">All you have to do to take part is send an e-mail to <a href="mailto:christmasflogexchange@yahoo.com.sg">christmasflogexchange@yahoo.com.sg</a> with your name, blog, snail mail address and wish <strong>by this Thursday, December 14</strong>. Joone and I will publish the completed wish list the next day (Friday, December 15), after which you have one week to sign up to fulfil someone else's wish. Needless to say, you only get to make a wish if you're gonna fulfil someone else's in return :)</span> </div><div><br /></div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5007176999809879330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2ky3uVb_OOhqPR6yIho9GySr1QFI1tNr-V0dEZp_nucLD_NkhQhpPq_6IQsxnKDFZcs8TPYZfAEmYAwL3TXsOa3Ep58VBTYmGJqhAWmh9tw8U3pm_Z7mrJJ1EPnqgisL1mGUhdg/s320/CIMG3168.JPG" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">To keep things fun and friendly, you can wish for <strong>anything food-related that's under S$20</strong>. It can be something specific (e.g. a box of organic cherries) or something that requires a bit of creativity on your wish fulfiller's part (e.g. "the best cupcakes you've ever eaten").</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Of course, feel free to <strong>spread the word</strong> on your own blogs and get more people involved! Depending on the response, we can either organize a gift exchange dinner or a simpler blogging-by-mail exchange (hence the request for your snail mail address).</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">So get wishing! </span><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5007177004104846642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1wgYXBlUx1lUg_7C_0qKbxNLKE9sJIGxlwntW4XajrtJHXRs-6FOi9F5eJ2braNR4MxbQTioMMLZc3EXhZ718-omiQHtnobSfwAs1OEL3D-xM7XzmAWijNwg30U5rPhXxXYvfRw/s320/CIMG3172.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">P.S. While thinking up your wish this Christmas, please also spare a thought for the <strong>less fortunate</strong>. Here are just a few of the fundraisers I'm aware of this Christmas. If you're involved with a charity that you'd like to tell others about, do feel free to include a short description and link with your wish, and we'll publish it together with the full wishlist on Friday. Happy holidays!</span><br /><ul><li><span style="font-size:85%;">Chez Pim's <a href="http://chezpim.typepad.com/blogs/2006/12/menu_for_hope_i.html">A Menu for Hope III</a> is raising funds for UNICEF;</span></li><li><span style="font-size:85%;">The <a href="http://www.bbsgb.org.sg">Boys' Brigade Sharity Gift Box</a> is looking people to fulfil wishes for various needy homes and hospices in Singapore;</span></li><li><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="http://www.worldvision.org">World Vision</a> likewise needs sponsors for gifts to underprivileged children and families around the world.<br /></span><br /></li></ul><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPfyqh4vWJmfdrEgZyRfziOIEBODh78FFhkkPu_HDaVswWoUzEUHFvWj8Lt06zYRMlnD646ewWWL2X2lhuQkKM7bzKEWHxupl8Y4jJi8iDmwsygZQbcXnCda7dHHvPtm0fgn0t0Q/s1600-h/CIMG3168.JPG"></a>hinatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14670681037946872386noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18628008.post-63398699750998972742006-12-08T10:08:00.000+08:002006-12-11T14:27:08.513+08:00Tian Jin Fong Kee<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh51GnZZir4PAng96smmLIShjUbGscJUe3CL70jYC1QWqfo0_j8Q9tGC_9xiw4wbJ69oUq30Xf0UvSUPWaIo8TVDeJTF1xb1LXiUh3HvDK_5DjodGi26rhVn5CfmF19H3MbMdKnOg/s1600-h/CIMG3162.JPG"><span style="font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5005972652325375186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh51GnZZir4PAng96smmLIShjUbGscJUe3CL70jYC1QWqfo0_j8Q9tGC_9xiw4wbJ69oUq30Xf0UvSUPWaIo8TVDeJTF1xb1LXiUh3HvDK_5DjodGi26rhVn5CfmF19H3MbMdKnOg/s320/CIMG3162.JPG" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><div><span style="font-size:85%;">When you're hungry and need <strong>filling up in a hurry</strong>, you can't go wrong with a big plate of Chinese dumplings, or <em>jiaozi. </em></span></div><p><span style="font-size:85%;">My love affair with <em>jiaozis</em> started as a kid. We have a S<em>am Ee Por</em> (or Third Grandaunt, for the non-Cantonese out there) who lives in London and used to spend a month or so each year in Singapore visiting my grandma. Their catch-up sessions would inevitably take place over the backyard kitchen table, their hands busy <strong>kneading, stuffing and sealing</strong> <em>wotip </em>after <em>wotip </em>(again, for the non-Cantonese, <em>wotip</em> is Cantonese for <em>guotie</em>, the fried version of <em>jiaozi</em> that I grew up eating) while they chatted<em>. </em></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">All tears over <em>Sam Ee Por</em>'s eventual return to London's muggy shores would thus be softened with the knowledge that my grandma's freezer was packed with sufficient <em>wotip </em>to ensure the entire extended family would be kept well stocked till her next visit. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">And whenever one of the family happened to be in London, a call to <em>Sam Ee Por </em>informing her of our visit would hear her voice <strong>perking up over the phone </strong>to make the declaration we were all hoping to hear: <em>"Sam Ee Por will make you some wotip!"</em></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">And trust me, there is nothing better during a cold London winter than <em>Sam Ee Por</em>'s <em>wotip.</em> Except maybe her <em>yau mei fan </em>(a recipe for another day).</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">So while <em>wotip</em> remains for me, a warm and fuzzy <strong>flagbearer of all things good and Cantonese</strong>, to Philippe, it's one of the ultimate Beijing dishes.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>Jiaozi,</em> the steamed Northern Chinese equivalent, was likewise a godsend during equally harsh Beijing winters. Cheap, warm and filling, it also offered the advantage of being one of the rare dishes in a Chinese university canteen that did not come <strong>blanketed in a layer of oil and MSG</strong>. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Later, when we both began working in Beijing, <em>jiaozi </em>was the convenient <strong>meal-in-a-bag </strong>that you could stock up for months at a go at your nearest supermarket, and have ready to eat in under 5 minutes after a late night of work.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">So you can imagine we were pretty thrilled when my dad introduced us to <strong>Tian Jin Fong Kee</strong> when we moved back to Singapore. Formerly (and they're back now) occupying a couple of stalls at the People's Park Complex Hawker Centre, Fong Kee moved into a ground floor unit in the main building when the hawker centre underwent renovation. The new unit got jazzed up with <strong>mod Chinese lanterns</strong>, airconditioning, and an expanded menu featuring Northern Chinese dishes and coffeeshop favourites such as yangzhou fried rice and beef hor fun.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5005972643735440562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHMQ_dpKLiMymX7DD4OaA-EzSs0d2eYx7Zd91INzQF49yCogNGOPY44u7w8Juveeez-0UmqF4uz21xE1Edx2zmz1nQyfj0lH_fTtv8EU52xphP-rSkL25pxYQdRAgQn0yb9jtgjQ/s320/CIMG3156.JPG" border="0" /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Their signature <em>jiaozi</em>, however, remain as good as before. Compared to other <em>jiaozi </em>stores, I'd say what distinguishes Fong Kee's <em>jiaozi</em> are the generous amount of chopped chives, which are awful for one's breath but gives the meat a <strong>sharp, onion-like edge</strong>. The meat contains a fair bit of fat, fast approaching the <strong>border of <em>xiaolongbao</em> soupy</strong>. The <em>guotie</em> version also carries the charred, smoky imprint of hot frying oil which is especially addictive when contrasted with the vinegar and ginger dipping sauce, while the boiled <em>jiaozi </em>benefit from a skin that is firm but not thick and overly starchy. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">It's hard to even consider ordering other dishes when the <em>jiaozi</em> are so addictive, but we usually make an exception for the <em><strong>zhajiang mian</strong></em>. As you can see from the picture, it's not a pretty dish, nor are the ingredients terribly refined. But the <em>zhajiang</em> boasts a strong splash of vinegar that's very <em>kai wei </em>("appetite opening") and the noodles are smooth.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5005972639440473250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7pyVRBdQZto8HVvwq8h7pASKZhwp9CoNYPm-srwYCDtaYYwEFxMfXtcTAOXO31Gq8mREeYn29VgAeclNIio310N380ONXdWA6osnLi63JzP5qwGcR2rh9wD0XkWu_XDCsZlarCg/s320/CIMG3155.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5005972648030407874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDb9IbFC_skadMM3tJL-mruPiOgMdnfhtQihv4t8omNixOBqTo9CXwu-FpFkHEItTMFmHz2Ye8Xgd15dpqAKG2Pe-7m0Za5lJWOoP_hrV1MSTokMd5UZ56ZW7qGgZPJokLnbrb3w/s320/CIMG3159.JPG" border="0" /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">One thing I never understood about Fong Kee was the high number of <strong>burly, tattoo-hewn Caucasians</strong> who, together with their rows of beer bottles, usually occupy the outdoor seats alongside Chinatown regulars. I discovered recently, courtesy of Fong Kee's </span><a href="http://www.fongkee.com"><span style="font-size:85%;">website</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;">, that when grandfather Fong Chee Yen arrived from Tianjin in 1948 and set up the dumpling business, most of his customers were sailors who had developed a taste for<em> jiaozi </em>through their round-the-world travels, as opposed to Singaporeans who were initially unfamiliar with the dish. Perhaps there's a <strong>big book of sailor lore</strong> that lists Fong Kee as a must-visit destination for sailors even today. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Today, Fong Kee has two outlets, both at People's Park (they've moved back to the hawker centre as well now that renovations have finished), a restaurant at Murray Street and a home delivery and catering service. Let me know if you've tried them and what you think! </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">**************************************</span></p><p><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Tian Jin Fong Kee</span></strong></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">#01-100 People's Park Complex</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Tel: 6532-3319; and</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">#01-1448 People's Park Centre</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Tel: 6532-3318</span></p><p><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Fong Kee Restaurant</span></strong></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">6 Murray Street (next to Maxwell House)</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Tel: 6220-3318</span></p><p><a href="http://www.fongkee.com"><span style="font-size:85%;">www.fongkee.com</span></a></p>hinatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14670681037946872386noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18628008.post-23224911554846972642006-12-05T17:04:00.000+08:002006-12-22T15:52:50.626+08:00Warong M. Nasir<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBr8ncLknL2CFSv8Y7scCzhmmIi48mYn3q7wwa-K-FrmU385dCK46y68QEB3QwoqSbM8Srgp97Aj9yBH9R3CCxk70l3wPF5NHORn39xteW_jm-aCyX9sQc6EsNPdHV5KOnDwPE8Q/s1600-h/CIMG3153.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5004968070966121426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBr8ncLknL2CFSv8Y7scCzhmmIi48mYn3q7wwa-K-FrmU385dCK46y68QEB3QwoqSbM8Srgp97Aj9yBH9R3CCxk70l3wPF5NHORn39xteW_jm-aCyX9sQc6EsNPdHV5KOnDwPE8Q/s320/CIMG3153.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;">Thought, for a cheap thrill, that I'd try to be the first one to post about today's lunch at <strong>Warong M. Nasir</strong> - beating out the ever efficient <a href="http://food.recentrunes.com"><strong>Ivan</strong></a> as well as the vacationing <a href="http://thebakerwhocooks.blogspot.com"><strong>Cheryl</strong></a>, <a href="http://superfinefeline.blogspot.com"><strong>Superfinefeline</strong></a> and <a href="http://umami.typepad.com"><strong>Umami</strong></a> (ok, so Umami would argue she's not on vacation, and hearing her stressful moving stories, I'm inclined to agree, Paris or no Paris). </span></div><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">The lunch was part of a month-long drive to ensure that Umami gets to eat all the necessary before departing for <strong>colder and decidedly less spicy shores</strong>. Happily for me, lunch also gave me an opportunity to try a new eating place, and the combination of good food and good company made it very pleasant indeed.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5004968066671154114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrXxUQfUR7mFS5h0JoKsA7tM_dK3jCx7wWsBhFQw_NNoEMg2spC0rvM627ArNEAj5O7hRdqZ5NgMnYPNnFE14q5xTfP0iD8vH72s75l6tDubhKlYkj3h5VLWr6-9otXug2Pw9cig/s320/CIMG3149.JPG" border="0" /></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Will let the pictures do the talking, save these few observations:</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">- Warung M. Nasir has to be one of the most comfortable nasi padang places in town. Air-conditioning, artwork on cherry red walls, <strong>Antonio Carlos Jobim playing over the speakers</strong>... sure beats dripping sweat and choping tables with tissue paper packets. They even have a modest wine fridge.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">- The <strong>beef rendang</strong>, highly recommended by a conspicuously absent<strong> </strong><a href="http://joonelovesfood.blogspot.com"><strong>Joone</strong></a>, was excellent, moist and tender and dense with kecap manis-like caramelized sweetness. Didn't get a close pic but here's its cousin (not literally, that would be messed up) the <strong>chicken rendang</strong> instead - this was dry fiery in contrast and a bit too spicy for my weak taste buds.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5004966812540703634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRSv9Nq_qc0j15Ol-UhUHjFU0VO97U3CXVKg11JE5b8oB8wcIzy9eq6PUCJyh7-kRclRHyvK2UUdbIpMx7Wj90C_NPi2nd_EScL-ZcnNE4Ny4kLzy3cTaJn8acQIoe0-X3jPkKPg/s320/CIMG3146.JPG" border="0" /></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">- The <strong>beef tongue</strong>, despite looking very attractive, received fairly negative feedback (that's it in the bottom left corner). Being a coward when it comes to eating odd bits, I sheepishly passed, but felt somewhat vindicated when words such as <strong>"spongy"</strong> were later tossed around to describe it. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5004968062376186802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdsAPEwbL9OySO2jQNqNWGjcUeDvhZWL2d3xYk62dhftjW19sQ7Bua4bmHlRhJDTThhO8sn2uLrKuK4zKqGgbGJ94hEURUphAhFquUSSPYPvVFlnR9qSpaUSsT6cZ3N6qifXZPzA/s320/CIMG3148.JPG" border="0" /></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">- Umami's Spider-sense detected a fresh batch of <strong>fried potato wedges</strong> creeping up <em>from behind her</em>. These turned out fabulous, covered in crispy sweet white bait and bits of chili. If you strain your eyes, you can just make it out as the plate stacked on top of the stir fried spinach :)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5004966808245736322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL1cE4Zfy_egPf4-8Gm3ZJc3v3MQIDYFTqoXt-zg18G2bWeOyVSiNLoObEohJip_jS29O7IG8MA9cpKDL5l5k4VUFusMwp96WH67y4IuqfLU5PJUMKh1urp3lJIgtJT0wLD1Sdvg/s320/CIMG3143.JPG" border="0" /></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">For a parting pic, <strong>see what happens</strong> when you lunch with food bloggers? A group paparazzi moment...</span><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5004966816835670946" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJqDGGCZGmbO-NWH3ap-HakfMDAbCsKYB4E05KvRv0SzNbNsjCTLgnJR2P-hqgDgHDt6D7qI471V9qzXF5lEI1ort4BiCsw1MZ-Elrrx92t-bC02SS2oTmkWQ_IttzlurRnuOYvQ/s320/CIMG3147.JPG" border="0" /><br /><p><span style="font-size:85%;">************************************</span></p><p><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Warong M. Nasir Indonesian Food</span></strong></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">69 Killiney Road </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">T: 6734 6228</span></p>hinatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14670681037946872386noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18628008.post-33781057938504711792006-12-04T12:20:00.000+08:002006-12-11T14:28:50.730+08:00Min Jiang at one-north<p><span style="font-size:85%;">I guess now that the birthday's more than a month past, I should wrap up on the birthday blogging. Lunch at <strong><a href="http://cocotterouge.blogspot.com/2006/11/charlies-corner.html">Charlie's Corner</a></strong> and dinner at <strong><a href="http://cocotterouge.blogspot.com/2006/11/akane.html">Akane</a></strong> on Thursday were followed by drinks at <strong>Coffee Bar K</strong> on Friday night, a great place if (a) you like your cocktails and whiskeys and (b) if you want to actually be able to converse without straining your voice/hearing. The bar, which doesn't seem to serve coffee whatsoever (actually I didn't ask - who would even think of coffee when the drinks list comes in a folder the thickness of <strong>karaoke song folders in days of yore</strong>), surprisingly serves very mean pizzas - thin, crispy, with bits of deliciously sweet chaodar-ness. No pics but use your imagination :)<br /><br />Wrapped up the various celebrations with Sunday lunch with the family at <strong>Min Jiang</strong>. In addition to its regular menu, Min Jiang also offers dim sum on Sundays, which turned out to be very passable for a supposedly Sichuan restaurant, and satisfied even the most Cantonese among us. </span><span style="font-size:85%;"></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5004849461149274866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMWgMH1qO-azNG99l2O-S6_xOZbJ5HbY-SdS2EGu_xnRWIphktB4Sy_BIWkiXFTXR1nLK99Oesg6Dh8_61ckFJA8MJxSlwB5NSGUWHm070tlYMo4RujSAtujrCz94A8qRpRRiVNg/s320/CIMG3032.JPG" border="0" /><br />The highlight of any meal at Min Jiang, of course, is its <strong>Peking duck</strong>, served three ways. First the thinnest and crispiest skin bits are carved and placed on the table, to be simply <strong>dipped in sugar</strong>. This is followed by two lots of pancake with duck meat and skin - the traditional <strong>spring onions, cucumber and hoisin sauce </strong>combination, as well as a <strong>garlic and pickled radish strips</strong> (kimchi?) combination. Aside from incredibly delicious, the spectacle of having the chef carve the duck tableside and the luxury of having your pancakes wrapped for you added an element of luxury that was welcome on a lazy Sunday afternoon. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5004860559344767826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoi6aNlGPwPsX2x4iFbn1TqCBNJ2UuXaXXxw-a-I1fQjLW5o0YViT60PfAztMbtmw_bJSPyufvUUUDXk9t2vDmDOFKmBVQ8xXYf__RHrERQUBVs0W3MRb-mSkxni05xn3lIjQPvA/s320/CIMG3041.JPG" border="0" /><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><p>Some of the other dishes that really stood out for us were:<br /><br />- As a starter, the <strong>drunken chicken</strong> is a refreshing wake-up call, cold and gently sweet while the wine gets the tastebuds going.<br /><br />- The <strong>wo tip or fried guo tie</strong>. These looked like normal guo tie on steroids, honestly massive and stuffed to the brim with meat. </p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5004849461149274882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4xTYmiiFk9uTsiB9HRu1y-K_NGIPCUjHu7T8JISN8WmpTTdRtoLmf0NAkiCe9nxWu_Xa8P5MT0fIuZNTNYBtzzn7Rj5df4LA5zG9xK78jnZLqs_W8vWXb1xpQWSEkPUn0S9HcFw/s320/CIMG3035.JPG" border="0" /><br />- The <strong>ma po dou fu</strong> came in a brilliant scarlet and was numbingly addictive... </p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5004860559344767842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDNqsQwN8p_dyAflqOMmHjfZNVOqvxMhykd-Ang5jzqC_Ya_SmF9Rzf2DbR34jGg1q7kwyfE8L-rm-bJwTAwhsKe_fhQC_G7XuBLMs_hP3HtTY1yUQP2wxnqNuszn8icXJrh8E6g/s320/CIMG3042.JPG" border="0" /><br />- ... likewise the <strong>gong bao ji ding</strong> was crowned in a heaping of fiery dry chillies. The chicken dice were incredibly tender, free of any distracting bits of skin or gristle. </p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5004849465444242194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1eTn9x86TA7IcvlfmV4VaVTc0y5JlpCbFXolljI-1-LzTjauR4hgYZkYm_-RccNto1iiwEQieLR9QwEtPb5MsKgLXUpnV9K4QQ9YgrEJf7j3HHoMEjBBbbx1ljZhNV0bU1Zb6nA/s320/CIMG3040.JPG" border="0" /><br />Min Jiang is now my favourite Chinese restaurant. The Sichuan dishes are, to my knowledge, as authentic as it gets in Singapore - the "ma" and "la" distinct and captivating without overwhelming the otherwise delicate and fresh ingredients. The Cantonese dim sum was a pleasant surprise as well. Add to that a lovely tree-flanked setting and decent service, and you really could do much worse for a weekend family lunch.<br /><br />As a parting thought, you know how, as a customer, it's sometimes the little touches that make a difference? Thought this was a perfect example of how the restaurant goes the extra mile to think of the comfort of its customers... <strong>a mini bag chair</strong>! And it's even chained to my grown-up chair, how cute is that?</p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5004860563639735154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH1lrLI7HnpyybLOwu4Fctmkkr0CYYHXAQj06N0VzrSo0FUAZL-c-7BDerPVRSAxpwk9zOnLbPclNkMFoUQbOjz1YA-3WKdZ0YrF1HzMOSbjGoN5pzVFDnM7wv6_VRjtwFyumNsA/s320/CIMG3046.JPG" border="0" /></span></p><br /><br /><p><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">**************************</span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Min Jiang at one-north</span></strong></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">5 Rochester Park </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Tel: 6774 0122</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Note: Peking duck needs to be ordered at least one day in advance</span></p><p></p>hinatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14670681037946872386noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18628008.post-75297757481093223422006-11-28T15:34:00.000+08:002006-11-29T11:58:23.772+08:00Akane<p><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/7592/2273/1600/CIMG3027.0.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/7592/2273/320/CIMG3027.0.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">More belated birthday blogging... </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">My determination to mark my birthday with uncharacteristic financial prudence was swiftly eliminated by a simple counter-argument - that special occasions are meant for splurging, and if we don't go to <strong>Akane</strong> now, it'd be another year before we could justify going again. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">The only problem is that, now that we've been, I want to go every day.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>Akane</strong>, by way of quick introduction/refresher, is located at the Japanese Association of Singapore, and is the flagship restaurant of Nogawa-san, Singapore's <strong>godfather of Japanese cuisine</strong>. The Nogawa group includes two other restaurants under the Nogawa name - at Sentosa Golf Club (read about our dinner for Philippe's birthday here) and Le Meridien - but it's at the Japanese Association Akane that Nogawa-san actively presides. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">And indeed it's hard to miss him. A collage of photos featuring Nogawa-san alongside various local and foreign luminaries (including our own MM and President Nathan) marks the end of the entry corridor. Behind the sushi counter, <strong>his deep tan, even deeper wrinkles and bustling energy</strong> is unmistakable. The boss is here! </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Our initial intimidation, however, proved unfounded. Nogawa-san was unreservedly friendly, even grandfatherly, as he educated us on a variety of topics ranging from the <strong>mating habits of sea bream</strong> to the genealogy of burdock roots. The charisma seemed infectious, with sushi chef Anson taking equally good care of us throughout the night. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">As for the food, <strong>the sashimi and sushi were definitely the stars</strong>. Philippe's initial reaction upon sampling the sashimi platter was that we had never tried these fish before; the sad truth was that we had many times - this was just so superior a version that you could not mentally link what Akane was serving with the limp and rubbery pieces that pass for sashimi elsewhere. </span></p><p align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Sashimi, including otoro, sea bream, mackerel, octopus, akagai</span></em></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/7592/2273/320/CIMG3005.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">The sashimi was really sparklingly fresh, incredibly sweet and varied in flavour, and, in the case of the otoro, so chockful of fatty goodness that honestly. <strong>the marbling had marbling</strong>. Since the word "sublime" has now been outlawed from food blogging, I shall simply say that this is the stuff that happiness is made of :)</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Likewise, the sushi that rounded off our meal was meaty yet delicate, often accompanied by a light searing, a crisp pat of grated ginger or a splash of tart sauce. I loved the way the fish <strong>carelessly blankets the rice</strong> so that the flavours and texture of the fish can really shine through. I took pictures only of the two below, but in addition we had eggplant sushi, botan ebi sushi, mackerel sushi, baigai shell and a couple more.</span></p><p align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Seared otoro sushi</span></em></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/7592/2273/320/CIMG3017.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><p align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Unagi sushi</span></em></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/7592/2273/320/CIMG3018.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">The rest of the dishes we were served, omakase style, were well-executed and enjoyable, but, unlike the sashimi and sushi, none really stood out as dishes I would obsess about and come back specifically for. In particular, although the otoro soup was luxurious with its large otoro chunks that literally dissolved in your mouth, at $65 for two bowls I would've preferred a simple seafood soup and otoro sashimi instead. Likewise the grilled saba and braised red snapper with burdock root were delicious, but the repetition of fish in every dish began to wear somewhat thin.</span></p><p align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Starter of anglefish liver</span></em></p><p align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/7592/2273/320/CIMG3004.jpg" border="0" /></span></em></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>Otoro soup</em></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/7592/2273/320/CIMG3007.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"><em><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/7592/2273/320/CIMG3009.jpg" border="0" />Grilled saba</em></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/7592/2273/320/CIMG3011.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>Braised red snapper with burdock root</em></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/7592/2273/320/CIMG3014.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Can't remember too much about our last pre-sushi savoury dish, except it (finally!) did not contain fish, and seemed to be the chef's take on takoyaki - a tempura-ed mashed yam ball with some secret filling (ok I've forgotten) inside. Fun but forgettable.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/7592/2273/320/CIMG3016.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Dessert was a simple plate of fresh persimmon and pear slices with a cup of strong oolong tea. Nice but we enviously noted that the group of young Japanese next to us had marinated mixed fruit in persimmon cups instead, which was featured in <strong>Yoshihiro Murata's <em>Kaiseki</em></strong> as a classic autumn dessert. Missed my chance :(</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/7592/2273/320/CIMG3020.0.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Conclusion: If I won a million-dollar lottery tomorrow, I would superglue my butt to Akane's counter seats and omakase myself to a <strong>bloated yet joyful death</strong>. Till then, I'm <strong>saving my money for the sashimi and sushi</strong> (definitely worth their premium price) and filling any leftover space in my stomach with the restaurant's reasonably priced udon. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><br /></p><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/7592/2273/1600/CIMG3020.jpg"></a><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/7592/2273/1600/CIMG3027.jpg"></a>hinatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14670681037946872386noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18628008.post-1163584320018279732006-11-15T17:44:00.000+08:002006-11-21T18:16:18.240+08:00Charlie's Corner<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/1600/CIMG2986.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2986.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>Every girl has their princess moments</strong>. Some imagine their dream wedding down to the minutiae from the day they were born, others fill their closets with swishy dresses and sparkly jewelry. My weakness is birthdays. </span><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Starting about a month from the big day, my inner birthday demon start obsessively reviewing restaurant choices, picking party dates and entertaining visions of presents swathed in silk ribbons, annoying everyone within a 10-mile radius of me. By the time my birthday actually arrives, my expectations are sky high, but birthday goodwill near zero, which pretty much makes for <strong>misery all around</strong>. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Maybe that's why I never get the pony I want.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">This year, I decided to mark growing a year older by actually trying to act more grown-up (an odd concept that I'm still trying to come to terms with). No fussing, no inconvenience, no wasteful extravagance, just quiet time with friends and family. Still with decent food though of course. I'm not Mother Teresa... yet. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Feeling quite chuffed with my newfound maturity, I suggested birthday lunch at <strong>Charlie's Corner in Changi Village</strong>. The far flung location was to accommodate my sis who works in that neighbourhood, but deliberately picking the no frills Charlie's Corner instead of the nearby Ryan's Washoku or La Cantina (no comments on their food, but at least they have aircon!)... I'm a big girl now! (As Philippe would say: shall we call the Straits Times?)</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Charlie's Corner was surprisingly busy for a Thursday afternoon. Potbellied guailos with their lady companions, young executives eagerly stripping off their ties, sleepy Changi Village regulars, all seemed to congregate under the Corner's placard and poster covered awning. Set aside from the main hawker centre, however, a sense of space and peace prevails despites the tables being full.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2998.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Everyone seemed to be having the fish and chips, which also headlined the menu with the proud moniker <strong>"Charlie's Special",</strong> so we obediently settled down to 4 orders of this, plus a side of chicken wings and root beer all around.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">There's something <strong>strangely guilt-inducing</strong> about having an ice-cold root beer on a hot weekday afternoon. Maybe it's the cheap thrill of quaffing something that sounds like alcohol but really isn't (wink wink), maybe it's the simple pleasure of beating the heat, or maybe it's root beer's ability to transform even the lowliest office grunt into an authentic cowboy-and-western gun-toting sheriff with attitude. Maybe not. What it probably is is that root beer, being one of the most artificial tasting concoctions on the planet, is just <strong>so bad that it's good</strong>.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2996.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">I enjoyed the fish and chips. <strong>The fish was decidedly</strong> <strong>old school</strong>, looking very much like it had been pounded flat with one of those meat marinating mallets, but fresh and flavourful. The batter ("crust" might be a better term) was a deep brown and crumbly, much thinner and closer to the fish that the thick, sheet like, pockets-full-of-air version found in fancier establishments. The trick is in playing <strong>vinegar virtuoso</strong> - a splash too much vinegar and you're left with soggy batter (no fun for anyone), but balance it just right and the rich, golden, heart-clogging taste of lightly burnt oil shines right through. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG3001.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Not that you have much time to ponder this - the fish makes for quick eating, and even the slowest eater (read: me) would be hard pressed to spend much longer than 5 mins devouring it. Which leaves you with plenty of time to mull over the <strong>thick, stumpy fries and sticky wings</strong> over (hopefully) good conversation. A side note: the wings, while on sight able to pass off for buffalo wings, seem to be coated with a form of char siew sauce rather than BBQ sauce. Not bad, but takes a bit of getting used to. Separately, I later heard from a regular customer that, in her opinion, the real stars at Charlie's are the steaks, I'll have to head back to try them (although this may take a while as I've just discovered my neighbourhood Aston's.)</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Bottom line: Charlie's Corner is a great place if, like me, you're hankering for the old days of <strong>the school canteen's western food stall</strong> (fish on fridays! everything gets flambed!), but you will be disappointed if you go expecting Harry Ramsden's style monsters on a plate. Prices are extremely reasonable at $12.90 for fish and chips and steaks in the sub-$20 range. As for ambience, it's a good place if you're looking for good food, but want it to take a back seat to laidback conversation and the joys of dining in flip flops.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">More birthday blogging to come shortly: How my attempt at birthday frugality got cut (tragically?) short at <strong>Akane</strong>. No coffee at <strong>Coffee Bar K</strong>. How <strong>Min Jiang's </strong>guo tie's could qualify as weapons of mass destruction. And a final whine about how I still don't have a pony. </span></p>hinatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14670681037946872386noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18628008.post-1163561269544809242006-11-15T11:19:00.000+08:002006-11-16T19:14:03.863+08:00Saigon blues<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/1600/CIMG3072.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG3072.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Sometimes you think it's not so bad being on a business trip. A quiet evening alone with a good book (Nassim Nicholas Taleb's <em>Fooled by Randomness</em>), a good dessert (green tea creme brulee with gingko nuts at the Park Hyatt Saigon's Square One) and a good glass of wine (a New Zealand sauvignon blanc).</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Then the familiar melancholy refrain of a Lizz Wright song comes playing over the sound system.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">"... as soon as I get home..." </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">"I wish I was home..."</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Sigh. Friday's a long way away.</span>hinatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14670681037946872386noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18628008.post-1162887626534604992006-11-07T15:45:00.000+08:002006-12-11T14:29:23.534+08:00Quynh Giao Quan An Viet Nam<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/1600/CIMG3055.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG3055.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Truth be told, my knowledge of Vietnamese food is extremely limited, having seldom strayed from the <strong>safe path of the Indochine group of restaurants</strong>. A recent trip to Vietnam, my first, was an eye opener. Not only did I finally get to eat authentic pho (and bunh and cha gio and other staples), but I had my first glimpse into Vietnam's different regional cuisines and experienced a bit of local restaurant culture. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">So when Philippe and I were in desperate search of a cheap, quick and tasty dinner on a late Monday night, we decided to try one of Joo Chiat's Vietnamese cafes, just slightly up from Koon Seng Road and smack in the middle of the neighbourhood's notorious red light district. We opted for <strong>Quynh Giao Quan An Viet Nam</strong> at 149 Joo Chiat Road, which seemed slightly busier than its similar looking neighbour establishment - which dubiously called itself a "family restaurant". Given that we were after good food, not family values, we settled down at 149 with only a flicker of acknowledgement from what I'm assuming are the <strong>restaurant's regulars</strong> - mainly young Vietnamese ladies dining together or with a male companion.<br /><br />Decor was sparse, limited to the odd Tiger Beer lucky draw ad, while seating was plastic chairs, foldable tables, melamine bowls and <strong>toilet roll in a plastic dispenser</strong> for serviettes. No frills kopi tiam chic.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG3052.jpg" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">A simple photo album displays the restaurant's menu. Pictures of dishes are accompanied only by Vietnamese dish names, but the young Singaporean proprietor was friendly and patient in helping us figure out what was what. We both opted for something familiar - <strong>bunh with cha gio</strong>, aka rice noodles with deep fried spring rolls. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">When it arrived, we found hidden under the noodles generous piles of roughly chopped fresh mint, Thai basil and beansprouts, crisp and refreshing. The spring rolls were beautifully browned and crisp on the outside, <strong>creamy and hearty on the inside</strong>, their yam filling in turn encasing what I'm guessing to be a combination of finely chopped fish or pork, mushrooms and onions. The nuoc cham dipping sauce also turned out to be a pleasant deviation from the Indochine variety, with <strong>heapings of fresh chilli padi</strong>, liberal proportions of fish sauce and minimal sugar. The savoury bent of the sauce meant that individual ingredients were really allowed to shine through and not drowned in cloying syrup. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br /><p></span></p><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG3049.jpg" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">The noodles hit the spot perfectly while leaving our wallets blissfully intact at $4.50 a bowl. The casual environment and bustling neighbourhood (perfect for colourful people watching) makes this a great spot for a quick late night supper.<br /><br />**********************************************<br />Quynh Giao Quan An Viet Nam Vietnamese Delights </span><p><span style="font-size:85%;">149 Joo Chiat Road</span></p>hinatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14670681037946872386noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18628008.post-1161880343847596212006-10-26T23:42:00.000+08:002006-11-04T16:21:53.536+08:00Buka Puasa - Cafe Samar and Z'en<span style="font-size:85%;">A few years ago, I found myself posted to Kuala Lumpur on a project for a government-linked company. The highlight of my day was lunch at the company's staff canteen, a whopping buffet spread <strong>piled sky high with pungent curries, crispy fried meats and spicy vegetables</strong>. Depending on the day, roti canai or roti jala would be made fresh on the spot, and you know you'll always have a glass of ice cold kopi to wash it all down.<br /><br />Then Ramadan began, and my haven was no more. Bogged down by tight deadlines and fuzzy from lack of both sleep and nutrition, I quickly started to rue the day I signed up for the project.<br /><br />Until the buka puasa meals began.<br /><br />It kicked off with a dinner hosted by the company for its employees, all 2,000 of them, to which we were invited, a sumptuous banquet provided by the same in-house team that caters for staff weddings and the like.<br />This was quickly followed by dinners organized in turn by the various advisors on the project - in our case, at <strong>Top Hat</strong>, a beautifully restored colonial bungalow that served Peranakan-European fusion cuisine (top hat is apparently what angmors call pie tees).<br /><br />Even when lavish, formal dinners weren't in order, it was nice to see everyone set aside time from work to sit down to an evening meal together, Muslims and non-Muslims alike grateful for the day's nourishment.<br /><br />Since then, while I don't observe the fasting month, I've always had a special nostalgia for buka puasa meals, remembering them as a time to come together with friends, family and loved ones.<br /><br />And so off Philippe and I set last week to explore the buka puasa festivities on Arab Street. Most restaurants offered buka puasa buffets for $10 a person or even less, and the neighbourhood was buzzing with large families dining together.<br /><br />We eventually settled on <strong>Samar's</strong> a la carte menu, where extensive listings of mezze, salads, grills and desserts appear between Free Palestine posters and quotes from the Koran. Our first comment on the menu was that it actually sounded more impressive than any place we ate at in Egypt - could it be we travelled all that way to sample food that was already in our backyard? With high expectations, we ordered a stuffed eggplant, grilled chicken and a cucumber and yoghurt salad to share. </span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2902.jpg" border="0" /><br />Before the food arrived, we kept our tastebuds amused with drinks - mine an apricot based smoothie and Philippe's a rose milk. Both were delightfully fresh and natural tasting, great for a hot afternoon or, in our case, a stuffy, hazy Monday night.</span> <p><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2912.jpg" border="0" /><br />Our food was less impressive. The kitchen seemed to be very lighthanded when it came to spicing the veggie dishes - our cucumber and yoghurt salad had disproportionately more yoghurt than cucumber, which overwhelmed the scant pieces of mint we would only occasionally come across. Likewise the stuffed eggplant, with its filling of rice, tomatoes and onions, seemed to be more a last minute tossing together of the various ingredients, without a unifying flavour to marry them together. Not awful, but it does leave you with the nagging feeling that anyone could've made this at home.<br /><br />The grilled chicken, on the other hand, was flavourful and deliciously blackened at first bite. The flip side of that, though, was that the meat was overcooked and dry, making it hard to finish even a mouthful without washing your mouth with water. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">The average food didn't seem to deter many diners though - the verandah was packed with students, expats and couples alike even when we left at close to 10pm (this on a Monday night, mind you), and the cafe was easily the busiest on the street. <strong>Late night shisha</strong> here seems to be a popular option, and the community feel (their loyalty cardholders are called citizens!) is also a draw. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2914.jpg" border="0" /></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Later on in the week, an evening drinks session led to us stumbling upon Z'en, a Japanese restaurant by UE Square that is probably related to the more established En Bar and Dining around the corner. The tables of red-faced Japanese businessmen was a strong selling point, and the food did not disappoint. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">The menu is a good mix of hearty Japanese classics and more delicate appetizers and salads. The three of us shared as starters: </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2919.jpg" border="0" /><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2915.jpg" border="0" /></span> </p><ul><li><span style="font-size:85%;">Dried swordfish fin</span></li><li><span style="font-size:85%;">Kurobuta pork yakitori</span></li><li><span style="font-size:85%;">Ankimo fish liver</span></li><li><span style="font-size:85%;">Shabu shabu salad (shabu shabu beef in a sesame dressing)</span></li><li><span style="font-size:85%;">Pumpkin grilled with butter</span></li><li><span style="font-size:85%;">Simmered lotus root</span></li><li><span style="font-size:85%;">Grilled eihire</span></li><li><span style="font-size:85%;">Crab cream croquettes</span></li></ul><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2921.jpg" border="0" />And topped this with a huge seafood hotpot, laden with snow crab legs, salmon, prawns and oysters, to which we added extra udon. The leftover soup was turned into a porridge with the addition of a couple of bowls of rice, which comes with the hotpot.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">The food was definitely satisfying - all the ingredients were clearly fresh, delicately prepared and thoughtfully presented, everything one would expect from a proper Japanese dinner.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">The total bill came up to $170, or just a shade over$60 a person, which seemed reasonable for the quality of the food and for the setting - perhaps appropriately for its name, Z'en is designed in a polished, magazine-worthy combination of <strong>black tile, glass and metal</strong>, complete with dramatic overhead lighting, so you do feel like you're in a more upmarket setting. A glass cellar on the second floor displays <strong>hundreds of sake bottles of all shape and form</strong>, pity we'd already drunk our fill for the night before coming. Service was also excellent, with exceptionally friendly staff - maybe even too friendly, as their gentle cajoling to add more rice to the leftover hotpot soup resulted in us overeating and feeling painfully stuffed after :)</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Now that the pain has subsided though, I'm looking forward to the December monsoons coming around, to gather back here for more of that giant hotpot, and to slowly start making my way through the sake collection.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">*****************************************</span></p><p><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Samar</span></strong></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">60 Kandahar Street </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">T: 6398-0530</span></p><p><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Z'en</span></strong></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">205 River Valley Road</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">#01-75, UE Square</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">T: 6732-3110</span></p>hinatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14670681037946872386noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18628008.post-1160808965598295562006-10-14T14:45:00.000+08:002006-10-27T10:32:34.780+08:00Eating Paris - one patisserie at a time!<p><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/1600/CIMG2811.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2811.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>Understatement of the century</strong> <strong>- Paris is full of designer stuff.</strong><br /><br />Designer handbags, priced at the equivalent of a month's rent. (I'll get mine in Shenzhen, thank you!)<br /><br />Designer shoes, scarlet heels stacked to kill. (Ok, these I like, bunions be damned.)<br /><br />Designer miniature poodles, extravagantly sheared and sized to fit perfectly into said designer handbag. (Ok, so in all my trips to Paris I've never actually seen one of these, but surely they must exist.)<br /><br />Designer sights, the Eiffel Tower robed in millions of glittering fairy lights. (Infinitely cooler than the Merlion's Evil Laser Beams of Doom.)<br /><br />Even a designer language - what doesn't sound fabulously snooty when said in French? (<em>Mais oui, ma cherie, tu le sais</em>!)<br /><br />But, best of all, are its designer boulangerie/patisseries. <strong>Pierre Herme, Laduree, Fauchon, Jean-Paul Hevin, Lenotre...</strong> loin stirring names that could roll off your tongue and onto the floor, if only your mouth didn't have to be determinedly clamped tight to keep the drool in.<br /><br />It was thus, with visions of macarons dancing in my head, that I dragged the in-laws on a whirlwind dash across Paris for our second day in town, beginning at Le Bon Marche's Grand Epicerie for a gawk at its supersized pastries, pit-stopping at Poilane to pay homage to shelves of sourdough miches, continuing to Pierre Herme to <strong>discover (and tabao) the true meaning of life</strong>, and eventually concluding under a leafy tree in the Jardin du Luxembourg to devour said meaning of life, <strong>thereby reaching a state of enlightenment</strong> (which could only be sustained by a visit to Laduree the next day).<br /><br /><strong><a href="http://www.poilane.com">Poilane</a></strong> </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2808.jpg" border="0" /><br />Poilane is probably Paris' best known boulangerie or bakery, founded in 1932 and famed for its solid rounds of sourdough bread called la miche. The tiny store at Rue de Cherche Midi evidently takes great pride in its role in the history of bread making - paper bags are printed with sketches of famous bakers of yore; even its website contains a lengthy discourse on the relationship between bread and culture, a list of global bread museums and celebrity quotes involving bread. </span></p><span style="font-size:85%;"><p><br /></p><p><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2807.jpg" border="0" /><br />Intimidated by the size of la miche (above, 1.9kg each!), we settled for the more manageable looking brioche, which was nowhere as lauded but very enjoyable. Sweet, moist and crumbly, it was incredibly addictive, and Philippe and I guiltily finished the entire loaf between us as a bedtime snack that night. </p><p><br /></p><p><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2806.jpg" border="0" /><br />Later on, I was told by several friends separately that the real Poilane "to-die-for" special is its apple tart (a French friend adamantly declared it was the best tart she'd ever tasted), which I'd seen on a tray (the bottom on in the picture above in fact) and naively dismissed. Something for me to look forward to next time, but do check it out if you're in the neighbourhood.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong><a href="http://www.pierreherme.com">Pierre Herme</a></strong></span> </p><p><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2815.jpg" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">If you've been lingering around the food blog world for even a short period of time, you will probably have heard of Pierre Herme's lavish chocolate desserts and classic Ispahan. And indeed, at first glance, the Paris store does seem like a <strong>mecca for upper crust sugar cravings</strong> - well-heeled Parisians and bejeweled Japanese tourists throng the dark metal-and-glass boutique, and the oversized Louis Vuitton shopping bags scattered across the aisle pose serious tripping hazards.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Likewise, Pierre Herme's dessert counter is a runway showcasing miniature works of art, with seasonal specialties organized around themes (we were in time for Automne/Hiver 2006). And, like all luxury, they don't come cheap either, with a single palm-sized pastry typically priced upwards of 8 Euros.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Philippe and I settled for a combination of 3 pastries, amongst them the lauded Ispahan, while his folks purchased a 30-macaroon gift tub for our nieces back in Vesoule.</span> </p><p><br /></p><p><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2818.jpg" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">All 3 pastries were delicate, complex, subtle, rich. The macaron shell of the Ispahan was crisp almost to a fault, the rose petal cream flavourful, yet subtle and light, a quiet, understated backdrop to the tart berries and refreshing lychee.</span> </p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2824.jpg" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Conclusion: If a trip to Paris gets you down because of unaffordable yet irresistible haute couture, forget that $5,000 bag or those $2,000 shoes, just head over to Pierre Herme for true luxury at a fraction of the price. Your tummy will thank you for it. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2816.jpg" border="0" /><br /><strong><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="http://www.laduree.fr">Laduree</a></span></strong> <img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2846.jpg" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">My final stop on our brief patisserie tour of Paris was Laduree, where Philippe and I had tea with the aptly named <a href="http://macaloon.blogspot.com">Macaloon</a>. Pop round her blog and you'll see, vivid writing and witty turns-of-phrase aside, that this girl is seriously obsessed with her macarons, having eaten her way through practically every designer patisserie in Paris. We met her at the entrance to Printemps, where she stood clutching <strong>what I assumed to be innocuous shopping bags</strong>, but which were revealed in a fierce whisper to be boxes of rival macarons from Pierre Herme and Sadaharu Aoki. The girl wanted us to do a <strong>secret taste test</strong> in Laduree itself, with the sole objective of proving to us that, for all their quality, Laduree's macarons do not measure up to Pierre Herme's, the latter's being in her view the best macarons in all Paree. (A digression: this brought back extremely fond memories of the same Macaloon dragging me around New York in the summer of 2000 to sample her obsession at the time: cannoli. Life with Macaloon is a permanent sugar rush.)</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">One step into the tiny 12-table Laduree salon though was enough to convince us that this was an exercise that would certainly get us thrown out of the store. So we settled down and went about ordering our macarons. From top to bottom: caramel and fleur de sel, mixed berries, orange flower, ginger and lime and raspberry.</span> </p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2859.jpg" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">And, yes, they were excellent. The golf ball sized macarons were perfectly crisp with the right amount of chew and crumble, the individual flavours vibrant and teasing without being overwhelming. <strong>Little explosions of happiness really.</strong> If it doesn't get any better than this, I really don't mind (I'm bracing myself for Macaloon's flame mail now).</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Macarons aside, Laduree does a wonderful assortment of pastries, drinks and even salads and sandwiches. The quaint salon with its carved wooden chairs looks like something out of a period theatrical piece, but would no doubt thrill anyone who enjoyed playing tea time as a child, and is convenient for resting tired feet and shopped out shoulders. Just try to get there early as much gets sold out by late afternoon.</span></p><p><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Poilane</span></strong></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">8, rue du Cherche-Midi</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">75006 Paris </span></p><p><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Pierre Herme</span></strong></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">72, rue Bonaparte</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">75006 Paris </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Also at: 185, rue de Vaugirard, 75015 Paris</span></p><p><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Laduree</span></strong></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Various locations - see website <a href="http://www.laduree.fr">www.laduree.fr</a></span></p>hinatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14670681037946872386noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18628008.post-1160808347944275582006-10-14T14:33:00.000+08:002006-11-01T23:22:32.733+08:00Eating Paris - bistro round-up<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/1600/CIMG2755.7.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2755.7.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">(Philippe on the left, power walking through Paris' Palais de Justice. Off to a 3 hour lunch maybe?)</span><br /><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Many people, myself included, often forget that Philippe is French. He's lived in Asia for the last seven years, speaks perfect English, Mandarin and the odd smattering of Singlish, loves Stephen Chow movies and gamely eats at home with <strong>one leg propped up, knee</strong> <strong>bent, on his seat</strong>. In many ways, he's more Chinaman than anyone I could've married in Singapore.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">I, on the other hand, am far from passing off as a good French wife. My French, while passable, could never make an Alliance Francaise professor weep with joy; neither am I a big fan of the existentialist debates/80s gameshows/corny cop dramas that seem to dominate the programming on TV5, the French TV station. My single display of loyalty to date has been to faithfully wear my Les Bleus jersey to every World Cup match involving the French team. Which, I must declare, took some b*lls when they were up against Brazil and I was severely outnumbered (<strong>not to mention mercilessly mocked</strong>) by the legions of yellow and green fans. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">But on top of my lengthy list of transgressions sits one shameful truth that draws gasps of horrors from every starry-eyed romantic I've ever admitted it to: </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">I don't like Paris.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></strong><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">For most people, Paris is the soaring spires of Notre Dame or the sweeping view of the Seine, inspiring imaginations of romance and history.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Paris is the laidback urban chic of people-watching sidewalk cafes and weekend markets pregnant with artisanal produce.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Paris is the glitzy, haute couture world of Galeries Lafayette and Louis Vuitton, all sequins and stilettos.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Paris is the dizzy purr of the French language, the meloncholy whisperings of Gainsbourg seducing your ears and making love to your soul.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">But for me, Paris is <strong>sweltering summers and freezing winters</strong>, surly service staff, overpriced menus, depressing subways, <strong>neverending strikes</strong> and extremely high risk of <strong>stepping in dog shit</strong> while promenading in new heels.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Such griping has allowed me to avoid visiting France for the last couple of years. But recently, I noticed with horror my smug and long-defended determination beginning to erode, as some old friends gradually chose to call Paris their home, while others jetted back from vacations bubbling with stories and shopping. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">So when wifely duties necessitated that I join Philippe on a trip to Paris, I was apprehensive, concerned that I too might fall in love with the very same city that I had feverishly decried to all and sundry.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">A week later, and while I can safely say I am still not enamoured with the city, I do have to grudgingly admit that it's got some good things going for it. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">In particular, <strong>chocolate foie gras</strong>.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Chocolate foie gras with fleur de sel and crushed cocoa beans, served with toast and salad. Who could say no? </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /></p><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2800.jpg" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">The dish is one of many toast and salad combinations available at <strong>Delicabar</strong>, on the second floor of <strong>Le Bon Marche</strong>. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Le Bon Marche is typically considered the queen of Paris'<em> grands magasins</em> for its endless designer boutiques and "did I die and go to heaven" basement food emporium, and Delicabar is a worthy extension of the store's laidback, effortless chic.</span><br /><p><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/1600/CIMG2799.0.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2799.0.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">The cafe is liberally splashed with fun swaths of fuchsia and lime green, waitstaff are surprisingly friendly despite their <strong>Prada bitch uniforms</strong>, and the lunchtime crowd is a cheery mix of haute couture tourists peeking out from behind skyhigh shopping bags and execs frantically loosening silk ties. The food is light and a riot of colours - flaky pastry, crisp salad leaves, scarlet tomatoes, hunks of cheese. Ooh, and a range of <strong>Mariage Freres teas</strong>, their woody, intoxicating aromas adding the final touch on the <strong>"I could seriously get used to this"</strong> musings that invariably arise. </span><br /><br /><em><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2796.jpg" border="0" /></em><br /><p><span style="font-size:85%;">While I was pleasantly surprised to find out that light lunches can exist in the land of 3 course, 2 hour weekday lunches, dinner turned out to be an entirely different matter. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">To celebrate our first family get together (family being Philippe, me and his parents) in 9 months, we decided to dine at <strong>Chez Leon</strong>, a Bib Gourmand recipient not far from our Montmartre hotel. <strong>Bib Gourmand,</strong> I learnt, is a title issued by the Michelin Guide, the same guide that endows the famous (or infamous) 1-, 2-, 3-star rating. The Bib Gourmand award is for more downmarket establishments - bistros and brasseries mainly - where you can have a good meal without having to (a) waitlist for 6 months, (b) get dolled up with mommy's jewels or (c) sell a kidney to finance said meal.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2781.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Dinner at Chez Leon was a hearty affair. My starter of crab and celery was a whopping mound of Hard Rock Cafe-sized proportions, and the moat of mayonnaise that encircled it did little to help me get past more than half the serving. <strong><em>Jelat!</em></strong></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2776.1.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Likewise, my main dish of lentils and ecrevisses with truffle vinaigrette stood as living (ok, not quite living) testament to the law of diminishing marginal utility, beginning at amazing and rapidly declining to "please take that away from me before I throw up". </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2779.0.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">The two dishes would have been wonderful as standalone main courses, but the unfortunately combination of two creamy, seafood-based, slightly tart and incredibly heavy plates was <strong>a bad choice on my part</strong>. That said, the ingredients were undoubtedly fresh, the preparation meticulous and the flavours complex, so I could definitely understand how Chez Leon came to earn its Bib Gourmand title.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Dessert, on the other hand, proved a wonderful fit with the meal - the incredibly sour, cold and crunchy combination of <strong>pears in red wine and cassis</strong> jolted me back to life and had me in a gobbling frenzy. Heck, if just the thought of the dish causes your salivary glands to immediately fire on all engines even a month after eating it, it must be good, right? :)</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2784.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2793.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Last bistro of the trip was something we stumbled on while waiting for a friend at Place de Clichy. It being a late Saturday morning, the neighbourhood was filled with <strong>scenes of weekend langour</strong> - babies in strollers, dogs on leashes, newspapers and coffees - yet La Bourgogne was pulsing with an energy of its own. Large groups of friends boisterously relaying the week's experiences, clusters of anxious couples clamouring for an empty table, waiters marching purposefully forward with laden trays... even the pigeons pacing the overhead beams seemed <strong>nervous with anticipation</strong>. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">After a 15 minute wait, our turn came!</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Starter was a mountainous salad of <strong>leeks in mustard vinaigrette</strong>, which is quite possibly my favourite French dish of all time. Nothing groundbreaking, but oh so good. Main was <strong>braised beef cheek,</strong> tender and comforting, but perhaps a little too hearty for the early days of autumn. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2832.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/1600/CIMG2838.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2838.jpg" border="0" /></a><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/1600/CIMG2839.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2839.jpg" border="0" /></a>So yep, Paris has some good things going for it, especially when it comes to eating out. But for all the cosy brasseries, flashy bistros and quirky cafes, give me <strong>a good French patisserie</strong> any time! And that is the subject of another post entirely... that should be up next week :) See you then!</span></p>hinatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14670681037946872386noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18628008.post-1159776131161401982006-10-02T11:23:00.000+08:002006-10-15T01:22:42.463+08:00Istanbul round-up<img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/eatpic.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;">One last post about our 3 day stay in Istanbul and I'll finally be done with summer holiday posting, so bear with me a little longer :) Will try to keep this post long on pictures and short on words. P.S. Had some problem with aligning photos, so apologies if some of the layout comes out a bit wonky.</span></div><p><span style="font-size:85%;">I must admit, prior to the trip, I'd approached the thought of Istanbul warily, occasionally prodding our Time Out Istanbul guide with a stick from the sofa <strong>in case it jumped up and bit me</strong>. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">This caution began from reading <em>The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe </em>as a child, where <strong>Turkish delight</strong>, a candy that I'd never previously heard of and whose name gave no insight whatsoever as to its shape, taste or form, took on sinister proportions, <strong>its power to entrance so strong that it could sever the bonds of family and lead to the downfall of entire kingdoms</strong>. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Later on in life, my imaginings of Turkey involved <strong>burly mustachioed men in tiny towels</strong>, plotting all manner of dishonourable transactions through the dense steam of cavernous tiled baths.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">The real Istanbul (or perhaps the Istanbul outside the bathhouse - I eventually didn't visit one) turned out to be nothing of the sort. Roads between the major historical and tourist sights are paved with cobblestones and sheltered by broad, leafy trees; multi-hued, picturesque guesthouses offer comfortable, if not luxurious, abodes, and restaurants advertise an almost endless variety of fresh seafood. <strong>Infinitely more Seville than Slovakia. </strong></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2325.0.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">An apple tree on the street, just like that! If it weren't for all those <em>Hao GongMing </em>(Good Citizen) classes we took in school, I would definitely have run away with a stolen apple or two. Incidentally, <em>Hao GongMing </em>class also taught me how many squares of toilet paper would be sufficient per trip (e-mail me if you want to know the answer), and to run with a pair of scissors with the blade pointing to yourself - so if you trip you only kill yourself and don't inadvertedly wound others.</span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/mosque.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">View of the Blue Mosque from our hotel's breakfast terrace</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">As with most holidays in recent memory, the trip quickly became about the food. We breezed through the beautiful and impressive <strong>Sultanahment Palace</strong>, sped through the admittedly sexy underground waterways, and flew through the world reknown <strong>Grand Bazaar</strong> in a matter of a couple of hours, and only really slowed down when, in the neighbourhood around the Grand Bazaar, we found ourselves confronted by the smells and sounds of street food. With a kindly proprietor beckoning like this, <strong>who could resist, no?</strong></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2336.0.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">First stop was for <em><strong>lahmacun</strong></em>, a kind of mutton pizza where chunks of grilled lamb mince met a generous sprinkling of fresh parsley on a thin and crispy pita base. Add a squeeze of lemon, and it's just perfect.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2334.0.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Our appetites whetted and courage bolstered, we then ventured to try some mussels being sold by a random uncle on the sidewalk. Here's the "thank God I had my hepatitis shot before coming" mussel tank:</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2339.0.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Turns out the mussels have been removed from the shell, cooked, then stuffed back into the shells with a mound of saffron rice. <strong>1 Euro is all it takes to get Mussel Uncle to open one of these babies up for you</strong>. These were really yummy - the subtle brininess of the mussels soothed by the cool, delicately spiced rice.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2337.0.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">After a bit more of the requisite tourist photo taking and earnest guidebook consulting, we settled on dinner in the Kumkapi neighbourhood. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">A brisk 10 minute walk from the major sights of Sultanahmet, Kumkapi is a laidback quarter encompassing 4 or 5 streets just off the coast. <strong>Fresh seafood, alfresco dining, fairy lights and the robust music of wandering minstrels</strong> is standard fare here. We tried to be a bit scientific about it and scoured the streets for the restaurant that seems to be most occupied by locals, but gave up after a while and eventually chose the one with the prettiest lights - Restaurant Neyzen :)</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2348.0.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/1600/CIMG2350.0.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2350.0.jpg" border="0" /></a>Most of the establishments appear to offer similar menus - after being seated, a large platter containing all the day's appetizers is laid out in front of you, leaving you to order via the <strong>extremely tourist friendly point-and-grab technique.</strong> These salads would typically contain tomatoes, eggplant, cucumber, melons, cured fish, calamari and cheese in various combinations. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/1600/CIMG2351.jpg"></a></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/1600/CIMG2351.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2351.jpg" border="0" /></a>You then supplement your starters with a choice (or several choices) of grilled fish. <strong>Small fish, big fish, medium size fish...</strong> whichever catches your fancy or looks the least threatening. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/1600/CIMG2359.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2359.jpg" border="0" /></a></span></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p align="left"></p><p align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;">Day 2 and more food was on the agenda! We boarded the ferry to the Asian shore of the Bosphorus to check out the weekend food market in the Sakerci neighbourhood - it's considered less expensive and more expansive than markets on the European side of the city. Plus, after all our travelling up to that point, it was almost reassuring to be back on Asian shores again :)</span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/bosphorus.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">Asia sweet Asia!</span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/1600/CIMG2382.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2382.jpg" border="0" /></a></span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;">First stop was the fruit stall, where we succumbed to temptation (that was quick!) and bought a box of strawberries for immediate consumption, and a carton of fresh figs to be handcarried back home. This endeavour actually brought out our best charade skills, as we tried painfully to enact the request "Can you please give us firmer figs as we are BOARDING A PLANE... CARRY... NO EAT TODAY, EAT TOMORROW... HARD GOOD SOFT BAD..." </span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/1600/CIMG2379.jpg"></a></span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;">After that harrowing experience, we went to explore the rest of the market, precious box of figs in hand and lips already stained pink with strawberry juice.</span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p align="left"></p><p align="left"></p><p align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/1600/CIMG2379.jpg"></a></span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/1600/CIMG2379.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2379.jpg" border="0" /></a><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/1600/CIMG2379.jpg"></a></span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;">Here's the fish section - the "before" to last night's "after" dinner.</span></p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><p align="left"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/1600/CIMG2386.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2386.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Olives of sufficient quantity and variety to make me consider requesting a relocation to Turkey...</span></p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/1600/CIMG2390.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2390.jpg" border="0" /></a></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Stallholders enjoying a morning chat while hand peeling the leaves and shells of macademia nuts (insert <strong>nut joke with homesexual innuendos</strong> here).</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/1600/CIMG2394.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2394.jpg" border="0" /></a></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">A local bakery - words cannot describe how good the smell coming out of this place was.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/1600/CIMG2396.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2396.jpg" border="0" /></a></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">And something you don't see everyday, the neighbourhood honeycomb store! </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Lunch was at a cafe in the same neighbourhood - its perky outdoor patio appearing like a mirage almost as soon as the market stalls ended. Philippe had a shish kebab with fries, grilled peppers and rice, while I opted for a combination of items from the self-serve salad bar:</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2406.jpg" border="0" /></p></span><p align="left"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2412.jpg" border="0" /><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2415.jpg" border="0" /><span style="font-size:85%;">Most of my items were cold salads involving what seemed to be local wild vegetables, herbs or even some sort of bracken, together with eggplant and grape leaves stuffed with rice. The salads were all strongly seasoned with alternating combinations of parsley, onions, lemon juice and tomatoes, and were <strong>exceptionally refreshing on a hot summer day</strong>. </span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;">Dessert was a slice of melon pickled in sugar syrup and topped crushed nuts (feel free to continue on earlier nut joke here), plus a gooey slice of pistachio baklava.</span> </p><p align="left"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2417.jpg" border="0" /></p><p align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;">Our visit to Sakerci ended with what turned out to be an extremely long stay at the local patisserie - Cafe Erol, where we ordered enough boxes of baklava and multi-coloured Turkish delight to feed both our offices, families, all our friends, plus a couple hundred more people (cos you never know who might come to visit right? Might as well be prepared!) I'm sure you'll understand how irresistible they were though after seeing the next few pictures (I went a bit snap happy with the camera as you can tell) - it's really <strong>the candy store dreams are made of</strong>!</span></p><p align="left"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2431.jpg" border="0" /></p><p align="left"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2424.0.jpg" border="0" /></p><span style="font-size:85%;"><p><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2426.0.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/1600/ceiling.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2429.jpg" border="0" /><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2438.jpg" border="0" /></a><p><span style="font-size:85%;">How cute are those little baby sweets? Presumably they're for sending out when celebrating the birth of a child (they come in a blue boy's version too) as opposed to being for satisfying some kind of <strong>depraved cannibalistic craving</strong>.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">A brief stop back at the hotel to deposit our various treasures, and we were off again for more eating, this time along the bustling pedestrian boulevard of <strong>Istiklal Caddesi</strong>.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">First stop was an unscheduled one - we first noticed the crowds of people filing into this cafe, then the numerous frame awards on display on the window, and finally the <strong>mounds of chocolate slathered choux</strong> that seem to be the only item this store sells. In my book, any eating establishment that can survive on the sale of one product only (see: Singapore hawker stalls) has to be pretty damned good. </span></p><p><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/1600/CIMG2540.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2540.jpg" border="0" /><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2527.jpg" border="0" /></a><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2526.jpg" border="0" /><span style="font-size:85%;">We weren't disappointed. The chocolate sauce was dark and silky, the custard cool and firm. Definitely one of the eating highlights of our trip, and we found it ourselves! (Self-congratulatory pat on back)</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Perhaps as a result of our new found overconfidence, our next stop didn't turn out to be quite so successful. Don't get me wrong, it was definitely an experience and worth visiting, but maybe we could've been a little more circumspect in our choice of dessert. This stop was <strong>Cafe Saray</strong>, a brightly lit, bustling cafe filled to the brim with mouthwatering mountains of solid sugar.</span></p><p><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2529.jpg" border="0" /><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2532.jpg" border="0" /><br /><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2533.jpg" border="0" /></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2531.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Philippe opted for a savoury dish - a slice of the macaroni and cheese pie in the above photo.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">I forgot the name of our desserts, but I opted for the brown-skinned roll you can see in the top left hand corner of the menu photo (and also the same corner of the display shelf photo). It was one of those desserts that I'd sold my heart to the minute I set my eyes on it, and nothing was going to get in my way from having it. All the same, to make conversation with our server, I casually asked what it was made of. He replied with a grin <strong>"chicken ice-cream, Turkish specialty"</strong>. My eyes grew wide with horror as Philippe had a good, gut-busting laugh. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">"He's obviously making fun of you, and you fell for it! You're such a tourist bwahaha!" </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Feeling a bit sheepish, I silently dug my spoon into the ice-cream topped plate of confectionery. It turned out pretty good at first bite - creamy, the sweet vanilla ice-cream contrasting nicely again the savoury chicken flavour.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Hang on, did I say chicken???</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>IT WAS UNMISTAKABLY CHICKEN.</strong> </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Turned out the brown "skin" of the roll was none other than chicken floss - gossamer thin strands of dried chicken meat, the same way you'd get pork floss or fish floss. There also seemed to be some chicken floss in the cream cheese-like filling itself, as telltale strands continually appeared on spoon or plate. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Needless to say, after about 4 mouthfuls, the dish went from exotic surprise to <strong>just plain weird</strong>, and our stay at Cafe Saray came quickly to an end.</span></p><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/1600/CIMG2538.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2538.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Dinner, unfortunately, didn't leave me with much to report. The restaurants of Istiklal Caddesi essentially serve the same type of food as Kumkapi, albeit in a <strong>buzzing New York bar street setting</strong>. But after a couple of days of very fulfilling and non-stop dining, we weren't in a position to complain.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">All in, I'd highly recommend Turkey for anyone looking for a slightly more exotic European holiday. Istanbul is good for 3 or 4 days, and the country's numerous islands and historical sights are only a short flight or bus ride away. People are friendly, food and lodging are inexpensive, and the monuments are some of the most impressive you'll find anyway. Oh, and <strong>did I mention the food was good?</strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">A couple of parting shots: kids concentrating hard on a game of chess in the neighbourhood of our hotel, and a view of the ceiling of the <strong>Blue Mosque</strong>, whose tiles gave the mosque its moniker, through the iron frame of one of its chandeliers. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Now I'm depressed 'cos the end of summer holiday blogging means I have to acknowledge that summer holidays are over, a fact I've been in denial over for a couple of months now :)</span><br /><br /><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2448.jpg" border="0" /><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/ceiling.jpg" border="0" />hinatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14670681037946872386noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18628008.post-1158249907378163332006-09-27T23:15:00.000+08:002006-10-01T06:39:09.570+08:00Cairo-ho!<img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2107.jpg" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Continuing on my long overdue trip blogging, Philippe and I arrived at Port Said in Egypt after 9 days of sailing from Colombo. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">This might sound really daft, but the first thing that struck me upon entering Egypt, via the Suez Canal, was just <strong>how much sand there was everywhere </strong>- on the streets, blanketing vehicles, choking even the mangy looking wild dogs roaming the alleyways. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Second, it was <strong>bloody hot</strong>, even though we arrived in the evening. This wasn't helped by my well-intentioned attempts at modesty, covering up at the port in long sleeves, jeans and a headscarf only to be surrounded the next day in Cairo by Russian tourists prancing around in hotpants, spaghetti straps and stilettos.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Coke that's ice-cold and not covered in sand, how I love thee! Actually I hope it was really Coke and that the Arabic doesn't actually say Caramelized Camel Pee.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2123.jpg" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Third, Egyptian people are really hard to deal with. Our captain had warned us several times on the ship that nothing gets done in Egypt without tips or the <strong>odd 100 cartons of free cigarettes</strong> (most other ports only require 20-50 cartons to get through customs apparently) and, true enough, we found ourselves fighting for every little thing just to get around.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">"No, for the last time, we don't want to visit your cousin's papyrus museum" </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">"No, we are not going to pay you any more than the metered fare"</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">"No, I don't believe you don't have change for my bill"</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Honestly, having bargained our way through China, India and most recently Sri Lanka (where the bellboy at the Kandalama literally stood in front of our car, preventing us from leaving until we had tipped him sufficiently), I'd thought I was fairly thick skinned when it came to <strong>defending my right to not be cheated</strong>, but Cairo literally had me alternatingly screaming or scowling in frustration.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">My impressions were nothing but heightened when we arrived at our first stop - the Pyramids of Giza. Sand and heat aplenty, plus what appeared to be a festering ground for trainee touts, from the lanky teenagers acting as policemen demanding to see our entry tickets where entry tickets weren't even required to the <strong>grinning men on smelly, malnourished camels</strong> trying to rent you a ride from pyramid to pyramid, even when the pyramids are barely 100m apart along well-paved roads. Here's one such charming gentleman:</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2110.jpg" border="0" /></span> <span style="font-size:85%;">The one thing that Cairo does have going for it though, is good food. In particular, good food that is usually hard to find in our little corner of the world. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Ok, so it has splendid Islamic architecture too, but you can't eat that, can you?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">So, after a head blazing, joint aching morning hiking around the pyramids, we headed off by funky taxi (an honest driver for a change! must be the soothing cow spots on the dashboard) to the sprawling bazaar of Khan al-Khalili, led by visions of mint tea, bags of jewel-coloured spices and mountains of perfumed sweets. </span><br /><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2125.jpg" border="0" /><strong>Khan al-Khalili</strong> is a sprawling warren of store-lined streets and alleys, stocked with every thing from religious literature to tourist kitsch to cheap made-in-China household sundries. Passing our first few stores, I'd made a mental list of not-so-awful souvenirs or potentially cute home decor that we could attempt to acquire:</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Camel stuffed toy for baby Gabriel...</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Oriental leather slippers or gilded shot glasses for Tam and Sa...</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Funny fez for Aaron...</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">...only to have that list shorten each time we passed another store selling the exact same thing, with the gradual realization that what I thought was charming then would later turn out to be <strong>unforgivably tacky</strong> or, at the very least, simply too curious. Eventually my list got scratched down to zero. And so we simply focused on what we could eat.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">First stop, the revered Cairo institution that is the <strong>El Fishawy Coffee House</strong>. While host to numerous Lonely Planet pilgrims, the coffee house fortunately also had its fair share of locals, lingering over shisha and mint tea. This, more than the pyramids or the cantankerous touts, was what Egypt was about - thick, candy scented smoke, steaming hot tea in the middle of the afternoon, peeling walls and chipped mirrors boasting a blissful ignorance of the passage of time. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2131.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2137.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2152.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Refreshment pit stop over, we then wandered through the souk in search of more food to eat or buy. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Philippe turned out to be <strong>a bit overzealous</strong> and, while I was engrossed in a neighbouring spice shop, skipped over to this vendor to inquire about how to eat his wares.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">They were loofahs :) </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2158.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Ok, some real food! Fresh baked bread...</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2160.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">More bread...</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2165.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Coffee vendors...</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2159.jpg" border="0" /></p></span><p>And finally, an assortment of honey covered desserts. Just as well we didn't have this in the morning - the sugar rush from one slice alone would have sent me running up and down the pyramids.</p><p><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2163.jpg" border="0" /></p><p>We rested our feet and took in some much needed airconditioning at <strong>Cafe de Najib Mahfouz</strong>, named after Cairo's famous novelist-philosopher and the first Arab writer to win the Nobel Prize for Literature. Apparently one of his writings was actually titled The Khan Al-Khalili which, if the cafe's elaborately carved heavy wooden doors and gilded tables were anything to go by, might've been a swirling mix of intrigue and exoticism. Or maybe not, who knows. </p><p>By good fortune, my random choice of drink turned out to be incredibly good. I need to look up the name but it's essentially a warm, thick milk, almost like a lassi, that's scented with almonds and coconut. You get a little pack of condiments - nuts, raisins and toasted shredded coconut - to toss in, and the end result is practically <strong>a hug from your grandma in a glass</strong>.</p><p><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2179.jpg" border="0" /></p><p>And, before we knew it, it was dinner time! Dinner was at the Zamalek branch of <strong>Abu El Sid</strong>, a sexy, Arabesque chain of 3 restaurants across Cairo that bring out the best of the city's see-and-be-seen crowd. </p><p><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2199.jpg" border="0" /></p><p><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2188.0.jpg" border="0" /></p><p>While the decor was undoubtedly glamourous, <strong>the food turned out to be disappointing</strong>. We had falafels, hummus, a yoghurt dip, stuffed vine leaves and the house specialty of grain-stuff pigeon, all of which were average at best. The funky lighting which had so awed us upon our initial entry also eventually threatened to throw us into fits of epilepsy, so we ended up rushing through our meal and leaving a fair bit on the table.</p><p>Oh, and a note on the wine. <strong>Don't ever ever EVER attempt to drink Egyptian wine.</strong> I'm no wine expert, but this was just plain vile. Water from the Nile, downstream from a camel settlement, would possibly taste better. </p><p><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2209.jpg" border="0" /></p><p><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2212.jpg" border="0" /></p><p>Although apparently Egyptian beer is pretty good.</p><p><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2201.0.jpg" border="0" /></p><p></p><span style="font-size:85%;"><p></span><span style="font-size:85%;">Changed hotels the next day in order to check out the <strong>Mena House Oberoi</strong> at Giza, a gorgeous and stately former hunting lodge of royalty-turned-luxury hotel.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Lunch was good and light - the usual suspects of hummus, yoghurt dip, cucumber salad and the like, but refreshing after a couple of sticky days.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2227.0.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">And what better way to celebrate the end of stickiness that an afternoon by the pool, gazing cocktail in hand in the distance at the same pyramids we so painfully trekked around the previous morning?</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Yeah, I know <strong>it looks like Vegas</strong>, but that really is the real Great Pyramid of Khufu in the background.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2236.0.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Date trees! Lining the hotel driveway.</span></p><p><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/1600/CIMG2241.0.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2241.0.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Spent our final evening too lazy to stray from the hotel, so ate dinner at one of the hotel's restaurants that had a cultural show thrown in, just for the kitschy fun of it. Most of the entertainment came from us trying not to choke on our food while the visibly bored staff members went through the motions of dancing, clapping and hooting to Egyptian techno music. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">My own personal favourite? The spinner man, who was not only highly skilled in the art of continuous twirling, but who also managed to peel off layer after layer of twirly skirt to turn himself into <strong>the human technicolour prata.</strong></span></p><p><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2270.0.jpg" border="0" /></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">And so we reached the end of our little Cairo adventure. It was exhausting and frustrating; it was exotic and intriguing. Would I do it again any time soon? Probably not. But I will be on the lookout for more good Middle Eastern food, and making myself a cup of hot mint tea every now and again. Spinning prata man to entertain me while eating or no.</span></p>hinatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14670681037946872386noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18628008.post-1157644677655164272006-09-19T23:40:00.000+08:002006-10-06T17:46:57.473+08:00Ahoy!<p align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG1875.0.jpg" border="0" />Finally getting around to post on last month's cargo ship holiday. By way of a refresher, Philippe and I spent 10 days on board the Marseille-registered <strong>CMA CGM LILAC</strong> as Phase 2 of our summer break - Phase 1 was 10 days in Sri Lanka, our boarding point; Phase 2 the ship trip across the Indian Ocean and up the Suez Canal; Phase 3.5 a couple of days in Cairo and Phase 4 three days in Istanbul before flying home.<br /><br />Anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself. Back to the ship. We'd opted to travel by container ship in order to experience the joys of <strong>cruising without the commercialization</strong> - the whole cabaret-casinos-buffet dinner shtick that comes with passenger cruising. Instead, we would have the ship to ourselves as the only fare paying passengers, and the opportunity to catch up on our reading and with each other in peace. We were also excited by the route, the opportunity to sail through the Indian Ocean and up the Suez Canal like sailor merchants of yore.</span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;">And so, on a dark and humid Sunday evening, we boarded the LILAC at Colombo Port, and arrived on the deck of our new home for the next 10 days.<br /><br />Not being much of a technical person, I really can't tell you too much about the dimensions of the ship, except that we were told it can carry up to 3,000 containers, which is small by modern standards but considered large up to a few years ago.<br /><br />All the accommodation on the ship was in the column-like area, i.e. the broad "chimney" space you'd find in a child's line drawing. In our case, this area housed 5 floors, each floor marked by a poster of a different region featuring the graphic profile of a CMA CGM ship against some exotic setting in a <strong>stylized French cafe poster</strong> style. Starting from the bottom:<br />- Accessible only from the outside, my favourite-named Poop Deck ("you said poop, hurhurhur...")<br />- Amerique du Sud (South America) - the Main Deck with crew quarters and the storeroom (aka booze and cigarette paradise)<br />- Baltic - the "ground floor" with the kitchen, officers' and crew's dining and mess rooms, and the admin office<br />- Tour du Monde (Around the World) - additional crew quarters<br />- Liban (Lebanon) - a couple of officers' cabins and, most importantly, our room - the owners' cabin<br />- Caraibes (the Caribbean) - the bridge, from which all the charting and navigation is done<br /><br />Our room was very comfortable, with a twin bed, sofa area, writing desk with shelving, closet and attached bathroom. It wasn't particularly fancy, but was clean, well appointed and had the air of a homely ski cabin. Indeed, throughout the trip we were treated more like <strong>guests in a family inn</strong> than as commercial passengers getting in the way of day-to-day operations. The 24 Filipino crew and Croatian officers were always friendly, and ready with offers of a guided tour around the ship, funny anecdotes from past sailings, or just a generous smile even as we tripped over their tools and pressed buttons we weren't supposed to.<br /><br />One reason for their perpetual good humour must have been <strong>the food</strong>. Meals were served promptly three times a day (breakfast from 7-8am, lunch from 12.30-1.30pm, and dinner from 7-8pm), and all were whopping affairs, with lunch and dinner particularly following a standard formula:<br /><br />- On the table: fresh garden salad, assorted cold cuts and cheeses, a bottle of Greek wine<br />- Soup of the day: vegetable soup, or chicken noodle and the like<br />- Appetizer: typically something very light, like, oh, pizza, or lasagne!<br />- Main course: seriously heavy stuff, e.g. steak with mashed potatoes and mixed vegetables<br />- Dessert: cheesecake, or banana pie, or chocolate mousse, in portions that would make Hard Rock Cafe proud<br />- Fruit basket: plums, oranges, apples, bananas, help yourself!<br /><br />Likewise, breakfast consisted of fruit juice, cereals, yoghurt, bacon and eggs, cheese and cold cuts, coffee or tea... you can imagine we never went hungry.<br /><br />We soon settled into a daily routine organized around meals.<br /><br />Post breakfast would be a <strong>trip up to the bridge</strong> for a morning discussion on the day's route with the captain. Having pored through the charts and examined the various instruments as if they were actually intelligible to us, we would then descend for reading on the deck with our brand spanking new "carry them wherever you feel like plonking down" Lafuma deck chairs, with nothing but <strong>colourful Lego block rows of containers</strong> and the wide open sea around us. </span></p><span style="font-size:85%;"><p align="center"><br /></p><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2069.jpg" border="0" /><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG1902.jpg" border="0" /><br />After lunch would be a couple of hours of brainless DVD watching on our laptop, making full use of the ship's <strong>300-strong DVD library</strong>. Another trip up to the bridge to check on our progress, then down to the poop deck to explore the ship, look out for whales and dolphins (both of which we did see!) and watch the setting sun in reflective silence. </span><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG1907.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br />Dinner would conclude with a chat with Captain Malasic and his wife, then it's back to our room for more reading and a DVD movie nightcap.<br /><br />Repeat for 10 days.<br /><br />The one exception during the trip was <strong>Barbecue Night</strong>. Once each sailing (i.e. from China to Istanbul or vice versa), the crew organizes a barbecue on the open deck, featuring an open roast. The crew was kind enough to time barbecue night during our stay, and we had the honour of having an entire goat roasted. (Due to logistical reasons, we eventually departed the ship prematurely, without time to take the requisite final tours and photos, so I never got to visit the kitchen's cold store, but I'm sure it must be a <strong>weird and wonderful place</strong> if there are whole goats lying around.) Add to that an endless supply of duty free alcohol and tobacco, and the incessant roar of the waves created by our passage, and the scene was as lively as any pub at the end of a working day. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG1947.jpg" border="0" /><br /><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG1956.jpg" border="0" /><br />All in, it was a wonderful trip. We got to see the daily workings of a full-fledged container ship, we travelled down the exotic and historically significant sea route, and passed such rarely visited destinations as Somalia and Ethiopia, we were well fed and well rested, and we got to meet incredibly warm and wonderful people. </span></p><span style="font-size:85%;"><p><br /></p><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2007.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"><em>The port of Jeddah, Saudi Arabia</em></p><p align="left">Should the crew or officers of the CMA CGM LILAC ever come across this humble post: <strong>thank you</strong> for the wonderful trip and memories!<br /><br />A prelude to my next post on Egypt...</p><p align="left">For every port of call, the ship had to hoist the local flag... There's even an entire cupboard on the bridge full of flags for every country.</p><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2065.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="left">Sailing down the Suez Canal, which was even narrower than I imagined... one way, one lane only!</span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2096.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">View from the ship - Coke branded outposts and just enough sand to say welcome to the land of pyramids.</span> </p><p><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2081.jpg" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">The port pilot - his job is to take over the steering from the captain once we're near the port, and to ensure the ship docks safely. In other words, valet parking for ships!</span> </p><p><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/1600/CIMG2038.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/320/CIMG2038.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Egypt post akan datang!</span></p>hinatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14670681037946872386noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18628008.post-1157985147526882652006-09-11T21:35:00.000+08:002006-10-01T04:56:40.813+08:00Guest chef Halima!<p><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/400/mise%20en%20place.jpg" border="0" /><span style="font-size:85%;">Question:</span> <span style="font-size:85%;">So what does someone who was born in Algeria, raised in Brazil and Cuba, and schooled in France make for a casual dinner at home?</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Answer: Amazing food that's fast, simple, and an absolute riot of flavours.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Halima, an old college neighbour of Philippe's in Marseille, came to stay with us for 10 days last week as her first venture into Asia. Not that you could tell it was her first trip to the region - by the second day she was ordering kopi like a local, ravenously wolfing down curry puffs (6 in one sitting!) and launching into philosophical discussions with our neighbourhood food reflexologist. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Like a good cultural ambassador though, Halima decided to share some of her own home cooking, and subsequently took over our currently much neglected kitchen to whip up a casual Sunday dinner at home. The dishes came from all over the world, but were united in that they all represented some form of comfort food to her. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">This was our menu for the evening, together with the primary regional influence:</span></p><ul><li><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>Mechoui ya<strong> - </strong></em>Grilled pepper and tomato salad. A traditional Algerian dish that can be found in any household</span></li><li><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>Guacamole </em>- South American</span></li><li><span style="font-size:85%;">Cucumber and yoghurt salad - Mediterranean</span></li><li><span style="font-size:85%;">Beef keftas - North African</span></li><li><span style="font-size:85%;">Grilled eggplant and tomato salad - Mediterranean</span></li></ul><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Like most traditional home cooking, many of the recipes can be modified in various ways - a bit of garlic there, some onions here - and none of them need any precise measuring of ingredients or even a specific cooking method - it's all to taste. But here's our version, enjoy!</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong><em>Mechoui ya </em>(Grilled pepper and tomato salad)</strong></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">As a prime example of how dishes can be modified, <em>mechoui ya </em>simply means 'grilled salad' - anything goes. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Start by grilling red and green peppers. I usually throw my peppers directly on the gas flame until they're charred, then chuck them in a plastic bag to steam up for a while before slicing. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Halima's approach was similar but with more drama - fill a frying pan with a fairly deep layer of oil, add the peppers, then cover with a tight fitting lid. Smaller peppers work best for this. The hot oil will pop and splatter over the inside of the lid, thereby searing the rest of the pepper not sitting directly on the frying pan. If necessary for a more even charring, turn the peppers over after a few minutes and repeat. Just be sure the oil has stopped exploding before you do that!</span></p><p><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Exploding oil</span></strong></p><p><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/400/pepper%20splash.jpg" border="0" /> </p><p><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Gorgeously charred peppers</span></strong></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">We'll end up peeling the skin off anyway, so get your peppers nice and burnt on the outside so they'll be tender on the inside. </span></p><p><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/1600/peppers%20cooked.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/400/peppers%20cooked.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Toss the hot peppers into a plastic bag, and seal to let steam. Once it's cooled down, you can easily peel the burnt skin off, and your peppers will be nice and soggy... like this!</span></p><p><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Soggy peppers ready for eating</span></strong> </p><p><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/400/peppers%20peeled.jpg" border="0" /><span style="font-size:85%;">Last step, slice the peppers, throw in some chopped tomatoes and red onions, dress liberally with olive oil and balsamic vinegar. Let sit for an hour or so for the juices to mix, and then you're set! </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Aside from being very pretty and incredibly tasty, the salad can also keep for a while, perfect for preparing in advance or for making something on the weekend to set aside for fuss-free weekday dinners. </span><br /><br /></p><p><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/1600/pepper%20salad.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/400/pepper%20salad.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>Guacamole</strong></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Mush up an avocado or two with a fork, add chopped garlic, some salt, lemon juice and olive oil, and you're done! Cream optional.</span><br /><br /></p><p><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/1600/guacamole.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/400/guacamole.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> <strong>Cucumber and yoghurt salad</strong></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Sliced cucumbers, Greek yoghurt, pinch of pounded garlic and olive oil. Because of the yoghurt, the salad can have a strong sour aftertaste if you eat it straight away, but this disappears once you've let the salad rest a while (in our case, in as much time as it took to run to the cinema to watch The Devil Wears Prada before returning for dinner, but in reality probably much less - I'm guessing an hour would suffice).</span></p><p><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/1600/cucumber%20yoghurt.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/400/cucumber%20yoghurt.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/400/cucumber%20yoghurt%202.0.jpg" border="0" /><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Beef keftas</span></strong></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">In our case, approximately 2 stalks of parsley, freshly chopped, and one red onion to 600g of minced beef. I know parsley is rarely considered the coolest herb, but it's really surprisingly how a generous dollop of fresh parsley can transform a dish. Philippe's a big fan and I'm a convert now as well - in salads, with fish, and now with red meat. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">You can add an egg as well, which would give the impression of more tender beef.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/400/kefta%20before.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Shape into mini-burger sized patties... </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/400/kefta%20waiting.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></p> ...then fry or grill till nice and browned.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/400/kefta%20finished.jpg" border="0" /></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Our final additional dish was an eggplant and tomato salad, very simply, eggplant charred on a gas flame with the skin subsequently peeled off, then tossed with chopped tomatoes and a generous amount of finely chopped garlic. As it was a last minute addition, we ate this warm as opposed to the chilled pepper salad, and the contrast nicely brought out the different flavours.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">A slice of dark rye bread to soak up all the juices, and your tummy is set on a trip around half the world. Total cooking time for everything: an hour, tops. You spend more time at the table with your fork suspended in mid-air, trying to pull yourself away from one dish to try another - it's all fantastically yummy, guaranteed. Best of all, it's so simple, even the worst kitchen dummy couldn't muck up, yet plated nicely or upsized for a larger dinner party, could be incredibly elegant and/or exotic as well. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Merci Chef Halima :)</span></p><p><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/631/1828/400/CIMG2666.jpg" border="0" /></p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>hinatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14670681037946872386noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18628008.post-1156739355412194852006-08-28T11:27:00.000+08:002006-09-06T01:32:25.386+08:00Food bloggers' dinner!<span style="font-size:85%;">Loads of trip updating to do, but first things first... thanks to everyone who made last Friday's food bloggers' dinner at </span><a href="http://www.sagerestaurants.com.sg"><span style="font-size:85%;">Sage</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> so fabulous and fun!<br /><br />Or so we called it a food bloggers' dinner. The other guests at Sage may have guessed differently, possibly surmising that our gathering was in fact a support group for People Who Cannot Eat Without First Photographing Their Food Under Various Lighting Combinations And From Several Different Angles.<br /><br />The whipping out of cameras, the frantic setting adjustments, the contortionist-like angling, all set against the backdrop of frequent yet resigned sighs from loved ones watching their food turn cold... these were all symptoms that we'd previously suffered in silence. But now, such company!<br />It's like that scene in Ice Age 2 when Manny finds out he's not the only mammoth around and his species isn't going extinct - enough to make me bawl into my SQ hot towel (in-flight movie lah) really.<br /><br />As you can imagine, the dinner is now the most documented event in the Singapore food blogosphere this week. I don't have much to add to the wonderfully detailed write-ups (with pics! such a gorgeous lot we are) at </span><a href="http://epicurative.blogspot.com"><span style="font-size:85%;">Only Slightly Pretentious Food</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;">, </span><a href="http://food.recentrunes.com"><span style="font-size:85%;">Recent Runes</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> and </span><a href="http://kitchencrazydaffy.blogspot.com/2006/08/floggers-meet.html"><span style="font-size:85%;">Kitchen Crazy Daffy</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> (amongst others), so will skip straight to the Oscar thank yous:<br /><br />To </span><a href="http://epicurative.blogspot.com"><span style="font-size:85%;">Colin</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;">, for organizing. I think we've all run out of superlatives to describe the evening<br /><br />To the good folks at </span><a href="http://www.sagerestaurants.com.sg"><span style="font-size:85%;">Sage</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;">, (for me at least) a previously undiscovered gem to which I now swear eternal loyalty. Note to the curious: the poached eggs/escargots dish aka <em>Fricassee of Burgundy Escargot with Lentil du Puy and Field Mushrooms, Poached Egg and Italian Parsley Cream </em>as well as the beef short ribs aka <em>US Corn Fed Beef Shortribs Braised in Red Wine Topped with Slices of Foie Gras and Bone Marrow, Glazed Root Vegetables and a Mousseline of Butternut Pumpkin</em> are on the regular menu, and you'd be doing yourself a great disservice if you don't try them soon.<br /><br />To </span><a href="http://www.razorsharp.com.sg"><span style="font-size:85%;">Razor Sharp</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;">, for the seriously sexy Kasumi knife; </span><a href="http://www.bats.sg"><span style="font-size:85%;">Staub</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> for the lucky draw prizes (next year, dammit!) and to </span><a href="http://www.chubbyhubby.net"><span style="font-size:85%;">Chubby Hubby</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> and </span><a href="http://kitchencrazydaffy.blogspot.com://"><span style="font-size:85%;">Daffy</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> for organizing and distributing the above.<br /><br />To </span><a href="http://juliustruffles.blogspot.com"><span style="font-size:85%;">Julius Truffles</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;">, for the lovely truffles. The pyramid-shaped cognac ones were amazingly creamy and rich, while being terribly addictive and pop-able. I want more!!!<br /><br />To </span><a href="http://www.gryphontea.com"><span style="font-size:85%;">Gryphon</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;">, for the very sophisticated looking box of </span><a href="http://www.gryphontea.com/BB4_Ed1-Straits/gtc-1webBB4_ed1.html"><span style="font-size:85%;">Straits Chai tea</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;">. I haven't tried it yet simply because I intend to keep the box (which says that it's meant for the IMF/World Bank Board of Governors' Meeting) in the vain hopes of convincing people that I am in fact on the IMF/World Bank Board of Governors and hence deserve VIP treatment at every major hotel/restaurant/spa across the island from 10-20 September. Heck, if I'm even stuck in a traffic jam during that time, I'm gonna wave the box out my window as an excuse to overtake irresponsibly.<br /><br />To Ivan of </span><a href="http://food.recentrunes.com"><span style="font-size:85%;">Recent Runes</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;">, for making us feel like celebrities with his paparazzi-like photo taking, and for attempting to get us suitably celebrity wasted with limoncello and grappa shots. For a brief moment, I even fancied myself as Paris Hilton and developed a strong urge to record an album.<br /><br />Likewise, to </span><a href="http://umami.typepad.com"><span style="font-size:85%;">Umami</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;">, for the yummy wines that never seemed to stop flowing.<br /><br />And to my immediate dining companions - Joone of </span><a href="http://joonelovesfood.blogspot.com"><span style="font-size:85%;">Nibble & Scribble</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;">, ST of </span><a href="http://www.cheateat.typepad.com/"><span style="font-size:85%;">Cheat Eat</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;">, </span><a href="http://lavendercupcaker.blogspot.com"><span style="font-size:85%;">Lavender Cupcaker</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;">, Cindy of </span><a href="http://cinheartlife.blogspot.com"><span style="font-size:85%;">Cinheartlife</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;">, Charmaine (hope I spelt that right) of </span><a href="http://ilovemypaddington.blogspot.com"><span style="font-size:85%;">ILoveMyPaddington</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> - it was really a pleasure to meet you. Look forward to keeping up with all of you through your blogs! (Except ST: we have some jade shopping to do together soon!)<br /><br />It was also great fun to chat with (albeit briefly) bloggers whose sites I enjoy reading - </span><a href="http://www.dimsumdolly.com"><span style="font-size:85%;">Dim Sum Dolly</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;">, </span><a href="http://epicurative.blogspot.com"><span style="font-size:85%;">Only Slightly Pretentious Food</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;">, </span><a href="http://skinny-epicurean.blogspot.com"><span style="font-size:85%;">Skinny Epicurean</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;">, </span><a href="http://kitchencrazydaffy.blogspot.com"><span style="font-size:85%;">Kitchen Crazy Daffy</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> and </span><a href="http://www.umami.typepad.com"><span style="font-size:85%;">Umami</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> in particular. It's pretty bizarre to introduce yourself to someone, then realize that you know so many details of his or her life without ever having met him/her in person. Happy to report though that this was a much more dignified affair than teenage fan club days - those embarassing high pitch squeals at a Color Me Badd autograph session, or even the awkward stammering in front of Mark Richmond at 98.7FM sponsored Zouk event (yes, it didn't take much in those days).<br /><br />For those who couldn't make Friday (</span><a href="http://nook-bistro.blogspot.com"><span style="font-size:85%;">Shaz</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;">!) do hope to meet you soon at next year's dinner... or how about organizing one before? ;)</span>hinatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14670681037946872386noreply@blogger.com8