Pastaly Ponders

Overripe tomatoes on the precipice a wooden chopping board
Peeled, waiting to be diced, tiny bitty cubed?
Or smushed, a pulpy juicy slush?
Waiting, voiceless, choiceless.

Pale reddish in hue, bits of grayish white pock a pack of minced
Once hale and hearty, grazing greens beyond the windowed walls
Ready for pot, or skillet, or pan,
Crackling fat gushing salivating aroma.

Solid but brittle egg yolked durum in plastic opened one end
Fettuccine? Tagliatelle? Or plain Spaghetti?
Poached, boiled cooked El Dente,
So exotic Oh Mama Mia goes the cook

Mini shrubs on the kitchen top emitting a minty balsamic scent so sweet
Distant cousins to the bottled shreds
Italian herbs, American sourced
The end user a cook in a distant land

A place somewhere where snow is but fluffy, clotted cotton
Melting never, never minding hot, sweltering heat
An afternoon that last and last from the peeking of daybreak
Saying goodbye later at the slip of dawn

The coming together, a mixing so tender
Minced, diced, cubed, shredded, tied in an elegant promenade
The slightest touch, a salty intrusion so sparse
Seared stir fry, sizzled sauté, frizzling fried
A final heave ho to the mixing bowl so deep
Meal so handy, ingredients so plenty
Thus with a soft "In the name of Allah"
Buon Appetito then…

Culinary Democratisation

For the life of me, I cannot recall when I first started eating raw fish aka sushi.

It could very well be something which followed closely my interest in the yesteryear Manga (the days of Domu, Akira, Lone Wolf and Cub etc).

Fortunately, this dish is now easily found in the country, thanks to Sushi King and other outlets without you having to frequent posh so-called Japanese restaurant for a taste.

I had a go at the real deal during my trip to Japan sometime ago. As a layman (as opposed to a true blue food connoisseur, I suppose) I could not really tell the difference between that and those I usually take in Malaysia anyway.

Aside from the authenticity factor, a sushi is as good as the sticky rice that goes with it. And, according to my tastebud, the tuna is also not half bad too as sushi ingredient. Add a dash of wasabi and you’re good to go.

Once I read this piece of news about a US396,000 342-kg blue fin tuna, my mind started racing as to how many sushi pieces this giant would be able to make.

At home, we are so used to cooking fish whole. This is so unlike the Western style of filleting and boning the fish, or the Japanese fine art-ish, sushi-pieces slicing act.

The years of intermingling of the racial/cultural cooking pot however, have certainly blurred this culinary divide, and nowadays, even Mat Sallehs can be found digging into Nyonya-style, fish head curry.

You just have to love the democratization of eating habits, don’t you?

Don’t bother looking into symbolism as this posting is nothing more than a rambling.

Now, if only there is a sushi outlet I can short-drop-by on the way home...

Legsy Palate

“If collected at late maturation stages, the truffles will likely carry eggs and larvae — adding proteins and aroma to the truffle.”

The article by Nicholas Wade in NYT really did have a load of “new discoveries … reveal(ing) more than you really wanted to know”. (My emphasis, TQVM!)

Just like the sushi-lover horror story floating in the internet gravepine which has since put me off the Japanese delicacy forever.

Anyway, I have never tasted the so-called fungi named truffle especially due to the Pacific Ocean-trench deepness of the pocket that partakes in its consumption would require.

It is one of those delicacies – foie gras being another example – which seemed far too bourgeoisie in palate to dream and/or salivate about.

Just last night I (re) read the delightful short story by (Sir) Jeffrey Archer on Bob and Fiona – the two main characters in “The Wisdom of Solomon”.

In an early description of the lady with 30 inches of legs and a diet perfected on lettuce leaves and water, Archer wrote:

“… she read the wine list from the bottom upwards, ordered caviar as a starter and asked, with a sweet smile, for her pasta to be covered in truffles.”

Truffles and caviar; seemed to go hand in hand the two.

Both non too subtle hints of the fine dining, jet setting. luxury-filled lifestyle of the rich, the famous and all their hangers-on.

I wonder if Fiona would still want truffles had she read the article before the “get-to-know-my-best-mate” dinner.

A twist perhaps - the kind you don’t however usually find in Archer’s tales - would be her asking to have the more exotic kinds instead.

Those preferring to be visually sated with this warped sense of the foodie macabre can tune in to Andrew Zimmern’s Bizzare Food on Astro’s Discovery Travel and Living for some good retching views.

Then again, who am I kidding? Just like vegetarians might eye meat eaters with disdain, some people do seem to see creepy crawlies perfectly suited as protein sources.

I digress. To each their own, eh?

Anyway, The Sun has been running a few articles about another set of new discoveries; the archaeological kind in Lembah Bujang.

The latest being a sun-dial like construction, aged around 1,900 years old. Add this to the jetties and iron smelting workshops found earlier at the same site.

Deciphering the historical context of these discovery would be wonderful to tell us more about how it was all those years ago.

Wonder whatever happened to that civilization? A local version of the fabled Atlantis, maybe?

Again, for the visually incline look forward to Sam Worthington’s “Clash of the Titans”.

It doesn’t feature Atlantis but it does have the CGI-steroid’up new Kraken wreaking havoc and tearing cities asunder.

Kraken Smash Puny Mortals!

The Old "Puny" Kraken

gastromocracy

At lunchtime the other day at Ninth Avenue and 41st Street, 13 men and women stood on the sidewalk outside 99¢ Fresh, impatiently ordering and impatiently eating slices amid the ambiance of ungentrified Hell’s Kitchen: idling delivery trucks near the rear of the Port Authority Bus Terminal, a barking dog named Leo someone tied up down the block, a prostitute who hurried by saying something about $150 for a half-hour and a bearded homeless man with a cane who spoke loudly to himself about the size of the average bear. He ate two slices.

Vivid, isn’t it?

You can almost smell the sweat, the aroma, and hear the screech, the jibber jabber, the grunts and feel the heat, the restlessness within this lengthy description – believe it or not – of 99 cents/US$1 pizza slices.

At my lunchtime the other day, I too, had a sampling of American Italian dishes at the Avanti. Great ambience, very affable host; sparse and polite patrons, courteous waiters - pity the soothing background music went dead slight before dessert.

The food?

My entrée was tomato clam soup which I later regretted adding black pepper; the main course red snapper fillet with sautéed Zucchini in tomato sauce (if I am not mistaken) and, walnut cheese cake for dessert.

The dish which tastes lingered long after it was finished was the walnut cheese cake which was superb. The portion was spot on – neither too extravagant nor too stingy – and it had enough richness without the fatty aftertaste.

It more than made up for the first two dishes which weren’t too bad. Good, but not lipsmacking great.

The red snapper fillet was fresh, sweet and juicy but – this is probably one down to one’s tastes – I would have loved for the skin to be crispier.

As such there were no crunchy bits in the dish, as even the Zucchini were slightly overcooked.

Back to the 99cents/US$1 pizza slices which the article emphasized as pricing anomalies in expensive New York.

It sort of places a class restriction as to whom should be patronizing the two said stalls/shops.

You can see this is the above excerpt never mind the fact it is perfectly okay – not to mention legal - for anyone to buy a 99cents a slice pizza if they feel like it.

A localized example would be that everyone and anyone can slurp cendol – seated on stools shaded by foliage from the tree that is the cendol seller’s address.

An episode of Lone Wolf and Cub saw the main character – Itto Ogami – confronted by another wandering Samurai – nickname the Headless Sakon - with this particularly philosophical look on the Japanese sake which he says is the great leveler of class.

The 99cents/US$1 pizza would thus be the symbolical modern day, New York equivalent: except that it won’t.

Realistically, being seen with the Hell’s Kitchen (Marvel’s DD not Chef Ramsey’s, please) crowd would not be something so palatable to a working New Yorker.

Back home, we have something similar going on with the Asam Pedas. FOC to the poor, apparently.

Wonder if we can have a RM1 Asam Pedas (simple rice and gravy deal) meal over here, eh?

Would be a great leveler, that.

Small Fry

Wong, a former colleague at my former workplace, is an avid angler with an equally avid taste for all kinds of fish.

No tall tales of fantastic catches from the sometimes cranky photographer (mostly from age and seniority, I think) but Wong has this penchant for vivid descriptions of fish dishes.

Like the fantastical Ikan Belida fishballs served at an outlet somewhere in or near Grik which he swears tastes simply divine like none other.

The Belida is a very bony predatory fish which you often see in homes as ornamental fish, so - to me, at least - it was surprising to hear Wong waxing lyrics on how good it tasted.

Unfortunately, the outlet was closed when we came calling.

As luck would have it, when a few journalist colleagues and I were treated to a sumptuous feast of an expensive variety of the Ikan Bawal by then State Exco and now de facto Perak MB Dr Zambry Abdul Kadir, Wong was not in the group.

He would have undoubtedly loved the Ikan Bawal steamed simply with ginger.

This is Wong's favorite method of cooking fish as he says it brings out the best taste of fresh fish.

Fish was a staple food for me when I was a student in the UK.

I am not too adventurous with the kinds of fish I buy, sticking with the usual suspects of rainbow trouts, soles, mackerels and – whenever I feel extravagant – salmon.

Most of the time it's the farmed rainbow trout which are conveniently packed whole minus the innards.

Steaming wasn’t part of the menu, though, as I didn’t have a steamer then.

They are however quite bland. The tofu of fishes, you could say. Probably, the wild variety is nicer and richer but I never did get a chance to sample any, fresh or otherwise.

I saw a programme in Astro’s Asian Food Channel recently where river whitebaits (ikan bilis?) caught in nets were immediately pan fried.

No salt, no pepper; just fresh and tasty, judging from the looks on those who took bites of the dish.

My better half said it was the same back home in Kampung Sena, Arau, Perlis when the river and streams were clearer and cleaner, and fishes were in abundance.

You could sauk (Kedah word meaning "scoop") a bountiful of fish fries and plonk them straight into the frying pan for a good side dish.

Not something you want to do these days where even the full flowing rivers all Teh Tarik-ish in shades.

Talking about small fry, a list of politicians and the politically connected were charged for corruption this week.

Pat on the back for the MACC?

Umm, not quite yet.

Just like Citizen Nades, am wondering too if we will ever see any Ikan Belidas in the net.

Maybe we are like an aquarium where the likes of Ikan Belida which cost a bundle in maintenance and feeds on the small fries are kept as ornaments.

For how long, though? Until our pockets are empty and dried up?

Anyone for Belida fishball?

Sigh… C’est La Vie.

From The Star: Our rivers today.

Heavenly Offerings

Just how much are you willing to pay for good, nay, great tasting food?

I am willing to bet that two thousand quid is way too much for curry, no matter how exotic sounding it might be.

That is the audacious price tag on the Samundari Khazana curry (Seafood Treasure?) a mix of caviar, sea snails, whole lobster and edible gold served at London’s Bombay Brasserie.

The ingredient’s list: Devon crab, white truffle, Beluga caviar, abalone, Scottish lobster, quails' eggs and more caviar.

What makes it expensive is also perhaps the amount of sweat (pun intended for those in the know) that goes into the curry.

At least the recipe calls for something traditional: the seafood is apparently marinated in tamarind juice; so it’s not all pure exotica.

A wise man (actually it was Martin Yan of Yan can Cook) said good food takes time to prepare, but it does need that special touch to make it from good to great.

The special touch can range from mom’s home cooking to the company the food is shared with.

How many times have you gone “hmm… exquisite” (well, not literally) during wine and dine (again, not literally) sessions just because; one, you are with a special someone, and, two; you are bloody paying an arm and a leg (plus a few others in between) for Le plat du jour.

The breakfast place I frequent during my studying days serves a kicking seafood sandwich and its nothing more than crabstick in mayo vegetable salad in croissant. Cost less than a Mars bar, even.

While Greek Kebab with crunchy red cabbages and chunky mutton makes wintry evening strolls warm and fuzzy.

An in the dead corner of the world, run down, eatery (for lack of a better word) in Sungai Lui near Cheras offers the best grilled (a mild word to use, really, as the freshwater fish is virtually charred on the outside) Tilapia I’ve ever had.

Never mind the fact that it only opens from 7pm and is miles from anywhere.

When I was in Perak, everyone was talking about a certain ikan bakar place which was the rave, prompting a visit with my better half for a bite.

It was nothing compared to Sg Lui (admittedly our favorite) but what put us off the place forever was the owner’s unabashed overcharging.

He went yada yada yada and plonks a high figure without even a hint of adding up figures to make the total.

Would I have mind it much had the grilled offerings been heavenly? Probably not.

Kowtowing is never good taste anyway.

Grace Patricia Kelly (1929 – 1982)

Very Much Ado

In the New York Times: The Lord Justice Hath Ruled - Pringles Are Potato Chips.

Now that is the kind of headlines I would love to see more.

I wonder if the writer (One Adam Cohen) enjoyed fleshing out the details as I did reading them.

A gist: There was apparently a legal battle on the status of Procter & Gamble popular Pringles as to whether they are categorically potato chips.

In the UK, potato chips (or crisps) are taxable.

P&G’s argument is that since Pringles are essentially potato flour, corn, rice and wheat (and here I thought it was all potato, sodium and what vaguely resembles taste), it’s therefore NOT potato chips.

The British Appellate Court, as it turns out, accepted this argument, declaring: Pringles is, shall we say, potato chips Lite.

(Anyone thinking of getting their hands on the judgment should reconsider especially since Mr Cohen himself said that it’s “a convoluted opinion that considered four interpretations of the law before ultimately rejecting three of them.”)

The Supreme Court pooh poohed the Lower Court's findings, deciding instead that “it’s a matter of overall impression.”

Good one, that.

Bad one for P&G, though, as the decision meant they owe back taxes of some US$160 million.

Off and on, we do get our fair share of “interesting” headlines here back home in the legal culinary sort, but they are hardly those which require our Justices to crack their brains on.

Thanks to the above decision, I will take note in the mountains of documentations that had gone into deciding Pringles are in fact potato chips every time I take a sinful bite of such crispy delights.

(Wonder how much fun the lawyers had - and the money made - in battling a case this significant...)

Had the case still in adjudication I may well be committing Sub Judice for saying “crispy”.

Legalese. Just love ‘em.

Plat du Jour: Malbouffe délicieux ....

I came to know last night that my two daughters (and my wife, too) do not share my delight in Sushi of the uncooked kind.

They were at first very eager when they saw the cute pack filled with sushi pieces I bought for breaking fast, and as is always the case, the younger one gets to go first.

She dipped her fingers in the red roe, and the placed them in her mouth. Nothing. "So far so good,” I thought.


My other daughter then took a quarter bite from the same piece.

The taste must have come as a shock to her as even as she started chewing, her face began to contort, giving me the “Eww!" expression, and, before I could say anything, she had already bolted to the sink, spitting everything out.

Everyone (except for me) was shocked even as I laughed. Only when I saw tear flowing from her eyes did I realized the extent of her reaction to the taste of uncooked fish roe, which, unfortunately, her dad loves.

I comforted her and asked her to drink warm water to wash the taste away as my wife berated me for feeding the children something she, too, wouldn't touch.

The little one didn’t ask for seconds, by the way.


Sigh. No one to share this particular love, then.

There goes my dream (someday) of visiting Japan with my family in tow to taste the many sushi dishes they have.

(Perhaps I can tempt them with the more palatable tempura dish…)

I am someone with a “pondan” (to quote a particularly irritating relative’s word) stomach when it comes to food, and am quite choosy in eating pre-cooked food as I am prone to stomach aches whenever I do so.

I’d settled for cooked food anytime (except for the aforementioned sushi, that is..) including the ubiquitous fast food which used to be de rigueur during family outings.

They are convenient, the kids love them and its relatively inexpensive until of late when prices soared to match – probably – our own highish inflation levels.

Nowadays, a RM50 note would be just enough to cater for the four of us, desserts inclusive. Even then, we have to carefully balance the purchase in a mix of ala carte and set meals to stretch the note and get some change back.

It was thus with eyebrows raised that I read this Bloomberg story titled French Bistros File Record Bankruptcies as Le Big Mac Reigns , especially the part where it quotes the price of a McD doublecheese set meal at 8 euro.

A rule I learnt from my stint overseas is that you should never, ever, convert when it comes to food; otherwise you’d starved to death. Compare their prices in terms of numbers and you should be safe.

(As an example, converting the above price at the prevailing rate will get you a price of RM36.58. Ouch! That’s more than the alleged cash bribe needed to buy a vote in a certain party nominations.)

What was more interesting in the story was the point that fast food is becoming the choice lunch there what’s with the current dismal economic situation almost everywhere the world over.

Imagine that.

Here, the fast food is still very much a once-in-a-while lunch or dinner treat, and the French (a notion put forward by the article, at least) is treating it as a budget item for hard times!

How far behind exactly are we in the economic pecking order?

Love and Hate

Somebody in Utusan must really love Seputeh MP Teresa Kok (referred to as TK after this).

Open their Dalam Negeri section (Online Edition) and you can read six reports on her, including a full “makanan tidak sedap slightly better than dog food” interview transcript.

Wow.

You’d think she is the Prime Minister or at the very least the Opposition leader to warrant such an extensive coverage.

What’s clear, though, is a blatant "missing the forest for the trees" via the diverting of attention from the main issue of her detention under the ISA for alleged “crimes” which TK denies adamantly.

This point is conveniently disregarded in the midst of the euphoria to “belasah TK cukup – cukup” on her remarks.

While I have never seen the food served to ISA detainees (touch wood!), my Courts beat those days in the (old) Malay Mail did provide some peeks on the lunch served at the police and court lockups.

Something like this, but with tonnes more curry.


Being mostly “kuah taruh atas” serving, TK would probably not like those very much but I suspect, those who love Nasi Kandar and the likes would not mind them at all.

I am one such, probably one of many.

The difference is that we – those outside – have a choice if we want to eat something else instead.

From Sept 12 to 19, TK was denied such luxury.

If we’re in her shoes, I bet we’d “merungut” too.



But that would be the least of our concerns with the Sword of Damocles of a possible continued detention without trial a mere signature away.

Happened to Raja Petra , who joins others in Kamunting today onwards.

Will he be the last?

Not as long as the Act is around.

Beef, bacon and eggs

England in 1992 was my first ever excursion to a foreign country.

My arrival at Heathrow was at least a week before I was due to register at my law school.

I remember full well the jetlag that floored me with a five-hour deep sleep in one of the many beds at the Malaysia Hall (the old one in Bryanston Square, not the one in Queensborough Terrace).

Being one of the few Malaysian students heading to Norwich, I was pretty much left on my own in making the relatively scenic and beautifully colorful travel to Norwich in Norfolk on board a bus.

I had read enough about Norwich to know the whereabouts of the local YMCA bed and breakfast for a week’s stay whilst waiting entry into one of the many student residence of the university.

The stay was uneventful, except for some extreme difficulty with regards breakfast.

Just like it is with hotels etc, breakfast was also major event for the YMCA with its many tenants queuing for their share of the days’ meal; albeit the typical British breakfast combo beef, bacon, eggs (scrambled or omelets, and almost never the sunny side up variety), beans and bread.

Unfortunate for me the eggs would be invariably sandwiched between the beef and bacon everyday; the reason being to allow the juices to add plenty of flavors to the omelet according to the B&B’s cooking staffs I spoke to.

All and well for the other tenants, but I’m left with having bed and butter every morning for the whole duration of the stay.

The same predicament became apparent during my early days of entering the student hostels.

I cook my own food, and lengthy stretches of eating vegetables, fish and all things seafood, the hankering for meat was beginning to feel quite insatiable.

What else can a Muslim student - in a town he barely knows - do but to choose the only other alternative (said to be, at least) available and that alternative comes in the form of the local Marks and Spencer kosher meat offering.

Much later when I began to broaden my social circles did I manage to secure much needed Halal meat courtesy of an enterprising Arab from Cambridge (about 90 km away) who would arrive in his van every weekend to replenish supply for his student customers.

Marks and Spencer fresher offerings were more to my liking, but, really, beggars cannot be choosers, and if frozen beef and chicken is all there is, frozen is good enough.

Ramadhan allowed some luxury for the campus Muslim students with free meals for the breaking of fast supplied by those who came with their families. Most of time, the staple meat would be mutton, and it was quite an eye-opener to taste the many styles of cooking the somewhat heaty meat.

Breaking of fast would be after the Maghrib prayers within the tight confines of a room designated as the campus mosque.

Cut to the present.

Being Muslims in a country where Islam is not the official religion tests self-discipline to a whole new level as it starts right from the food you eat to keeping the deadline of the daily prayers.

Taking the easy way out is always present as a convenient escape route for those without the necessary willpower or faith.

Back here in our country, Malays are deemed Muslim by birthright and everything is conveniently pre-packaged to the point that the effort its takes to be a good Muslim is lost and taken for granted.

A question of self discipline and faith

Anyone for beef, bacon and eggs?