A Tiger In The Kitchen

Portuguese Sweet Bread: True Crack Bread

 

There has been no small amount of grumbling in this household recently.

The complaints are rather monotonous -- they all go something like this: What happened to the bread baking?

It is true that not too very long ago, there had been great ambition on this front. The idea had been to make a bread every week along with dozens of bakers around the world in a quest to bake our way through The Bread Baker's Apprentice.

But then, of course, life intervenes. (In my case, that would be the months spent traveling for research and then writing The Book.)

Gradually, my smoke-filled kitchen (thank you, ciabatta) and bygone bagels were becoming faded adventures in our memory.

During a break in the hubbub, however, I decided this nonsense had gone on long enough. The bread-baking bible was dusted off and my trusty KitchenAid mixer was resuscitated.

On the docket was a bread I'd been curious about: Portuguese sweet bread, a type of loaf, lovely, soft and sweet, that's popular in Hawaii and New England. (It was introduced to those regions by Portuguese immigrants.)

Now, in the times that I'd tried it, it had always reminded me of the slightly sweet buns and loaves I grew up eating in Hong Kong and Singapore. It was time to see how this recipe would turn out in my own kitchen ...

Xiao Ye: A Hainanese Chicken Rice Discovery

There has been a flurry of buzz recently about Xiao Ye, a sliver of a place in Manhattan's Lower East Side that would be easy to miss -- except that you could just look for the gaggle of twenty-something Asians clogging up the narrow sidewalk, waiting for tables.

The prognosis of this Too-Cool-For-You Taiwanese comfort food restaurant that plasters the word "Dericious" above its kitchen and has christened its dishes with cutesy names that are also light jabs at Asians hasn't always been good. Although chef Eddie Huang's "Trade My Daughter for Fried Chicken" has gotten some raves in online reviews, the insatiable Gael Greene pronounced it too dry, "like wood shavings on chunks of white meat." Last week, there was a final straw -- Eddie (first known for Baohaus, the popular Taiwanese sandwich shop) announced on his blog, Fresh Off The Boat, that he was overhauling his menu after reading a lukewarm review on a New York food blog that expressed disappointment in Xiao Ye's "normal" and generically flavored food." As an experiment, Eddie, who calls his dishes "bootie call food" designed for late-night eating, has added items like Cheeto fried chicken and gochujang grilled cheese to the menu.

I don't disagree with the criticism -- when Gael and I hiked over to the LES for a catchup dinner a few weeks ago, the place had both misses and hits. Midway through dinner, we even decided to order a few more dishes after wondering if perhaps we had just made some wrong choices. 

I will say this, though -- the restaurant has one shining spot that made this Singaporean transplant very happy: its Hainanese chicken rice (listed on the menu as "Big Trouble in Hainan Chicken" for $15) is a delight.

In the 16 years that I've lived in the United States, I've searched eateries all over for acceptable versions of the incredible dishes of my home country. I've managed to find decent versions of chicken curry, satay, tauhu goreng (deep-fried tofu that's filled with julienned vegetables and drowned in spicy peanut sauce) and even oyster omelette, Teochew style. 

Good Hainanese chicken rice, however, was more elusive. This dish basically consists of chicken (steamed, boiled or roasted) and paired with a fragrant oily rice that's been steeped in a broth with chicken fat and vanilla-like pandan leaves and a phalanx of condiments -- minced ginger, garlicky chili sauce and "dark sauce," a Southeast Asian soy sauce that's sweet and as thick as molasses. It may sound easy, but the combination is harder to pull off than you'd think.

In the years that I've eaten my way through America, I had never sampled a passable version of chicken rice. Xiao Ye's isn't a dead ringer for the versions you'll find in Singaporean hawker centers, of course.

But it's not bad. And trust me, that's high praise from this finicky Singaporean.

Lemongrass Frozen Yogurt: The Joys of Cooking Redux

Years ago, I heard a sports writer complain about how he used to love sports -- until he started writing about it.

Once it became a job, he all but stopped watching games on weekends. The thing that he adored had morphed into stress-inducer.

I remember feeling aghast -- you get paid to write about something you love. Isn't that more than many people dream of?

Recently, however, I've started to understand. After spending weeks with my nose buried deep in my book manuscript -- which is all about a journey home to my native Singapore told through food and cooking -- my time in the kitchen has become, simply, work. Meals have been thrown together out of sheer necessity; easy old faithfuls rather than new creative dishes have been making far too many appearances on the dinner table.

The stress of writing and editing my hundreds of pages on food, sadly, had transformed my love for cooking into a source of anxiety.

But I only realized I'd forgotten how to enjoy the act of making food when my Let's Lunch friends nudged me back into the kitchen -- not to put a meal on the table but to whip up something silly and anything but practical: A decadent chilled dessert.

Pfeffernüsse: Victory Sweets

 

My mother called the other day, saying she'd been thinking it was time for a change.

Time, specifically, to take down the massive German flag that's been hanging in my girlhood bedroom in Singapore since the 1990 World Cup. (And the discovery of the wonder that is Jurgen Klinsmann.)

There were protestations, of course -- the Germans were doing well in this year's World Cup. They might win it all again! Why jinx things by folding up my precious flag?

That point, of course, is moot right now. After getting trounced by the Spanish earlier this week, the Germans take to the field today -- not to fight for the World Cup. Instead, third place is theirs -- if they're lucky.

Now, when I'm stressed or depressed, I tend to storm the kitchen. So, what to make for this occasion?

"Time to write about some octopus recipes!" my friend Kevin suggested. (Given that I don't sanction the rallying cry to grill Paul the Psychic Octopus, who predicted, to his German aquarium's dismay, that Spain would knock Germany out of the semi-finals, I decided to ignore this.)

Something more humane, perhaps. Cookies, for example, seemed harmless enough.

And Martha Stewart had just the recipe ...

Green (Deviled) Eggs & Ham

If it's been a little quiet on this blog, well, there's been good reason.

There is the issue of this book, you see. A book editing deadline, to be precise. After following my various exploits while traveling and researching "A Tiger In The Kitchen," you'll be patient, I hope, as I wade my way to the finish line later this month. The blog, with all its death-defying bread baking, restaurant explorations and virtual lunch dates, will be back to normal in no time, I promise.

In the meantime, however, there are things that can prod the bloggery back to life.

In this case, that would be a carton of green eggs, large, pert and in the loveliest shade of pale sage. The moment they were spied, said carton was whisked off the table at the Brooklyn Heights farmers market and ferried home for further inspection.

What to do with these green eggs? I immediately thought of the deviled eggs a talented artist friend, Moses Hoskins, recently served up for lunch ...

Totto Ramen: Noodles Worth Sweating Over

 

This is my general policy on sweating: It's disgusting. Don't do it.

Well ... unless there is good reason. Like, say, an awesome bowl of soup noodles.

On the hottest day of summer so far in New York, a scorching bowl of ramen seemed like an insane choice for dinner. But there we were in Midtown, just blocks away from the recently opened Totto Ramen -- a new sliver of a noodle shop by the owners of Yakitori Totto, whose grilled rice balls coated with a crispy soy-sauce glaze have occupied more of my dreams than I can count. (Hey, Thomas Keller is a fan of the place, too.)

Since we were practically within sniffing distance of the new place, a visit was definitely in order ...

The Lion: And On The First Night ...

When a girl leaves town for seven weeks, the City is full of advice for her the moment she returns.

Because she has been known to have an appetite, there is, first and foremost on the minds of many, the issue of where she should eat now. Restaurants have closed and opened in the time she's been gone, sequestered in the woods of Saratoga Springs, N.Y., finishing a book, making new friends.

"Obviously," a friend emails, "the Lion in the Village is the place to go."

And by all accounts, that appears to be right. The West Village restaurant with Waverly Inn chef John DeLucie at the helm and backers like David Zinczenko of Men's Health magazine has been one of the most breathlessly anticipated new restaurants of spring. In the last few weeks, its private preview dinners have been a Page Six hotbed, reportedly drawing bold-faced names like Demi Moore, Ashton Kutcher, Nora Ephron and Mary J. Blige. 

The issue, of course, becomes, well, how on earth to get a table? If you aren't God, Gwyneth Paltrow or Graydon Carter, that is.

On Monday, the very night that it opened, we decided to swing by and try our luck ...

Pineapple Tarts: The Start Of The Journey

 

In the beginning, there were pineapple tarts.

These buttery, crumbly, bite-sized marvels bewitched me as a child in Singapore. My paternal grandmother made the best ones, of course -- every Chinese new year, she would hit the kitchen to churn out her tarts, pushing me to eat as many as I wanted as we sat in her living room, unhurriedly passing time.

I never learned to make my grandmother's tarts as a child, unfortunately.

When I was 11, she died. And the chance for her to teach me anything suddenly vanished.

After many years of mourning this lost opportunity, I traveled back to Singapore in early 2009 to learn how to make these tarts from my aunts. My grandmother had taught them how to bake the tarts when she was alive and they were now the keepers of her prized recipe, which I've included below.

The experience was enlightening -- but it also generated a spark. I now knew how to make the tarts of my grandmother, a legendary cook in our family and to all she knew.

But still, I wanted more.

Thus began a journey of discovery -- one that would take place in the kitchens of my Singapore family. Over the next lunar calendar year, the women of my family would gather over hot stoves to laugh, tell stories, shake our heads and, above all else, cook.

The story of my journey will be shared very soon. (Hyperion's Voice is publishing "A Tiger In The Kitchen" in January 2011.)

But first, it must be written -- and so I must bow out of this blog for a while. Seven weeks, to be exact. (Special thanks to Yaddo, the artists' colony, for generously offering me a nook in the woods to think and create.)

I hope you'll forgive this absence, but you must admit, it's for a rather good reason. 

When I return in late April, I'll be looking for all of you. My year of cooking in Singapore is over but the journey continues here. And I hope you'll be coming along with me.

Until then, buon appetito and enjoy ...

Kitchen-Sink Stir-Fry: Spring Cleaning Your Fridge

 

It's hard to think about spring when there's still snow on the ground in New York. But one must be optimistic -- which we are over here in the Let's Lunch crowd.

Fresh off our breathless postings on aphrodisiac-laced dishes in February, our thoughts immediately turned to warmer times as we debated what to make next for our monthly virtual lunch date.

How about "spring cleaning (the fridge?)" Stephanie over at The Cosmic Cowgirl suggested.

And so, kitchen-sink recipes to help you springclean your fridge it was.

Now, since I have several solid grocers (and one neat butcher) within a 2-minute walk of my Brooklyn apartment, I tend to buy as I cook. (I've never really been one to stock up my fridge like there's no tomorrow, anyhow.)

Nonetheless, there are a few basics that I must always have in my fridge: Bacon, tofu and some sort of ground meat, usually pork or beef.

Bacon is a wonder that must be consumed on its own, in my book. (Or, in a bacon explosion. Or a BLT. Or ... I digress.)

But what to do with tofu and ground pork? The possibilities are endless ...

Iggy's: Nailing A Compulsory

There is, I recently told my friend Willin, a gaping hole in my Singapore dining repertoire.

Together, Willin, my eating partner, and I had savored saccharine Japanese tomatoes paired with fiery horseradish granita at Fifty Three, nibbled on parmesan and squid ink breadsticks at Jaan and demolished slabs of foie gras encrusted with crumbled candied almonds at Gunther's Modern French Cuisine. And one afternoon when I dared to cheat on Willin by lunching with another, I'd gotten a clandestine rush from a decadent chocolate dessert at Les Amis that had been inspired by after-dinner mints.

In my bid to become comprehensively schooled in Singapore fine dining, however, one name was still missing from the list: Iggy's, a little place in the Regent hotel that is regarded by some as the best restaurant in the country. (Its regulars include the wife of Singapore's prime minister -- enough said.)

It's time, I said to Willin. 

And soon enough, we found ourselves bellying up to the gleaming bar at Iggy's ...