A Tiger In The Kitchen

786 Yassin Restaurant: "Drunk Food" To Remember

 

The moment I heard about 786 Yassin Restaurant, a place in Singapore that reputedly serves outstanding Indian mutton soup, I instantly begged to be taken.

When done well, soup kambing, as it's called, is a hefty flavor bomb that's hard to forget. It comes infused with coriander, cumin, cardamom, turmeric, nutmeg and star anise (among other spices) and dotted with crispy fried shallots and soft onion chunks.

This, no doubt, is the Chanel of soups.

When to have it, however, turned out to be something to consider.

"You can't have soup kambing now lah," said my friend Basil, who had told me about Yassin, prompting me to immediately suggest heading there for dinner. "It's mabuk food."

Ahh, drunk food -- the dishes that are the perfect panacea when you're leaving a bar at 2 a.m. and looking for something to quell your hunger and sober you up. In the case of soup kambing, this heady concoction of spices does an especially efficient job of clearing your head and helping you wade out of your Chivas fog.

I didn't want to have to get drunk in order to try Yassin's though. So after some persuading, we were on our way.  

International Food Stall: A Nasi Lemak Breakfast

 
It was at Nyonya, a Malaysian restaurant in New York City, that I recently found myself with the legendary and insatiable Gael Greene, trying to explain the wonder that is nasi lemak, a Malay dish of coconut rice topped with a fried egg, fried chicken, crispy anchovies, cucumber slices and fiery sambal chili sauce.

"We eat it for breakfast -- or lunch," I said, explaining that some Singapore hawkers will have packets of the rice tightly wrapped up in banana leaves set out in the morning, ready for the harried to buy and eat on the run.

"Breakfast?" she said, looking intrigued.

Granted, it's hard to appreciate nasi lemak as one of the best ways to start the day when the New York version set before you is a mound of flavorless rice paired with a mushy mess of sodden chicken and anchovies that are limp and cold instead of crunchy and tongue-searingly hot.

But if you've had the real thing for breakfast while sitting in a humid hawker center in sweltering tropical heat, trust me, you'll be a convert. Oatmeal and French Toast will be all but a distant, lesser memory.

In Singapore, one of my favorite places for the stuff is a little stall in Changi Village, a somewhat sleepy nook by the sea. It'd been many years since I'd been there -- but I'd heard its lines remained as impossibly long. (Always a good sign.)

Clearly, it was time for a revisit ...

Indian Chicken Curry: A Grandmother's Recipe

A few weeks ago, I found myself on the phone, frantically shuttling between calls to my aunt and my grandmother, trying to jolt their memories and nail down the ingredients we needed for my Singapore family's take on chicken curry.

As the calls got more confusing and the ingredient list grew more nebulous, my friend Basil, a Singaporean of Indian ethnicity, sat nearby, listening in with an increasingly incredulous look.

"You're sitting next to an Indian," he finally said, "and you're not asking him how he makes his curry?"

A very good point.

It turns out Basil, better known to his friends as the hard-to-miss, gregarious guy at any bar that he frequents, also knows how to cook. He learned 20 years ago in his grandmother's kitchen, when he was drafted as a teenager to help her after she'd lost a leg to diabetes. "She would park her wheelchair at the entrance to the kitchen and bark out instructions to me," he said.

Well, her lessons must have stuck because Basil then proved that he could rattle off her curry instructions as quickly and surely as he can list the latest Manchester United stats.

The moment I got back to my Brooklyn kitchen, I knew I had to try it.

Ice Kachang: Savoring The Old

 

This is what inevitably happens when I get together with the Fairways Kids, a bunch of friends I've known since I was 11, back when my family moved into a Singapore condominium building named (naturally) Fairways.

Sure, we'll catch up on jobs, lives, kids, significant others. But somehow the conversation always wends its way back to one thing: ice kachang, a sugary dessert featuring a bowl of sweet corn, red beans, palm seeds and jelly topped with a minor hill of shaved ice that's been doused in syrup so sweet you can practically feel a toothache coming on as you shovel spoonfuls into your mouth.

We were a rambunctious lot -- still are, some might say. Rough soccer games, fearless, kickboxing fights in the swimming pool, endless games of volleyball in the tennis court -- this was how our youths were misspent. But the highlight of those idyllic days often was a trip over the fence (the shortcut before the condo association built a back gate) to the hawker center in the back. 

What lay at the end was an ice-cold mountain, festive and pink. 

Back behind the fence, we had homework, exams and, later, boy or girl problems to consume us. But at Telok Blangah Food Centre, things were simple. All we had to worry about was whether we had enough coins that day for a bowl of ice kachang.

Top 10: The Memorable Eats Of 2009

 

You know it's been a good year when you are able to say this: 2009 was when I began to eat for a living.

I'd always been a devotee of affairs of the stomach. I may have written about fashion and other lifestyle areas for a living but baking, braising, trying new recipes, eating out -- those were what consumed me when weekends rolled around. 

Luck has its ways of finding you, however. Now, on the precipice of 2010, I'm beginning to close out a lunar calendar year of cooking and eating with my family in Singapore as research for my book, "A Tiger In The Kitchen." 

My journey so far has taken me many places -- France, where I had the loveliest gingery champagne cocktail with friends old and dear; China, where my father and I went in search of my great-grandfather's footprints in the village of his birth. And, of course, Singapore, where my aunties and maternal grandmother have been plying me with meals, recipes and much, much love along the way.

With all that I've packed into 2009, it's hard to decide what the highlights have been. But, inspired by some stellar Top 10 gastronomic lists out there (definitely check out Sam Sifton's list of Top 11 dishes in New York in the New York Times), I decided to give it a go.

Here, in no particular order, are my 10 memorable eats of 2009. 

Enjoy, buon appetito and listen, let's do this again in 2010 ...

Debal: A Devil of a Curry

If you're still staring at a fridge full of Christmas ham, roast beef or turkey, here's something you can do with all those leftovers -- make debal.

The dish, a traditional spicy stew that Eurasians in Singapore make on Boxing Day, is a kitchen-sink concoction made with the myriad leftover meats of Christmas feasts. It's a classic dish in Eurasian cuisine, which developed in the 19th Century when European traders began migrating to Singapore and marrying into local families. Debal combines cooked hams and roast beef with spicy Southeast Asian chilis and ginger.

I spent a few hours last week learning how to make debal (pronounced "dee-bahl" and also known as curry devil or devil's curry) from chef Damian D'Silva of Big D's Grill for a piece for The Atlantic.

The process is fairly laborious -- you'll need to be stirring constantly for at least two hours. But the end result is out of this world.

Here's how to do it ...

Obao: Panned Asian

New York is filled with so many "pan-Asian" restaurants that it can be difficult to get excited about yet another one setting up shop.

Vietnamese pork chops? Been there. Summer rolls? So, so done that.

And Obao, Michael Huynh's newest addition to his rapidly expanding string of Manhattan restaurants, hits these and all the other usual notes that you'll find at many other similarly billed places in the city.

What's different? Not much, compared with your run-of-the-mill multi-ethnic Asian restaurant.

There are some hits -- anything meaty and/or grilled. And, of course, some misses, namely a "spicy" Singapore laksa (pictured above) that's so watered down that its broth tastes like hot water with some curry powder tossed in toward the end.

But here's the thing: Even at Obao's recession-friendly prices (which put entrees between $9 and $18), for those who enjoy a hearty bowl of noodle soup or a crisp papaya salad now and then, there are just so many other places in the city to go for better versions.

So, why eat here?

At-Sunrice: Getting To The Root Of Things

In the lush greenness, we were led, like foragers, from tree to tree. Stopping occasionally to sniff at some bark or nibble on a fresh leaf, the experience was about as close to the source of food that you can get.

The setting was quiet Fort Canning Park in Singapore, a place that's as known for being a lovers' lane as it is for being the panoramic hilltop spot on which the country's first colonial settlers built their homes. My friend Willin (my stomach-of-steel dining partner in Singapore) and I had trekked to the park for a tour of its spice garden and At-Sunrice, the cooking school that's perched next to it. (Think of it as the Cordon Bleu of Singapore.) 

Before we checked out the school's Chinese, pastry and Western kitchens, however, we'd taken a little detour, wending our way along a garden that dates back to the early 19th Century, to get to the root of what we cook and eat. Even with the advent of farmer's markets and lengthy explanations of the origins of ingredients on restaurant menus these days, it can be hard to feel a sense of connection with where our food comes from.

But when you're holding a broken-open nutmeg shell while sniffing and stroking the thin film of mace that covers the seed, you start to have a deeper appreciation for all the cakes and pies that you've beaten mace into. 

(It also made me want to get back to my oven and whip together my favorite apple-pear tart with a mace crust. And pronto.)

Winging It: An Easy Chicken Stew

My mother will be the first to tell you that she is not a cook. 

(Even though she is. Sort of.)

In my family's Singapore home, however, it is our maid Erlinda who does the magic in the kitchen most days. Her dishes are typically simple, delicious and never fail to hit the spot.

Like many good home cooks, improvisation has been the mother of many of Erlinda's inventions. One of my favorite dishes is a super-easy chicken-wing stew that she first tossed together while thinking of the adobos she grew up eating in her hometown of Baguio in the Phillippines.

The stew she makes here, however, is quite different because my mother typically doesn't stock vinegar in her kitchen. Instead, dark, sweet soy sauce is the main ingredient -- but the result can be just as satisfying.

Braised Duck A L'Aunty Alice

When I think of the family feasts of my Singapore girlhood, there's always a duck in the picture.

To say that my people -- that would be the Teochew ethnic group from Southern China -- adore duck would be a major understatement. During a recent trip to Shantou, the area in China where my great-grandfather lived as a boy, duck and goose were inescapable at every dinner table.

So it's more than slightly sacrilegious to say that I often avoid duck simply because it isn't one of my favorites. (Hey, I'm a big hunk of red meat kind of gal -- what can I say?)

I do make an exception for some versions, however -- and Teochew-style braised duck is one of them.

While I'm really good at eating it, making it is another matter altogether. But this was something my Aunty Alice, the best cook among my mother and her sisters, was intent on fixing right away.

On a recent weekday, she arrived at my Singapore home armed with two ducks and a bag of ingredients and the tutorial began...