Noodles tell a tangled tale

The crackle of crispy pork skin, the squish and give of a resilient fishball and the pungent tang of shrimp belachan are some of our local food memories. We may not remember the first time we ate such foods but sometimes, when we least expect it, a stray aroma or unexpected taste will trigger the oddest memory.

For me this happened after my family moved to New Zealand. I was only eleven when this happened and previously grew up in a house with my grandparents and aunts. My grandmother looked after the household and would prepare most of the meals with assistance from my aunts and my mother. When we moved, in this new and cold land, it was just the four of us. My health-conscious and time-short working mother modified the traditional dishes my grandmother used to take all day to make. One-pot meals were the new vogue in our household.

When I moved out I continued to cook in a odd mix of European and Chinese cuisine; my favourite dish during student days was bacon and egg fried rice -- then I rediscovered pork fat and pork belly. A recipe required the rendering of pork fat; the fragrant smell and crackling sound took me back to a childhood where I lived over the outdoor kitchen. My grandmother would secretly render pork fat during the day time when my mother worked and slip in this forbidden ingredient into her cooking, but only when she thought she could get away with it. It was forbidden in the house due to its unhealthy nature. Now whenever I smell, hear or taste pork crackling I think of my grandmother, my childhood house and the papaya tree in the backyard.

My family ran a small takeaway on weekends to supplement income and provide Malaysian/Singaporean-style food to the local community in Wellington, New Zealand. Of course my sister and I were pressed into working for our pocket money and spent one day a weekend clearing tables, doing the dishes, and taking orders.

My sister and I became adept at making trays and trays of wontons after school on Fridays. I think my mother thought that our small and nimble children’s fingers would be good at this. Every weekend, bags and bags of yellow noodles were ordered and my sister and I apportioned them into bowls for the laksa or loosened them for my mother to fry. I also had the job of making the fried rice -- to this day I don’t why she thought I was particularly suited to this dish but I remember her detailed instructions standing by my side; she taught me how to scramble the egg before adding the rice. It bubbles vigorously but this sound decreases over time; once it is silent it is overcooked. I learnt to wait for the right sound.

During opening hours, my mother was in charge of making the mee goreng and would stand for hours at the wok clanging her spatula and taking heed of all the endless variations customers requested: more chilli, no chilli, more fishcake, no fishcake, extra dry, extra wet, no egg, egg white only, etc. She taught me how to make mee goreng for it was a special dish that required deftness with heat, timing and sauce addition. Although I never graduated to cooking this for a customer, this and fried rice are the only two dishes she taught me standing by my side.

To this day I have a great fondness for noodles, especially mee goreng, and fried rice. I never used to know why, only that I would gravitate towards large bowls of pasta or noodles after a stressful week at work. I realise now that I seek comfort and solace in these foods for they remind me of the times that spent together with my mother. She is not verbally or physically expressive and showed her love and care in traditionally symbolic ways that I understood only after many years. I realise now that noodles and fried rice remind me of her love.

We never eat anything in isolation. We bring to the table everything that happened during our day, our week, our current mood and all our feelings at that moment. How something tastes is not just what we perceive on our tongue and nose but the processing of those senses into meaning through our memories. We’ve all experienced the nullification of taste when hearing bad or shocking news during eating. In all cases the taste of the food hasn’t changed but it is our perception of the taste, now coloured by unpleasant news, that has changed. Similarly we form positive taste-memories around happy times. Those memories are stored, re-processed and recalled again and again. The taste of something repeatedly eaten during happy times will subconsciously recall the actual event and all the associated positive emotions. So it’s not surprising that when feeling unhappy, many people start to crave food or tastes that make them subconsciously recall happier times.

Many foods, particularly certain combinations of carbohydrate-rich and fatty foods, elicit the release of satiety hormones and neurotransmitters; they make us feel full, satisfied and contented. Traditionally in the West these have been hearty and rich dishes like stews and lasagne. Here in Singapore our comfort foods may be chicken rice, or curry chicken with bread. Someone with Malay heritage may seek comfort in a big bowl of tulang merah.

What foods do you crave when feeling stressed or tired? What foods make you happy? What are your comfort foods? Were these foods always a special treat? Maybe you got to eat them only when a certain aunt would visit; or during special celebratory occassions?

What can you remember when you eat your comfort food? Who can you remember?

Review: Ujong

Ujong is set up by Chef Shen of Wok and Barrel. Part of the Teng Bakery in Raffles Hotel has been converted to Ujong restaurant and the antique-style tables and chairs give a very coffeeshop/old-style kopitiam feel to the place. A few tables have disconcerting glass tops that peer into tacky displays of retro paraphenalia, e.g. miniature wooden clogs, nonya slippers, etc. I dislike the commodification of nostalgia but I understand the anxiety about heritage that Singaporeans face as landmarks disappear and all that is left are the memories of food.

The Concept
Chef Shen seeks to elevate local or home-style food by using premium ingredients and perhaps by using traditional techniques in the kitchen. The menu consists of familiar sounding items like Nasi Lemak, Bak Chor Mee, Hae Bee Hiam Noodles and various curries, but if you dig a little deeper in the description you'll find that the Bak Kut Teh is made with kurobota pork and pasta substitutes for many of the local noodles. We were a party of three and I'd been warned that the dishes are heavy and substantial so we were restrained in our ordering.

The Food
The Bak Kwa Pork Ribs were sweet, unctuous and slightly sticky; not as sticky as actual bakwa but pleasantly so. They had a good pork taste but were very rich and I kept eating all the cilantro garnishes to refresh my palate.

I asked for sambal and we got two types: one a slightly dark red paste rich in aromatic dried shrimp and another light and fresh paste with an onion base. These were welcome accompaniments to all the dishes.

The Hae Bee Hiam capellini had a sharp tang of roasted dried shrimp and went well with the bouncy texture of capellini. This dish could have been brightened by fresh-cut deseeded red chilli. This was my favourite dish as it looked appealing and I love the pungency of roasted dried shrimp.

The Bak Chor Mee had five-spice pork on a bed of fettucine. The pork was rich and aromatic, but the noodles were heavy; I felt linguine would have been a better. Fresh-cut spring onions would have lightened the dish considerably.

We also ordered a side dish of "healthy alternative baked turmeric eggplant". Whilst it is traditional for eggplant to be deep-fried, anyone who has cooked eggplant will know that this soaks up oil like a sponge. I looked forward to this healthier version because I love a baked nightshade, however this was flavourless and lacklustre. The crispy fried shallots and soft eggplant made for a nice contrasting texture but as someone used to sambal eggplant, salted fish eggplant, or grilled eggplant with miso, I was disappointed. The application of the tasty haebee-based sambal did go a long way to remedy the eggplant. It's strange that eggplant can be so misunderstood when taken outside the context of traditional dishes. I recall a similar disappointment with the Green Pepper Eggplant at Casa Bom Vento (do not order it).

The portions at Ujong are very large and Chef Shen makes no allowances for refreshing your palate. It would seem that the taste of tradition comes as an domineering mother or father expressing their love for you with food. You'd do well to eat or you'd be refusing their love. Each dish is very heavy and substantial and would be very challenging if eaten by a single person. Having a variety of dishes to share alleviates the heaviness of each dish.

The dishes needed brightening with fresh herbs, e.g. cilantro, spring onions, or floral accents like capsicum or deseeded chillies. A tray of condiments like pickled green chillies, fresh chillies and calamansi lime wedges would have gone a long way in lightening the meal.

The Experience
We concluded the evening with a dessert of pulut hitam pudding with coconut ice-cream and gula melaka sauce. This was recommended to us by the friendly staff, whom I suspect may be quite senior in the team that run the restaurant. She preferred this dessert to the "Shendol" as that is known to be an enriched version of traditional chendol.

I am quite blown away by the pulut hitam pudding. The black glutinous rice is ground into flour and this made into a steamed cake not unlike huat kueh. The delicate honeyed notes of the black rice flour come out and match perfectly with the coconut ice-cream. The gula melaka sauce just takes the cake (pun intended) and is our very own salted caramel.

Service was very friendly, unobtrusive but then again we were the only ones dining on a a public holiday Monday. Prices were reasonable for the large portions of high quality meat.

This would be a place I would bring people who have left this region on the second diaspora, e.g. my family. Many of the dishes feel like they've been developed for incredible fussy and astute home tastebuds, e.g. my mother who can taste MSG in the parts per billion, and seek to extend and question what local taste is and should be.

Review: Three Buns

Three Buns by Potato Head Folk is located on Keong Saik Rd. It's set up as a corner diner with a hip-casual vibe. The original old-school floor tiles and white (new) retro-style grills contribute to the atmosphere and the latter allow us to peer into the kitchen. Wafts of grilling meat tantalise us as we are sitting outside on this thankfully cool night. There is an hour-long wait for seating in the air-conditioned upstairs on a Thursday evening at 9pm.

The Concept
I like the menu already. It speaks of a deep understanding of what a burger diner is about, namely, no frills but good, hearty and satisfying meal. The Middle-East and Levant do the best lamb dishes in the world, so it was a delight to see their influence on the lamb burger. And you can't get more iconic than "buttermilk-fried chicken" from the American South. The cheese-fritter burger is a little unusual, something falafel-based would have worked here, but perhaps they wanted to go more "hearty" and less "vegan". Nevertheless, a gutsy fried cheese has its roots in halloumi and I would be curious to see the type of cheese used in the cheese fritter burger.

The three beef burgers give a choice between a classic (always the toughest to get right), spicy and crazy meat-lovers. It seems one can't have fast-food without a meat-lovers choice nowadays. The two mayonnaises are very intriguing: den miso and dashi flavours.

When sitting outside it is counter-ordering but table delivery. It's a very casual, sit-around, after-work kinda vibe.

The Food
We had the Baby Huey (the classic burger) and the Burning Man (spicy with jalapenos). The 150g beef patties were hearty, "burgery", beefy but could have done with a little more char. I didn't get much of the golden beef dripping taste. They were juicy with just a hint of pink in the middle; a dangerous zone food safety-wise for minced meat products, but well, it's by Potato Head Folk so you'd assume top-notch food hygiene in the kitchen.

The Baby Huey lived up to its classic reputation. It captured the essence of what a burger is meant to be. The spiced mayo had pleasing smoky bacon-like bits in it and the tomato was refreshing. The onion relish had just the right amount of tartness to keep the burger from being too heavy.

The Burning Man was overpowered by the dashi mayonnaise, which albeit delicious, saturates all taste receptors in one's tongue. No hint of the roasted jalapeno relish and smoked cheese could be detected. These disappeared into a delicious and creamy ur-paste that could have been flavoured with stock powder.

We also ordered housecut fries, which were double-cooked, crisp on the outside but soft on the inside. They had an earthy potato taste, and were pleasantly salted and not greasy. These are rustic potato chips, not shoestring but almost English-style. They were unpeeled, which contributed to the great potato flavour. We also requested samples of the mayonnaises but although the counter staff made a pretence of registering our order on what looked like an incredibly complicated cash register, these samples never arrived. I guess it's too casual a vibe to care about customization of orders, even though each burger costs a minimum of $20.

The homemade tomato sauce is rich in clover honey overtones which masked the tomato taste. Perhaps I am biased but for me, none can come close to the gold standard in tomato sauce that is Heinz Tomato Ketchup. The homemade chilli sauce is heavy on the cumin and tastes like a pureed salsa.

The homemade cola was nice but the cocktail was a little stingy on the rum. These arrived in oh-so-hip-and-casual paper cups and were not mixed before pouring into the cellulose receptacle, hence a molecule thick layer of rum lay on the surface. At $14 for a cocktail you would think a quick shake or stir would be in order.

The Experience
It is very hip indeed. The service staff treat you with respect, that is, they're pretty cool and they don't pretend to smile if they don't feel like it. That's not to say they're unfriendly, but there's none of that saccharine "Have a Nice Day" obsequiousness that permeates American service culture. No, here they listlessly take your order and look you in the eye, daring you to ask for a customization, which they pretend to acknowledge, but then, since it's, y'know, a casual diner and all (did I mention $20 or more per burger), they promptly ignore. I felt rude to remind them because they did look so tired (and unfriendly) at the end of a day. Perhaps the ubercool (and very loud) music wore down their nerves as we had to shout our orders to the staff.

Perhaps it was telling that the only people eating burgers were Caucausian folk. All the Asian faces I say were clustered together sharing a large plate of poutine-type fries. They were well aware of how expensive this joint is.

The cost for two burgers, one side of fries, one cocktail and one non-alcoholic drink: $80.

EIGHTY DOLLARS.

A perfectly equivalent burger, but unfortunately not by Potato Head Folk, would be Fatboy's Burger at half the price. Fatboy's also serve their drinks in old-fashioned glasses, allow you to build-your-own-burger and, quelle horreur, have table service.

You would not go to Three Buns for the burgers, but hey, if you were already here at Potato Head Folk, did I mention Potato Head Folk, drinking fashionably casual cocktails in paper cups, perhaps you'd be inclined to purchase an overpriced burger. The taste doesn't disappoint, but the expense would be well-counted as a premium for a Potato Head Folk night out.

Restaurant Reviews Rekindled

After a long hiatus, ca. 15 years, I am going to do restaurant reviews again. I'd thought that food blogging was passe after becoming so ubiquitous, but I just can't stand it when people are wrong on the internet. There's a lot of misinformation out there about food, the dining experience and the art of good eating. So much pretension is entangled with eating that I want to bring the focus back to the food and conviviality.

I am an enthusiastic cook so I will be comparing the cost of ingredients to what would be readily available to anyone with access to Culina, Cold Storage and the local NTUC or Giant. This will allow a "value for money" estimation but culinary skill will, of course, be a premium and not a given for every home kitchen. I just can't stand it when I'm dining out and I'm forced to pay a premium for something I could have made at home with ingredients from the NTUC.

Think Global, Eat Local

In my on-going quest to prepare "international" foods without the exorbitant price tag, I present to you:

Kailan Pesto

500g baby kailan
a large wedge of decent parmesan cheese
handful of cashew nuts
copious amounts of best quality olive oil

1. Process the parmesan cheese into fine crumbs, not a dust but something like breadcrumbs.
2. Wash and tear kailan into small pieces. Process roughly, add a bit of olive oil to help make a paste.
3. Add the parmesan cheese and process.
4. Add the cashew nuts and process.
5. Adjust seasoning and add more olive oil to make the desired consistency.

This creates a lovely green paste with a strong parmesan taste. You may wish to adjust the ratio of cheese to cashew nut to have a sweeter flavour. The kailan was masked but the strong cheese and nuts, but there was a hint of greenness - the olive oil also had strong grassy notes which gave a nice sense of verdancy.

Pesto is usually made with a plentiful green herb when it is in season. During summer months, crops of basil and tomatoes are plentiful in temperate climes, so it makes sense to make pesto and tomato sauce from basil and fresh tomatoes; just like jams and preserves from summer fruit and berries.

Singapore is in the tropics and imports almost all its food. There are few seasons for the tropical fruit, but it is extravagant to make pesto from scratch. Of course it is delightful, I especially love smoked basil pesto, but not something you'd do regularly. I came across many recipes for kale pesto. Now kale is another fashionable vegetable, superfood, etc. But kale is imported and expensive. Kale is also a member of the Brassica family (brocolli, choy sum, etc), and so I thought to try making a pesto with kailan, my favourite brassica.

Anything kale can do, kailan can also do. Let's put this to the test.

Extra-special salumi

My friend Candice flew back from Italy and Geneva after a whirlwind Christmas/New Year's holiday. She's even crazier about food than I am; and an order of magnitude more accomplished. She's the only person I know who has thrown a dinner party for 18 where one of the courses included foie gras wontons.

She's crazy about food because she brought back several kilograms of cured italian meats. She left her boots and some clothes behind at a friend's to fit them in.

So last Friday, as a quick no-cook throw-together dinner, we had the following sample platters (just a few tasty morsels from Italy):

• Finocchiona (Salami with fennel seeds)
• Lengua di Manzo (Ox tongue)
• Mortadella al Tartufo (with truffle)
• Prosciutto di San Daniele
• Speck Magro (Lean speck)
• Speck di Trentino (Fatty speck)
• Bresaola di Manzo
• Coppa di Parma
• Sopressa di Veneto
• Salai di Cingliale (Wild boar salami)
• Salami di Capriolo (Juvenile deer salami)
• Salami di Camoscio (Venison salami)
• Salami di Cavallo (Horse salami)
• Mortadella di Bologna

The speciality, Lardo di Collonada(sp?), deserves a special mention. It's basically 90% cured and smoked fat with a thin streak of meat running through. Candice told me to eat it with the wild Italian mountain honey and a freshly toasted walnut - I cannot remember the last time I was in heaven.

Wild Italian mountain honey has the most incredible unctuous creaminess. It's still sweet, but there's such a strong, almost gamey, taste to it. It's slightly musky but still floral. The toasted walnuts give off that roasted smell; the sweet nut oils and crunch contrast so well with the soft melting fat. Of course its saltiness and smokiness mix with the sweet of the honey - the bitter rocket leaf just skewers everything together.

Together with a friend who brought over some amazing French cheeses, I was quite in heaven. Candice told me to try the Gorgonzola with a horseradish-applesauce - what a combination. The creamy and pungeant gorgonzola completely mutes the sharpness of the horseradish and you taste the high notes of this spice without the heat at all. It's a vegetal astringency crescendoing over the smooth bass of the cheese. The sweetness of the applesauce only brings out the fruity nature of the gorgonzola.

If that weren't enough she'd also brought back some amazing pasta and found some Truffle Salsa. Together with Italian mountain butter, I couldn't resist and stuffed my face as the cries of my internal watchdog, "It's all just fat and carbs!", faded into the background. I cannot resist the aroma of truffle; and when you have it with butter and egg fettucine, it's a sin to say no.

Candice prepared a second lot of pasta for some latecomers and I went for seconds, despite a distended stomach. Terry asked if I was still hungry.

"No, but I just want to eat more. I'm using a smaller bowl so that I will take less."

I'd heard that eating with child-sized utensils was a technique that Elizabeth Hurley used to shrink her portion sizes.

I cannot remember a time when I've had such amazing food. Oh yes, I can; it was at her previous dinner party.

Never turn down an invitation.

Eating with mum

My mother came to visit me over Christmas. She arrived on Christmas day at night.

She's a health conscious woman who's very concerned with her cholesterol levels. She went to Japan to visit my sister and hardly touched the shellfish for this reason. So I planned for lighter dinners and more substantial lunches, so that she could enjoy herself with slightly less guilt, I figured.

I grew up with my grandmother's Cantonese style cooking and wanted to try Peach Garden here in Singapore on a friend's recommendation. However, our host for the evening said that his favourite branch was closed for a wedding dinner. Wow, must be a rich family getting married to hire out Peach Garden.

So we went to Crystal Jade Golden Palace in Ngee Ann City.

My friend and host felt extravagant and we ordered Peking Duck, Roast Goose, Old Cucumber soup (served in the cucumber) and razor clams; amongst other things.

So much for the light dinner. Mind you, we hadn't exactly stopped eating since lunch time when we went to Little India to eat thosai and appom. There's some pani puri in the background. Tasty morsels of yoghurt filled puri shells sprinkled with chutney.

Then after a shopping trip for baking goods and tofu setting agent, we went for a quick trip to Chinatown hawker centre to observe popiah skin making and sample popiah.

La Nonna, Holland Village

La Nonna in Holland Village is an elegant Italian restaurant with dark wood tables and crisp white linen. The knowledgeable and smartly dressed waiters are attentive but not obtrusive. The menu is very authentic and truffle is on offer.

I ordered a Caprino pizza: pancetta, rocket and goat cheese. Wood-fired, of course, and the base was perfectly chewy and savoury. The way traditional Italian pizza should be, that is the toppings as an accent to the bread itself. Before my pizza, I had a complimentary bread basket with ciabatta and thin crispy grilled cheese pizze sticks.

Pizzas (for two or a greedy one) and pasta from $18.
Mains from $28.

Illy coffee

Illy Coffee

It's hard to find good coffee in Singapore. Recently I bought some illy coffee, attracted by the "individually wrapped sachets" promised on the shiny tin. I imagined using them in my filter coffee maker.

Imaging my surprise when these sachets turned out to be for an espresso machine. I can still use them, I just have to tear the packet and pour the coffee innards inside the machine. Kinda defeats the purpose, but oh well.

I like the idea of pre-packaged neat little capsules of ground coffee. I'd seriously considered getting a Nespresso expressly for this purpose. I'm glad to know that there is a cheaper and more ecological sound alternative to Nespresso.

Snowskin Mooncake

Mooncake making

I made snowskin mooncake the other day.

I don't think I've got the skin texture right as it was a bit chewy. Next time I will add more shortening.

I like the translucency of the skin allowing the green of the pandan-flavoured lotus paste to come through. Here you can buy prepared lotus seed paste to flavour and add to your mooncake. There's even a pre-mix of the snowskin flour so all one needs to do is rub in the shortening and mix with a small amount of water to for the dough. Everything I bought from Phoon Huat bakery supplies in Holland Village.

The lotus seed paste is very thick and turns green once mixed with the pandan essence. I like how it looks like Hokusai's Wave when I mixed it.

My mooncake wrapping technique is a little shoddy. Mistakenly, I'd rolled out discs to envelope the paste and pinched it shut. I later found out that the correct technique is to form a small curved shell in one's hand, insert the filling then close it with the minimum of extra skin on the bottom.

I bought a mooncake press which makes forming and removing the mooncake so much easier, especially for hobbyists like me.

This is a far cry from the times my mother made mooncake. I remember her boiling the maltose syrup and vinegar (yuk), blanching lotus seeds, removing the inner shoot, then boiling until soft with sugar. She mashed the seeds into a paste, added oil, then let it rest for a few days to achieve the required texture.

I cut open a bag of lotus seed paste and squeezed it into a bowl to mix with the pandan essense.

My mum would oil and flour an intricately carved wooden mooncake mold, carefully press in the spherical pre-mooncake then pray as she inverted and tapped hard so that it would come out. My press makes peeling off the mooncake easy. I saw bright pink plastic mooncake molds for sale, presumably these are less prone to sticking.

Yi Bao Holland Village

This new eatery seeks to capitalise on the wave of nostalgia over childhood foods. I noticed this trend in London and I guess it's natural to start seeing this occur in Singapore, albeit slightly delayed. I think it's a byproduct of increasing affluence and a global focus on the past-as-better as the world becomes increasingly frightening.

Yi Bao serves specialities from Ipoh, Malaysia, a city known for its hor fun, bean sprouts and chicken. Something about the water there - perhaps no longer given its development.

It's an air-conditioned restaurant with table-service and a small outdoor area. The service is atrocious as I had to wave like a madman to attract the uniformed waitress. I asked for a glass of water to accompany my hor fun and chicken and was told it was 30c.

"What is that for," I asked.
"We charge 30c for water," she replied.
"What for?" I enquired, hoping to point out how cheapskate and ludicrous it was to charge for water when I was already buying food.
Like a robot, she replied, "We charge 30c for water."

All right then, I thought, I'll have the barley. I chose the barley without ice as ice costs an extra 80c for hot drinks.

"Barley no more, already," came her clipped reply. "You want fruit juice? Soursop?"

Fruit juice, a cold drink, costs 40c more without ice. So I pay for ice if I want a hot drink cold, and pay for no-ice if I want my juice undiluted . This is standard practice at hawker centres and local coffeeshops. I have no problem with that. But a place that has nicely printed menus, airconditioning and uniformed waitstaff are just impudent if they want to charge me for water in its various phases (ice and liquid).

It's a different set of priorities I guess, perhaps it's a Singaporean thing that paying for food and airconditioning is okay, but extras like ice they can do without. Perhaps it's a perception that ice is a luxury?

My horfun had good texture and was all right, but I was cranky from the experience and left after eating. I'd already been asked to pay the waiter when my food arrived - I guess I was a flight-risk.

Durian

Durian

The durian has a similar love-hate relationship that Marmite has for its followers. Personally, I'm not a great fan although I will eat a few durian products like ice-cream and the puff. I quite like durian puffs which are like cream puffs with a whipped durian and cream filling.

Durian was on my sister's to-do (to-eat) list when she visited.

After our fabulous dinner at No Signboard restaurant, my sister and my dining friends Kin and Kenny went to Geylang to the durian stalls. I'd like to emphasise at this point that I had not eaten durian in about 10 years. I'd completely forgotten about the various cultivars; the sweet variety, the bitter one; D10, D4, etc. We selected our durians of choice after a quick discussion: sweet ones, not too bitter.

The restrictions on durian transportation (not allowed on public transport, frowned upon in taxis) mean that this delicacy is usually eaten on the roadside on makeshift plastic stools - no one really wants to stink up their car either. There's something appropriate about Geyland, Singapore's red-light district; the seedy side of things - bootleg cigarette peddlers, prostitutes and pimps openly going about their business; and the stinky waft of the aroma, that goes well with durian. The vendors kindly open the fruit for you with their thick padded gloves but extraction to reveal further seeds inside is a DIY affair. Immaculately dressed Kenny had no qualms about pressing the segments open with his bare hands looking for new fruit.

Eating Durian

I must say that my first durian in 10 years wasn't all that bad. I think I've been de-sensitised to the smell since moving here. I'm not a convert, far from it, I could only manage three seeds or so. But everyone else enjoyed themselves. Here's a picture of my sister eating - she's wondering why this photo is public. It's because I wanted to post it on my blog!

Bangkok - Eating and Travel

A few months ago I went to Bangkok with Nicholson. A former ex, he tore my heart out and danced on it with his devil hooves - but, I forgive him. Not really, actually, I just like being dramatic. We had a great time in Bangkok teasing each other.

We stayed at the Metropolitan Hotel which he obtained at a discount rate of ~AU$200 a night. Quite a steal as usually it goes for US$200 a night. The tourism downturn has really hit Thailand badly. The junta govt, the uprisings in the south and the bomb explosions a few weeks earlier had cleared out the usually crowded streets.

Flying up on a Friday evening, we ate at Noodi an ostensibly 'westernised' global noodle bar (they do pasta too). I say ostensibly because Nicholson assured me that the usually fiery hot yum woon sern would be to the Western palate. Boy was he wrong - no compromises with the fresh chilli and chilli flakes here! My mouth was burning and I dreaded to think about what was going to happen to the other end of my gut.

We visited a gogo bar with boys on parade (interesting but no more details on this G-rated blog) then headed to DJ Station to see what the fuss was about.

Breakfast next morning we took at the Healthy Food bar at the Metropolitan - Glow. It's like spa-food, but very delicious; low on meat, oil, salt and other evil ingredients of the moment; high on vegetables, whole grains, minimal cooking, etc. Long rectangular trays of wheatgrass lined the room dividers. I guess one could ask for freshly squeezed wheatgrass if one wanted.

I had a Bircher muesli and tomato avocado bruschetta. Nicholson had a fruit salad and some berry pancakes...I think - can't remember. The muesli was creamy and as it should be: grainy but not excessively so, yoghurty and fruity. Great ingredients all round.

We walked the streets (no, not like that) to get a bit of local colour. Nicholson loves Bangkok and I enjoyed being in a city that wasn't anal-retentively clean. It reminded me a lot like the streets of Kuala Lumpur. I smelled the aroma of caramelised vanilla and baking wafting towards me and bought these madeleines from a street vendor. Of course I got confused with the currency and overpaid him 10x what they were worth but he gave me the correct change. He's probably inwardly cursing that he's got no more change for the rest of the day but Nicholson assures me that they're very Buddhist about this sort of thing.

These are made on a batter poured onto cast iron moulds heat with a gas burner. He sits on the corner turning the pan and dishing out the cakes as soon as they're made. Mine had some sort of fig or dried fruit jam in the middle; deliciously light and very slightly chewy.

We hailed a cab to get to Thewet to catch a river boat down the Chao Praya river. Nicholson's been here several times to do the tourist circuit so the Royal Palace, Reclining Buddha, etc. are not of interest to him. My proximity to Bangkok makes it easy for me to visit again soon, and I will. We bumped into some monks and marvelled at the teeming fish in the river. It's great that a river running through one of Asia's biggest cities is host to such wildlife.

Several of these boats powered by what looked like converted artillery guns roared past at great speed.

Northern Thai Laksa

After a day shopping at Central World (we were disappointed as Nicholson's favourite Hong Kong brand izzu.com has "turned to shit") we ate at the superb food court above. An elegant black stone surround on the highest public-accessible level of Central World offers cuisines of the world. You get a token and go around ordering. The cooks scan the bar code and it's all computed and paid for at the end of your visit. I ate this laksa with sour vegetables and a sambal. This dish is from the north of Thailand - very delicious chicken gravy with coconunt milk. There's a drink made from a local fruit behind (I can't remember now, ugh).

We walked through the park via Saladaeng to get back to our hotel for our second expedition that night (again, G-ratedness prevents me from revealing more; suffice to say that we visited the former kingdom of Hammurabi). We sampled Thai pineapple and freshly squeezed Thai mandarin juice from street vendors. Honestly, this country has the best pineapple and mandarins in the world. I once saw Thai pineapple for sale in Singapore and got all excited only to find that they had sold out. We passed a Buddhist offering place where one could pay money to have a troup of Thai girls in traditional dress dance - the more money, the longer they danced.

Afterwards we went to the Sky Bar at the Hilton where I felt like a moviestar. It's a beautiful rooftop bar on one of the higher buildings in Bangkok. There are several levels and descending to the corner bar there's a long buffet table to eat from. I felt like I was entering some rich person's party.

Our last meal in Bangkok we took at the airport. For some reason Nicholson ate nothing but pad thai for this entire journey. He's usually quite adventurous, but he just felt like fried rice noodles this time round. This time I also had the pad thai. We washed it down with some orange-coloured iced tea.

Aren't the condiment holders so cute?

Soba So-good!

Duck and poached egg soba

I love corny puns for restaurant names. Singapore seems to be full of them. My sister has already talked about the bakery Bread Pitt and a perennial favourite of mine is Cake it Away in Australia. So, I'm delighted to present Soba So-good!

Handmade soba noodles and a variety of other standard Japanese dishes. This eatery in Paragon mall basement specialises in soba, although handmade udon are also available. In the background you can see salmon sashimi (Ralf's favourite) and a spicy salmon tartare with quail egg.

Noodle noodle noodle!

Faultless, I must say - insofar as my limited experience of Japanese can construe. A table of Japanese business men in weekend attire gave further support to my opinion. Round after round of Tiger beers, sake and shochu were ordered at our neighbouring table.

My perfectly poached egg quivered, waiting to be slurped. The duck was moist, tasty and not too greasy. These were cold noodles so the sauce reminded one of something zaru-soba style. Yummmmm.

The Fat Duck - Heston Blumenthal

This post has long been waiting; I wanted to have proper time to digest (mentally) the consequence of this experience - well, and I moved to Singapore and would have been too wistful too finish writing this at that early stage of my settling in. Anyway, before I totally forget the tastes and textures of this landmark restaurant, I'd better write about it.

A drive to Bray north of London on a grey wet morning (what's new?) reminded me of the road trips that Leon and I used to take in Canberra. Well, in Australia the highways don't look so depressing and there's usually blue sky. I like travelling with Leon because he puts up with my Princess-petulism with regard to hungriness, thirstiness and the need to go to the toiletness.

Champagne Toast

We'd booked lunch a long time in advance for this special occassion. I looked forward to it - I did not see myself dining in such a world-renowned place for quite a few years after I moved to Singapore.

We celebrated with a champagne toast to welcome in 30; a nice sweet cava.

As was the current fashion, we had two types of butter: salted and unsalted. You can tell by the fleur de sel sprinkled on top which is which. Leon ate here previously when I was in Amsterdam, but still elected to partake of the Tasting Menu. He felt there was still more to explore in the flavours and textures.

Oyster

Our amuse-bouches (note the plural) arrived. The waiter made the much-fêted nitro-green tea and lime mousse made from whipped egg white frozen with liquid nitrogen. [Diversion: Technically, the "nitro"-green tea should more correctly be "aza"-green tea as "nitro" implies NO2 whereas "aza" refers to the N-triple bond-N.] No pictures of this dish as it was formed and consumed so quickly.

Orange and Beetroot Jelly

Leon's favourite was the oyster, passionfruit jelly, lavender. I thought it very innovative to pair floral and fruity flavours with oyster. The tang of the passionfruit does well to cut the oyster liquor. We also had a two squares of orange and beetroot jelly. Can you guess which is which?*

We also had a Pommery grain mustard ice cream on a gazpacho of red cabbage. I love the presentation of this dish - what a HUGE plate and rim with a tiny depression in the middle. The concentric rings draw your eye right down to the quenelle of ice-cream. This was the first in a series of savoury ice-creams. This sort of thing is very easy due to the Pacojet. Anything that can be frozen can be made into a sorbet/ice-cream. This had a very subtle flavour. The cold numbed the mouth so that the mustard spiciness was very much subdued and only the nuttiness and hint of bitter came through.

Then a small plate of jelly of quail, langoustine cream and parfait of foie gras. The brown gel is made from quail broth and orange quenelle is the foie gras. The foam is made from langoustine broth and cream. I'm trying to remember the flavours but it's been over six months and there were too many dishes. All I can recall from this dish are the creamy and jelly textures contrasting with the savouriness of everything else.

Snail Porridge

With our amuses finished, on came the first course: Snail Porridge with Joselito ham and shaved fennel. We looked forward to this signature dish. Scottish oats cooked in a savoury broth - I've forgotten how the green was achieved - with diced snail pieces, shredded Joselito (I'm assuming a type of Spanish ham) on top with the aniseedy fennel counterpoint. The broth was a little rich and overpowering for me to make out the snail and ham distinctly.

Roast Foie Gras

Roast Foie Gras. Almond fluid gel, cherry and chamomile This was one of my favourite dishes. I LOVE roasted/pan-fried foie gras. The cherry (stripes) and floral chamomile (white curl) cut the richness of the foie gras. The tiny cubes of almond gel were so cute; each one dissolving in my mouth to release packet of flavour.

I'm always on edge with the almond flavour/smell. The smell is due to non-toxic cyanide compounds in the almond itself. The skins of almonds need to be cooked to eliminate the toxic ones. We've frequently been told that hydrogen cyanide smells like almonds, i.e. the last thing one smells before dying of HCN poisoning is almonds.

Sardine on Toast Sorbet

Sardine on Toast Sorbet: Ballotine of mackerel invertebrate, marinated daikon, sea salad. I didn't really like this dish but admired the innovation and audacity. I also liked the cute little anchovies. Of course presentation is faultless. The daikon are the beige rectangles on the bottom of the plate. I found the dish a little fishy for me, thankfully this was cold so volatile flavours were subdued; very clever how the mackerel was 'invertebrated', i.e. the bones taken out and the flesh re-rolled to fit the original shape. Perhaps one day they might breed such a fish: just a long tubular piece of flesh wriggling in the ocean.

Salmon poached with licorice

Salmon poached with licorice: Artichokes, pink grapfruit, 'Manni' olive oil I liked this dish a lot. The artichokes are echoed twice here. Here the artichokes are served roasted and as a cream (beige blob off in the distance).

All the mains seemed to have the accents presented twice in two textures. Now that I think of it, I'm sure the broth for the snail porridge was made from (Joselito?) ham bones. We had almond cream and almond fluid gel, cherry sauce and cherry.

"But where's the salmon?", you may ask. It's in the black square: a resilient lightly liquoriced casing made from some sort of agar/gel. Break it open and perfectly poached salmon emerges, delicately perfumed with liquorice. Who would have thought it works, but it does. Personally, I love eating black food. It seems so unnatural and perhaps slightly poisonous; like taking drugs.

Poached Breast of Anjou pigeon

Poached breast of Anjou pigeon pancetta. Pastilla of its leg, pistachio, cocoa and quatre épices. This was probably the most 'traditional' of all the foods served today. I've forgotten what the pastilla looked like, but I think it was some sort of round patty underneath the pigeon breast. Nothing too unusual to mention here, I mean after sardine ice-cream the use of cocoa to season poultry seems positively ordinary. I think the quatre épices may have been a play on Chinese five-spice but minus one. The cocoa may have substituted for one, but my nose and mind were a bit overwhelmed at this point and I could not deconvolute.

The last of the mains finished, we had an in-between course refresher of Hot and Cold Tea (2005). Obviously a perennial favourite, it was just a ordinary looking cup of amber liquid served in a squat glass. The waiter turned the glass 'just-so' and asked us to sip from an exact point on the rim. Simultaneously, two streams of hot and cold tea entered my mouth - both slightly gelled, what an experience!

This must have been prepared at the last minute with the partition removed just before serving. The viscosity of both fluids would have retarded mixing and heat transfer from hot to cold.

We also had Mrs Marshall's Margaret Cornet. Apparently it was she who invented the first ice-cream making machine. Blumenthal is trying to revive old recipes and this is supposed to be the very first ice-cream recipe.

Pink sherbet fountain. A bit of a gimmick, but I gathered that woody flavours were in at that time; so Douglas fir sherbert came in a little packet. The interesting thing is that the flavour comes not from the sherbert but from the woody thingo that's used to retrieve it.

I love having a bit of white powder at the tail end of dinner. Brightens the senses and wakes the mind, I say.

Mango and douglas fir puree

Mango and Douglas Fir puree. Bavarois of luchee and mango, blackcurrent sorbet. Desserts naturally lend themselves to fanciful flights of imagination. This is probably the cutest dessert I've ever had. In the foreground you can see the bavarois with the mango layer on top. The squares of blackcurrent cube, tuile and blackcurrent sorbet repeat the single-flavour multiple-texture motif of this meal. The green garnish had piney overtones again. The pinkish squares, I think, are lychee flavoured. There's a streak of mango puree to the left.

Carrot and orange tuile, beetroot jelly. Nitro-scrambled egg and bacon ice cream. Pain perdu and tea jelly. Whisky wine gum, violet tartelet. These after-dinner treats came to bring us down from the heady experience. Almost as if one couldn't partake of such dizzying culinary heights without a parachute to bring one down. The waiter 'fried' our bacon and egg ice-cream in liquid nitrogen at our table. He cracked open eggs pre-filled with a bacon-infused savoury custard and stir-fried the mixture till set in a copper-lined plate. I didn't really like the flavour of bacon ice-cream. The cream AND smokiness were a little overpowering for me, innovative concept though.

We liked the squishy whisky wine gum; very whimsical. We got complimentary menus to take home, each sealed with wax.

~£90 a head without wine for the 12-course degustation menu.

*The orange square is jelly made from golden beetroot. The red square is jelly made from blood oranges.

Fried chicken

Fried chicken
Originally uploaded by daveyll.

Crispy, crunchy, tasty and totally unlike the watery insipid stuff you get in Singpore.

Yummy!

Jakarta airport Bakso

DSCF1867
Originally uploaded by daveyll.

Bakso is a type of meat/forcemeat ball soup with or without noodles. They're versatile like that. Usually made out of beef, but mixed meats are common. The meatball is giant, quite large and a little like a sausage texture.

National Museum Cafe

National Museum Cafe
Originally uploaded by daveyll.

Singapore's proximity to Australia (relative to the UK's) means that flat whites pop-up here occassionally; like in the National Museum cafe.

This is decent coffee, with great roast beef prices only at prices a little bit higher than that seen in Australia.

Their carrot juice is velvety smooth, frothy and deliciously spiced with cinnamon and nutmeg - innovative and apt touches (the Middle East recalls spices and juices).