IT DOESN'T SMELL LIKE VEGETABLES

What my former girlfriend and present apartment mate fails to understand is that I do indeed eat enough. She thinks my frequent food-drawings/paintings using the graphics programme on this computer are indicative of a hunger, and a lack of sustenance. I shall not disabuse her of this misconception, because indeed they are. I am yearning to travel again (present funds preclude that), I wish for someone to eat with, and I am keenly appreciate of her efforts to supply me with cheese (and other dairy products), sausages, and meatballs.
It should be mentioned that the turkey vulture says I have fatty thighs.
So I must be eating enough, I feel him pecking me.
Exploratorily. Speculating.


"Is this wizened old geezer ready to harvest yet?"


I should mention in my defense that I do my part to feed the household; fresh vegetables, condiments, fun snacky things, noodles, and fish balls. All of which I purchase in Chinatown. The most recent fish balls are a new discovery, being made of shrimp and filled with salted egg yolk. They are very delicious. And also chockful of cholesterol, so I shan't mention them to my cardiologist, although he'd probably love 'em, being himself Cantonese American and therefore by instinct or inclination likely to love, even lust, for completely unhealthy yet delicious seafood AND cholesterol-rich items.

By the way, in case you are wondering about the cheese, she is convinced that unless there is cheese in the house the resident Dutch American (me) will pine away and eventually there will be disconsolate wailing. Something that must be prevented at all costs.
Also, Northern Europeans (me again) thrive on sausages.
As well as meatballs.

Cantonese Americans (like my apartment mate) have strange misconceptions about Dutchmen. We are fragile creatures, not good at taking care of ourselves.

We are also opportunists. And we like cheese.
And she is nice, and safe to live with.
So I ain't saying anything.

Nor shall I mention that we also like streaky pork belly meat, cooked in various different ways. In soy sauce and rice wine, or steamed with ginger, stewed with preserved winter cabbage (冬菜 'tung choi'), or, as in the picture above, with salt fish (鹹魚 'haam yü').


Quick-fry the salt fish after rehydrating, decant. Pre-fry the meat (which is sliced, but not too thick), then gild a little ginger and garlic with the meat pushed to one side, add the white ends of the scallions, mix everything and cook a little over high heat, stirring. Frazzle with rice wine and a drizzle of soy sauce, add water or stock, plus a tablespoon or two of starch water.
Add the salt fish and let all simmer for a minute or two.

Heat up a clay pot. Add a little oil and perhaps some coarsely cut shallot, swirl a bit and when nicely hot dump in the meat; it should sizzle nicely. Drizzle in a little rice wine or sherry, cover, and after a few minutes add the scallion green, recover, and put the claypot on a protective pad or plate on the table.

Serve with rice. Plus, of course, sambal (chilipaste).


Please note that cooking with salt fish or shrimp paste stinkifies the apartment, so keep the kitchen door closed and the window open.



Yeah, um. My apartment mate doesn't mind my cooking smells. Which is another great thing about living with her. If she was Anglo, there would be comments, even if she was male.
Plus I'd probably be forced to eat salad. How sad.



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