Monday, January 30, 2012

THE MEAL TO OPEN THE NEW YEAR, AND OTHER CULINARY DETAILS

A few days after the beginning of Chinese New Year (春節), many families and criminal gangs will hold a festive meal to officially start everything on a good footing. Depending on their cultural background, families will do this anywhere between the third day and fifteenth, frequently on the fourth, fifth, or seventh day.
It might be vegetarian (Buddhists), include dumplings (Northerners), or feature tossed fish salad (Singaporean).


SAVAGE KITTEN'S FESTIVE MEAL

Since her mom's illness, my roommate has taken it upon herself to prepare the food and get all of her siblings together at their old home, in order that traditions be maintained and the sense of family strengthened.

What that means is that this past weekend, I had scant access to our kitchen, as she was more or less going ape in there, cooking tons of stuff to shlepp over to the family homestead. She's actually a very good cook. But the start-the-year meal is special.
And, of course, the relations between siblings can be quite fraught.
The Cantonese live at a more frenetic pace than most people.
Certainly more so than phlegmatic Dutchmen.
Suffice to say that she was 'tense'.

I myself have never actually been at one of these feasts, as I wasn't family even when we were more closely involved. So I've just never been included.
Nor am I even remotely Chinese! Kwailos are SO discordant!
Come to think of it, I don't really have family.
Sure, relatives - but they're far away.
I've experienced it vicariously.
Like most family events.


開年飯 'OPEN (THE) YEAR RICE'

Being a bachelor now, my dining habits have lost consistency and regularity. There is no incentive to adhere to a schedule, and nobody who insists that sensible decisions about nutrition are made.
Nor is dinner the pleasant sociable event it once was.
I seldom eat at home anymore - eating in solitude isn't appetizing - so on weekends I head in to Chinatown to find something tasty yet convenient.
On Saturday I didn't get hungry till nearly nightfall, when I went over to the San Sun Restaurant on Washington Street and ordered one of my favourites: rice stick noodles in broth with grilled pork (燒猪肉河粉 siu chü yiuk ho fan). Plus a glass of Vietnamese ice-coffee (凍咖啡奶 tung kafei nai).
The fresh coffee dripping in one glass, the ice in another.

By the time the food came, the coffee was ready, but before pouring it into the taller glass I scooped half of the ice into the hot soup to cool it down.
After cutting up the thin grilled pork to pieces large enough to fold over when grasped with chopsticks, condiments came into play.
Big splurt Sriracha hotsauce. Small squeeze of Hoisin. Tablespoonful of chilipepper fried in oil. That last was probably not a very sensible thing to do, even if the results are terrific. You see, the oil keeps the pips smoothly coated, so you don't notice how hot they are.
I like the silken gloss the chili-oil gives to the hot-salty-sweet mixture of Sriracha and Hoisin. Very delicious!

Lift noodles to mouth with chopsticks, slurp soup from spoon, then reach over and swab a piece of meat through the sauce.
Soft smooth rice-stick, fragrant soup with scallion and cilantro, zesty protein.
Repeat. Save the fattiest bits of pork for last.
Then drink the remaining broth.
Dawdle over coffee.
Pleasure.


BAD DECISIONS WERE MADE THIS WEEKEND

Saturday and Sunday could have been better-planned as far as food and drink was concerned.
You see, after the excellent meal at San Sun, I went to the office, and had several cups of tea while there.
At nine-thirty I headed over to the Occidental to smoke a few pipes.
By closing time I had had two whiskies, and three cups of coffee.

Ten hours since breakfast-dinner. After the Vietnamese coffee at San Sun, the five cups of tea at the office, and more coffee at the Occidental, I am wired to the tits.
It's now three in the morning.
And I am hungry.


You know, you can make VERY interesting snacks with Pepperidge Farm Verona Cookies, spicy dried pork sausage, and another cookie on top. The slice of pork sausage fits so nicely onto the dollop of preserve in the middle of the Verona, and the stickiness will hold it in place. All you need is another cookie to cover that, so that you don't get pork fat on your finger tips......
It doesn't even matter what the top cookie is. Genevas (with a layer of chocolate and crumbled nuts) are not as good as Shortbread, Tahiti (a layer of chocolate between two coconut macaroon-type thingies) are too much of a good thing, but the Home Style Lemon Cookies are REALLY GOOD! It's fabulous.
I experimented with various combinations for over an hour.
There are several hot sauces in the fridge.
Some oilier than others.

Fast forward to Sunday during the day. By the time I woke up, my digestive organs had entirely stripped the protective oil from the pips of the fried chilies mentioned above. The spicy pork sausage and cookies were playing havoc in my stomach. And Savage Kitten was in the final lap of preparing food in the kitchen to take over to the family home.
She was on a very tight schedule. So in order not to jinx anything, I held off on visiting the bathroom till she had left the apartment.
I held off. And held off. And held off. And held off.
Don't want to be in there right when she needs it.

Didn't feel well-enough to eat till long past tea-time.
Ended up having some chow mein.
With hot sauce.


The problem with bachelor dining habits is that bad decisions will be made.



==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:

LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================

4 comments:

Rabbi said...

G-d hates those who eat the flesh of the swine.

The back of the hill said...

Only if they're Jewish. If they're Gentile, he really doesn't give a damn.

At least, al pi Torah, al pi chazal.
Ve al pi Rambam.

Imam said...

What if they're Muslim?

The back of the hill said...

Good point, my dear Imam.

But the answer to that depends on belif system. To Hindus, with as much validity, beef is the meat that dare not mention its name.

Personally, I've always felt that what goes into someone's mouth is no one else's business, but I live in San Francisco where everything, it seems, is someone else's business.

Search This Blog

THEY'RE GROOVY AND SENTIENT!

In many ways I am a severely disapproving sort. I dislike tattoos, piercings, patchouli, raggedy tee-shirts, potsmoking, public misbehaviour...