Otak Otak, Barbecued 'Fish Brains'

The sun is shining and I haven't seen a grey cloud for a week (touch wood). It hardly feels like London anymore. I  really do need to get my ass off the couch and start preparing for my degree show, but life's been full of lovely distractions lately. I'll dedicate a proper post to all these distractions (a little sneak peek about that here) but right now, the sun in itself is a pretty lovely distraction.

I know that's one paragraph just on the sun, but when you stay in a place that's almost perpetually grey and/or cold and/or wet, the sun is a big thing. In London, when the sun is out during the week, you find a spare moment to sneak away from work and throw yourself, half-naked, on any patch of green you can find. When the sun is out on a weekend, you find yourself a group of hungry friends and get a barbecue going.

There's already been a handful so far (see asparagus and chicken skin yakitori), and the last one, was a wonderful seafood-based one. It was a very hungry group so I pretty much cleared out all the fish lady's catch of gorgeous new season mackerels. My favourite way with really fresh mackerel, is nothing more than just a good sprinkling of sea salt and a sizzling hot grill– yum. If you do want to get a bit more adventurous with your mackerels (or just bought too many), you can try making otak otak.


Otak, or otah as is called in Singapore, literally means brains in Malay. Thankfully though, this just describes the soft, mousse-like texture of the spicy fish paste and has nothing to do with grey matter. (Though I do enjoy eating grey matter, #asian.) Otak otak takes quite a bit of effort; scraping the flesh off the mackerel fillets, peeling all the shallots, pounding and frying the rempah spice paste, and then carefully wrapping the fish paste with banana leaves to form parcels, before finally grilling over hot coals. But the fragrant, charred results are often delicious enough to bribe your friends into helping you anyway, and it keeps them occupied while you get the rest of the food going.



OTAK OTAK
Makes 15-20

Ingredients
20 (8" x 5") rectangles of banana leaves

Rempah (spice paste)
500g shallots
8 large dried red chillies, soaked for 30 min
4 candlenuts (can replace with macadamias)
1 tbsp belachan, dry-toasted first
2 tbsp ground coriander
1 tbsp turmeric
2 tbsp unrefined sugar
1/2 tsp sea salt (adjust if needed)
3 tbsp groundnut oil or coconut oil

Filling
800g mackerel fillets
4 free range eggs
200ml thick coconut milk
4 kaffir lime leaves
1 tbsp tapioca flour or cornstarch

Method
For the rempah
1. To make the rempah, pound the shallots, chillies, candlenuts, belachan and spices till you get a smooth-ish paste. You can also use a blender, it's less ideal but I won't judge.
2. Heat the oil in a wok and fry the rempah over medium heat. Be patient and slowly fry it, stirring often; you want the paste to be dry and the flavours to intensify. Add the sugar and salt, tasting and adjusting if necessary.
3. Remove the wok from the heat when the oil separates and the rempah smells amazing, about 30 minutes. Set aside to cool.

For the rest of the filling
4. Scrape the flesh off the mackerel fillets, being extra careful to leave behind the bones and skin (You don't want anyone to choke and die/ sue). Finely mince the flesh either with a knife and strong biceps, or a food processor, until a smooth paste is formed.
5. Beat the eggs and coconut milk in a bowl until well-combined. Add the fish paste, finely chopped kaffir lime leaves, tapioca flour and rempah and mix well. The consistency of the mixture should be like (american) pancake batter.

To assemble and grill
6. Soak the banana leaves in hot water for 5 minutes until soft. Drain and wipe dry with a paper towel. Place a leaf on a clean work surface, positioning it such that its veins run vertically, so it's easier to fold.
7. Scoop 2 to 3 tbsp of the filling onto the middle of the leaf and spread evenly so that it forms a rectangular strip about 1/2 cm thick. Fold one side of the leaf over the filling, covering it fully, followed by the opposite side, then secure the ends with toothpicks, to get a long thin parcel.
8. Grill over a hot barbecue, with the folds facing up as the filling may expand and burst open (especially if you have been greedy). Grill for about 10-15 minutes, flipping once, or until you smell burnt banana leaves. If it's shitty weather, you can do this in the oven too, on the grill setting at the highest temperature your oven can go.

Oh, I think in certain parts of Malaysia, they do their otah by simply steaming the fish paste in a whole tray, and I'm sure it's delicious too, but you miss the wonderful fragrance of burnt banana leaves and the drama of picking apart your own little parcel to reveal a golden orange fishcake, all soft and delicate, and wonderfully sweet and salty and fragrant with spices. I should write more but the sun is shining outside, so I'll just end here.

Other recipes for the barbie:

Asparagus and Chicken Skin Yakitori

Barbecue Coffee Pork Ribs

Singapore Chicken Satay with Proper Satay Peanut Sauce

Grilled Sambal Stingray 

Going hungry (The Big IF)

I love food (I think everyone probably knows by now). I love the chemistry between ingredients, the magic that happens in the pan, the happiness you get on a plate. I fuss over my food, how they look, how they taste.  I get excited about cucumbers, hunt for wild garlic and turn my nose up at tomatoes in winter.

I've never really given the whole idea of hunger a proper think. I have always had food, mostly good, and often too much. There are probably a handful of occasions when I forgot my lunch money in primary school, but I only really stayed hungry for a few hours before I was back home and slurping down a big bowl of Mum's pimped-up noodle soup. As a college student, I don't earn enough from my part-time/ freelance gigs to always eat at the fanciest places, but I've never had a bad meal thanks to foodie friends and my okay skills in the kitchen. I blush now as I remember how I  complained about having to eat sandwiches al desko. I am such a lucky bastard. 

A few days ago, I went for an event to raise awareness for Save The Children. It was a gathering of food bloggers and we had a lovely dinner prepared by the River Cafe head chef Danny. Funny though, because the one dish that made the most impact on me was the spoon of ugali we were all made to eat at the start. It was the most bland, flavourless, textureless, colourless thing I have ever eaten- not offensive, but not pleasant nonetheless. But three spoons of the mush that I hurriedly swallowed would have been dinner for a small family in Ethiopia. I felt very small at that moment.

I'm not asking anybody to pull out your credit card or empty your pockets of loose change. I think what the Save The Children people really need right now, is just for enough people to create a big enough noise to get the world leaders at the upcoming G8 summit to listen up and tackle hunger. I don't know how much of a noise I can create with my little blog but I'm giving a shout anyway. You can tweet (#IF) facebook, stamp your feet, whatever. The Big IF event is happening at Hyde Park this Saturday 8 June.

I know I'm just a tiny peanut so here's a very hot David Beckham asking you to do the same:

Asparagus and Chicken Skin Yakitori

It feels almost weird to be staring at the blogger screen, typing. My brain seems a bit fuzzy in the edible vocabulary department, and this whole writing thing feels a bit foreign. In fact, cooking anything that involved a chopping board felt a bit foreign to me after days of oatcakes and peanut butter for breakfast  lunch dinner, and 2 hours of sleep a night. I've missed the comforting crunch of the knife as it slices through vegetables and the noisy jangling of the lid as the stock boils in the pot; missed sitting down (and no bus seats don't count) to eat, off a plate that requires washing; missed fussing over my food and taking photos before (finally) tucking in. And I've missed this blog.

But yes, I AM BACK. Alive. And awake.

It's a pity the sun – which was all glorious and tempting when I had to be holed up in the studio working – has just about disappeared. But I insist it is barbecue weather anyway. There is nothing as exciting as friends all done with assessment, a pack of 100 skewers from the pound shop and a bag of chicken thighs and wings from the farmer's market. (I have no patience for expensive lean chicken breasts.) The wings were smothered in rempah (pounded spice paste which is the base of almost anything Peranakan) and then grilled a la ayam panggang, and the thighs, chopped into pieces and smothered into another sort of rempah for chicken satay.  And because I hate wasting any part of anything edible at all, I thought to skewer the chicken skins too and make yakitori out of them.

In its raw, cold, flabby form, chicken skin seems hardly appetising, but think back to your grilled chicken wings and roast chicken – the skin really is the best part. I don't subscribe to the anti-fat school of thought; in fact I believe it's all good for our body, and surely, there's a ton of skin-benefitting collagen in the skin, so I wasn't the slightest bit guilty eating these. And come on, there's asparagus involved, fresh in season and so healthy it probably negates all that sinfully delicious chicken fat.



ASPARAGUS AND CHICKEN SKIN YAKITORI
 Credits to shizuoka gourmet for his wonderful help on this chicken skin business.

Ingredients
makes 4 skewers
100g skin from a happy chicken
4 stalks asparagus*

Tare (teriyaki sauce for grilling)
50ml soy sauce
50ml sake
50ml mirin
1 tbsp unrefined cane sugar

*I suggest using thicker stalks as they stand up to the longer grilling and high heat better than the spindly tender young asparagus which I used – they sort of shrivelled up a little by the time the chicken skin was cooked. 

Method
1. To prepare the chicken skin, first lay it flat and hold one end firmly before using your knife to scrape off most of the fat from the inside of the skin. Too much fat will bury the taste of the skin and also end up causing too much smoke when you grill later. But leave some on please (yum). Cut the skin into 1/2 inch wide strips.
2. Chop the asparagus into 1 1/2 inch long pieces. I left the more delicate tops for something else.
3. Thread the skins onto the skewers, alternating them with the asparagus.
4. Simmer the ingredients for the tare to get your basting sauce.
5. Fire up your barbecue or grill and begin grilling on both sides without the sauce. When the skin starts changing colour, brush the sauce on and continue grilling, keep turning to make sure everything is cooked and charred evenly. This is possible in the oven too, on the grill setting at the highest heat possible, but you do miss the aroma of burning charcoal.
6. Eat immediately, while hot and before you can have second thoughts.

The chicken skin is wonderfully smoky and sticky with the sweet salty tare, and each bite yields a delightful burst of chicken juices and fat, perfect against the clean bitter-sweetness of asparagus. These skewers were, as my friend called it, one bite naughty one bite nice. I would like to add, one bite extravagance one bite cheap. I have never understood the British fuss over asparagus season, I do love it but I'm a fair person and I love, say, cabbage just as equally. I must say, a lick of the hot grill does wonders though, and I might just find myself shelving out another £4 (£4?!!) for a bunch of asparagus. Especially if what accompanies it costs basically nothing at all.

Other recipes for the barbie:
Barbecue Coffee Pork Ribs
Singapore Chicken Satay with Proper Satay Peanut Sauce
Grilled Sambal Stingray 

Big love.

Hi. Sorry for the absence. My final portfolio deciding the grade for my degree and possibly the rest of my future is due in 2 weeks. So although I would really love to blog (and roll around in the sun and eat sorbet and laugh with silly people and do nothing except get brown), I have to FOCUS DAMMIT.

In the meanwhile, you can have a rummage around the blog archives, get your foodie photo fix from instagram, and watch my youtube videos so I have more than an embarassing 300 views.

And I'm not great at mushy talk, so this is the best I can do: Thanks for following my blog despite my rubbish blog schedule! Big love.

VLOG (cringe): Wild Garlic Foraging, and Wild Garlic Fried Beehoon!

There was a 75% chance this post wouldn't be written.

See, on Saturday I went wild garlic hunting. I have always loved the whole idea of foraging, of getting (free) food off mother nature. I've gone on about it before, I've cooked with weeds before, but I've never really foraged for anything on my own besides the odd summer blackberry. My mum has taught me never to trust strangers, and certainly not to put them into my mouth.

But I did (sorry mum), and hey, I'm alive!

Wild garlic, also known as ramsons, is actually quite easy to identify. A gentle rub of its lush green leaves releases the unmistakeable heavenly (this is subjective) scent of garlic. The tricky part is finding The Secret Location. Chefs and greedy people in general get really excited about wild garlic season, and a bit protective about their 'stash'. I was lucky to get a tip from James (thanks) about A Secret Brook somewhere in zone 4, with "lots of wild garlic and mosquitoes". So I happily set off on my wild garlic mission, half expecting to come back with nothing but a broken foot maybe, given my reputation as a complete klutz, but well, surprise- we managed to lug home a full bag of wild garlic.



Back at Charlene's, we made fried beehoon with wild garlic. Fried beehoon is fried rice vermicelli, perhaps best known in its shocking yellow form in the dish 'singapore fried noodles'-- a dish which I never heard about until I left Singapore. Fried beehoon is probably the inspiration for this bastardised dish, a homely one-pan stirfry done by mums to get rid of leftovers and hungry whining kids. This is singapore fried noodles, the way we really do it at home. Garlic chives or spring onions are often added towards the end for some obligatory greenery and wonderful allium-y pungency. But wild garlic works even more wonderfully here with its delicate taste and silky texture. I've done it before so I know.

I thought I'll do it Mum's way this time i.e. a 30 minute soak in cold water till soft and pliable before frying. (The other way was a parboil-and-steam, more chef-y) Both are good. Done right, there should be no sticky clumps, only loose flowing strands of noodles plump with umami flavour from the shiitake-shrimp stock. And tangled within these strands, will be the crisp beansprouts and tender leaves of wild garlic-- oniony, garlicky and just altogether amazing.

Here's the recipe again, with a few more tweaks.

FRIED BEEHOON WITH WILD GARLIC
serves 3-4
Ingredients

200g dried beehoon (thin rice vermicelli noodles)

2 free-range eggs, beaten

2 handfuls of dried shiitake mushrooms

1 handful of dried shrimps

100g shallots, chopped

1 bunch of wild garlic
1 bunch beansprouts
1/2 cup warm water
cold water

Seasonings 

2-3 tbsp good dark soy sauce (traditionally fermented)
1 tbsp good oyster sauce (naturally fermented)

unrefined sea salt
LOTS of white pepper

1 tsp toasted sesame oil

2 tbsp lard from a happy pig or groundnut oil

Method

1. Soak the noodles in cold water for 30 minutes, plus minus 10 minutes depending on how thin your noodles are, till soft. Drain, discard water.
2. Soak the dried mushrooms in warm water along with the oyster sauce. You are essentially marinating the mushrooms so they become plump with sweet savoury juices later. Soak the shrimps in warm water for 15 min.
DO NOT DISCARD THE WATER. This shiitake-shrimp-flavoured soaking water will form the most amazing broth for your beehoon to cook in later.

3. Make a thin crepe-like omelette. Beat egg with a pinch of salt and pepper, then pour into a small heated frying pan, let set then flip when golden. Slice into strips. Drain the mushrooms and slice too.

4. Over a medium-hot pan, fry the chopped shallots and shrimps in lard till fragrant, then add the mushrooms, stir-frying for a min or so before adding the soaking liquid, seasonings and plenty of white pepper.

5. Bring everything to a bubbling simmer and then add the drained beehoon, keep jiggling and tossing with the chopsticks* all the while as the thirsty noodles soak up all that delicious broth and finish cooking.

6. Toss in the wild garlic towards the end to wilt. Then add the beansprouts and omelette strips, give a quick final few tosses and dish up. 

*With careful calculations given to avoiding more washing up, you can essentially use that single pair of chopsticks from start to finish-- beating the eggs, frying the ingredients, tossing the noodles, and finally, eating your meal.

And, yes, I made another video. Cringe. I still feel funny (in a not good way) seeing myself on camera, but I thought then that I should make a video in case we die from our foraging adventures.

Related recipes
Fried Beehoon with Wild Garlic (the parboil-and-steam way)
Ginger-Garlic-Spring onion Miracle Sauce (good to try with wild garlic)
Stinging Nettle Saag (more foraged goodness)

Herrings, roasted with hot stuff

As I'm writing this, the snow is falling, not just in little sugary sprinkles, but big white dollops. (Sorry my vocabulary is limited to the edible.) It's April i.e. the 6th month of a painfully long winter. I call this the awkward month. It's when you can't wear five layers without looking idiotic, but can't quite put away your woolly jumpers; when the winter cabbages and roots are getting tired, but the new spring salads are not quite here yet. I wish I had something more green and fresh and exciting to cook with but there's not much that's new on the veg front.

There are, however, some different creatures lying on the fish lady's icy counter at the farmer's market. My latest favourite is herring. It's much like the mackerel and sardine which will only be here in summer (if summer does come) - deliciously oily, healthy, and cheap as chips compared to the more popular, expensive and over-fished cod or salmon. It's great just baked with spices and something sour, but there is something about crispy skin and soft flaky flesh that feels almost essential for an oily fish.



The simplest way to do it is to rub little oily fishes with turmeric and salt and fry them in oil till golden and crispy (see ikan kuning). But the herrings I got were a bit larger and hence trickier to fry whole; also, I had borrowed a pan that looked completely gorgeous and could go into the oven, so it would be a crime not to use it in photos. I roasted them with kaffir lime leaves and bird's eye chillies.

HERRINGS ROASTED WITH KAFFIR LIME LEAVES AND CHILLI
serves 1-2 (depends on how large your appetite/herrings are)
Ingredients
2 fresh herrings
1 lime
6-8 sprigs of kaffir lime leaves
6 bird's eye chillies (less if you're chicken)
big pinch of sea salt
small pinch of turmeric
coconut oil/ groundnut oil

Method
1. To prepare herrings, snip along belly and scrape the guts out. I don't snip the head off because I relish seeing the head on my fish. Run the dull edge of the knife against the skin to remove scales. Wash and pat dry.
2. Preheat oven to 200 degrees celsius.
2. Season with salt and turmeric, rub especially generously inside the belly.Slice half the lime into thin slices and place inside the belly. I use string to tie the fish up so the lime slices don't fall out but if you can't be bothered, leave it.
3. Add enough oil to cover the base of your gorgeous oven-proof frying pan*. When oil is hot, add the kaffir lime leaves and whole bird's eye chillies to fry. This releases their fragrance/flavour without it being very spicy because the seeds and pith are still contained.
4. Pat fishes fry again (I am terrified of sputtering oil). Slip them into the oil and let it fry till crisp and golden on one side. Chuck the whole pan into the oven to finish it off and get it golden all over, about 5 min, depending on size.
5. Squeeze the juice from the remaining half of the lime over. Eat, straight from pan.

*If you don't have a gorgeous oven-proof frying pan, you can use an ugly oven-proof frying pan.
Or, you can roast this in a roasting tray at 200 degrees celsius for 15 min, plus minus,  from start to finish.
Or, you can roast-fry this in a normal frying pan, flipping over after it gets golden on one side, like this. Requires a bit of skill with larger fishes and may result in 6 pieces of herring rather than 2 though.

Midge's herrings were really fresh, caught just the day before, so there was no hint of fishiness, just the delicious rich flavour of the sea beneath their crisp golden skins.  I loved them with that bit of citrusy freshness from the limes and kaffir lime leaves, and chillies of course make everything better. The bonus bits will be the kaffir lime leaves; fried and roasted, they sort of turn into spicy, salty, fragrant leaf crisps. Might even try this with roasted peanuts. Hot stuff for the cold weather.

I might chuck this post

You know what, I actually have been up to a fair bit of cooking these days, and more importantly, photographing these bits of cooking. This technically means I should be up to a fair bit of blogging too, but apparently, it isn't so. I guess I'm just pretty anal about things, and especially about this blog. I photograph my food before I tuck in, like all crazy food bloggers (and Asian girls) do, but I don't have enough photos to make up a proper post. I also don't have measurements or an ingredient list to make up a recipe; I just wing it most of the time, really. Sometimes I also wonder whether food that's so simple is interesting enough, so I end up chucking it away (the post, not the food. I never chuck food.)

I do instagram, tweet and facebook all these random bits of edible adventures, so (I know this is cheeky) you could join me there; I'm happy to chuck you the rough recipe and tips if you give me a nudge. Anyway, I thought it might be a good time to give you guys a little roundup/update/peek into the edible bits of my life that have fallen through the anal shuhan filter.

1. I did a bit of food styling for a rare meats company, a mushroom book by some masterchef guy and the plusixfive cookbook. It was a nightmare finding 20 permutations of ways to photograph raw meat, a dream working with the fabulous loveleluu, and blood(cake)y fun messing about in my kitchen with James (of the Young Turks).

2. I discovered heaven exists. I borrowed 2 pans and a chopping board from there (for the above).

3. I still hate waking up at 5am in the morning, but I still love working weekends at the farmer's market. Also, beetroot in chocolate cake also makes it deliciously moist and rich, and er, 5% healthier so you can have more.

4. I confirm that everything deep-fried is made ten times better. That's a deep fried egg (for sambal telur). And that's a prawn with its head chopped off, guts pulled out, and its body scalded in hot oil (before being fried in butter with curry leaves and chilli). 

5. I dug up mum's crazily detailed, annotated, colour-coded handwritten recipes that she mailed me in my first year on Mother's Day. Recipe includes warning "only do after Skyping me". Ah, I miss her. That's Chinese savoury steamed egg and that's soy sauce over, not creme caramel.

6. I made Mum's kong bak pau recipe for a Chinese New Year supperclub. It took me 3 days from start to finish. Leftover pork belly with steamed purple sprouting broccoli was pretty awesome stuff too. This is one recipe I am forbidden from sharing because my mum is probably going to get rich and famous with it.

Right, that's it. I think I might chuck this post if I don't click 'publish' so here goes.

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Naturally coloured Agar Agar Jelly

I'm not the greatest in the kitchen. I watch Nigella Lawson macerate blackberries wearing a crisp white shirt, looking all sexy and in control, and snort. My favourite white shirt is now a colourful bohemian one with pink and red splotches because of the below beetroot recipe.

That said, I do love the way beetroot turns everything it touches into a deep ruby red or lurid pink (everything except my shirt, that is). This is a great note for anyone looking into natural dyes for your Easter eggs decorating. Easter is just round the corner! (No it's two weeks away to be honest, but we need something colourful to look forward to in March when everything's grey and wet.) Please if you are making edible coloured goodies for your children don't dye them with artificial colourings, it's probably why I got so hyperactive around Children's Day and Easter.

Beetroot makes a wonderful natural red food dye. Beetroot plus a touch of milk or yogurt or coconut milk gives you pink. Blackberry gives your purple. Carrot gives you orange. Pandan gives you green. Many southeast asian puddings and kuehs are often coloured lurid shades, and traditionally those were done with the herbs and flowers in your garden. Most people don't bother anymore, which is a shame. I got the last of Sarah and Robin's beautiful cylindrical beetroot at the farmer's market on Saturday, and thought of making one of my favourite coloured desserts from home using that naturally gorgeous red colour-- agar agar.

It’s funny how agar has become the cool new toy for chefs when it's the kind of jelly I’ve grown up with all along. For the agar-uninitiated, it’s a seaweed-derived (hence vegan) substance similar to gelatin, but it sets much more easily at room temperature and gives a ‘bouncier’ bite. It’s quite often made with ready coloured agar powder with the most elementary instructions on the packet, and set in adorable moulds, so as kids, we loved making and eating these simple treats. I used plain unflavoured agar strands instead, and dye the jelly a natural ruby shade with beetroot. This is a two-layer agar agar, one a firmer clear jelly, and the other, more pudding-like with the addition of coconut milk; if you want and are patient/ anal enough, you can go ahead and do multi-layers.

NATURALLY COLOURED AGAR AGAR 

Makes 20-30

Ingredients

14g agar strands 

1/2 cup unrefined cane sugar (adjust to taste)

1 small red beetroot, peeled and chopped

2 pandan leaves, tied into a knot

750ml water + More for soaking

75ml thick coconut milk

Pinch of sea salt

You also need:

10-20 jelly moulds (I use silicone mini cupcake moulds, makes unmoulding a breeze!)

OR a large tray with 2 inch high sides

Method

1. Roughly snip the strips of agar and submerge them in a basin of water, soaking for about 20 minutes till softened. After soaking, drain and squeeze out the excess water and snip.

2. Meanwhile, drop the beetroot into 750ml of hot water. You really just need the water to turn red, so a couple of minutes should do. You can leave it longer if your guests are weird beetroot fans. Drain, reserving the beetroot for some other dish, like a good frugal Asian cook should.

3. Bring the beetroot water, pandan, and agar strips to a boil, stirring until the agar strips have completely melted and you see no lumps. Add the sugar, tasting and adjusting till you’re happy with it.

4. Remove the pot from heat. Scoop out 250ml of agar liquid from the pot, into a jug. Add the pinch of salt and mix with the 75ml of coconut milk (ratio is roughly 3:1).

5. Divide this mixture into the molds, filling up to but not more than halfway. Or, if you are doing it in bulk or don’t own moulds or are just plain lazy, pour this mixture into a large high tray, till it comes up halfway. Transfer the molds or tray into the fridge to allow it to set until just semi-firm. This will take only 5 minutes or so, because agar sets really quickly.

6. Lightly scratch the surface of the semi-set coconut layer with a toothpick, so that the next layer can hug/cling/bond to it. Pour the remaining agar liquid on top of the coconut layer, up to the brim of the moulds or tray.  If it looks like it’s starting to thicken and turn lumpy again, just stick the pot back onto the stove, stir, to warm it up and it will melt again.

7. Refrigerate the moulds or tray until the agar agar is fully set. 

8. To unmould, just run the toothpick around the edges and flip over; it should pop out easily, and, if you’ve followed my tips, in one piece. If you have made them in a tray, cut the agar agar up into cubes/wedges/choice of crazy creative shapes. You can keep these chilled until ready to serve, preferably cool, though these are picnic-safe too because they won’t melt away in the sun like jelly. 

Variation

You can also add fruits to agar agar. Slightly sharp fruits are best for a surprising contrast to the sweet jelly: fresh raspberries in summer, or poached rhubarb this month. Wait till the second layer of agar has turned semi-firm (about 3 min in the fridge) before adding the fruits, so it stays suspended within the jelly.

I know it seems confusing with all those measurements but you don't have to be perfectly accurate to the last ml. It does make you feel sort of like a scientist though, pouring coloured liquids and watching them turn into solids, so I think this could be a fun project for the little ones. I'm not little but I thought it was fun anyway. Best of all, agar agar is annoying light and healthy for a pudding. I popped 4 into my mouth for a snack. I'm not sure it's that guilt-free then, but I felt like a happy (but not hyper) kid again :)

Related recipes:

DIY Flavoured Sugars (Pandan Sugar) - I used this sugar actually for an even stronger fragrance

Jasmine Rice Pudding with Poached Rhubarb - In case you want to do the rhubarb agar agar

Tea Leaf Eggs - How to make natural pretty marbled patterns on eggs

P.S.
You can get crazy with agar. If you mess around with the ratios a bit, you can come up with things like mousses/puddings/creams. Sissi has some glorious ideas.

Teochew Porridge and The Basics

I swore last week I'll make a proper ceremony out of every meal. I'm going to sit down (at a table, not a desk) and eat with a fork and spoon (or chopsticks). Things are still not letting up, things may never let up until I graduate (and become a jobless bum. Unless someone hires me.)

If I were to do this my mum's way, a proper meal would involve a light slowcooked soup and 3 dishes, veggie fishy and usually porky. Nothing is necessarily difficult nor does it take more time overall, but you have a got a few more dishes to wash up this way, and I hate doing dishes. I've hardly had a meal like this since I'm on my own; it's always something one-pot or one-bowl, or one-hand. But I actually love the visual feast of seeing a few plates laid out, and I absolutely relish the whole ceremony of having to pick at food from different plates. So a couple of nights last week I took the time out to make mum-style meals, rice once, and Teochew porridge the other, and already I feel like a more sane person.

Teochew porridge, for the uninitiated, is probably quite queer. This is rice porridge by the way, not oats. But rather than its better known Cantonese congee cousin, Teochew mui is plain, not flavoured at all by the stock it's cooked in; and the softened grains are still whole, not broken down completely into a thick creamy jook. The best way to describe it, is probably...watery rice. Doesn't sound very appetising I know, but this is my ultimate comfort food, especially when I'm ill (or not).

It's plain of course, hence you have this with side dishes that are often very salty. Teochew porridge doesn't really just refer to that bowl or watery rice, but the whole 'setup'. Porridge places in Singapore often come with a gazillion side dishes to choose from, but the most basic must-have is chai poh omelette, fluffy eggs fried with salted turnip. And like all good asian meals, some kind of veg; I've gone for some purple sprouting broccoli from the farmer's market, simply steamed and dressed in fried shallot oil.



And that was it, I'm afraid, Teochew porridge for one rather broke and time-starved art student. Don't judge the lack of salted eggs, steamed fish, or soy-braised pork. It was originally peasant food after all.

TEOCHEW PORRIDGE
serves 1-2
Ingredients
1/2 cup new crop jasmine rice*
900ml water*

Method
1. Rinse rice twice. Mum insists.
2. Bring water to a boil. Add rice.
3. Continue to boil over medium high heat till cooked and the water turns starchy.
*New crop rice is freshly harvested that year. You can tell this simply: the (current) year will be announced proudly on a shiny label on the bag. New rice will cook up much faster into a stickier starchier porridge. You probably won't tell the difference unless you're a fussy rice eater like me, so feel free to use old rice and a tad more water.
*I got the ratios from kitchen tigress, though I usually just eyeball now. Use about 600ml water to the first 1/4 cup of rice, and then add another 250-350ml plus minus for each additional 1/4 cup.

CHYE POH OMELETTE
serves 1-2 (depends how many sides you have)
Ingredients
2 large free range eggs
2 heaped tbsp salted preserved turnip/radish (I love chai poh)
2 cloves garlic, chopped
2 tbsp grated carrot (optional. I also love carrot)
2 tbsp groundnut oil or lard from happy pigs
pinch of unrefined sugar
little bit of (1/4 tsp?) fish sauce
little bit of water/ shaoxing wine

Method
1. Soak preserved radish in warm water for 5 min, then drain and rinse so you don't get kidney failure from all that salt.
2. Over high heat, fry the preserved radish and grated carrot with the garlic in 1 tbsp of oil/lard, till dry and fragrant (respectively). Use a 6 inch pan for a thicker fluffier omelette.
3. Beat eggs with fish sauce and a bit of water/ wine to loosen it up. Pour eggs into the pan. Let set for a while to brown. This ain't no pale anaemic French omelette, you want it fragrant and browned.
4. Reduce heat to medium and keep nudging the cooked edges into the middle and tip the pan to let the uncooked egg flow to the sides.
5. Once the top of the omelette is cooked, it's done! You may or may not choose to flip it to brown the other side. I did and I made a mess. Just fold in half.

THE VEG
Really? Must I?
Steam purple sprouting broccoli till just tender and toss in pinch of salt and fried shallot oil (i.e. mum's secret to jazzing up boring steamed food) then scatter fried shallots over.

The Teochews were poor, which was probably how mui came about-- you need less rice to fill your bowl with all that water. The rice water is my favourite part though, wonderfully bland but with the light sweet taste and scent of the grains. It's especially refreshing after a bite of something salty; two scoops of porridge to mellow and wash the intense flavours down. The chye poh omelette may not look as pristine and delicate as its French counterpart, but it's exactly how I like my omelettes, browned and fragrant on the outside, soft and fluffy on the inside, and in this case, spiked with random bits of salty umami from the preserved radish. As for the steamed and oil-tossed purple sprouting broccoli, to me that's simply the best way to enjoy the pure taste of a vegetable that's fresh and in season.

I know I've gone really VERY basic with this, but it is kind of in the Teochew spirit of simplicity, and I've already got 3 plates extra to wash.



Other related recipes:
Steamed Whole Flounder
Soy-braised Pig's Ears 
Steamed Eggs  (updated, now with more tips!)
Fried Carrot Cake (i.e. the chye poh omelette jazzed up with fried squidgy radish cakes)
Leftover Turkey Congee (i.e. the cantonese porridge cousin)

Desk Lunches and Egg Sarnies

I hate that there's long spaces between posts these days, and that they often start with "I'm sorry". It's been a hectic past couple of weeks what with my portfolio due for the term, a supperclub last weekend, and cookbook deadlines-- all happening together. My lunches have not been particularly exciting and are often had in front of my Mac and sketchbook. I've had some pretty awesome leftovers from the supperclub to tide me through and for you to daydream about-- Teochew slow-braised Gresingham duck and my mum's triple-cooked pork belly buns-- but those posts will have to happen another day (I promise).

For now, it's going to be just an egg sarnie. Yep, a good old sandwich. One that you can eat by holding in one hand so you have the other free for crossing out 'lunch' on your to-do list. I feel terrible for writing that but sometimes there's no way round a desk lunch. I swear once this week is over, I'm going to make a full-blown ceremony out of every meal I have. For now, yes, back to the egg sarnie. Probably not top on one's must-eat lists, but it is just, well, there-- a safe, rather unexciting, but delicious lunch standby.

That said, it's delicious only if you get a few things right. Since it is after all just a simple egg sandwich, I insist on making it a bloody good egg sandwich. Good eggs, good bread, good salads. And butter of course. I add miso and mustard to the butter but no mayo. I'm not trying to make it more exotic and hippie that an egg sandwich should be; I just tend to reach for miso whenever I want a salty savoury kick and I feel it adds a little something extra. (plus, I'm Asian, I have excuse to like fermented soybean thingies even in my sandwich.) And miso butter is amazing stuff. My filling is not like your usual spreadable paste at all and more so a chunky rough mash since I fancy more texture, so it's not a usual egg sarnie anyway.

JUST AN EGG SARNIE
serves 1
Ingredients
1 large free-range egg from a happy hen (obviously, boil more at a go but it's 1 egg per sandwich)
2 slices of good not-too-holey sourdough bread (homemade, or if you're keeping it real, from a good bakery)
handful of fresh watercress and mizuna (similar to rocket but more delicate; you can use your favourite peppery salad leaves. I have those on my windowsill.)
2 tsp of softened butter from a happy cow
1/4 tsp of dijon mustard
1/4 to 1/2 tsp mild white miso (depends on how salty your miso is)
bit of honey (opt, depends on how sweet your miso is)
lots of freshly ground black pepper

Method
1. First, boil your eggs right. Overcooked powdery egg yolks and rubbery egg whites will still be that even when chopped and mashed up. Put room temperature eggs in a single layer in a saucepan with enough cold water to cover, bring to a boil over high heat. Once boiling, remove from heat and let the eggs sit in the hot water for 15 min, then immediately remove to a bowl of ice water to stop the cooking process till cool enough to peel.
2. Mix up 1 tsp of butter with the mustard, miso, pepper and honey (if using). Chop up one egg into small pieces, and add to the mix. Mix well. I like it more a chunky rather than mushy mash.
3. Butter your bread with the other 1 tsp of butter.
4. Pile on the egg filling and salad leaves then squish the second slice over. Obviously best when eaten immediately, but if you have to wrap it up for school, do what you have to do.



And that's it.  If I'm trying to make it sound all posh and amazing, you have creamy egg yolks and delicate whites coarsley mashed up with mustard and miso for a twist, topped with bitter leaves for just the right mix of pepperiness, saltiness, and tanginess, and then all sandwiched happily between slices of good bread. But well, it's really just an egg sarnie.

Other Boiled Egg Recipes:
How to Boil Eggs - Soft, Medium, Hard
Blue Eggs and Purple Broccoli (Soldiers)
THOSE Sambal Deep fried Eggs
Chinese Tea Leaf Marbled Eggs  (茶叶蛋)

Roti Jala (Lacy Pancakes)

Ah, why do all delicious dates all happen around the same time? It's barely been 48 hours since the first day of Chinese New Year and already, before my stomach can recover, I find myself writing about (read: making and eating) pancakes. I was determined to go light and easy in the few days following al that gluttonous feasting , but alas, it's not meant to be. It's not me, it's the calendar.

I don't know much about Shrove Tuesday. It's always just been Pancake Day for me, an excuse to have a lazy pancake brunch in the middle of the week (or dinner for those plagued with school/work). Ah, ok google says it's the day before the first day of Lent and it's the last day for Catholics to eat all the rich fatty foods they want before they start fasting. Ah, that's all fine then, I'll start the soups and salads on Wednesday. Except that Valentine's Day is on Thursday. This is really not working... Forget it, I always believe healthy eating is about balance and loving what's on your plate anyway. And these pancakes I really love.

What makes these pancakes so special is how they're made. Roti jala literally means 'net bread'. This is one rare recipe you'll find yourself pleased with all the holes you have in your pancake. A traditional roti jala mould is quite a curious-looking thing. I'm trying to think of a less crude description, but I really think the most accurate way to describe it is to think of a cow's udders, with the pancake batter flowing from the 'nipples'. Right, or see this photo.

You don't have to waste money on an obscure roti jala mould for the sole purpose of making these lacy pancakes though. I did these easily with a Japanese mayo squeezy bottle that's got triple tips, and adjusted the consistency of the batter a tiny bit. You can also try poking a few extra small holes into the cap of a regular squeezy bottle or the base of a tin. Get creative. The batter is pretty much like crepe batter, but it's got a pinch of turmeric which dyes it a glorious golden, and I thin it with coconut milk instead of normal milk.

ROTI JALA (LACY PANCAKES)

serves 2-3

Ingredients

200g plain flour (I use my favourite white spelt flour)

100ml coconut milk

200-250 ml water (adjust accordingly*)

1 large free range egg

big pinch sea salt

big pinch ground turmeric 

1 tbsp coconut oil

Method

1. Whisk to mix all the ingredients except the oil together till smooth. If you can be bothered, pour through a sieve to remove any lumps. 

2. Adjust the consistency of the batter, adding more water if needed. *This will depend on how thick your coconut milk is, and whether you choose to use a roti jala mould/ squeezy bottle/ choice of creative innovation. Think crepe batter consistency if squeezing; and an even more watery consistency if using a mould/ holey tin. 

3. Set the batter aside for 30 minutes. When ready, heat a pan over medium heat, and lightly grease the pan with coconut oil.  

4. Fill your bottle with the batter, and then squeeze to form your own abstract lacy pancake art. If using the mould, first place the mould over the pan, then pour some batter into it, immediately moving in quick circles to form a net. It's pretty stressful. The first few pancakes are almost definitely disasters.

5. Let cook until set; you can let it go a bit longer if you like it slightly browned and crispy. You only need to cook on one side since the pancakes are so thin so there's no flipping. Remove and fold into quarters or roll up. Repeat with the rest of the batter.

6. Serve with curry (traditional) or choice of pancake topping. 

The coconut milk adds a wonderful richness to the pancakes, though the pancakes themselves are light and tender, and not heavy-oof-rich at all, perfect for mopping up creamy curries. They look so golden and pretty and girly you could make them for Valentine's Day as well if you like (just add a pinch of sugar to the batter and serve with chocolate sauce or something pink, maybe poached early-season rhubarb; curry's not very romantic). As with dumplings, don't fret if they don't look too pretty; the ugly ones still taste great and can be hidden below the prettier ones and whatever sauce you smother them with. 

Happy Pancake Day! 

Other pancake recipes to try:

(Sourdough) Crepe, that was easy!
Sourdough Crepes with Caramelised Peaches and Ginger Syrup (and nonsense rambling about the Monkey God)

Soon Kueh -- Steamed Turnip (Gluten-free) Dumplings

Chinese New Year is round the corner, actually no more than a week away, but this is when it's most exciting. The couple of weeks before Chinese New Year is when the new clothes get shopped for, the garish lanterns go up, the tacky music floods the radio stations, and when tubs and tins and jars and packets of goodies start piling up on the living room table. That was until 4 years ago though, when I moved to London.

They say Chinese New Year is about the people and not so much the clothes/lantern/music/goodies, and in a sense I guess you are right, because it is pretty much the only time in the year when I meet some of my relatives. But because it's the only time in the year when I meet some of these relatives, these meetings unfortunately usually look like this: A hot and crowded living room, a row of blank faces staring at the tv pretending there's something interesting going on, and maybe a cluster of people bravely attempting to strike conversation. There never was that heartwarming scene of people folding dumplings together. (We still all love one another though k.)

But I thought I would start getting this dumpling business down. I got some friends over for a premature Chinese New Year dinner, and instead of having food ready on the table, I made them work for their food. We made 2 sorts. There was a gluten-free girl, so none of your usual potstickers or shortcut wanton wrappers. We did steamed cabbage dumplings, using cabbage leaves to wrap a juicy pork-and-scallion filling, and one of my favourite dumplings, soon kueh, turnip dumplings. They have  a slippery smooth thin wrapper made of tapioca and rice flour that I absolutely love, and that isn't used in any other dumpling except soon kueh. The filling is actually made from bamboo shoots ("soon") and jicama (yam bean), not a turnip per se, but I've done it before with a British turnip from the farmer's market and though it's not the same, it's not half bad at all. I also skipped the bamboo shoots (taste-wise it doesn't affect much) but then I don't know if you should call it soon kueh. Hmm.



SOON KUEH (STEAMED TURNIP DUMPLINGS)
Recipe thanks to Kitchen Tigress who tried 6 recipes, before settling on Rose's Kitchen's ratios so thank her too.
makes 16 pieces

Ingredients
Skin
150g rice flour
50g tapioca flour (starch) + more to dust
1 tbsp groundnut oil
big pinch of unrefined sea salt
300ml boiling water

Filling
500g turnip (jicama or yam bean, though British turnip can work)
1 small carrot 
1 small chilli (optional. I just like chilli, a lot.)
2 cloves garlic
4 tbsp dried shrimps
4 dried shiitake mushrooms
1 tbsp unrefined cane sugar
1-2 tbsp good soy sauce (traditionally fermented)
1/2 tsp white pepper
a drizzle of sesame oil
1 tbsp groundnut oil or lard from happy pigs

To serve
fried shallots + fried shallot oil
thick dark sweet soy sauce (can make by mixing equal ratios of good soy sauce to blackstrap molasses)
sambal chilli

Method

To make the dough,

1. Mix rice flour, tapioca starch and salt. Pour the boiling water evenly over the mixture and stir immediately to mix. It will be extremely hot to handle, but handle it when it's just cool enough. Knead to make a smooth sticky dough, then dust with more tapioca starch and continue kneading, till it's not sticky but kind of tacky. Cover and let dough rest for 10 min- a few hours.

To make the filling,
2. Soak the dried shrimps and shiitake mushrooms in some warm water till soft, about 10 min and 40 min respectively. Reserve the soaking liquid, it's the most amazing quick stock.
3. Chop garlic. Peel and slice the turnip and carrots into matchsticks, or you can use a very coarse grater (make sure it doesn't turn into mush). Then when the mushrooms are rehydrated, also slice the mushrooms into thin shreds.
4. Over high heat, fry the dried shrimps and garlic in the oil/lard till fragrant, and then the mushrooms, till all are nicely golden. Then add the shredded turnip and carrots with the soy sauce, sugar, pepper and sesame oil and continue to stir-fry till the liquid dries up. Add the soaking liquid and simmer till the liquid almost dries up again and the turnip and carrots have softened.

To wrap dumplings,
5. Roll dough into a log and cut into 16 roughly even blobs. Roll each blob out into a thin circle, dusting with tapioca flour. It doesn't have to look perfectly circle but if you want to be anal, you can use a rice bowl to cut off the edges.
6. Place 1 tbsp of filling into the centre of the wrapper, fold the bottom half up, bring the edges together and press to seal. Repeat 15 times. Note: Turnip at the end gets a bit wet/soggy so you might have to drain off the liquid.

7. Place soon kuehs on greased steaming trays and steam over high heat for 10 minutes, till puffed up. Remove onto greased plates (these will stick if you don't) and brush with shallot oil. Serve with crispy fried shallots sprinkled over, sweet dark soy sauce and a dollop of shit-hot sambal.





The soon kueh we made were, well, rustic. The skin was slippery, smooth and soft, but frankly not very pretty, I already chose the best ones to photograph. But within the ugly shapeless wrapper is a wonderful burst of flavour from the stewed turnips and mushrooms that are plump with sweet juices from the dried shrimps. And anyway, homemade dumplings aren't meant to be exquisite works of art; they're meant to be imperfect, delicious, and an excuse for you to get messy with your favourite people.

Happy chinese new year! If you're in London, come wish for prosperity and/or Ryan Gosling with us at the next supperclub!

See also:

Steamed cabbage dim-sum dumplings (as published in Flavour magazine)

Me and My Sambal Recipe on Camera

I hate being on camera; I get really awkward, my voice never sounds right, my face never looks right, my body doesn't feel right. But a very good friend of mine requested this for her birthday so I made a video, and now I think I'll share it with everybody anyway because I haven't blogged this week and I owe you all something.

It's a good alternative for those lazy to read recipes, plus I share a couple of tips that I didn't write about. I must say I wholeheartedly understand and agree if you rather not hear me awkwardly rattle on in front of the camera. You can read my sambal recipe here in the original blog post instead.

Ok here it is, cringe.

How to make Asian egg (alkaline) noodles

First off, sorry for the long space between posts these days. Now that I'm into my final year, the work has been crazy and I only hope you guys don't get bored of waiting and never come back. I'm not very good at multi-tasking and separating work from play, or just one part of my life from another part of my life. But it doesn't mean I give up one for the other, it just means that I tend to throw my two interests together and hope something exciting/delicious happens. If you follow me on facebook or twitter, you should have an idea of what I've been pulling my hair out over these days.

Noodles.

Yes the weird sorts of things that occupy my mind when I should rightly be concerned about deep world issues while expressing mad genius creativity. It started with a bowl of wanton noodles. My fellow diners launched into an hour-long discussion about the subtle differences between noodles, throwing words like saang mein, you mian, mee kia, jian shui, and QQ around, to the confusion of the only English guy sitting there. I felt almost sorry for him.

Asians have so many kinds of noodles it's crazy people think we only eat rice. Some are clearly distinctive, but some look similar yet taste or feel kind of different because of the ingredients used. There's noodles made from rice, wheat, egg, mung bean, sweet potato , buckwheat, oats and probably more; there's the usual long noodle threads in thin, fat, or curly shapes; there's the more obscure noodles in the shape of cat's ears or rat's tails... Add to that the confusion between the names people from different regions call the same noodle, and you get a complete nightmare. I've been trying to sort that nightmare into an infographic (and more, let's see how far I can push myself for this project), but for now, I bring you a teeny tiny piece of my mind.

Besides riling all my chinese foodie friends on twitter with my constant noodle questions and spending too much time staring at noodles on the shelves of Chinatown, I've been doing a bit of experimenting myself. Yes, as if it's not enough having noodles in my sketchbook, my Illustrator window and my dreams, I'm having noodles for dinner a lot these days. (See last few Instagram photos/ posts). 

And I decided to try make my own Chinese egg noodles. Egg noodles, fyi, don't actually have eggs. Well, sometimes they do, but what really turns it that shocking yellow and gives it that characteristic chewy texture and that jian taste is a magic ingredient, kan sui. Most recipes call for this highly alkaline lye water but if you want to do it without hunting down obscure ingredients in the Asian stores, you can mimic the results by using baked baking soda. Yep, by baking this common household ingredient, you turn it from sodium bicarbonate into sodium carbonate which is a stronger alkaline (though not as strong as lye). These noodles are actually not too difficult to make and strangely satisfying, because I know that they contain none of those nasty preservatives and colourings, and because, well, I MADE MY OWN NOODLES COME ON, so they aren't just a result of project-related insanity and are well worth trying for yourself.

HOW TO MAKE ASIAN EGG NOODLES

Credits to norecipes, Harold Mcgee's NY Times article, David Chang's Lucky Peach article

makes 2 massive/ 3 normal portions

Ingredients

225g organic unbleached plain flour*

2 tsp baked soda (see below)

100g lukewarm water

for baked soda

baking soda (I baked a whole small tin since you can do more at a go and store)

*For a harder, more chewy texture, like in mee pok, you can use bread flour. If you're making the hokkien egg noodles aka you mian 'oil' noodles, which are a bit more slippery and soft, don't use bread flour; I get away with using my favourite white spelt flour even. 

Method

1. To make baked soda, spread it out evenly on a lined baking tray and bake at about 120 degrees celsius for one hour. You will lose about 1/3 of its weight in water and carbon dioixide. Keep this in a tightly sealed jar for future egg noodles/ramen making to prevent it from absorbing moisture in the air. Be careful not to touch it, it's not as strongly alkaline as lye, but it's still strong enough to irritate!

2. Dissolve 2 tsp of baked soda in the warm water, and then add this alkaline water to the flour slowly, mixing it in just till it comes together to form a shaggy dough. I don't like to add it all at a go just in case I need less or more, so play by ear, but do note this dough is kind of rough and crumbly. You will see the flour turn yellow almost instantly. Magic. 

3. Knead the dough for 5 minutes, then clingwrap and set aside for 20 minutes. Work those biceps again for another 5 minutes or till you get a nice pliable dough. It's actually quite hard to knead so don't give up.

4. Wrap again and give it a final rest in the fridge for anytime from 1 hour to overnight, I did for 2 hours.

5. Cut the dough into 2 or 3 portions. Roll out each portion using a pasta machine, going from the thickest setting down to as thin a setting as you like. The final thickness and width is up to you. Keep it well floured to avoid sticking.

I've done the hokkien noodle, mee pok, and non-curly ramen noodle (in pasta terms, think spaghetti, fettucine, and spaghettini respectively).

For hokkien noodles, I only did it till the 3rd setting, and then I used the spaghetti cutter to cut into round noodles.

For mee pok, I did it till the thinnest setting, and then I just sliced it into 5mm wide flat noodles.

For ramen noodles, I did it till the 2nd setting, and then used the spaghetti cutter (if you have an angel hair cutter, even better).

6. To cook, simply drop these noodles into boiling water till cooked. The timing will depend on the type of noodle, but note as these are fresh noodles, they take really quick. 

Mee pok and ramen noodles will only need a very quick blanching to keep them al dente, while hokkien noodles should have a slightly softer texture.

It's not as shocking a yellow as your usual lye-added (or, more likely, artificial colouring-added) egg noodles, but it is yellow, and it's got the right texture and taste of these noodles. Slightly chewy and with a slippery feel that makes for exceptional slurping, and that distinct jian taste. If you choose to enrich your dough with an egg yolk or as in some traditional Hong Kong noodle houses, a duck egg, you might get noodles that are more golden and also richer in taste. Or maybe you can cheat by boiling in water with a shake of turmeric, if you really must get that bright yellow.

But even sticking to this one recipe, depending on the way you cut your noodles, you could get a lot of different results (trust me, looking at the mindmap of noodles in my sketchbook, it is A LOT, in caps). I've done those three because these were the most straightforward, but you should go wild.

Now back to ..more noodles. Oh one last bit, thanks Charlene for the pasta machine :) Best birthday toy ever!

**

Other handmade noodles recipes:

Handmade Torn Noodles (Mee Hoon Kueh)

Rice Noodle Rolls (Chee Cheong Fun)

Sourdough Pasta (this was way back and I didn't have a pasta machine then, erm excuse the clumsy thick noodles.)

And some ideas for what to do with your noodles:
Smother in Black Bean Sauce (how to make bbs noodles from scratch)
Fry with Sambal Belachan (aka mee goreng)
Toss with Ginger-garlic-springonion Miracle Sauce (momofuku-improved)
Make fishball noodles soup or mee pok tah (how to make bouncy fishballs!)
Spend 16 hours boiling pork bones for Tonkotsu Ramen
Or simmering chicken bones with malay spices for Soto Ayam for the soul

ps. Londoners, I'm making bak chor mee for this sunday's plusixfive supperclub, COME EAT!