It says something dramatic about the recent state of my being that my latest, greatest scientific, geeky breakthrough was to figure out how to peel garlic efficiently in a way that hasn't been explored on the internet.
This is no small matter. Google can and will tell you (usually) everything that you need to know. From the best way to cure a hangover to how to iron a shirt. God knows everything that I've learnt in life, I've learnt from a search engine.
That said, Google probably doesn't tell you the most efficient way of doing things. It will get by, suffice, get you through the day, but the best thing about a search engine is to prove the case that life's teacher doesn't get better than trial and error and experimentation, the best loved (and most fun) way of "taking it apart to find out how it works".
Most "How to Peel Garlic" guides online in a quick and easy way tell you to smash down hard on a clove of garlic with 1) a cleaver, 2) a large frying pan, 3) your boyfriend's flat side of the head... but all of these methods get the cleaver/frying pan/boyfriend's said cheek etc. unnecessarily dirty. Some clever guides also recommend the garlic peeler, which really works (I have one) which is an unnecessarily expensive tube of silicone'y rubber in which you put the garlic clove, roll on a work top, and presto, the garlic clove pops out of the tube after some satisfyingly crunchy sounds. It does work, albeit being overtly expensive for something that just peels garlic, but only works for larger, rounder cloves of garlic.
Enter my method for peeling garlic, which works for smaller cloves too: Hold the garlic clove at the ends with the thumb and forefinger of both hands. Twist in opposite directions to hear a satisfying crunching sound as the delicate papery skin of the garlic breaks and separates from the clove. Pull with thumb and forefinger of both hands in opposite directions and watch that paper skin fall away.
Why does it work? The garlic clove inside the skin is far softer and more pliable than the paper skin that contains it. By flexing the clove, you break the contact of the skin with the clove, which creates a space between the skin and clove that "peels" it for you.
Oh, and not only is this quick, but you get a whole clove intact. Unlike the fast, smash 'em up version.
Showing posts with label food. Show all posts
Showing posts with label food. Show all posts
Monday, April 13, 2009
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Monday, December 17, 2007
Comfort Foods
I've been ill.
Not to worry, I'm getting better. But being ill is like your body's little reminder for you to stop, take a breather, and let the rest of the world get on with what it's doing for once.
Which is exactly what I'm doing - and probably why I have found the time to blog (having taken some much needed time off work to do the things that keep me sane*).
I've been sleeping a lot. That's one thing I do particularly much of when I am ill - it's my miracle cure to everything. I swear, it's better than chicken soup and penicillin (though those help too).
Somewhere in my half-waking moments, I'd dreamt that I'd woken up to the smell of freshly baked cookies. It was most definitely a dream, because unless I'd sleepwalked my way to the oven, baked a bunch and put it in, there was most certainly no other Christmas elf around that would be figuring out the oven in my house.
It led me to think about comfort foods - tastes and smells that just make one feel better when one is ill.
My comfort foods used to be:
Not to worry, I'm getting better. But being ill is like your body's little reminder for you to stop, take a breather, and let the rest of the world get on with what it's doing for once.
Which is exactly what I'm doing - and probably why I have found the time to blog (having taken some much needed time off work to do the things that keep me sane*).
I've been sleeping a lot. That's one thing I do particularly much of when I am ill - it's my miracle cure to everything. I swear, it's better than chicken soup and penicillin (though those help too).
Somewhere in my half-waking moments, I'd dreamt that I'd woken up to the smell of freshly baked cookies. It was most definitely a dream, because unless I'd sleepwalked my way to the oven, baked a bunch and put it in, there was most certainly no other Christmas elf around that would be figuring out the oven in my house.
It led me to think about comfort foods - tastes and smells that just make one feel better when one is ill.
My comfort foods used to be:
- Minced pork with garlic soup
- Pi Tan Porridge
- Rice Krispies or Corn Flakes with warm milk (I'm a Kellogg's baby)
- Quaker oats and condensed milk
- Teh (the kopitiam type with condensed milk - something about the milk and sugar combination is very soothing)
- Ginger tea
- Yong Tau Foo - which I eat even when I'm not ill
They now are:
- Vegetable soup or any creamy soup of any kind
- Quaker oats and condensed milk
- Warm apple juice and cinnamon - I wish Lemsip came in warm apple juice and cinammon flavours!
- Toast - with butter, with ham, with jam, with nothing at all. just toast
- Warm honey with lemon juice
- Carr's Table Water
So some things change and others don't. I have found that oats settle one's stomach much more than porridge, but takes a stronger stomach for digestion - so they're useful in a flu situation, and less so in a bad tummy situation.
I guess I never do eat very much when I'm ill in the first place, but give me a choice of what to eat in the worst of situations, and the list above would be what I probably could not live without. The food we eat and come to love must surely be a function of where we are. I believe this now wholeheartedly - just look at how my comfort foods have adapted themselves to harsher climes.
That said, I still take my pi pa gao loyally when I am down with a sore throat.
* Incidentally which were, in no particular order - the laundry, socks and fleeces; cook soup; blog; admire the flowers; sleep.Thursday, September 27, 2007
Fast Food: Ad vs. Reality
Photographic comparison of fast food ad pictures vs. the real thing taken right after purchase.
Goes to show that if you are forced at any time to eat fast food - your safest bet is the McDonald's Filet O' Fish.
Goes to show that if you are forced at any time to eat fast food - your safest bet is the McDonald's Filet O' Fish.
City of Meat
Just as we need arbitrary designations to govern the path of a knife, or palate,
around and through the body of the cow, so we need neighborhoods to negotiate
the dense tissue of the city.
Came across this article comparing Manhattan to cuts of a cow. Strangely enough, there's an uncanny similarity, and it's a dense but well written article.
Monday, July 30, 2007
Life's Little Pleasures
As someone I don't know anymore wisely once said, "Life is made up of little pleasures." I used to add, "Small victories", and it became my nickname for a time, and I liked it.
I'd conjured it out of irony. Small victories. They are small, no? Une petit peu. Little. Tiny. Miniscule. Nearly insignificant.
But then steps in the word victories. It is a claim, no matter how small, of a battle won. It is something to be proud of. No matter how tiny? Or does it not matter no matter how victorious, because it is so small?
How someone came to view the nickname became a measure of his optimism. It was like a litmus test of faith almost - a glass, half empty? Half full?
I'd like to think I was being ironic. An optimist embarassed to admit to hope. But some people I'd met had flat out gone for small victories like this. And I'd honestly like to say that I thank them, and admire them for their honesty in living.
At the end of the day, when the sun sets and you lock the door and throw away the key - the sum of life is truly made up of little pleasures. We'd hardly remember anything else anyway.
My little pleasures of the day:
I'd conjured it out of irony. Small victories. They are small, no? Une petit peu. Little. Tiny. Miniscule. Nearly insignificant.
But then steps in the word victories. It is a claim, no matter how small, of a battle won. It is something to be proud of. No matter how tiny? Or does it not matter no matter how victorious, because it is so small?
How someone came to view the nickname became a measure of his optimism. It was like a litmus test of faith almost - a glass, half empty? Half full?
I'd like to think I was being ironic. An optimist embarassed to admit to hope. But some people I'd met had flat out gone for small victories like this. And I'd honestly like to say that I thank them, and admire them for their honesty in living.
At the end of the day, when the sun sets and you lock the door and throw away the key - the sum of life is truly made up of little pleasures. We'd hardly remember anything else anyway.
My little pleasures of the day:
- I rediscovered my oven. Ironically, I'd always prepped myself up with the mindset that my oven had too many bells and whistles. I'd somehow thought there were 4 timer settings (there are only 2) and 4 dials with 4 cooking types (and I could only think of 2: grill and oven - what else is there?!).
It wasn't until today when I studiously read the manual (for the first time, I might add) and approached the oven with a get-to-know-you-bow usually reserved only for hippogriffs, that I realised it wasn't quite as unapproachable as I'd thought it was. It takes approx. 10 minutes top to pre-heat the oven (no setting) and there are only two main oven settings - the grill and the oven - to worry about. The rest were bells and whistles.
One dial was for the light (imagine that! Were the makers of the oven thinking that I'd wanted mood lighting for my chicken?!) and another was for defrosting (probably a good idea in freezer to oven emergencies).
I'd also found out that there were actually only two timers relevant to the course of baking. One, the useful one, which turns off the oven after the stated time, and the other which simply beeps and does nothing except act as a useful reminder to come to the oven and gape at the hopefully not burning dish.
This is helpful. After some time of respectful silence at the oven's glowing door, I think I might actually come to be able to use this thing with some measure of ability. I'd better. I've been scouring baking recipes online already. - Heston Blumenthal was in search of perfection on TV today. He made what was probably the truly most perfect but more tedious and time consuming bangers and mash and treacle tart with ice cream. Honestly, one thinks, how much effort could possibly go into bangers and mash?
But no! The god of cooking himself blew my mind away by making his own bangers - including, and not limited to, soaking well toasted bread in water before using the water for the bangers, just so that a nice, roasty smell would get into the sausages, and using a gas thingymajig found at the University of Reading to deconstruct golden syrup for treacle tart.
I have to say this, the ice cream took it a step further in the pursuit of gastronomic happiness. He went to Guernsey, milked a cow, and using liquid nitrogen, made ice cream (straight from cow to ice cream) in under 4 minutes. "I never leave home without it. Not picnics, not barbeques, not holidays." says he of his liquid nitro kit. I'd say, if I weren't Heston blooming Blumenthal, I may get stopped by customs for carrying dangerous, potentially pressurized materials to my next Grecian holiday.
That said though, the ice cream made fresh from cow squeezed did look gorgeously delicious. He'd taken a swipe with a finger off the whisk and there was 0.38 seconds there where I contemplated the possibility of licking the television. - I made a gorgeous dinner and it didn't take any effort at all. I'm going to do more of this in future. The discovery of returned time while dinner is effortlessly baking in the oven is bliss, truly bliss.
So this is life. It starts with a struggle, there is the fall of the proud, and the rise of the humble, good triumphes over evil, there's some decadence involves, and finally, the laurels of success.
The parables of life, summarized in the kitchen.
Small victories, eh? It was an enormous achievement for me (Pope-tongue-in-cheek) to have conquered my oven, battled my fears and now be able to stare confidently at the box of gold that looms before me.
Victories, however small, are victories anyway. In my present time and space, I'd take whatever I can get.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
As I Like It
TEA
I like pouring your tea, lifting
the heavy pot, and tipping it up,
so the fragrant liquid streams in your china cup.
Or when you’re away, or at work,
I like to think of your cupped hands as you sip,
as you sip, of the faint half-smile of your lips.
I like the questions – sugar? – milk? –
and the answers I don’t know by heart, yet,
for I see your soul in your eyes, and I forget.
Jasmine, Gunpowder, Assam, Earl Grey, Ceylon,
I love tea’s names. Which tea would you like? I say
but it’s any tea for you, please, any time of day,
as the women harvest the slopes
for the sweetest leaves, on Mount Wu-Yi,
and I am your lover, smitten, straining your tea.
Carol Ann Duffy
Love exists in the simplest rituals. In teas and coffees, toothpastes and toothbrushes. In the gentle stretch of arms at dawn, a yawn, a sigh.
The poem is beautiful in its simplicity, and I love the placid, nearly childish rhymes that emphasize its simplicity. It's the sort of poem that brings a gentle smile to one's face, the kind that is scribbled on a post-it pad stuck to the refrigerator door. That's the kind of life I want to lead.
The simple life. A life more ordinary and less travelled. The kind that involves reading poetry into the middle of the night, scribbling what comes to mind on a fragment of a post-it pad, and sticking it to the fridge door where you take the milk for your tea the next morning. The kind that integrates art to the shopping list. It's a gentle type of love, at times mellow like lightly brewed white tea, and at others passionate and smoky like an infusion of Russian Caravan.
Note to Self: Poetry + Blog + Pictures = A Very Good Idea
Monday, July 16, 2007
The Season for Cherries
At this time of the year, cherries can honestly be the only fruit.
This photo is the only proof left of how succulent these fruits are, since I have eaten the rest.
Whatever the photographs in magazines tell you, all those Marks and Spencer ads (oh, you don't get them outside of England) of how ripe, juicy and tantalizing British cherries are as a summer fruit... they are all true.
These ripe-to-perfection pitted fruits yield soft and sweet after your teeth crush through the first bite of delicate, glossy velvet skin. Even sinking your teeth halfway through the fruit to grit upon the definite pit seems worthwhile.
I'd recently washed and completely enjoyed a bunch, savouring them like rare grapes. While I was at it, I'd decided to take a picture, and it's up to you to believe me when I say that this photo has not been edited and was taken at 8pm in the evening.
This photo is the only proof left of how succulent these fruits are, since I have eaten the rest.
Whatever the photographs in magazines tell you, all those Marks and Spencer ads (oh, you don't get them outside of England) of how ripe, juicy and tantalizing British cherries are as a summer fruit... they are all true.
These ripe-to-perfection pitted fruits yield soft and sweet after your teeth crush through the first bite of delicate, glossy velvet skin. Even sinking your teeth halfway through the fruit to grit upon the definite pit seems worthwhile.
I'd recently washed and completely enjoyed a bunch, savouring them like rare grapes. While I was at it, I'd decided to take a picture, and it's up to you to believe me when I say that this photo has not been edited and was taken at 8pm in the evening.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Edible "Paper" Cranes
While surfing for the right way to fold a wonton dumpling (yes, Googling can teach you everything you need to know) - I came across this website by accident.Apparently, Evil Mad Scientist Laboratories have taken folding your food to a new level of edible origami. It's amazingly fascinating.
Now I've never been particularly good at origami, nor at frying wontons, but this reminded me of a particularly fun Chinese New Year's dinner where we were all at enuwy's house trying to outdo each other in making creative versions of the deep fried chinese money bags.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Organic Fresh Foods at your doorstep
Well, I'm not talking about the Tesco's organic range at my doorstep. Curiosity got the better of me, so when I received the 2nd Abel & Cole's brochure in the mailbox, with a recommendation from an Australian colleague of mine living in London who uses them frequently, I decided to check out the website.
The result is surprising. A wide range of fish, meats, dairy, fruits and vegetables - all organic, locally farmed and sourced without air freight - at relatively affordable prices, delivered to your door free of charge and you don't even have to be home when they arrive. Even better, they deliver at my area on Fridays, which is my usual grocery day out anyway, which makes for a very good option in home cooking during the week.
I might switch very soon after coming back from Singapore - simply because the range of food isn't too shabby for now and then cooking. Having a mixed bag also takes the humdrum away from having to choose foods, and allows me to try new foods which I probably wouldn't buy if I were walking around Tesco's by myself. I might try it for the fish, if it's going to be good - since Tesco's isn't.
I love this, actually. Life is too short to eat cheap, run of the mill, probably unhealthy Tesco produced fresh produce. Overcoming the snob value of getting organic food all the time, the bottom line is that for good taste and for good health, getting fresh foods from a specialized grocer like this, even if you pay more, is well worth it's while in the long run.
Did I mention the other day that I was walking in Tesco's and browsing the fruits section when I found mouldy grapes sitting on one of the shelves? I've been getting squeamish about mass produced fresh foods for a while now...
The result is surprising. A wide range of fish, meats, dairy, fruits and vegetables - all organic, locally farmed and sourced without air freight - at relatively affordable prices, delivered to your door free of charge and you don't even have to be home when they arrive. Even better, they deliver at my area on Fridays, which is my usual grocery day out anyway, which makes for a very good option in home cooking during the week.
I might switch very soon after coming back from Singapore - simply because the range of food isn't too shabby for now and then cooking. Having a mixed bag also takes the humdrum away from having to choose foods, and allows me to try new foods which I probably wouldn't buy if I were walking around Tesco's by myself. I might try it for the fish, if it's going to be good - since Tesco's isn't.
I love this, actually. Life is too short to eat cheap, run of the mill, probably unhealthy Tesco produced fresh produce. Overcoming the snob value of getting organic food all the time, the bottom line is that for good taste and for good health, getting fresh foods from a specialized grocer like this, even if you pay more, is well worth it's while in the long run.
Did I mention the other day that I was walking in Tesco's and browsing the fruits section when I found mouldy grapes sitting on one of the shelves? I've been getting squeamish about mass produced fresh foods for a while now...
Saturday, May 12, 2007
Link: Lunch in a Box
Interesting how the Japanese come up with food that has the most complicated preparation methods, and also all the short cuts to prepare food that still looks as nice.
SS-Biggie's website (linked to Flickr) is amazing. I'm honestly 100% astounded that in this day and age, there is a mother out there preparing lunch boxes every day for her kid, and paying attention to tiny details like decoration (she has bento box dividers organized) and separating takuan pickles from the kamaboko fishcakes because they turn the kamaboko yellow.
I would be blessed if I had someone even make me a lunch box every day, so the idea of a mother making rice balls for a son to take to school in a lunch box speaks of unimaginable depths of maternal virtue that I can only gawk at.
SS Biggie lived in Japan as an expat for nine years and speaks fluent Japanese. Many techniques are picked up from Japanese bento cookbooks (I didn't know they have those!) and some ideas are downright fantastic - spaghetti in cup cake containers for a fast, quick and mess free disposable meal!
SS-Biggie's website (linked to Flickr) is amazing. I'm honestly 100% astounded that in this day and age, there is a mother out there preparing lunch boxes every day for her kid, and paying attention to tiny details like decoration (she has bento box dividers organized) and separating takuan pickles from the kamaboko fishcakes because they turn the kamaboko yellow.
I would be blessed if I had someone even make me a lunch box every day, so the idea of a mother making rice balls for a son to take to school in a lunch box speaks of unimaginable depths of maternal virtue that I can only gawk at.
SS Biggie lived in Japan as an expat for nine years and speaks fluent Japanese. Many techniques are picked up from Japanese bento cookbooks (I didn't know they have those!) and some ideas are downright fantastic - spaghetti in cup cake containers for a fast, quick and mess free disposable meal!
Friday, January 19, 2007
Spit, swallow... or leave on the table
Tatsuya is great. One of the fabulous things about it is that you get to try adventurous bits of Japanese cuisine not served in other places. Tatsuya was the place that made me love mentaiko (sea urchin), and I'm not usually an adventurous eater.
The thing is, the adventurous eats taste good. Well... sometimes.
There are moments when lines are crossed that should not be crossed. One of these was fish milk soup. Err... fish? Milk? Fish don't produce milk... or do they?
This very clear broth got us looking for the milk in fish milk for a while. Until we ate and discovered this thing that tastes like... fish brains.
Double take. It would take a lot of fish to come up with this much brains. So I thought.
Fish milk turns up in a sort of sac, which, when chew onto, break out in a creamy, cod liver oil flavoured white liquid which is just a little too rich for me.
When asked, the chef wisely said... "Eat it first, and then I'll tell you what it was."
We had many guesses - fish roe, fish brains, fish intestines...
What it actually was... fish... sperm. Ueergh.
The thing is, the adventurous eats taste good. Well... sometimes.
There are moments when lines are crossed that should not be crossed. One of these was fish milk soup. Err... fish? Milk? Fish don't produce milk... or do they?
This very clear broth got us looking for the milk in fish milk for a while. Until we ate and discovered this thing that tastes like... fish brains.
Double take. It would take a lot of fish to come up with this much brains. So I thought.
Fish milk turns up in a sort of sac, which, when chew onto, break out in a creamy, cod liver oil flavoured white liquid which is just a little too rich for me.
When asked, the chef wisely said... "Eat it first, and then I'll tell you what it was."
We had many guesses - fish roe, fish brains, fish intestines...
What it actually was... fish... sperm. Ueergh.
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
For my next birthday...
For my next birthday, I want a single black candle on a Red Velvet cupcake from Hummingbird.
Probably cheapest birthday cake ever at £1.35. But we'll cut it up into many yummy pieces and share it.
Probably cheapest birthday cake ever at £1.35. But we'll cut it up into many yummy pieces and share it.
Friday, December 15, 2006
Loves... the taste of butter, Recommends... Lurpak Spreadable Unsalted
How typical that the 101th post ever would be about food. As you probably already know, I have returned to yummy butter land (UK) and left yucky butter land behind (Australia).
I love butter. I wouldn't give it up for anything in the world, not low fat options, yogurt, cream cheese, margarine (god forbid!) or olive oil spreads. Butter is butter. It comes from the goodness of blessed cow and is made of creamy, warm, lovely, fatty goodness. Fat though it may be, it is au naturel just as Mother Nature intended. If you have to stuff yourself with something that makes you fat, why choose polyunsaturated vegetable oils saturated and solidified by petroleum fossil fuel extracts? You don't eat what you put into a car, so explain margarine.
One of the regular, affordable staples these days is Lurpak's Unsalted Spreadable butter. It is a blend of vegetable oils and real butter (yes, I admit, it has some oils, but not solidified with petroleum) and is a low fat, low sodium option for being unsalted. I only go so far. The creamy, savoury richness of real butter, coupled with just that touch of vegetable oil to make it spreadable far outweighs the thought that it is actually a healthy option.
Oh, and how does it compare to blocks of organic, home made Memnonite butter in Virginia? It cannot.
I love butter. I wouldn't give it up for anything in the world, not low fat options, yogurt, cream cheese, margarine (god forbid!) or olive oil spreads. Butter is butter. It comes from the goodness of blessed cow and is made of creamy, warm, lovely, fatty goodness. Fat though it may be, it is au naturel just as Mother Nature intended. If you have to stuff yourself with something that makes you fat, why choose polyunsaturated vegetable oils saturated and solidified by petroleum fossil fuel extracts? You don't eat what you put into a car, so explain margarine.
One of the regular, affordable staples these days is Lurpak's Unsalted Spreadable butter. It is a blend of vegetable oils and real butter (yes, I admit, it has some oils, but not solidified with petroleum) and is a low fat, low sodium option for being unsalted. I only go so far. The creamy, savoury richness of real butter, coupled with just that touch of vegetable oil to make it spreadable far outweighs the thought that it is actually a healthy option.
Oh, and how does it compare to blocks of organic, home made Memnonite butter in Virginia? It cannot.
Monday, December 04, 2006
Little pleasures at home
Sometimes filling your life with little but simple pleasures are the nicest things. I sliced this bread, and in front of the light by the kitchen window, it turned out so pretty I had to take a picture.
Saturday, November 18, 2006
In need of some good chicken soup loving
While most of the food on my Flickr pages are good looking, photo quality stuff, thanks to eating out - this is the reality of what I eat at home when I'm sniffly and in need of some good cheering up and hot clear chicken broth.
So here it is, one of the heart-warming heartland favourites: chicken vegetable soup with meatballs, a variant of the yummy soup courtesy of enuwy who made some last week in London.
Ingredients:
500 ml chicken stock
200g minced pork
3 small carrots
1/4 brocolli floret
2 slices of ginger (for colds)
A handful of barley (good for winter soups apparently)
Method:
Bring chicken stock, ginger and barley to a boil. In the meantime, chop up carrots and brocolli and marinade minced pork with pepper and soy sauce.
Once the broth has come to a boil, add in carrots, bring to a boil and add brocolli. Lastly make meatballs out of the minced pork mixture and drop them into the fast boiling soup. Bring to an active boil and serve 5 minutes later.
This is so completely reassuring. There's really nothing which I've tried that is better for a cold than chicken soup with ginger slices. Whoever found that out must be some kind of genius because it is honestly, completely true.
if you don't have much of an appetite because you can't smell anything thanks to a blocked nose, but need enough nutrition to get you past your lousy, sniffly days, try this soup.
So here it is, one of the heart-warming heartland favourites: chicken vegetable soup with meatballs, a variant of the yummy soup courtesy of enuwy who made some last week in London.
Ingredients:
500 ml chicken stock
200g minced pork
3 small carrots
1/4 brocolli floret
2 slices of ginger (for colds)
A handful of barley (good for winter soups apparently)
Method:
Bring chicken stock, ginger and barley to a boil. In the meantime, chop up carrots and brocolli and marinade minced pork with pepper and soy sauce.
Once the broth has come to a boil, add in carrots, bring to a boil and add brocolli. Lastly make meatballs out of the minced pork mixture and drop them into the fast boiling soup. Bring to an active boil and serve 5 minutes later.
This is so completely reassuring. There's really nothing which I've tried that is better for a cold than chicken soup with ginger slices. Whoever found that out must be some kind of genius because it is honestly, completely true.
if you don't have much of an appetite because you can't smell anything thanks to a blocked nose, but need enough nutrition to get you past your lousy, sniffly days, try this soup.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
The World's Kitchen
This post has been sitting in my blog outbox for quite a while now so I thought I'd just post it. Enuwy solved the long held (how long has it been now? 5 years?) mystery of the Turkish dessert I ate once in a small Turkish dessert shop in Brunswick where all the signs and desserts all Turkish.
Some (probably) 3 years ago, I related the story to enuwy about how, in 2001, I wandered into this Turkish shop in Brunswick and tried a dessert that was a much loved favourite of all who was in this shop. It had just come out fresh from the oven, I had no idea what it was, all the women there were raving about it, but in Turkish, and I had no idea what to have. In the first place, I had wandered in not knowing it was a Turkish dessert shop.
Though it sounds like a dream, I kid you not that the nice people at the shop were so in love with that dessert that they gave me some to try for free. They were so adamant that I tried this just to find out what it was instead of buying the baklava and walking out of the shop. And the better I was for it.
From the first taste, it was obvious what they were raving about. To date, this remains the most amazing dessert I have ever eaten, combining everything I love about dessert (cheese, sugar, texture, chewiness... )and then some. Unfortunately, from that day on, while the tastes and textures remained firmly on my tongue, the alien name didn't stick quite as well.
So began the quest for the mysterious Turkish dessert. I got so far as to realize it was made up of kataifi, a sort of shredded soft filo pastry, but I didn't get to what the dessert's name actually was.
Trust enuwy to be the one to resolve this for me - and with no better blog post than the one she sent across. Reading through the entire post resolved more than just kunefe for me. It reminded me of what I remembered so fondly and missed so much about Alcuin Block A. I came across some photos the other day I snapped of food and smiles, both broad and generous, and it brought a smile to my face to know that I've had those memories of running clandestinely to the next block to snip rosemary for the roast chicken upstairs.
So thank you, enuwy. I had forgot to mention in person that the post reminded me of York but made a mental note to say that here. Oh, and that I know what I am going to get for a Christmas present (hint: Justin Quek).
Some (probably) 3 years ago, I related the story to enuwy about how, in 2001, I wandered into this Turkish shop in Brunswick and tried a dessert that was a much loved favourite of all who was in this shop. It had just come out fresh from the oven, I had no idea what it was, all the women there were raving about it, but in Turkish, and I had no idea what to have. In the first place, I had wandered in not knowing it was a Turkish dessert shop.
Though it sounds like a dream, I kid you not that the nice people at the shop were so in love with that dessert that they gave me some to try for free. They were so adamant that I tried this just to find out what it was instead of buying the baklava and walking out of the shop. And the better I was for it.
From the first taste, it was obvious what they were raving about. To date, this remains the most amazing dessert I have ever eaten, combining everything I love about dessert (cheese, sugar, texture, chewiness... )and then some. Unfortunately, from that day on, while the tastes and textures remained firmly on my tongue, the alien name didn't stick quite as well.
So began the quest for the mysterious Turkish dessert. I got so far as to realize it was made up of kataifi, a sort of shredded soft filo pastry, but I didn't get to what the dessert's name actually was.
Trust enuwy to be the one to resolve this for me - and with no better blog post than the one she sent across. Reading through the entire post resolved more than just kunefe for me. It reminded me of what I remembered so fondly and missed so much about Alcuin Block A. I came across some photos the other day I snapped of food and smiles, both broad and generous, and it brought a smile to my face to know that I've had those memories of running clandestinely to the next block to snip rosemary for the roast chicken upstairs.
So thank you, enuwy. I had forgot to mention in person that the post reminded me of York but made a mental note to say that here. Oh, and that I know what I am going to get for a Christmas present (hint: Justin Quek).
Friday, October 20, 2006
The Petit Manseng
I know this post is food related, but I think as time goes by and I fail to have enough to update two blogs, I'm going to move all the Food Magnet blog posts over to this one. Yes, in case you really didn't know, I do maintain the Food Magnet blog as well (albeit maintaining being an over-statement).
I found a really nice new grape varietal in Virginia called the Petit Manseng. It's usually grown in limited areas in the southwestern area of France, particularly in the Jurancon region and came to Virginia perhaps only recently since it's a very little known type of grape. In fact, it's so little known that the vintner at Veritas, a vineyard that just started to produce this wine, mistakenly mentioned that the grape is called the Jurancon Moelleux, when in fact, it is not the grape, but the region where the grape (the Petit Manseng) is grown.
The Petit Manseng is a curiously amazing wine. It's a very fruity, a nearly Riesling like white that bursts in a floral fragrance on the nose, with a finish that is nearly mead-like or peachy.
It certainly made me curious enough to want to log on and find out more about the wine when I could. Think I'll be looking out for this wine more - if the reviews are going right, it's only upward from here for the Petit Manseng in Virginia.
I found a really nice new grape varietal in Virginia called the Petit Manseng. It's usually grown in limited areas in the southwestern area of France, particularly in the Jurancon region and came to Virginia perhaps only recently since it's a very little known type of grape. In fact, it's so little known that the vintner at Veritas, a vineyard that just started to produce this wine, mistakenly mentioned that the grape is called the Jurancon Moelleux, when in fact, it is not the grape, but the region where the grape (the Petit Manseng) is grown.
The Petit Manseng is a curiously amazing wine. It's a very fruity, a nearly Riesling like white that bursts in a floral fragrance on the nose, with a finish that is nearly mead-like or peachy.
It certainly made me curious enough to want to log on and find out more about the wine when I could. Think I'll be looking out for this wine more - if the reviews are going right, it's only upward from here for the Petit Manseng in Virginia.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)