We wanted to go to Chitwan National Park to explore this jungle reserve, in the hopes of seeing that rare tiger or the one-horned rhinoceros.  We were told it was going to be a four-hour drive from Kathmandu, the road winding all the way around the mountains. We were game, and quickly packed for a two-day stay at a mountain lodge.

Soon enough our little caravan was underway. It was a long drive, alright, but I hardly felt the hours, mesmerized as I was by the busy sights on the streets going out of Kathmandu and then by the open vistas of jagged mountains and sloping valleys on the road to Chitwan. As the van careened dangerously along the narrow roads, we whiled away the time rocking out to Indian music, snapping our necks and twisting joints in our hilarious attempts at the Punjabi head roll.

I clicked away at scenes of terraced hills planted with broccoli, cabbages, or sometimes yellow and purple flowers. There were hanging bridges that seemed to stretch out, impossibly long, over raging green rivers. We saw farmhouses built of bricks, held together by a mortar of mud. Women laden with huge baskets on their heads stepped nimbly over the rocky ground, never losing their balance. Children skipped along the roads, bundled up snugly, their cheeks pink from the cold.

Halfway through the road trip, we pulled into the driveway of what was apparently a customary stop–a roadside eatery carved into the side of a hill. Tables and chairs perched onto the steps, a buffet was along one wall, a little store was tucked away in the corner. Hungry from the drive, we trooped to the buffet but had to contend with a busload of Korean tourists. Wisely, I let them go ahead, as I know the tourist horde will devour me before I can even reach the counter.

Our turn came at last, and the guy at the counter told us to choose from the line of chafing dishes set out on the table. I liked the puris, warm fried rounds of bread that I dipped instinctively into the curried potato soup. It was filling and crispy-chewy, perfect with the spicy potato curry.

We also had the fried vegetable fritters, a little bit bland, but we learned that you dip it in this green chili sauce that was to die for. I wanted to steal that green bottle, but remembered my manners just in time.

The three of us girls shared a plate of delicate stir-fried noodles, with lots of shredded vegetables but not much meat.

I notice that the Nepali diet was light on the meat, mostly starches and vegetables. The curries we have had so far were also very mild, not the searing hot curries I associate with Indian food. The food was very fresh though, not at all oily or over-salted, even the fried dishes.

The cool air whetted our appetites, and we made short work of the spread that was on our table. Full and revived by the short break, we made our way back into the van to drive two hours more. Chitwan wasn’t even visible yet on the horizon.

I found myself  in Nepal in February of this year, excited beyond belief to have this particular travel dream come true. Giddy and short of breath from the cold, we were met at the airport by Sagar, former gurkha in Afghanistan and now our guardian angel throughout the whole trip. He and his friend packed three of us girls snugly into a rather small white taxi and accompanied us to our hotel in the middle of Kathmandu, assuring us that “No one will harm you here.”  He then most graciously treated us to a Nepali dinner.

Sagar says the locals go to this little place about 10 minutes motorcycle ride from our hotel, a one-storey diner lit up by glowing metal braziers, tables pushed against the wall, a modest bar in one corner.

I saw mostly locals there, and a few Westerners with the inevitable soda can propped up on their tables.

We let Sagar order for us, I just said that I liked lamb. Platters arrived with the meal arranged on it in a circle. I learn that this is a typical Nepali dinner–not much meat but with a variety of vegetables and condiments. Small bowls of dhal (somewhat thinner than the Indian version), lamb curry (cut up pieces of lamb in a mild curry sauce), and a yoghurt-based soup were part of the platter. There was pickled ginger and some kind of asparagus-like veggie that was a nice cold contrast to the hot soup. I liked the salted mustard greens so much I asked for a second helping. The lamb curry was very good, succulent and meaty, but not overpowering.

We had a side dish of papadom-like puffed crisps, they had a spicy, smoky flavor similar to that of toasted paprika.

It was a good and filling meal, and we had it by candle light, since Kathmandu (and later we learn, most of Nepal) is plagued by regular power outages in winter.

Outside, it was cold and dark, the winter chill bites one’s cheeks and makes each intake of breath a little gasp.

Sagar tells me to hop on his motorcycle when I say we need Nepali money for the duration of our stay. I hop on, of course, and away we go to find an ATM. Hanging on for dear life, I clasp metal with numb fingers as we speed through the night time streets of Kathmandu, the shop lights going out one by one it seems, as we pass by.  Belly warm from the dinner and head dizzy with the onslaught of so much newness, I savor the rush of being in a whole other place, one that surely, holds all the promise I have long been dreaming about.

Having been thrown willy-nilly into this remote, mostly dry place, my food options have drastically changed.  For instance, the only restaurant I have been to since I got here is a little Thai place that I had to put on a bullet proof vest to go to. Then several months later, a loopy plane ride deposited me into an even hotter, dustier, more arid place where the color brown is de rigeur.

It was a surprise to find some red. These little plump strawberries came in one day for lunch. Apparently, you have to know a nice guy around these parts so he can drop by and bring you strawberries on a paper plate.

I’ve been munching on these red sweeties for most of the afternoon. Then suddenly, it hit me! Chocolate-covered strawberries! Duh. Good thing I didn’t polish off all the strawberries. I have some chocolate in the fridge, so a quick zap in the microwave and I’ll have me some choco-covered strawberries after dinner as dessert. In the desert.

Ah, life is still good.

I’ve never met a Japanese dish that I didn’t like, and I remember my first encounter with this appetizer at Inaka, a little Japanese restaurant in Bacolod, long time ago. Small bowls of this tiny fish came to the table while we were waiting for our order. I popped some in my mouth and the spicy-sweet, crunchy morsels exploded on my tongue, opening the palate for the meal to come.

Anchovies (our local dilis) come in various sizes. I like the smaller ones when I can get them. At home, we buy the dried, salted kind and we usually just fry them briefly in oil. They’re a nice accompaniment to sauteed mung beans (monggo ginisa) or beef nilaga.

Only when I had my own kitchen did I remember the spicy-sweet anchovy version and decided to try making it myself. It was a nice bit of serendipity, since I had just recently bought a pack of powdered red chilies and thought this is just the thing to go with the dilis.

We had a bowlful of the little fishes to start off tonight’s dinner, and the heat of the dish caused a liter of Coke to virtually evaporate. This appetizer would also be a great pairing with ice-cold beer. The brown sugar caramelised with the chili powder and salt, coating the dilis with a sweet-spicy, salty crust. The toasted sesame seeds added a nutty crunch. They’re addicting! Aaaahhhnnnchovies, alright.

Spicy-Sweet Anchovies

1 tsp. sesame seeds

2 Tbsps. cooking oil

1 clove garlic, finely chopped

1/4 kilo dried salted anchovies (dilis)

1/2 tsp. rock salt

pinch of fresh ground black pepper

1 tsp. powdered red chillies to start (adjust to taste)

3 Tbsps. brown sugar to start (adjust to taste)

Start by toasting the sesame seeds in a hot pan over low heat. Shake the pan to toast the seeds evenly. When they turn golden brown and aromatic (about 2 minutes), remove from heat and transfer to a bowl to cool.

In the same pan over medium heat, add in the cooking oil. Put in the garlic and fry until just brown. Add in the anchovies. Stir-fry for a minute, making sure to cook them evenly. Sprinkle with salt and pepper, and then add in the powdered red chilies, distributing evenly throughout. Add in the brown sugar. Mix well to coat the anchovies. Once the brown sugar has caramelised, turn off the heat.

Toss the anchovies with the sesame seeds while still in the pan. Transfer the anchovies into a serving bowl and let stand for a few minutes before serving. This will be hot!

]]> http://runawayspoon.wordpress.com/2009/12/11/spicy-sweet-anchovies-dilis/feed/ 5 thebee Dilis spicy http://runawayspoon.wordpress.com/2009/12/10/shiitake-mushrooms/ http://runawayspoon.wordpress.com/2009/12/10/shiitake-mushrooms/#comments Thu, 10 Dec 2009 02:46:45 +0000 thebee http://runawayspoon.wordpress.com/?p=163 ]]>

Shiitake mushrooms are my most favorite of all the edible fungi out there. They are available all year round, most of the time dried and packed in small batches. Dried shiitakes intensify in flavor and woodsy undertones, but it’s the fresh ones that I like best. When prepared right, fresh shiitakes have the taste and texture of tender pork—succulent, delectable.

Plus Points. Research tells me shiitakes are rich in anti-oxidants, iron, fiber, and a variety of vitamins and minerals. Shiitakes are thought to help with warding off diseases, boosting your immune system, helping the liver. They have been used in Chinese medicine for over 6,000 years. But me, I just love them for their taste.

Shop Well. Pick shiitakes that are whole and unblemished. They should be plump, firm, and dry to the touch. Slimy caps mean the shiitakes may no longer be at their freshest. The underside of the caps should be white, avoid buying those that have dark spots.

Store Right. Place fresh shiitakes inside a brown paper bag and store in the vegetable compartment of your fridge. Mushrooms need to breathe, so do not put them inside a plastic bag or else they will turn slimy and sour. Properly stored shiitakes can last up to two weeks in the fridge, that is, if you don’t eat them all up before that.

Prep Tips. I like to clean my shiitakes with a 1-inch paintbrush that I keep in the kitchen for this purpose. Just gently brush away the dirt, you don’t need to scrub vigorously. I clean the mushrooms right before cooking; the less handling, the better. You can trim the stems off if you like, I sometimes leave them if they’re not too tough.

Get Cooking! I’ve cooked shiitakes in omelettes, soups, stews, stuffed with various meats, braised, grilled, stuffed inside chickens, baked, stir-fried, creamed—the possibilities abound. They’re also great in vegetarian dishes as a meat substitute. But I like them best prepared simply: sauteed quickly with garlic and onions, then finished with a dollop of oyster sauce.

Here are a few of my recipes featuring shiitake mushrooms:

Chawanmushi

Sauteed Fresh Shiitakes

Chicken Stuffed with Sticky Rice

Noodles Korean Style

When I am lucky enough to get a hold of fresh shiitake mushrooms, my first impulse is to do a simple shiitake saute with just garlic and onions. You can really taste the freshness of the mushrooms and enjoy that succulent shiitake texture with such simple ingredients. This is a side dish that goes well with any meat or seafood main course.

See my shiitake ingredient post for prep tips. The key to this simple dish is a hot wok, paired with a fast stir-fry technique so that the mushrooms are not overcooked. Be sure to use good quality oyster sauce and go lightly on the salt.

Assemble all the ingredients ahead so that you have everything on hand. This is a quick-cook dish.

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Sauteed Shiitake Mushrooms

2 cups fresh shiitake mushrooms, sliced

1 Tbsp. cooking oil

2 garlic cloves, finely chopped

1 small red onion, finely chopped

1/4 cup water (as needed)

2 Tbsps. oyster sauce

salt and fresh cracked pepper, to taste

Heat up the wok and put in the cooking oil. Toss in the garlic, and when they are fragrant, add the onions. When the onions are translucent, put in the shiitakes. Stir-fry to get the mushrooms coated with the oil. Stir-fry for about 2 minutes, make sure the shiitakes do not burn. If the dish seems to dry up quickly, add some of the water. Finish off with the oyster sauce, stir a few times, then turn off the heat.

Pour into a ready bowl and serve hot.

I first encountered chawanmushi in a Japanese restaurant a few years back. Breaking into its soft surface and discovering the choice morsels hidden beneath is at once a surprising and delightful experience. I’ve since learned that chawanmushi is considered an appetizer. The only one, I think, that is eaten with a spoon. This is a dish that stimulates the palate, one that gets you ready for the main course. In Japan, it is customarily served chilled in the summer, hot in winter.

Traditional chawanmushi includes seasonal ingredients: gingko nuts and shiitake mushrooms that become plentiful towards fall, maybe some chicken or even grilled unagi (eel). A variation could also be made using squid, prawns, or scallops. The most important ingredient of course, is the star of this dish—farm fresh eggs.

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Chawanmushi

3 large eggs

3 Tbsps. light soy sauce

1 tsp. sake (may be skipped if you don’t have sake)

2 cups fish stock or dashi stock

1/2 tsp. rock salt

3 fresh shiitake mushrooms, chopped (stems removed)

4 pieces large shrimp, (shelled & de-veined)

1 fillet of cream dory fish or other white deboned fish, cut into 4 pieces

1 small piece carrot, cut into flower shapes

spring onion leaves, sliced diagonally, for garnish

Break the eggs into a large bowl. Stir to mix egg yolk and white, but do not beat. Good chawanmushi, as with any custard, must be silky, with no froth. In another bowl, combine soy sauce, sake, fish stock, and salt. Slowly stir in the eggs into this mixture, so as to avoid forming bubbles.

You can also strain the egg mixture into another bowl to make sure the liquid is smooth.

Distribute the pieces of fish, shrimps, carrots, and shiitakes among the 4 cups. Pour in the egg mixture, filling each cup up to 1/2 inch from the rim.

Place slices of spring onion leaves on top for garnish.

Put the lids on or cover the cups tightly with cling wrap or aluminum foil.

Boil water in a saucepan large enough to contain the cups, with the water reaching a little over halfway of the sides of the cups. When the water reaches a brisk boil, turn the heat to low and place the cups into the water. Cover the pan and let simmer for 15 minutes.

After 15 minutes, check the chawanmushi by inserting a toothpick into the middle of the custard. When the toothpick comes out clean, the chawanmushi is done.

Remove cups from the pan, uncover, and serve.

A traditional table offering for All Saints’ Day, this sticky rice snack is very popular down south where I’m from. I remember buying suman from manangs with baskets who used to make the rounds of offices come merienda time. Ilonggo suman is different from Manila suman in that our version is sweetened by what else—that ingredient which is plentiful in Negros—sugar.

The recipe here is culled from our household’s Nana (my son’s yaya), who actually borrowed an old kalaha (locally made frying pan) from our neighbor just so she could make it as authentic as possible. I guess the wok just won’t do, huh?

Suman With Latik (Sticky Rice with Sweetened Coconut Cream)

3 cups sticky rice

1 whole coconut, grated and pressed to yield 1 1/2 cups coconut cream

1 1/2 cups packed brown sugar

water (for cooking rice)

2 calamansi leaves (optional)

Cook sticky rice in the rice cooker as you would regular rice (steamed with about an inch of water covering the rice). When done, keep the rice in the cooker until ready to use.

Pour the coconut cream into a thick bottomed frying pan set over high heat. Keep heat on high until the cream starts to boil. Stir the coconut cream, allowing it to curdle, reduce, and render oil. The coconut cream will eventually turn golden brown. Once the coconut cream is brown, lower heat to medium. Add in the rice and mix well to coat with the coconut cream. Add in the brown sugar. Mix thoroughly until the sugar is completely dissolved. Turn off the heat and put in two calamansi leaves for fragrance. Let the suman sit for a few minutes.

To serve, remove the calamansi leaves. With a spoon, scoop out some suman into a cup about 1/3 of the way, to form into thick rounds. Invert the cup onto a plate or a piece of banana leaf. This recipe makes about 12 suman.

The thing I like best about the rainy season is that the cooler temperature lends itself to the consumption of soups and savory-rich dishes. A warm, aromatic bowl of soup becomes a restorative pleasure, and having to stay indoors suddenly doesn’t seem to be a bad idea, after all.

I chanced upon this recipe in some blog, but I forgot to bookmark it. Darn! The author, a Korean living in the US, was talking about missing her mom’s Ginseng Chicken Soup. She set about cooking the dish herself to ease away the homesickness and perhaps cure a variety of real or imagined ailments.

I loved the idea of stuffing a small chicken with spices and letting it boil down into a tender, pure-chicken broth. It’s best to get a smaller chicken, preferably even less than a kilo so that the flavor is stronger. Native, free-range chicken is ideal, if you can get it. I imagined the glutinous rice to be a warm, sticky, spice-infused yumminess. I never forgot the basic principle of this dish, and like the author who was homesick, I set out to create this dish myself. I didn’t have ginseng on hand, so I figured ginger will work, since I like ginger anyway. I added in the mushrooms for their earthy, nutty flavor, and as a succulent complement to the chicken.

The result was a dish that pleased. The broth was clear but quite savory, the chicken meat tender and very clean tasting. Simmering the dish for at least an hour cooks the rice wonderfully, and gives it the consistency of a creamy risotto.

This is one of those assemble-in-a-pot-and-then-walk-away types of dishes, so it’s easy to pull off. Even if you’re feeling a wee bit under the weather. Recipe below, get cooking!

* Don’t mind the potato in the photo. I just put it in there to cook for my son, who likes potatoes.

Chicken Stuffed with Sticky Rice
(ala Korean Ginseng Chicken)

Serves 3-4

1 kilo spring chicken (young native chicken is best)

½ cup glutinuous rice (malagkit rice)

Salt, to taste

Fresh-ground black pepper, to taste

4-6 coriander seeds

3-4 fennel seeds

2 cloves garlic, crushed

1 medium onion, cut into wedges

1 thumb-sized ginger, crushed

3-4 wild mushrooms, washed and left whole

2 stalks spring onions, cut diagonally

1 liter water (to start). More if needed to cover chicken.

Wash chicken thoroughly, then pat dry. Rub the cavity of the chicken with a generous amount of salt and pepper, making sure to coat insides well. Pour in ½ cup glutinous rice into the cavity. Insert coriander seeds, fennel seeds, garlic cloves, ginger, and onion wedges. Put in the mushrooms, taking care not to break them. Seal the cavity by pulling the skin over the opening and securing with a toothpick.

Place the chicken inside a tall, roomy pot. Pour in water until chicken is almost fully covered. Make sure the chicken floats and does not touch the bottom of the pot. This may seem like a lot of water, but it will boil away. You may need to add more later if you want lots of soup. Cover and wait for the water to boil, then reduce heat to the lowest setting. Simmer covered for at least 1 hour, up to 1 ½ hours.

The chicken is done once the meat on the legs begins to pull away from the bone. Taste the soup and adjust seasonings if necessary. I’ve cooked this dish three times and did not need to re-season, as the broth is meant to be delicate, but savory.

Remove from heat, transfer to a big serving bowl and sprinkle with the spring onions. Split the breast cavity to release the fragrant, steaming rice inside.

]]> http://runawayspoon.wordpress.com/2009/05/07/104/feed/ 2 thebee chicken-stuffed-w-sticky-rice http://runawayspoon.wordpress.com/2008/12/22/into-the-bowl-noodles-korean-style/ http://runawayspoon.wordpress.com/2008/12/22/into-the-bowl-noodles-korean-style/#comments Mon, 22 Dec 2008 18:40:08 +0000 thebee http://runawayspoon.wordpress.com/?p=80 ]]>

Sometimes when I get home late and don’t particularly like what’s been left for me at the dinner table, I turn to a comforting noodle dish. Inspired by Korean noodle dishes such as guksu and japchae, this is a steaming bowl of goodness that’s so savory yet easy to do, with minimal cooking involved.

I used buckwheat vermicelli in this dish, but other types, such as brown rice vermicelli or regular vermicelli will work fine. I like plenty of scallions, ginger, and garlic in the soup. The broth is made more savory with the distinctive taste of the toasted nori. The egg swimming in the broth, once broken and swirled into a yummy soup, ups the comfort factor. The soothing combination of hot broth, the spicy and sweet, the various tastes and textures, helps ease away the cares of the day.

This is not such a difficult dish to pull off. The key is in the assembly of ingredients.

Noodles Korean Style

single serve buckwheat vermicelli noodles (or regular vermicelli)

2 cups water (add more if needed)

2 TBsps. ground pork

salt and pepper to taste

½ tsp. light soy sauce

½ tsp. sesame oil

pinch of brown sugar

1 clove garlic, chopped

¼ tsp. finely chopped ginger

scallions, sliced on the diagonal

dried mushrooms, soaked in cold water, then sliced

nori strips

pinch of chili powder (optional, skip if you don’t like spicy)

1 medium egg

Soak vermicelli in a bowl of cold water. In a saucepan, bring two cups of water to a rolling boil. Drain vermicelli into a wire mesh strainer. Submerge vermicelli in boiling water for 5 minutes, drain, and then arrange in a serving bowl.

Keep the remaining water boiling, but set heat to low.

In a separate bowl, mix salt, pepper, and ground pork. Turn up heat to bring water to a boil. Place ground pork in the strainer and lower into the boiling water and let cook, about 5-7 minutes. Once cooked, take out and drain, then place over noodles in the bowl. Do the same with the mushrooms.

Lower heat to keep broth simmering while you assemble the rest of the ingredients in the bowl of noodles. Put garlic, scallions, and ginger, on top of the noodles. Add in light soy sauce and sesame oil, then the brown sugar. Add in nori strips and pinch of chili powder.

Break the egg gently over the noodles.

Turn off heat and pour broth over the noodles. This will cook the egg. Break gently into the soup, swirling to distribute the yolk and mix the ingredients together. Enjoy!