Chinese Chefs Taste Cheese

As many here know, the CC is a big fan of Fuchsia Dunlop and her two books on authentic Chinese cooking. She is the first foreigner (and woman) to train at the famous Sichuan Institute of Higher Cuisine in Chengdu.

Here, she writes about her experience with having chefs taste cheese which is basically milk that has been precisely spoilt.

Cheese is not a favourite food in China, to put it mildly. Traditionally, dairy products were associated with the nomadic people who lived on the fringes of China and who were regarded as fearful barbarians. The Han Chinese, with a few notable exceptions, avoided eating dairy foods altogether: many were, and still are, lactose-intolerant. Cheese, however, is still generally regarded as beyond the pale. A few sophisticated Shanghainese might eat Stilton just as sophisticated Londoners eat tripe and chitterlings, but many people, especially in the provinces, have never tasted it.

Over several visits to Shaoxing, I wondered what the locals, such ardent lovers of rotted soymilk and vegetable stalks, would make of rotted cow’s milk, otherwise known as cheese. Finally, I returned to Shaoxing with a boxful of artisanal cheeses from Neal’s Yard Dairy in London, including the smelliest I could find in the shop. I had selected one mild hard cheese, Isle of Mull, to serve as a kind of toe-in-the-water; Stichelton, which is an unpasteurised version of Stilton; pale, veined Harbourne Blue; Ardrahan, a fairly whiffy washed-rind cheese that I adore; Milleens, another washed-rind variety with a punchy, farmyardy aroma that acquires a hint of ammonia as it ripens; and a wildly smelly Brie de Meaux. By the time I reached Shaoxing after a week on the road, the cheeses had all ripened nicely, and some were beginning to ooze.

At the Xianheng, a waitress cut the cheeses into pieces, and the assembled tasters began to pick them up with their chopsticks, sniffing and tasting. And where I had been impressed by what cheese and stinky soya products had in common, these culinary professionals were immediately struck by their differences. “Although in some ways you could say the flavours of cheese and fermented beancurd are similar,” said Mao, “vegetable stinky foods are very clean and clear in the mouth (qing kou), and they disperse quickly, while milky foods are greasy in the mouth (ni kou), they coat your tongue and palate, and they have a long, lingering aftertaste.”

Two other chefs said the cheeses had a heavy shan wei (muttony odour), an ancient term used by southern Chinese to describe the slightly unsavoury tastes associated with the northern nomads. Another said that the selection “smells like Russians”. “The difference,” he added, “is that the stinky things Chinese people eat give them smelly breath, while stinky dairy things affect the sweat that comes out of your skin.”

The entire article is fascinating!

Pasta with Asparagus, Lemon and Oregano

This is an wonderful spring dish that sounds like a repeat of the former and guess what?

It is!

Doesn't mean it's not equally brilliant though!


Ingredients

2 cups penne
1 bunch asparagus
1 lemon
dried Greek oregano

parmigiano-reggiano
black pepper
sea salt

Recipe

Cut the delicate tops of the asparagus and set aside. Quickly strip the woody bits with a knife. Cut at a steep diagonal angle into thin spears, and set aside separately.

With a peeler, zest the lemon and keep the strips. Dice finely. Set the lemon aside.

Bring the heavily-salted pasta water to a boil. Cook the pasta until al dente.

Meanwhile, heat some olive oil in a pan. Fry the asparagus strips at a low heat until they are well-done (roughly 6-7 mins.) Toss in the spears for about a minute and add the lemon zest, and the oregano. Toss in 1/2 cup of the pasta water.

Toss in the pasta when done. Squeeze the leftover lemon all over it, and toss. Serve with lots of black pepper and parmesan on top.

Pasta with Asparagus, Lemon and Goat Cheese

A wonderful spring dish that's impossible to resist!


Ingredients

2 cups penne
1 bunch asparagus
1 lemon
goat-cheese

black pepper
sea salt

Recipe

The "sauce" in this recipe doesn't really need to cook. All you need is a large bowl to mix everything in.

Cut the delicate tops of the asparagus and set aside. Quickly strip the woody bits with a knife. Cut at a steep diagonal angle into thin spears, and set aside separately.

With a peeler, zest the lemon and keep the strips.

Bring the heavily-salted pasta water to a boil. In a colander, dunk the diagonal asparagus spears for about 3 minutes. Then, toss in the delicate tops for only about 30 seconds. Fish out, and put them in a large bowl.

Cook the pasta until al dente.

Meanwhile, cut the lemon strips extremely fine and add to the cooked asparagus in the bowl. Toss in the goat cheese. Add in about 1/2 cup of the pasta water (which should be boiling) and stir it until it makes a thick sauce.

Toss in the pasta when done. Squeeze the leftover lemon all over it, and toss. Serve with lots of black pepper on top.

Better Living through (Pastry) Chemistry

One of tricks that works when using fine corn flour as dough (think masa not ground corn) is that freezing the dough allows you to roll it out without the dough splitting up.

This is one of those great tricks that can be learnt from the pastry world where the traditional mechanism of wheat gluten is basically out of bounds.

Keep the dough cold enough and you will be able to roll it out without gluten.

Incidentally, this is the "secret" behind classically made Japanese soba as well which are made with buckwheat flour which doesn't contain any gluten. You need cold water.

This is also the "secret" behind well-made makke di roti. Cold water to prevent the dough "sticking" while you slap the stuff directly on to the grill.

The key word here is cold.

Early Riser

Waking up before the sun is overrated.

When the CC got to the farmers' market at 8:00am, they were barely unpacking. After a fruitless (!) 20 minutes pondering the silence of New York, he finally got his goodies.

Asparagus, spring onions, and eggs.

Spring is finally here!

Kabocha Risotto with Fried Sage and Pine nuts

This is just an epic recipe and exemplifies what is best about understanding the science of food. It combines Italian and Japanese elements in a transparent way so that what you get is much much greater than the sum of its parts.

You can make the broth and the risotto with minimal effort. (You may skip the instructions for making the "broth" if you already have some but this recipe shows you how to get away with making it "on the fly".)

But first, you must be aware of this particular culinary trick.

Secondly, you can streamline the ingredients and the pots so that there is very little wastage of either time or effort.

The important thing to note about kabocha is that unlike butternut squash, it doesn't need to be peeled. The skin is thin and edible and delicious. What you need to do is scrape it with a peeler to get the hard bits off. The Japanese adore this particular technique because it renders the squash with alternate dark and light green colors which is visually quite appealing.

Follow the instructions closely, and be amazed at what you can achieve on a weekday when you are "exhausted".

Ingredients

1/2 kabocha
1 large red onion (diced very fine)
4 cloves garlic (diced very fine)
1 cup arborio rice
16-18 sage leaves
4 tbsp pine nuts

4 cups dashi

1 cup parmigiano-reggiano
salt
pepper

Recipe

First, soak the konbu in 5 cups of cold water. Let it sit for 30 minutes or so while you do some prep and/or enjoy a nice glass of wine.

The onion and garlic can be pulsed in a food processor. Just make sure that you don't purée them.

Heat the oven to 350°F and roast the pine nuts for 7 minutes. Set aside.

Cut up the kabocha into large pieces. Don't get too technical. Rough shapes are fine. Also, cut up a little bit of the kabocha into neat little diced pieces. Set aside.

Bring the water to a boil. Pull the konbu off just before it boils otherwise it will taste bitter. Toss the large kabocha pieces in. Let it simmer for 10-12 minutes at high heat to get the squash to soften. When done, blend the mixture in the pot, and keep at a very low simmer.

Meanwhile, heat some olive oil in a pot. When hot but not smoking, toss in 6-8 of the largest sage leaves. Let them fry for about a minute and fish them out and set aside on some paper towels to absorb the oil.

In the same oil, toss in the onions and the garlic. Fry for 6 minutes or so until they are colored but not caramelized. Toss in the rice and fry for a bit. Add the salt and black pepper. Just before the broth, toss in the neatly diced kabocha pieces and fry for a bit.

Now comes the standardized risotto procedure. Toss in the blended kabocha broth and stir. Toss and stir, toss and stir, toss and stir.

Finally, the mantecura. Put in the parmigiano-reggiano and stir well.

When done, garnish the risotto with the fried sage leaves and the roasted pine nuts.

Asafoetida

Depending on who you ask this is either the stinkiest of stinky spices or the most wonderful smell ever.

De gustibus non disputandum est.

What is clear is that this seems to be the grandchild of the legendary silphium which has long since vanished into extinction.

The plant is legendarily stinky. When the CC bought pure asafoetida in India, he packed it in four, count 'em four bags of plastic, and an air-tight plastic case, and he could still smell it. He was terrified that it was not going to make it through customs but the cold weather in the airplane cargo at 30,000 feet seemed to do the trick.

When fried, which is how it's supposed to be used, it smells sublime. It's like a combination of leeks, onions and garlic. That's why we put up with the stinkiness. That's why the Romans did too, and no less an authority than Garciá de Orta defended it vociferously.

The love-hate affair is quite clearly expressed linguistically. The French call it merde du diable (= devil's shit.) Even the English name channels the "fetid" part from Latin.

What you get commercially is laced with wheat flour. It would be a stretch to call this adulteration since there is a method to the madness but it's still not the real deal.

The real deal is priced more like a precious metal than a food ingredient, and there's a reason that connoisseurs adore it. It just smells great (and it's an excellent anti-flatulent to boot!)

It's almost impossible to make people "switch camps". Either you love it or you don't.

The clerk who sold some to the CC in Spain of all places, was like, "What do you see in this? It smells awful." His boss, who was clearly knew better said, "Ignore him. This stuff is amazing. I love it."

Which camp are you in?

What Nonna can learn from Obaasan!

The recipe for spaghetti with clams is justifiably a classic.

However, there's a subtle way in which it can be improved, and we have the Japanese to thank for that.

The classic Italian (or French) way is to dump all the clams in, toss in some wine, and let them steam. Fish them out as they open, and then reduce the broth to get it to its logical clamminess.

The classic Japanese way improves on this in many many ways. It's subtle and it works because it interleaves the two steps to make it all better.

The CC first learnt about this trick when he was making asari gohan — an elementally simple dish of clams served over rice. Very simple and eminently suitable for a day when only a simple home-cooked meal will do.

When he first read the instructions, he was a little mystified but decided to follow them anyway. The logic of the procedure jumped out with such immense force that he realized rapidly that it would enable him to take his Italian clam recipes to the next level.

The trick is very very simple.

Instead of steaming the clams all at once, we are going to steam them in batches. Typically 3-4 batches depending on the number of clams. The idea is that each batch not just steams in the previous clam's broth but that the broth reduces at the same time so that there is very little wastage of time. What seems at first like "taking longer" is actually a very clever way of combining the two steps. Each batch steams, opens up, and releases the juices. Meanwhile the next batch steams while the previous clam broth reduces itself.

The moral must be that even Italian grandmas, as talented as they are, have something to learn from the rest of the world.

Historic Scientificity : The Anti-Farting Gambit

If you look at Indian food, you will notice a preponderance of cloves, cinnamon, black pepper, etc.

Why were these adopted?

The first principle, as always, is basic economics.

They grow abundantly on the Indian sub-continent and hence, they are extraordinarily cheap. So cheap that the Romans used black pepper as ballast on their ships sailing homewards. If all went well, you got a lot of black pepper. If your ship got caught at sea in a storm, you could toss the stuff overboard, and not suffer terribly because it was so cheap.

The second, which is a lot subtler, is that they are all carminative agents (anti-flatulents.) When eaten with lentils, they inhibit the bacteria that line the intestinal walls from generating gassy flatulence.

Obviously, the Indians learnt this by trial and error, and the "technology" has been passed down ever since. Most use this but few understand why.

The most effective are cloves, cinnamon, garlic and asafoetida. The second tier is made up of ginger, turmeric, and black pepper.

There is a related herb in Mexico called epazote which is traditionally added to black beans for the same reason.

Read carefully, and you'll notice that almost all of the "greatest hits" of Indian food are featured. What's missing, of course, is coriander, cumin and cardamom but not everything has to be functional. Some of it is just pure pleasure.

That's why the born-today vegans are basically fucked. They don't understand the functional component of how to make a successful lentil dish. You can't just boil that stuff and call it a day. You need to spice it right to make it both tasteful and functional.

Skill is required in almost every sphere of cooking even if you decide to follow some arbitrary rules, and this skill determines whether you toot through your rear horn all day or not.

Toodles and toots!

Nasi Lemak

Indonesian Meal

Making nasi lemak with the traditional ikan bilis, sambal chicken, and all the other fixins.

Pictures to follow.

Dhansaak

This is a traditional recipe of the Parsis, almost always served along with paatra ni macchi at a wedding.

The recipe is long and complicated, and is going to take the better part of a day. However, only those that have eaten the real deal can appreciate why the CC loves it made the traditional way.

The title literally means "wealth (=dhan) of vegetables (=saak)", and as you can expect from the title and the context, it consists of a rich stew of lentils, cooked with vegetables, and meat (traditionally lamb but frequently goat), served alongside with a spicy caramelized rice. There are traditional accompaniments — a cucumber-tomato raita and/or kachumber (diced cucumbers, tomatoes, and onions with salt), and fresh slices of salted cucumber and carrots.

The ingredient list is long so the CC will break it up into its functional components. The CC will try and indicate what actually makes the dish the dish, and what parts are frequently substituted by local fresh vegetables, etc.

The spices are absolutely critical (do not deviate!)

A quick note about the spices. They are really a combination of two spice mixtures in a 3:2 ratio. If you're just making this recipe, you can combine them because they follow the same procedure (roasting + grinding) but just be aware that they really are two logically different spice mixes that just happen to be combined in this specific recipe.

(Yes, this is anal-retentiveness of a superlative nature. Deal with it!)

Please read the instructions. If you read them carefully, you can streamline the recipe. In the modern day with modern equipment, you will not need to spend all day in the kitchen. However, that requires more than a little attention to detail.

There is nothing like this in the literature — caramelized rice with heavily spiced lentils and lamb with the occasional complimentary hit of sweetness from the pumpkin and carrots.

Routine recipes are all fine and dandy but this one is for the betterment of your soul.

Magic awaits!

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Ingredients

Lentils

1/4 cup vaal (absolutely critical!)
1/4 cup whole masoor (brown french lentils — also absolutely crucial!)
1/4 cup toovar (pigeon peas.)
1/4 cup whole moong

Meat

1 lb lean lamb (cut into bite-size pieces)
1 cup yogurt
1/2 cup cilantro leaves
2 tbsp garam masala
4 tbsp ginger-green chilli paste

Vegetables

1 tiny pumpkin (chopped coarsely — traditional)
2 eggplants (chopped coarsely — traditional)
1 carrot, etc. (chopped coarsely — seasonal)
2 tomatoes (chopped coarsely — seasonal)

Fresh Spices

1 large red onion
2" ginger
8-10 Thai green chillies (substitute by 5-6 serranos)
1 tbsp turmeric

Spices

Dhansaak Masala

1 stick cassia
2 tbsp coriander seeds (critical!)
1/2 tbsp cumin seeds
8 dried red chillies
1/2 tsp poppy seeds
1/4 tsp cloves
4 green cardamom
1 black cardamom (badi elaichi)
1/2 tsp caraway seeds (shahi jeera)
1/2 tsp fenugreek
1 tsp black peppercorns
1 strand mace
1 tsp dagad phool
1 tsp naag kesar

Parsi Sambhar Masala

1 tsp chilly powder
1/2 tsp turmeric
2 tbsp mustard seeds
1 tbsp fenugreek seeds
1/4 tsp cloves
1 star anise
1 tsp black peppercorns
1/4 stick cassia

Garnish

1/2 cup cilantro leaves (chopped fine)

Other

oil
salt

Rice

1 cup basmati rice
2 large red onion (cut into thin half-moon rings)
1 stick cassia
6 cloves
10-12 peppercorns
6-8 tbsp brown sugar
2 cups water
salt

Recipe

Wash and soak the four lentils overnight in an excess of water. The excess is necessary since they absorb a lot more than you think they will.

For the meat, blend the ginger and green chillies with the cilantro leaves, and toss with the lamb, yogurt and garam masala. Refrigerate overnight or at least for 6-8 hours.

In the morning, drain the water from the lentils. Re-soak.

If you have a pressure cooker (highly recommended!) toss the lentils in with some water, and salt. Pressure cook for no more than 10 minutes. Set aside.

Please be aware that the vaal and the toovar are going to "decompose". This is part of the point of the recipe. The "stew" portion, if you will.

(If you don't have one, cook them until the hardest two lentils — masoor and moong are edible. Roughly 60 minutes.)

Meanwhile, chop the fresh spices (ginger, green chillies, onion) in a food-processor. They should be coarsely chopped not ground to a paste because you need to fry them. Set aside.

Heat a dry skillet on medium-heat till it's hot. Dry roast all the spices — the trick is to toss them in order of size, and add the next batch before the previous is well-done. This is a skill, and needs some experience. You could just roast each one separately but that wastes more time. Make sure you don't burn the poppy seeds.

Put them in a bowl, and allow them to cool. When cool, grind to a fine powder in a coffee grinder. Set aside.

First, make the lamb.

Heat some oil in a skillet. When it shimmers, toss in the lamb pieces straight out of the marinade into the oil. The yogurt will look very disturbing interacting with the oil. Ignore this. Keep adding the lamb with the yogurt coating, and letting it cook with the oil. Slowly, toss in the rest of the marinade. Roughly 6-8 minutes in, you will notice that the lamb is well-done, and there's a lovely brown slurry in your skillet. Set the whole thing aside.

Heat some oil in a stock pot. When it shimmers, add the onion-ginger-green-chilli paste, and fry languidly. When it's fried but not caramelized, toss in the vegetables and fry for a bit. Add the lentils. Mix together, and let it heat up. Add the spices. Then the lamb and the sauce.

Let it all simmer together at very low heat for at least 15-20 minutes. The lentils must be "melting" but the vegetables must still retain their identity.

Now, we make the rice.

Fry the onion half-moon rings in some oil. When limp, add the sugar, and coat and let it cook till they are nicely caramelized. Toss in the spices, and the rice, and let the caramel and oil coat the rice grains. Add in water to let the rice cook, and let it cook at a medium-low heat covered till the rice is done.

Serve the rice along side the stew garnished with cilantro leaves.