Korkor's food hero.

Late last year, I stalked bookshops in anticipation of the release of Cooking for the President, intended to be a birthday cum Christmas gift for my aunt. For those who know her, my aunt (or korkor as she's fondly known) is neither a woman of demands nor one of an extensive range of emotions, but she was near rabid as the day of the book's release drew nearer. "Girl, did the bookshops call you? You mean they didn't send a copy to your office?"
I don't know what it was about the book that drew her so; all I knew was that she really wanted it.

My cousin ended up gifting her with the book while I was away in Japan, but I'm having the last laugh as the official taster of the dishes korkor tries out. It's been nine months since and not a week goes by without korkor brandishing a new dish while declaring that the recipe worked perfectly. That's a tall order, for she never trusts recipes ("aiyah, chefs will never tell you everything), but the flawless instructions in the book has made the author Ms. Wee Eng Hwa a rock star (or "food hero", as we say in the magazine) in korkor's eyes.

Well guess what – last night, I met the rock star and tasted her cooking, at a birthday dinner Ms. Wee hosted for my ex-colleague turned very dear friend, Jo. No amount of egging would nudge korkor out of her shell to attend the party with me, but she did wait up to hear my blow-by-blow account of the food.

Cooking for the President is a tome filled with over 200 recipes compiled by the daughter of our former president Wee Kim Wee. Someone compared it to the Larousse Gastronomique equivalent for Nonya cooking, and I couldn't agree more.

Menu of the night

Jo and Ms. Wee

Pong towhu (Beancurd, prawn & pork meatball soup)

Sok Hiong's bungah pekkak tow eu kway (Star anise soya sauce chicken)

Chap chye (Nonya stewed vegetables)

Sambal udang (Prawns in chilli paste)

Itek sioh (Coriander braised duck)

Nonya noodles – a must for birthdays!

Curry chicken – we were hyperventilating by then

Pulot hitam (Sweet black glutinous rice porridge)

Final course! Pulot seri kaya (Egg coconut milk custard on glutinous rice cake)

And a snap for posterity.

WHAT A SATURDAY NIGHT! I'm humbled and truly honoured. :)

For more information or to purchase a copy of the book visit www.cookingforthepresident.com.

Pantry Puttanesca

It's been awhile since I cooked purely for pleasure, longer still since I made dinner for myself. Cooking for one is, rather ironically, a treat in the Khoo household. You see, making your own dinner takes some forethought, as there is always food of some sort on the dining table, but I was in the rare mood to spend some time pottering about the kitchen doing something unrelated to work.

Eschewing cookbooks and food websites, I flicked through my mental archive of toss-it-together recipes instead and almost immediately decided on pasta Puttanesca. Why, I have no idea. I'd barely skimmed through an article on it weeks, possibly even months ago, and all I remembered were these key words – tomatoes, anchovies and whore's pasta. (Culinary lore believes that Puttanesca was named after ladies of the night, who lured men into brothels with the sauce's intense aroma.)

I vaguely remember olives and fresh herbs in the equation, but I was too lazy to trek out to the grocer's, and really, isn't the absence of a recipe the best bit about non-work cooking? Somewhere along raiding my pantry and mentally rocking up a recipe, I decided to corrupt it all with a topping of garlicky breadcrumbs, just because there was panko in my kitchen drawer. This is bastardised Puttanesca at its worst, comforting home-cooked supper at its best.

Leigh's pantry Puttanesca
Serves 2

1 small box cherry tomatoes
4 tbsp olive oil
3 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
¼ cup panko or stale breadcrumbs
Handful pasta (I used wholewheat spaghetti)
1 tin anchovies 
handful of baby spinach
handful of feta, crumbled (optional)
handful of basil, torn (optional)

1. Preheat oven to 200C. Toss the cherry tomatoes in 1 tbsp olive oil and ⅓ of the garlic. Pop these into the oven and roast at 180C until the tomatoes start to blister and shrivel. I didn't time, but it probably took me about 30 mins. Remove from oven and set aside.
2. Toast the panko in a small frying pan with 1 tbsp olive oil and ⅓ of the garlic, tossing or stirring occasionally until the crumbs are golden.
3. Cook the pasta until al dente in a pot of salted water. Drain and reserve ¼ cup of pasta water.
4. Heat the remaining oil in a pan and saute the remaining garlic until fragrant. Add in the anchovies and cook, stirring continuously, until they melt. Tip in the roasted tomatoes, give it a good stir and then add in the spinach. Cook, covered, for a min, and then add in the cooked pasta. Add a few tbsp of the reserved pasta water and toss to coat the pasta.
5. Crumble in some feta to taste, and stir through the basil, if using. Eat immediately, preferably in front of the telly! :)

Make it from scratch.

Changes don't happen overtime. More often than not, they manifest stealthily, sinuously... kinda like vines creeping up wrought-iron fences. Some changes are inconspicuous, inconsequential, while others are huge, especially when cast upon unsuspecting ol' me.

It started off innocently enough. On Monday, I initiated a Messenger chat with a friend to arrange for dinner, having missed a gathering while I was away in Japan. She suggested that we pop over to hers for some nosh and I, in typical dessert queen fashion, offered to bring dessert. The dinner was set for Friday, and I immediately started plotting the logistics. Bake cupcakes on Thursday night after chap goh meh dinner. Zip home after work on Friday, make frosting and ice cupcakes, pack them and cab over. Easy peasy. And then I lost myself browsing recipes online.

Fast forward to a wet, gloomy Friday evening. My work had taken and left me stranded in the middle of the CBD where every other person was waiting/calling for a cab. I had exactly an hour to get home, conjure up a batch of icing, frost the cupcakes and leave the house. My feet were aching, and I was starting to feel like an underdressed clown amidst the sea of perfectly coiffed executives. Deciding to brave the rain, I eased out of the taxi queue and went off in search of a bus-stop. And guess what cranky ol' me had to flip-flop past? Three dessert places. Ice-cream. Pastries. Perfectly iced cupcakes.

That's when it dawned on me. I should have bought dessert instead! A box of macarons or chocolate truffles, or maybe a tub of ice-cream. That would have saved me the late-night baking sweatshop and a prior trip home. Instead, when I had volunteered to bring the sweets, I had, without any further thought, already set my mind on baking something. Buying a readymade dessert could not have been further from my mind.

Thanks to the string of work-related recipe testings, cooking and baking from scratch have become so ingrained in me that I never thought to consider non-culinary possibilities. For a person who loves convenience and efficiency, and who only in the past year roasted a perfect bird, fully overcome her fear of knives and really derived pleasure from cooking, this change is huge. It's monumental. And I love it.

Next up? Bread and homemade ice-cream, me thinks. Can't wait. And here they are, the babies born out of Thursday night's baking sweatshop. I couldn't be prouder.

earl grey cupcakes with vanilla bean and cream cheese frosting

adapted from Chocolate and Zucchini gâteau au yaourt, and a million other recipes

The pantry diaries.

So, I was lounging on the couch with Sophie Dahl's cookbook on my tummy, mentally running through my pantry as I lingered over any recipe that caught my eye. This is a routine I've been through for several years, way before I began my career in food writing. I almost always end up dismissing the recipes as, more often than not, I do not have the ingredients in my pantry. The kitchen really is still the domain of my Peranakan aunt and I didn't see the point of stocking up on bottles of balsamic vinegar, apple cider vinegar and all those fancy schmancy things Western recipes ask for. Granted, I don't always want to cook the dishes, but being the female that I am, I like having the option of actually trying out a recipe without having to lug back a cartful of condiments I wouldn't use for another two years.

But as I flitted through the beautiful Sophie's book today, it dawned on me that a good portion of the ingredients the recipes called for were already in my pantry. Balsamic vinegar, check. Fleur de sel, check. Rolled oats, check. Grapeseed oil, check. I may not have nicely fillet pieces of sole waiting in my fridge, but as far as condiments and dry ingredients go, I am pretty much covered.

And that, my friends, is the beautiful byproduct of the many recipe testings I have to do every month. A job in publishing may hardly pay the bills but boy, does it stock your pantry!

{image from weheartit} 

My golden kitchen rule.

picture from inmagine

My job often sees me interviewing chefs and bakers, and one recurring question I always pose is this: "What is the one piece of advice you'll give to aspiring cooks?"
Their replies range from "Always read the recipe once in its entirety before cooking" to "Invest in a sharp knife". Valuable advice definitely, but if you asked me - which you probably wouldn't, which is why I'm blogging about this - I would say: "Never pile the dishes in the sink!" Trust me, it's something I've learned from all the recipes I've been testing.
 
Have a think. To make a simple chocolate cake, you would require:

1. Measuring cups and spoons to measure the ingredients
2. A knife to portion the butter
3. A heatproof bowl to melt the chocolate
4. A whisk or electric beaters to cream the butter and sugar
5. A bowl to hold the butter and sugar
6. And if you're separating the eggs from the yolks, another whisk and bowl to whip up the egg whites
7. A baking tin for the batter 

That's quite a bit to plunk in the sink, and quite a dreary feat to wash up after! It doesn't have to be though, not if you - and here's the key phrase - wash as you go.

Here's what I'd do:

1. Measure out all ingredients, then plunk measuring spoons, cups and knife into the sink
2. Put the chocolate to melt
3. Wash all that are in the sink - this shouldn't take too long and the chocolate should have melted by the time you're done.
4. Remove chocolate from heat and leave to cool slightly.
5. Cream butter and sugar
6. Whisk egg whites
7. Add chocolate, yolks and other ingredients into the creamed butter.
8. Fold in egg whites.
9. Dump all used bakeware into the sink.
10. Pour batter into the tin, then place it into the oven to bake.
11. Wash all that is in the sink - this will take longer than the first round of washing up, but your cake's probably not gonna be ready that soon anyway!
12. Wipe down the tables, twiddle thumbs and perhaps take a quick shower.
13. Cake's ready.
14. Serve and eat in peace, comforted by the knowledge that all you have to wash at the end of this is the greasy cake tin.

Easy peasy?

If there's one thing you do this week...

Make yourself lunch!

I've taken to making and bringing a salad to work on days that I know we'll be lunching in Pulau Loyang. It may sound like a hassle, but I really enjoy the process of cooking for myself. 

Picture this: A quiet kitchen and the rhythmic sounds of washing, chopping and tossing. Time-consuming perhaps, but strangely therapeutic.

Just today, I found myself in a really long, seemingly unmoving queue for wanton noodles. (What I really wanted was a packet of economic bee hoon but there was none to be found in the area.) My stomach was growling, almost howling, when I suddenly recalled the packet of asparagus and organic soba I'd picked up the day before. So I slipped out of the queue, albeit a little regretfully as is always the case after I've been queuing for awhile, and zipped home to make myself a bowl of miso asparagus soba.

Too quick and simple to be fantastic, but the sight of fresh green stalks nestled amidst the creamy brown noodles made me really happy.

:)

The prawn diaries.

The prawn diaries.



HM came by to pass me some unmentionables, so I stuck to my end of my bargain and made lunch. Nothing fancy pancy, just garlic prawns and bok choy stir-fry. The recipe called for it to be served on a bed of herbed rice but alas, I don't have a garden overflowing with mint leaves and parsley. So I used rice stick noodles instead.

The pretty average taste's nothing worth mentioning really, but I must talk about my harrowing experience with shelling the prawns.

I took the bag of prawns out from the fridge, untied the knot, and stared dumbfounded into a mass of feelers and slimy grey shells. I don't know why, but I couldn't quite bring myself to put my hands on them.

So I dumped the prawns onto the chopping board, and hacked off the heads without actually touching them. Quite a feat I must say, but avoidance only got me this far. There was no way I could shell the prawns with only a knife without risking any self-amputations.

So I took a deep breath, and rather daintily picked up a prawn in my left hand, only to instinctively fling it away once my right fingers made contact.

In all honesty, this isn't my virgin experience shelling prawns, so I couldn't quite drum up an explanation for the sudden squeamish behavior. And I was honestly rather dumbfounded by me! So I sucked it up, took a deep breath (of fishy prawns) and literally talked myself through the process of shelling those 10 prawns. A series of "what is wrong with you?", "come on" and "don't be silly" later and I was finally done. Phew.

No prawns for awhile now.