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eahorses, shark fins and swallow nests - the Chinese can make a soup out of anything.
To start from something less challenging, why not try flower buds and tree mushrooms. This light consommé (金針木耳滾魚湯) is fish based but you can substitute fish with stir-fried shiitake to make it veg(etari)an.
Here how you go about fixing it. It is really done before you can say Jack Robinson.
- Soak a handful of dried daylily buds (金針) and a handful of black fungus (木耳) half an hour in advance.
- Cut a couple of large tomatoes into large wedges.
- Slice a 3-inch piece of fresh ginger and fry it lightly in cooking oil.
- Add a medium sized fish, e.g., sea brim (or shiitake for veg(etari)ans) to the oil and fry it until done.
- While it is frying, bring to boil a pot of water (2-3 litres).
- Shred the soaked black fungus and drain the daylily buds.
- Add the fish (or shiitake), fungus, buds, tomatoes and ginger to the boiling water.
- Season with fish sauce or soya sauce for veg(etari)ans and a dash of ground white pepper.
- Reduce the heat and allow to simmer for 10-15 minutes.
ating flowers seems like an elves' and fairies' pastime. However, there are millions of regular humans in East Asia who do that at least once in a while. Well, the Chinese do not sustain on petals and pollen, but on occasion do consume dried daylily (or tiger lily) buds (金針).
They go by kam-jam or golden needles in Chinese grocery stores but I really like their French name: fleurs de lys séchés. I imagine French royalists (all 14 of them) cringing when somebody boils their totem flower with sea brim and ginger.
They - dried daylilies, but, perhaps,French royalists too - need to be reconstituted in cold water before consumption. Normally half an hour is enough. The water comes out sour-ish and not very pleasantly tasting so I just dump it. The buds themselves taste quite like asparagus without its characteristic funk. I use kam-jam in mapo-tofu, seafood noodles and mushroom noodles. There is also a delicious fish soup recipe where daylily buds feature prominently.
They can be consumed fresh too. My Mom picks them just before they blossom out and stuffs them with something reminiscent of a very light celery-flavoured chicken salad. I will publish recipe once I talk her into divulging it.
When I was a kid I had a friend whose Dad was serving in Ethiopia. He was a Soviet Army advisor helping Ethiopians fight Eritrean guerillas.
I am not a big Ethiopian food buff. I have tons of respect for the only people in Africa who managed to defend their independence against world's mightiest powers. However, Ethiopian food, although used to feed generations of fearless warriors, is not a culinary wonder. Huge sour pancakes with dabs of curries. The curries are, admittedly, flavourful, but there seems to be only one flavour in existence.
Eritrea is, technically, Ethiopia. It is the fabled Punt of Ancient Egyptians, whence they imported gold, aromatic resins, ebony, ivory, slaves and wild animals
Zigni - lamb
minchi-tabbish - minced beef, 2 types
shiro -- chick peas
tim-tumo - lentils
hamni - spinach
mixed vegetables
enjera pancakes
25.10
The food of warriors who managed to defend their independence.
lassics are called so for a reason. Some combinations require no improvement. There is nothing you can add to insalata caprese: mozzarella, plum tomatoes and fresh basil are a ménage à trois made in heaven. Or take French onion soup: why would you want to rehash a perfect recipe? Similarly, there are very few things one can do to make sushi taste better.
Yo!Sushi does exactly that. If they were in the car-making business, they would be trying to incorporate the 5th wheel, the gas bladder and the parachute in the basic car design. 'Coz it makes it look trendier. And the hip crowd will lurrrrv it.
And they do: on top of numerous London branches, Yo!Sushi has opened restaurants in Ireland, Russia, Malaysia, Dubai, Bahrain and Kuwait. In other words, wherever you have the burgeoning yuppie class with little exposure to proper Japanese food but tons of expendable income and even more unbridled ambition to be cooler-than-thou.
On Maundy Thursday's night we went to contemplate the stripped altar at St. Paul's. Inside the great cathedral reigned a not-this-wordly vibe. Dimmed lights lost in the clouds of frankincense only accentuated the sheer size of the interior, nearly deserted at this late hour. I dared not take pictures but went on to sit in the Lord Mayor's seat, after pushing the "Reserved" note aside. On the night meant to remind us of the virtue of humility, I felt strangely elated and full of good premonitions.
Right across the road the shining neons lights of Yo!Sushi lured us in. We were after a quick late night snack and so we walked into the steel-and-glass temple of conveyor-belt sushi. This system must be familiar to most urbanites: kitchen island in the middle, encircled by a counter with a built-in conveyor belt, whereupon differently coloured plates of Japanese dainties slowly creep along for you to take. The bill is calculated afterwards based on how many and of what colours empty plates you've accumulated.
We started with kani no aemono. To cater to the mid-brow yuppie clientèle, the Japanese names of the dishes are entirely dropped in Yo!Sushi, so I had to figure out what to order (not everything is on the conveyor belt) from the pictorial menu. Instead of the expected sweetish sourness of this Japanese classic, our taste buds encountered the gamma of Italian lettuce mix with no dressing. The whole meaning of aemono was taken out of the dish but, perhaps, it was not meant to be in the first place.
The seared salmon and katsuo (skipjack tuna in the yuppie parlance) slices proved an interesting sesame-sprinkled innovation, botched, however, by a generous dose of red pepper powder (tougarashi).
To give the due credit, the miso udon with silken tofu cubes and shiitake slices was a champion. Cooked individually, it had the right flavour and taste balance to satisfy any Japanese food purist.
Tonkatsu Kare-raisu is not the kind of dish you will see in a sushi place. The reason is that the curry spice will numb the taste buds and will desensitise them from appreciating the subtler taste of raw fish. However, after all the tougarashi profusion we no longer minded. Truth be told, it was great. Maybe, it was down to the original Japanese roux, but it tasted exactly like in Japan. The tsukemono slices, the traditional accompaniment, were just the right, too. (As they are bought wholesale from suppliers, the credit here should go to the Japanese producer.)
We finished off with a 2 pairs of weirdest futomaki I had seen: topped with salmon and unagi neta and with the ubiquitous tougarashi. The European equivalent would be topping steak with a sandwich and dousing it all with vinegar. (I have a hunch though that yuppies would lurrrv that too, once served with a fancy name in a minimalist interior.)
I was disappointed not to find the sign of a good sushi kitchen: chawan-mushi, the delicately flavoured steamed seafood omelette. I bet if it is ever featured on Yo!Sushi's menu, it will be spliced with red pepper powder and topped with a slice of raw salmon or something equally incongruous.
Pro's: Consistently good non-fish entries. Post-modern interior to please your yuppie friends.
Con's: Bizarre innovations of Japanese classics. 36-quid bill for a light snack for two, ouch!
In a nutshell: Leave it to the yuppies to enjoy. London has enough authentic Japanese sushi places.
rixton market is full of surprises. Perhaps, about the only thing you won't find here is penguin meat. The rest is there. After my love at first bite with a Colombian chorizo, I discovered a Colombian restaurant there.Coma y Punto is a simple café right off Coldharbour Lane. A Colombian flag is hung right outside so that you wouldn't mistake it for an Egyptian or Vietnamese place. It is constantly swarmed with Colombians - a good sign, at least qua food authenticity.We started with drinks: Pony, a sweetish Colombian malt drink for Floyd, and sugarcane juice with a dash of lime for me. My drink was very different from the sweet and aromatic greenish liquid I was used to in Thailand. It looked and tasted more like Russian stewed fruit compote.
The bandeja paisa (£8.50) I ordered is a quintessential Colombian dish. It combines all cultural influences that are present in the country - indigenous, Spanish and African as well as, perhaps, at least half of Colombia's protein deposits. My platter consisted of:- ground grilled steak
- chicharrón (fried pork rind)
- fried beans
- a fried egg
- fried chorizo
- fried plantain
- boiled rice
- sliced avocado
- coleslaw
- an arepa (flat unleavened corn bread)
As you can see even if from just the description, it was a meal fit for a giant.Floyd's giant carne a la brasa, thin slices of grilled beef (£9.00), arrived with rice, fried plantains, coleslaw and two hash brownies.
As we tucked in in our food, a plasma screen on the wall kept displaying video after video of Colombian music. A lovely touch, adding to the ethnic experience. The simple and honest peasant food is perfect to provide you with nutrients for a day of hard work. Just as English breakfast, it is a bit of a guilty pleasure though.Pro's: Lots of protein and calories to get you going for the whole day.Con's: Cramped seating.In a nutshell: Authentic Colombian food at great prices.
epending on which shop you buy it at Brixton market, it is called chayote, chow chow or cristophene. Apocryphally, it goes by "old people's lips" on the Stateside. If you look at the picture you will see where they are coming from.
Chayote is uniquely crunchy, juicy and starchy. Its texture and taste are a cross between squash and guava. It can be used like either.
I find it quite pleasant raw with the sugar and chili powder pepper, just like they have unripe guava in Thailand.
So far I have tried it in its squash emploi in Ghanaian abenkwan and will report on my further findings.
Mimino revisited - our most recent visit
eorgia for Russia is what Spain is for Britain. Sultry machos, fun-in-the-sun vacations, wine and, very importantly, great food. When Russian food is spiced to the brim, it's mostly about black pepper and parsley. It is no wonder that Georgian exuberance of basil, marjoram, pomegranate sauces and walnut dips completely takes our fancy.
Georgian food is hardly known outside the former USSR. I put it down to the faulty branding. For Westerners, the phrase "Georgian food" conjures the images of grits, pork chops and Hoppin' John that have naught to do with the multi-millenia culinary sophistication of the Trans-Caucasian nation. Despite the rumours of Georgia being renamed Barackia with Obama in power now, I believe it should be better off with something more catchy and lasting. I suggest Kartvelia.
As you might have already surmised, Olga knows everything and everyone worth note in London. Last night after a RBCC networking event, she took her charming friend Tanya and yours truly to a Georgian (or Kartvelian, if you please) restaurant she had been to a couple of times. The Mimino is named after a 70s Georgian cult movie that every Russian worth his salt knows.
It was our reconnaissance visit, so we shared a starters platter for two with Olga, while Tanya, who was fasting for the Lent, just nibbled on a bowl of delightfully herby bean soup Lobio.
Our platter was nothing short of an epiphany. Last time I had Georgian food was back in 2002, in a St. Petersburg restaurant frequented by Vladimir Putin. While the cooking was consistently good, the emphasis there was on presentation and interior. The Mimino, however bets it all on food and does so with distinction.
Our preview of Mimino's utterly munchable goodness consisted of:
- Badrijani - grilled aubergine rolls with walnut sauce;
- Espanakhi - a herby spinach ball, with a strong grassy note of fresh spinach, a sharp contrast with the bland overcooked spinach your get more often than not;
- Adjapsandali - a ratatouille-esque stew with the accent on the aubergines;
- Pkhali - a leek-and-walnuts ball with a heady fragrance of aromatic herbs;
- Lobio - the dry version of Tanya's bean soup, with walnuts, fresh coriander and dried herbs;
- Imeruli khachapuri - fragrant thin-dough flat-bread stuffed with piping hot cheese,
Pro's: Lean and herby, little known.
Con's: Little known, unfortunate branding.
In a nutshell: Toe-twirlingly delicious, exotic food like you've never tried before.
P.S. For the British a "Georgian restaurant" must be some kind of eatery in a John Nash mansion. Go for Kartvelian, really!
ormal folks do their grocery shopping because they have to. Foodies, like yours truly, because they love to. I can spend hours ferreting out right ingredients in fresh markets and grocery stores.
The simple task of buying rice took me to four shops around Brixton Market. In each I interviewed the people about which rice they think is the best value. I was given a bewildering range of opinions about tens of different sorts and types. Indians and Pakistanis all claimed their Old Country's rice is the best.
Finally, I consulted a disinterested part, a Lebanese. I followed his advice and bought Indian Daawat basmati rice. It is more expensive than average but totally worth the extra money spent. It has long grains, faint vanilla flavour and when cooked stays fluffy, the texture the Japanese call tsubu-tsubu.
I haven't yet bought a rice-cooker but I have managed to cook rice in a pan on an electric range even with the golden brown crust at the bottom, so priced by the Iranians and Japanese!
bowl of noodles is my favourite lunch - a dose of taste, flavour, liquid and nutrients. It makes me feel like a well fed, watered and weeded plant. I do not buy pre-packaged ready-made instant broths but make instead my own. It is really a no-brainer and can help you clean up leftovers from the fridge. Here is what I fixed myself for supper tonight.
- Soak dried shiitake mushrooms and daylily buds.
- Make broth by bringing cold water to nearly the boiling point with a 4-5-cm piece of dried konbu. Remove the konbu.
- Put a curl of dry egg noddles into the boiling water. Cook 6-8 minutes until just a notch beyond al dente.
- In the meantime, toast sliced garlic and sliced shiitake in a bit of vegetable oil until fragrant. Add daylily buds and sauté lightly. Add fish sauce or soya sauce for veg(etari)ians.
- Tip 4 into 3. Reduce the heat and let simmer for a couple of minutes. Serve with chopped coriander leaves, spring onions or fried tempeh.
rdering sets can be a hit-or-miss experience. If you luck out, you get to taste the chef's fortes. If you get the short end of the stick, you end up with generic gunk churned out to stuff undiscerning tourists' faces.
I could not figure out what kind of deal I landed with my full set (£23.50) at Topkapi, a Turkish restaurant on High Street Marylebone. It seemed to be the chef's finest because my party, who all ordered à la carte, were working on something similar. On the other hand, I just couldn't work up any excitement over what I had on my plate.
First I had a selection of mezze. Cold: an aubergine salad, chopped pickles, tzatziki, hommous, a cod roe salad and a bean salad. Hot starters (temperature hot, not spicy hot) cam on one plate: half a sausage, a filo pastry, a few shavings of shawarma, a deep-fried calamari ring and a kibbeh. On top of that, Olga kindly gave me a piece of her baked portobello mushroom. A generous but uninspiring collection of little dishes I now had before me. None was downright thumbs-down but they all lacked that delightful fresh herbiness I expect from good Turkish cuisine. All in all, the yoohoo factor of Soviet canned tuna.
My main course was mixed grill. When I was ordering it, the fantabulous Pasha mix in Amsterdam's fine Babylon Alaturka still stood fresh in my mind. Alas, this too didn't live up to expectations. Same shawarma shavings from my starter featured prominently. A strange chunk of unidentifiable meat (I just hope I was not initiated into dog-eating that night!) was chewy and nearly tasteless. It reminded me of overdone ostrich but I dared not to ask. Then there was a small piece of chicken breast, so pink from sauce on the outside that I first took it for salmon. The first bite of the single lamb chop exploded with so much fat that I thought it was a pork chop. "Oh no, it can't be, this is a Turkish place!" The sides consisted of rather lame and greasy fried rice, the classic tomato-cucumber-lettuce mix and a scoop of finely sliced pickled red cabbage (ahem!). To give credit where it is due, the volume was enough to feed a good tired soldier and pieces of grilled bellpepper were scrumptious.
We shared a bottle of red Beaujolais Villages. I was the youngest at the table so I did not protest - the Asian in me is alive and kicking. The vin de merde turned out as horrible as usual, another proof that the Dukes of Burgundy had a very good reason to ban it from their dominions to preserve the reputation of Burgundian wines.
As it always goes, I was still half way with my main when everyone else was already toothpicking. I took my dessert (two pieces of mass-produced baklava from your Turkish corner shop) in a doggie bag. An evening of tea-drinking and conversation at Natasha and Pete's place that ensued redeemed somewhat the shabby meal (£130 for 5).
Pro's: Friendly service. Open fireplace.
Con's: Gives Turkish cuisine a bad name.
In a nutshell: Grade C version of Ottomanic gastronomy.
Topkapi Restaurant, 25 Marylebone High Street London W1U 4PH
never cook borscht myself. I love it, I miss it but somehow I never get around to actually lining up the ingredients and shoving them in the pot. So much the more I appreciate when somebody else makes it for me. It is not the kind of dish you can enjoy in a restaurant. It must be home made. The other day I paid a visit to Olga and that is exactly what she had for lunch for me. Hearty, earthy-flavoured borscht with fresh dill and a dollop of crème-fraîche, served in fancy China with real silverware. She made it the Russian Lent style, that is vegan.
According to Olga it takes just 10 minutes to cook. Here is the recipe:
- Peel and chop 3 big onions. Fry until golden brown in a generous amount of olive oil.
- Add 1 big grated carrots and 3 big grated pre-cooked beets. Add more olive oil. Sautée lightly.
- Add black peppercorns and a couple of bay leaves.
- Add 2 litres boiling water.
- Bring to boil. Turn off heat. Serve with crème-fraîche, fresh dill and/or spring onions.
It tastes great with Russian rye bread. If you can't find it, use German pumpernickel.
atto is the food that the Japanese give foreigners to have fun seeing their disgusted faces. "Wa-ha-ha-ha, you canto eato Japanizu foodo!" Smelly, sticky and stringy, it looks like half-rotten eggs of an alien spider. In fact, natto (pronounced nut-toe) is half-rotten soya beans and is only popular with about half the population of Japan. The other half hate it just as much as most foreigners.
My first encounter with it was when I saw my Argentinian Nisei friend Patricia having it for breakfast. She opened a small styrofoam pack, squeezed mustard and tare sauce from the attached weeny bags, mixed it all in and tipped it on top of a bowl of rice. That and green tea started her day. I had only heard that natto is gross stuff (that's accepted public opinion in Osaka where we were at the time) so I made fun of Patricia.
However, when I tried natto myself, it turned out quite nice: nutty and somewhat reminiscent of strong cheese. With the extra zing of mustard or negi it actually tastes great.
Later I found out that natto is packed with scientifically proven health-promoting substances preventing a range of medical conditions from thrombosis, baldness and obesity to cancer, osteoporosis and Altzheimer's.
Natto is cheap and available from most Japanese food shops abroad. In London it costs me £1.19 for a pack of four.
urkish food is divine. Seven hundred years of imperial rule uniting such diverse regions as Egypt, Hungary, Azerbaijan, Greece, Algeria and the Ukraine have created a refined cuisine on par with world's majors such as Italian, Chinese or French. Rich farmlands, orchards and pastures as well as 7,200 km of coastline bring an amazing variety of fresh produce to the Turkish table.
I remember myself on my first visit to Istanbul back in my vegan years drooling over luscious uskumru dolması (stuffed mackerel). "Oh, but the poor animals!" I had to remind myself time and again. "Poor lambs need protection!" I kept spinning in my head whilst gawking at aromatic kebab skewers sizzling on open fire. It was truly an agony trip and it delivered the first chink in my animal rights activist armour.
Many years later I find myself recreating the missed pleasures of Turkey here in London. Luckily, it is easy. Most butcher shops in Brixton Market are run by Turkish or Middle Eastern people who know a thing or two about good lamb chops, for it is Turkey's very finest kuzu pirzola (lamb chops) that I set my mind on today.
Lamb chops don't need much frills. The outcome is down to the quality of the ingredients. The only thing I do with them is marinating them lightly in a mix of:
- a dash of aceto balsamico
- a generous amount of coarsely ground black pepper
- some sea salt
- a tablespoonful of honey
- one herb: it's dried oregano this time for the sake of authenticity but rosemary (I just got some from Olga's garden), mint or hyssop are also good.
The purpose of this marinade is to underscore, not to upstage the natural lamb flavour so it should be used in moderation. Half an hour is about enough for marinating especially if your lamb chops are excellent quality. About 3 minutes of frying on each side should suffice for lamb chops, they should come out à point, that is pink inside.
The side of stir-fried tomatoes and okra is just that: tomatoes and okra quickly stir-fried with olive oil, salt and pepper. This is a champion combination and there is nothing to add to it.
Bulgur is a Turkish cereal. It is available in most ethnic groceries, if you have those in your neck of the woods. The best way to cook it is by frying it first in butter until it is golden brown and then steam it on very low fire in chicken broth with a pinch of salt.
At a birthday party a couple of months ago I saw a Tunisian girl slow-roasting sultanas and pine nuts for couscous. I decided to do the same for my bulgur. I also added some pistachios, dried figs and apricots.
The final touch is chopped coriander. I use handfuls, you can hardly spoil a meal with it.
om yam kung is the ultimate Thai soup.
A liquid explosion of aromas it is Thailand's punchy answer to the more sedate charm or bouillabaisse.
Curiously enough, tom yam kung literally means boiled shrimp salad and that is what it in fact is.
There is really nothing to cooking it as long as you can get hold of right fresh ingredients.
- Bring water with galangal root, lemon grass, kaffir lime leaves, Thai phrik khee noo chilies and some fried chili paste to boil.
- Add whatever seafood you have, some green beans and a few champignons. I sometimes embellish it with lotus roots but that might be slightly apocryphal. A glug of coconut milk at this stage turns your soup into the tom yum nam khon (ต้มยำน้ำข้น) variety.
- When it boils again, it is ready. Never overcook!
- Regulate saltiness with fish sauce.
++++++
Thai language school and translation agency in Bangkok, Thailand offering Thai, Chinese, English, Japanese, Russian and Laotian (Lao, Isarn, Isaan) language courses.
here are so many reasons why one could love London. For some, it is a place to gain fame and fortune. For others, it is an endless source of entertainment. For me, London is an exciting place where ideas, influences, cultures and backgrounds converge, collide and thus the new is born.
Sometimes new is upgraded old. There is nothing wrong with that. Many remixes sound way better than original versions. Food in my neighbourhood star eatery Negril is just like that: enlightened versions of old Jamaican classics.
I discovered this place last December. Driving back from Brighton I heard Floyd cackling, "He-he-he, look at what those brothers came up with!" Although Wikipedia says that Negril is a beach resort in Jamaica, I like Floyd's version of "Negro grill" better.
On a cold spring day three months later, Floyd popped by on a layover to Texas. After watching the sunset from Brockwell Hill, we went for a walk around the daintier parts of Brixton where swarms of Victorian and Edwardian architecture have somehow managed to escape the latter-day "development". This is how we stumbled over Negril again. The temptation of a nice spicy meal to warm up our chilled bones was irresistible.
We went for Jamaican classics. Floyd had half a jerk chicken with fried plantain (£10.95), yours truly - salted fish with ackee (£6.95) and roti (£2.25). I was half curious and half apprehensive about my order - can bacalao be really turned into something nice? - but the friendly proprietress let me try a bit of it. I was converted on the spot. Creamy from stewed ackee and intensely flavourful from fresh thyme, never had lowly cod tasted so delicious. Floyd's chicken was lean, smoky and spicy, the plantains: crunchy on the outside, nicely cooked on the inside and, most importantly, very light on oil.
I am very sensitive to details. One thing off and my dining experience can be ruined On the other hand, nice touches can make my day. In Negril I noticed quite a few.
- It is not common at all that you can try food before ordering. I really appreciate this. It also show how (rightly) confident they are about their cooking.
- They use free-range chicken. I'm far away from my vegan animal rightist days, I just think that eating a bird that could happily roam around is much better for your health.
- When we entered the waiter turned down the music to the just-right unobtrusive background level.
- There a lot of deliciously sounding vegan (ital) entries, so no headaches when inviting veg(etari)an mates for a dinner out.
- I saw the waiter polishing glasses over a tub of steaming hot water - the kind of finesse you expect in much pricier establishments.
- There is a spacious terrace with proper chairs and tables outside. I will definitely come here again on a sunny day!
Pro's: See the above numbered list.
Con's: A 10-minute uphill walk from the Tube station.
In a nutshell: Great remix of best Jamaican goldies with a generous touch of urban sophistication.
Negril, 132 Brixton Hill, 0208 674 8798
* * * * *
One of the cheerful chefs who is behind the creation of all this delectable goodness:
hoa, this smells like pears!" Floyd's first gulp of what he thought was cider ends up in a surprise. Not an unpleasant one at that.
Poiré is cider's less known cousin. Also known as perry or pear cider, predictably, it is made from pears. In France it is only 2 percent alcohol as opposed to cider's 5, although British perries can be as strong as 8. I discovered it by accident shopping for regular apple cider in Brittany, although Mantilly in Norman department of Orne is the unofficial capital of poiré in France.
A distinction needs to be made between real perry and commercial perries. The former is produced to strict standards and uses natural ingredients and brewing techniques allowing no additives. On the other hand, commercial varieties are full of enhancers that do nothing but messing with the original taste to make more marketable to the masses.
Real perry is made from tart sorts of pears rich in tannin (the substance responsible for the astringent taste of red wine), which are not meant for eating. It has a somewhat sharp, dry taste. Because of its low alcohol content I use poiré as a picnic booze to accompany salads.
Bulmers pear cider is heavily advertised all around London these days. I am very curious to try it and share my impressions.
eahorses, shark fins and swallow nests - the Chinese can make a soup out of anything.
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