AMERICAN FOOTBALL IS A LOAD OF CODSWALLOP!

The Football Season has barely started, and already I am being called un-American and potentially dubious because of a complete non-interest in the game. The sight of glandular freaks wearing shiny spandex over their well-rounded bulbous buttocks, posturing and shoving, does nothing for me.
Big galoots made bigger by protective gear, semi-anonymous with gladiator helmets? Colour me soooo apathetic!

Yes, truly the sight of the very finest specimens of American manhood battling it out in majestic combat before thousands of cheering citizens, after a heartfelt tear-jerking rendition of our national anthem, leaves something dead inside.
All of you passionate sports fans are out of your minds.
It is a jejeune and repetitive spectacle.
Unmoving in the extreme.


On the other hand, when the games are on, the streets are empty.
It would be perfect for romance, if that was possible. One could, as just a hypothetical example, walk up to a likely miss and say "I really dig yau choi, do you dig yau choi?"And within minutes, two committed foodies would be deep in conversation, comparing recipes, cooking times, ideals of crunch, and dry-braise versus seethe in a world of stirfry.
Stalks in the pan first, or blanch?
Oyster sauce versus garlic.
I know, both!

Yay!

Qué romántico!


Yau choi (油菜) is one of my favourite vegetables, along with bittermelon (苦瓜'fu gwaa', 涼瓜 'leung gwaa'). Both have a bitterness I find quite pleasing, retain their crunch upon cooking, and pair well either shrimp-paste or pork.

If Americans knew what they were missing, they might forgo the stupid spectacle for some nice stir-fried yau choi. and, in fact, it is easy to cook, and far better for you than any amount of cheese pie and beer in front of the television set. If you aren't striking up conversations with attractive complete strangers on a quiet street during the game, you should try this instead.


蠔油炒油菜
HOU YAU CHAAU YAU CHOI
"Oyster-sauce stirfried mustard stalk"

One bunch of leafy yau choi (roughly one pound).
One TBS oyster sauce (蠔油 'hou yau').
One Tsp. fish sauce (魚露 'yü lou').
Two TBS sherry or rice wine (雪利酒 'suet lei jau'; 米酒 'mai jau').
Two TBS stock or broth (高湯 'gou tong').
Two TBS water (水 'seui').
Two or three cloves garlic (蒜瓣 'suen paan').
A little ginger (薑'keung'), suitable quantity (适量 'sik leung').

Rinse the yau choi, shake dry, and trim the ends. Snap in half, for ease of cooking.
Chop the garlic and ginger.
Mix the oyster sauce and fish sauce with the sherry, stock, and water.

Heat your wok till smoking.
Add a drizzle of oil to the wok, and dump in the garlic and ginger. Almost immediately follow that with the yau choi, and stirfry to coat all of the vegetable. If there are still droplets of water from the rinse adhering, good; simply let them sizzle off. Then pour in the oyster sauce mixture, but gently, so that it can seethe when it hits the hot pan. Keep agitating the pan over heat and stirring to coat the vegetable, and while it is all still moist slide it onto a serving plate.

How hard is that?

This yields enough for two people. Ideally, there would also be a plate of Thüringer bratwurst, sliced after grilling and resting. Plus rice.
And plenty of sambal. For me.
I like sambal.


My friend the bookseller (aka "amphibian"), who also rather sneers at American football, would no doubt serve gnocchi ('nyokky') or gnudi ('nyuri') instead of rice, especially if the wurst were part of the programme.
And some braised chard (炆牛皮菜 'man ngau pei choi') too, I bet. Both red chard (紅牛皮菜 'hung ngau pei choi') and green (青牛皮菜 'cheng ngau pei choi') benefit from slowish cooking and a bit of fatty sausage.

嘩，咁靚嘅好脂肪哋啲德國香腸啫！

Vegetarians may substitute bean curd (豆腐 'dau fu') for everything they themselves would prefer not to touch, but if they traditionally cook like wasps, they should keep in mind that far too often manducare repulsiva coagulatum-fabais est, quia abominabile est.



AFTER THOUGHT

My apartment mate cooked herself some pigs tongues the other day. Slow-braised, or simmered, in a stock which was flavoured with lemon grass, oyster sauce, wine, and a little lime juice. All evening long the apartment filled with the fragrance of star-anise and meaty goodness.
I myself ate noodles with crisp veggies and chopped pork in a red curry sauce, with a hefty shplook of Sriracha. Then I got on the computer and visited Wikipedia for the rest of the evening.

I believe foot ball was on, as it certainly was yesterday.
There were scenes of howling sadness and despair.
Brutes gave tongue, and voiced despondence.
Others gloated mightily; their team!
Meh. Urk. Whatever.


Real San Franciscans are more interested in food than football.




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