OTTERS AND KAPUSNIYAK: REDEEMING CYBERSPACE

This blogger has long maintained that the main purpose of the internet, as shown by usage statistics, is to disseminate cute kitten pictures, pornography, and recipes. Which is an assertion easily put to the test. Just enter anything into your search bar, and see what comes up.

Within mere moments, you are looking at a smorgasbord of smut, Hello Kitty, and Russian cabbage recipes hosted by someone named Olga, whose only clothing appears to be a Hello Kitty Bra & Pantie set.
She's a very large woman. Possibly because of all that cabbage.
Paranoid too. Her favourite blogs make this clear.
Both Susan Duclos and Pamela G.
Seriously weird.


Naturally, having said that, you would expect me to be one man standing against a veritable storm-tide of dreck, cute, and naked.
Resilient in the face of cabbage.
Resolute.

Which I am. I manfully resist all temptation.
I am immune.

Well, actually I'm just mighty picky about temptation. If Olga were one hundred and forty pounds lighter, fifteen years younger, and had a face that radiated a brilliant snarky intelligence, or any intelligence at all, I'd probably visit her cabbage and pornography site on a regular basis. Instead of once every six months, when I have a yen for Kitty bras and kapusniyak.

Yep. Cute pictures. Hefty filth. And cabbage.
That's the internet completely.
Appalling.


So, without further ado, here's an animal photo I could not resist.


EEEEEEEEEEEP!


[I do not know who took the picture. I copied it from Benyamin Blatt's page, who got it from Art Jonak. So I can't source it, or give proper credit where it's due. But whoever took the photo has charming animal friends.]



KAPUSNIYAK
Cabbage soup from the New Frontier, which is a place that Lithuanians, Poles, and Ruthenians fought over, in, and on. For several centuries. Food is fuel, food is a fortress, food is the soul.


Half pound sauerkraut (kislaya kapusta), slightly drained.
Half of a head of white cabbage, finely shredded.
One onion, chopped.
Two carrots, peeled and diced.
Two stalks celery, diced.
Two potatoes, peeled and diced.
One pound pork ribs.
Half a pound smoked sausage, chopped.
Six to eight cups clear stock.
Three TBS tomato paste.
Three cloves garlic, minced.
Two Tsp sugar.
Two Tsp paprika.

Two to four TBS finely minced parsley.
And plenty of cilantro, if you live in SF.
Otherwise it's optional.


Brown the ribs and smoked sausage in some rendered fat, and remove to a plate. Then sauté the onion, celery, and carrot in the pot, with the garlic, till nicely gilded and fragrant. Stir in the tomato paste, and add everything else except the parsley and cilantro. Bring to a boil, lower the flame, and simmer for about an hour and a half, two hours.

Remove the pork ribs from the soup with cooking tongs, and strip the meat from the bones. Discard the bones, chop the meat and return it to the soup. Add a few grinds of pepper, and serve in individual bowls with the parsley and cilantro strewn over.
Serves four.


Have some chili peppers and a bowl of sour cream (smetana) on the table for them as wants, along with a fresh loaf of crusty bread.


NOTE: I always add caraway seeds (kimil) to cabbage dishes (kroitn, kapusti) when preparing such. But that may not be your thing.
[½ teaspoon for this recipe.]



If you want, you can imagine eating this with an otter and her whelp also sitting at the table with you. They probably have smaller bowls.
Please don't think of Hello Kitty, however.
Hello Kitty is just nasty.



FURTHER NOTE: Four years ago was when I last made kapusniyak. That was when Savage Kitten and this blogger still had a relationship thing going on. No, cabbage soup was NOT why it ended.

I haven't made cabbage soup since then.

There is no connection between cabbage soup and relationships, even though a very large Slavic woman named Olga fondly thinks so. Any link between cabbage soup and matters of the heart is purely imaginary, slightly depraved even. However, if it pleases you to dream about those two things on the same page, by all means go for it.
Food, ALWAYS, is a fit subject for sensuality.
Eating together is something fun.
Even cabbage soup.

It's very good.



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CURRY - WHAT DOES THAT MEAN TO YOU?

To many English people, nothing speaks so strongly of home as 'curry'. Which most of them never cook themselves (English can't cook; it's a genetic condition), but purchase instead from dubious restaurants run by Bengali immigrants. The two great national dishes of Britain are mystery meat Vindaloo for the yobbos and Chicken Tikka Masala for the middle-classes.
Both are actually very fine preparations, but they don't resemble Indian food very much. In point of fact, neither does Indian food.

Naan was invented by Persian speakers, kulcha ditto, and most famous "North Indian" dishes derive from the cuisine of Northwest Pakistan and Afghanistan. The tandoor, it will be recalled, was created in Central Asia by the Turkic nomads.
Roghan Josh ("grease frazzle stew") is an Afghan dish from Kashmir.
Chilies were native to Central America, cloves and nutmeg are of Indonesian origin, pepper is Tamil, Vindaloo is a bastardised Portuguese preparation further bolicksed up by Brits and restaurateurs, and rich creamy spiced-up sauces are not really common in Indian households, except among the gross pudge-pot matrons of Delhi.
Which is an absurd enclave to begin with.

Many Indians nowadays do actually enjoy a spot of 'curry' with their sarson da saag, dhal, raita, achar, and roti. And almost anything tastes better with some chilies and dark-toasted cumin. Even Chicken Tikka Masala!
Possibly excepting laddoos and sevian ki kheer, but much further research is needed.

Ghee, of course, is the great purifier and can be added to anything.
......Rivulets of golden ghee, over velvety curves, mmmmm......
...............It's clean, I tell you, clean!


Curry powder is not Indian either, but originated in the spice trade. In India it's closest relative is conceivably Tamilian sambhar powder, but the proportions of spices used to compound the product are much more Sinhalese - Malay - Indonesian in inspiration.
The consumers of curry powder, traditionally, have been English.
Refer back to snarky comment concerning genetic condition.

Two parts coriander powder, one part turmeric, one part ground toasted cumin, and one part or a hell of a lot more of fried mustard seed.
Plus other spices, in either minute or insane quantities.
Fenugreek, cayenne, cinnamon, cardamom.
More coriander won't do any harm -- a popular Delhwi meat dish bases its appeal entirely on coriander, black pepper, and green cardamom -- but increasing the proportions of turmeric and cumin (especially raw) leads to rather dubious results. Turmeric mellows upon exposure to heat and looses that earthy bitterness it has when raw, and cumin in large quantities can end up brutally dominant.


WHEN IN DOUBT, BHUNA TILL YOU DROP!

Essential to almost any curry is onion fried brown and mashed up, along with additional flavours such as methi, garlic, and ginger. Indonesians will add galangal and lemon grass, along with shrimp paste and sometimes an inordinate amount of fresh red chilipaste, and nearly everywhere rich grease and a minor souring agent are also added. The browned onion gives body to the sauce. The basic spices provide the fundament of the flavour, additions tweak it, and ghee, cream, coconut milk, tamarind, tomato, katambi (cocum), et mult altres will fine-tune taste and mouthfeel, as well as determining whether it goes with breads or rice. Both in North India and the Indonesian areas ground-up nuts may be added for extra richness. Almonds, chilgoz, and pistacchios among Hindustani speakers; peanuts, cashews, candlenuts, kluwak (pangium edule) in Java and Sumatra. Thais, Balinese, and others, also include diverse bitter fragrant kaempferia roots.
The total effect need not be strong; curry can be mild.
Whether it is soupy or dry is up to the cook.
Accompaniments vary by cuisine.

Start with the onion. Add the spices. Extend the sauce.
Add a little more spice at the end. Serve.
Provide other dishes alongside.
Wets, dries, crunchies.
Plus a starch.
Simple.


*-----Sambal, Sriracha hot sauce, krupuk, srundeng, onion salad, chutney-----*


Ground coriander is almost always part of the programme. Turmeric need not be, and cumin likewise might be missing. Almost all other spices will be a decision of the moment. Additions to the sauce are a natural inspiration, garnishes such as fried shallots, crumbled nuts, crispy crap, or minced fresh herbs, provide a lovely touch.


While the English and Dutch consider beer and ale the natural drinks to enjoy with their curries, that probably isn't a good idea. Indians might serve a buttermilk beverage, Indonesians and the Malays put a tureen with soup or singgang on the table for diners to wet their rice or drink from a separate bowl. Beer, as everyone who has been in rumbles with Northern Europeans knows, inflames the bestial passions and makes their breath profoundly rancid. As well as promoting digestive issues such as stupidity, gout, and dyspepsia.


Avoid beer. Have a glass of sherry instead.



*-----Sonf, mitha paan, succade, murabbat sfarjali, badha peg, oporto-----*




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FOOD INSPIRES POSSIBILITIES

Today I ate Leung-gwa Pan-kau Fan at a restaurant across the hill. It's one of my favorite dishes, but not anything special. A very simple mix-up of bitter melon and fresh fish collops, with a little blackbean gravy, over rice.
Very heavenly with a sploodge of hot sauce.
Many things are heavenly with a sploodge.

You can also make it at home. Just slice up the bitter melon as appropriate after cutting it in half to remove the pith and seeds. Salt it down, let it sit a while, then rinse and drain. The salting removes bitterness and makes it juicier. It's not really a melon, more like a gourd. Albeit one with a beautiful apple green hue, and ridged bumpy skin. Very healthy, and nicely bitter.
I barely salt it at all, as I am very fond of the taste.
Crisp, grassy-herby vegetal, bitter bitter bitter!

涼瓜斑球飯

After cutting the fish, let it sit for a while in egg-white whisked with a little corn-starch. That way it will firm-up nicely when tossed in the hot pan, while remaining clean and white looking. The salted black beans (豆豉) should be mashed with a little sherry. Also julienne some ginger.
A deft hand adds each ingredient to the pan at the right time, then splashes in a little sherry and clean stock to provide a sizzle and a sauce.

On top of or next to a mound of rice, it is a wonderful meal.
Simple, uncomplicated. Green, black, white.
Perfect lunch counter food.


Some dishes are best made at home, however. The reason being that one restaurant serving would be too much of a single ingredient, and might lead to a bloat.
Stuffed is okay. Filled up is good.
Bloat, however........

Consider, as an example, steamed five flower pork (蒸五花腩). If that is all that you had with your rice, you would think that you ate too much. No amount of cigars and hot tea will bring quick relief.
It, also, is easy to prepare at home: cut the meat into big chunks, rub with a little shrimp paste (鹹蝦醬) and optionally tomato ketchup (a novel idea, but it works), then put it in a bowl with a lot of shredded ginger and steam for an hour and half or more. It will be meltingly tender, rich, juicy, smooth. The ginger is essential.
All meats should be rubbed - fatty cuts with spice and condiment ere steaming, lean firm meat with oil before you slap it into the hot pan.
They are just nicer, if treated well.

I am exceptionally fond of steamed five flower pork. Nothing says home style comfort food quite like this, alongside a simple vegetable, and some rice. And it's perfect for sharing.


THE HOME KITCHEN

If you think about it, the most secure and comfortable room in the house is the kitchen, which almost everyone automatically associates with warmth, safety, good things, and happy feelings. It is where you feel most at ease, and are at your most relaxed. Largely because it's an unpretentious and utile place, where everything is reassuringly familiar.
And it smells so good!

Home-baked pizza is a marvelous aroma. So is basted turkey, so are roasts, stir-fried foods, casseroles in the oven, slow stews, and soup.
Tea, coffee, cacao, fresh ginger.
Spices, fruits, herbs.
Clean scents.
Citrus.


粥

One preparation of which I am inordinately fond, though it probably will not impress you in the slightest, is rice porridge (jook). Very often I will have it somewhere in Chinatown, but it should really be made at home. It tastes better that way.
One problem is that it is easy to end up with far too much of it.
Plus it will take a while before it's ready.

Preparing it is very simple. The proportions, though variable, are more or less ten or twelve parts liquid to one part rice. Rinse the rice to remove some of the excess starch and the impurities, then bring to a roiling boil in the liquid, turn the heat low, and simmer till the rice has fallen apart and become cloudy - creamy - smooth.
This takes several hours, and care must be taken that it does not burn or stick to the bottom of the pot. Use a heat-absorber, and stir often.

The liquid should contain a good amount of clear stock, for richness, and in the last half hour you should add goodies to cook along. Dried oysters (rinsed, soaked, cut in half), as well as some rehydrated black mushrooms and their soaking liquid. Maybe even a few pieces of Chinese sausage (臘腸).
Just before serving, stir in some sliced lean pork (瘦肉絲) or roast duck (火鴨), perhaps finely sliced fish (魚片) or chicken liver (雞肝), slivered ginger, and a drop or two of dark Chinese sesame oil (麻油) for fragrance. Garnish with chives (韭菜), and add ground white pepper to taste.
Unlike some of the other things I have mentioned, a sploodge of hot sauce is not a brilliant idea this time. That's just how it is.
Rice porridge is comfort food. Pure and sincere, affection in a bowl.
It's a warm embrace, a soft kiss on the cheek, a fond glance.
Appropriate whenever, and cheering at all times.
It's what your heart desires.
Happiness.


It's easy to add too much rice. Then compensate by adding more much liquid. And then more rice. If you're not careful, the quantity of porridge grows exponentially. And because of its creaminess and thickness, it is hard to reduce. If it is too thick, it becomes slow and gluggy, and if cooked long without enough stirring, muddy lumps may form.
On the other hand, a shortcut that works very well is to first cook the rice in just enough water till it is soft, then mix it with plenty of cold chicken stock, dump it in the blender, and whir it smooth. Another hour of slow cooking after that and it will be just right. When blending, I often add a piece of carrot, for sweetness and a faint warmth to the hue.

Porridge with black mushrooms, dried oysters, or preserved egg.
Jook (粥), tong gu (冬菇), ho si (蠔豉), pei dan (皮蛋).
Strewn with finely minced chives.
White, black, and green.
The taste of love.


The kitchen is the most magical room in the house. It is where you let your guard down, and where all your secrets are safe. This is where you entertain your dearest friends, and enjoy the nicest moments. A place of confidence, and pleasant memory. It is where you reveal yourself, and remain at ease.
The kitchen is the safest place.
Private, intimate.
Relaxed.



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SORT OF A GENTLE FOOD FILLED ESSAY

For nearly two years now I rise late on weekends, pad around the house in my sleepwear drinking coffee, and have a nice hot bath. Then I go into Chinatown for something to eat. It is not good for the soul to hide in the apartment all day, one has to get out and do something. But I have far more routine than imagination in that regard, and, as you can guess, snackipoos followed by several hours at the office are a great good. The lively crowd of people on Stockton, followed by quiet in the financial district - these complement each other.
Plus weekends are for pipe-smoking. Can't really do that at home.


3:45 PM
When I got off the bus at Clay and Stockton, a mother and her little girl disembarked also. Both were shorter than me, of course.
Other than that the woman was probably only five foot one or two, I cannot remember much about her. Young, with gentle eyes. Cheerful.
But the kid I remember distinctly. Three, maybe four years old, bright and very intelligent looking, wearing a pretty red jacket with little yellow flowers. Sparkling dark brown eyes, mop of black black hair. Small hands.
An extremely beautiful child.
She had the most engaging hopeful expression that I have ever seen.
Without speaking, she seemed to say that good things would happen.
Surely there were interesting adventures ahead?
A fine sunny day downtown, yay!

At the place where I ate a bowl of fish-slice rice porridge, the owner’s little son was saying farewell to a new best friend. At that age, children do not need much of a language in common. Both boys were the same height, barely three years old. One spoke Cantonese, the other something that sounded very much like Teochew. While the father of the little non-Cantonese speaking fellow was getting him ready to go, his new companion kissed him.
Very sweet. It was the cutest thing.

An elderly gentleman purchased two hargau and a cup of tea, then sat down and started unwrapping tea-eggs. Possibly the hargau and tea-eggs were the only thing he was going to eat today. He did not look like there was any superfluous money in his life. Gaunt, with very worn though clean clothes; clearly he wasn't a rich capitalist. Shrimp pockets and boiled eggs cannot be a very satisfying repast.
He ate calmly, not rushing, nor excessively dawdling over each bite.
Rinsed his mouth periodically with tea, then wiped his lips.
He thoroughly enjoyed his tiny meal.
Smiled afterwards.

[Fish-slice porridge (魚片粥): fresh fish curls that poach just barely in a large bowl of hot rice porridge, with shredded ginger added. Hargau (蝦餃): shrimp bonnets, being fresh chopped shrimp wrapped in a translucent skin cleverly tucked at the top and steamed. Tea-eggs (茶葉蛋): the eggs are first boiled till hard, cooled, rolled to crack the peel, then simmered again to allow the flavouring to seep in through the cracks and marbleize the surface of the egg within. Often they are kept in the tea-spice liquid for several more hours for the best flavour. Use two TBS black tea or pu-erh in a pan of water, add a hefty jigger of soy sauce, whole five-spices plus extra star anise, a slice of ginger and a large piece or two of dried tangerine peel. The first simmer is for twenty minutes after the liquid has come to boil, the second simmer will be about three hours - prolonged cooking eventually re-tenderizes the proteins.]


4:15 PM
While puffing on a post-lunch pipe on Jackson Street I saw that the windows of Yong Kee are now papered-up. The owner of the shop next door informed me that 'yes, they’re closed, all gone'. A very great pity, their haahm dan sou and gai bao were excellent.  I’m sure I’m not the only one who will miss them. They probably retired at last, and there isn’t any point in passing on the business to the Americanized generation.
So many of the familiar places are gone, the neighborhood has changed.
When people move out now, it’s usually to go to the avenues.
Only old people still embrace these streets.

[Yong Kee (容記糕粉店): a bakery and dim sum shop that dated from before the war, which had a stellar reputation and made some truly marvelous items. Mostly unknown to outsiders, as the awning was only in Chinese. Nothing in the trays was labeled. You knew what you wanted when you went in, and asked for it by name.  Haahm dan sou (鹹蛋酥) are salt-preserved egg yolks, very rich, inside a flaky pastry crust with a little sweet lotus seed paste (莲蓉) to anchor them in place. A gai bao (雞飽) is a steamed chicken-filled bun, than which there is naught finer when the mood strikes.
Regarding the post-lunch pipe, note that I have several pipes and three different pipe-tobaccos with me today: a matured red and black Virginia with Perique, a blend of red Virginia ribbon and matured red Virginia cake plus Orientals and air-cured leaf, and a profoundly fumigational pressing of red Virginia with Latakia and Turkish. I'm heading to the Occidental later this evening for a few bowls. Red Virginia dusk.]


Outside the New Orchid Pavilion a cluster of retirees were discussing the opera poster in the window. I’ve seen the same one all over Chinatown, some well-known artist from HK is going to perform. Seven entirely different plays! Seven Cantonese operas I’ve never heard of, and of which I have no recordings at all in my collection. Maybe these are unique rarities, but more likely they're minor theatre pieces that allow a greater interpretational range – the other ‘stars’ are probably amateurs from the local opera clubs.
I’ve heard folks practicing in the basement on Sacramento Street, as well as at the club near the Broadway.  Some of them have far more enthusiasm than skill. Few have less.
The retirees were animated, and probably looked forward to a good show.
Behind the window pane, one of the people who works at the New Orchid Pavilion was intently observing them.
Would they come in? Were they going to eat?
Hey, how about some business here!
There’s an empty table in the rear. Two empty tables!
Eat, eat, eat! Oh please!

4:45 PM
Having been unable to satisfy my craving for a haahm dan sou at Yong Kee, I stopped by another bakery instead. They didn’t have any haahm dan sou, so I ordered a lo po bing (老婆餅) and a cup of coffee. While enjoying my flaky wintermelon pastry, a young mother and her little child came in, got stuff at the counter, and sat down at the very next table.
I recognized them as being the two that had gotten off the bus at Stockton.
The mother asked the little girl about her lo po bing.

“Ho m-ho sik-ga?”

The tyke beamed up at her.

“Dee! Lishus!!!”

Yep.



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FROM BARBECUE TO SAND DADDY; A SAUCE POST

The other day I was discussing food with a gentleman from Louisiana who had spent some time in South East Asia. He mentioned a sauce his mother used, which she could no longer find.
I think I know roughly what it was. But really, it could be almost anything.

Sauce, in the South-East Asian context, means the entire spectrum from freshly made and soupy liquids to dark foul-smelling pastes that must be tempered and made palatable by diluting and cooking.
Sometimes they're concentrates, sometimes fermentation products.
And sometimes surprisingly familiar. Albeit cleverly disguised.

Here are two examples, both multinational.


燒烤醬 SIU HAAU JEUNG

Chinese barbecue sauce, as used in many restaurants, is one of the earliest examples of fusion cuisine.
From most to least, the ingredients are ketchup, apple cider vinegar, orange juice, and finely minced onion. Plus a little mustard powder, black pepper, chili oil, chili paste, and salt, as considered appropriate by the cook.
Generally three times as much ketchup as vinegar, four times as much vinegar as orange juice, and four times as much orange juice as honey. The quantity of the other ingredients ranges from minor to minute.
Usually it will be reduced to a thick gloop for storage, but it is also often compounded as needed and dumped over the raw meat to marinate.
Some cooks also add red miso (紅味噌 'hong mei chang') to the recipe.

Well-marbled fatty pork, whether 三層肉 ('saam chang yiuk': three layer meat), 梅花豬肉 ('mui faa chü yiuk': plum blossom pork), 五花腩 or 五花肉 ('ng faa naam', 'ng faa yiuk': five flower pork brisket), sauced and rubbed with the cooked-down version, then roasted in the oven or braised on the stove top, is quite scrumptious.

I know you've had it. Just think of all those delicious riblets!

It is also a stellar marinade for chicken wings, by the way. If you make it at home, adhere to the general proportions of ketchup, vinegar, juice, and honey as outlined above, then add the remaining ingredients to taste, before simmering down. It will keep for a while in the refrigerator.


沙茶醬, 沙爹醬 SATE SAUCE

The old-style Chinese sate sauce must be differentiated from the newer version. Both ultimately derive from a South-East Asian model brought back by Fujianese (Hokkienese) returning to China, but the version that has dried shrimp and fish-paste as a significant percentage is more of a longtime Chinese settlement in Java taste, and must be used sparingly as just one ingredient among many, whereas the modern Chinese version will contain more peanuts and the customary East-Indian spices.
Both 沙茶醬 and 沙爹醬 are pronounced 'sa-te cheo' in Hokkien, and mean the same thing. But 沙茶醬 (Cantonese: 'sa cha jeung') has the dried shrimpy flavour, 沙爹醬 (Cantonese: 'sa de jeung') is peanutty.
Either may be used as a component in other sauces, or condimentally when grilling or hot potting.

Note that the standard Hokkien term for sauce is 汁 (Hokkien pronunciation: chiap; Cantonese: 'jap'), from whence the second syllable in the English word 'ketchup' (茄汁) and the Malay-Javanese term 'ketjap' for soy-sauce. The difference between the concepts 醬 ('jeung') and 汁 ('jap') is one of compounding, processing, or fermentation, versus moisture and juice. Soy sauce (豉油 'si yau') belongs in the 醬 category, fish sauce (魚露 'yü lou') is clearly more 汁 than anything else.

KETCHUP

Speculatively, the path whereby the term 茄汁 ("keh-chap": tomato sauce) became the Javanese, Malay, and Indo-Dutch term for soy sauce may be explained by the habit of pickling fresh ingredients in a soy-sauce base, such as likely happened with tomatoes. If the resultant product is simmered down considerably till it approximates the same volume as the amount of soy sauce which was added, the salt content will be similar to that of soy sauce, hence it can be stored, and the taste will have been intensified.

Modern-day Indonesian soy sauce is often sweetened, which likewise provides a combination and layering of flavours. Once tomatoes became more common in the region, their addition would have been seen as an unnecessary complication; why pickle them when you can use them fresh?
Similar processes are still used to prepare strong condiments and non-perishable sauces by both Chinese and South-East Asians today. Mushroom soy sauce (草菰老抽 'tsou-gu lou-jau') is an example of one such. Look for either Pearl River Bridge brand (珠江橋牌) or Amoy (淘化大同, 淘大牌).


The Dutch version of sate sauce often consists of fried onion, peanut butter, palm sugar, tamarind or vinegar, chili sauce, and fish paste. Some versions are shockingly bad, some similar to the mediocre sweet versions preferred by Thais and Singaporeans.

Indonesians make the best. They invented it.  It's a signature of their cuisine, and they add it to any number of meat and vegetable dishes.
But unlike the Dutch, they do not use it on French Fries.


About the title of this post?

沙爹醬 'sa de jeung': sand daddy sauce. The older name (沙茶醬) makes just as little sense, as it means 'sand tea sauce'.
Both are phonetic borrowings of the Javanese and Malay term 'saté', referring to grilled skewered meat.
Satay should not be confused with 'panggang', which is more like Southern-style barbecue, in that a large cut or the entire animal is slow-roasted and basted for several hours.


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LOVE AND ENTERTAINMENT ON A RAINY DAY

This may be the last rain of the season. And, given that it isn't a summer rain - which we never have in San Francisco, indeed, we shall not skip through the fragrant grass in our pretty summer frocks while warm droplets bejewel our dewy visage - the best course of action early in the morning seemed to roll over and go back to sleep. Half an hour later I went into the kitchen to fix myself a hot cup tea with milk and sugar, then went back to bed.

An hour later I woke up refreshed, ready for the day. Which meant another cup of tea, and back to bed with a book chosen at semi-random from the shelves.
The 'Complete Yes Minister', detailing the events of a fictitious government minister heading the Department of Administrative Affairs in England, the Permanent Secretary, and the minister's Principal Private Secretary.

The television series was very witty. My father and his wife introduced it to me when I visited them in the last year of my father's life. They had taped the episodes for re-watching.
The book is, if anything, a darker more intense experience.
It is the perfect handbook for anyone trying to deal with modern life. Everything bureaucratese is made plain and cynically thrown into perspective. In a word, it is a vademecum for the office worker and the junior technocrat alike.
It is also very witty.


SEVERAL CUPS OF TEA LATER

Feeling somewhat esurient by mid-afternoon, I got dressed and headed out into the damp. On the bus over the hill towards snackipoos, I was seated behind two young women.
My ears perked up when one of them said "sex is a pain in the ass!"
Nope, no idea what lead into that remark. Hadn't been paying attention till then.
Lost in my own 'Sir Humphrey Appleby-like' thoughts.

First thing that came to mind was 'my dear, if it's a pain in the ass, you're doing it all wrong!'

"SEX IS A PAIN IN THE ASS"

Seriously. Sex should NOT be a pain in the ass. It should be a warm comfy smiling experience, perhaps messy, sweaty even, followed by a happy glow, a nap, and several cups of tea. It should be fun. Go out together for something to eat later. Maybe some nice Thai food, or an Indonesian ryst tafel.
Or have plenty tea and hot buttery scones while still en deshabille.
With or without sex preceding or following.
Just cuddling is okay.

If sex is a 'pain' in any part of your anatomy, there may be more going on than meets the eye, and far less to your relationship than you would wish.

Perhaps not enough tea?

Either learn to communicate better, or consider an alternative mode of physical pleasure.
Try gourmandise, or touch football.
Both of those work for certain people, of either gender.
Or simply collect expensive designer handbags, and watch the ball game on teevee.
Both of those also work for certain people, of either gender.

Sex is roughly five percent technique, and ninety plus percent inspiration. Without the latter, you are spinning your wheels.
Well, something. But there has to be a motivated personal involvement.

When I got off the bus I was still deep in thought. Ended up not having snackipoos, but a full meal instead.
Plus several cups of milk tea.

In a short while I shall be going to the Occidental to smoke my pipe and daydream.
There are no cups of tea there. And consequently I will not think of sex.


RYST TAFEL

Literally 'rice table', and considered the quintessential Indonesian meal.  Which it isn't.
The term names a long late lunch or early dinner in the Dutch East Indies among the planter class, when many people would get together to socialize and eat. A multitude of dishes, with appropriate condiments, and rice. Yes, it was based on the local food - primarily the village feasts - but as the attendees came from different regional backgrounds, and the host no matter his or her origin held to the concept that there should be enough for everybody, and a variety sufficient to satisfy everyone, these meals became gigantic affairs with dishes from all over the archipelago, with sides and condiments that also reflected that diversity.

In the final years of the colonial period many hotels and fancy restaurants turned the ryst tafel into ponderous spectacular affairs. It was, after all, an opportunity for colonials out in the hinterlands to spend some time in town, put on the dog, and get away from the dreariness of their isolation.

In the Netherlands the ryst tafel has become a sampling of many dishes shared among a group of diners at an Indonesian restaurant. For people who do not know much about the cuisine it is the perfect way to discover new tastes, and the restaurant staff will happily recommend set menus and explain what the foods are.

But always, rice. Plain white rice. It is the basis of a meal.

A wet coconut curry (gulai), a dry curry (kerrie), a thick-sauced meat dish (opor, korma, kalio, or rendang), plus various vegetable dishes with sauces based on coconut milk, or peanut-sauce, or tamarind.
Something from the ocean, blanched vegetables with chilies and shrimp-paste, a green cooked soft in a rich sauce (sayur lodeh), mixed dishes stirfried with chili paste and other things (sambal goreng), plus small condimental sides such as atjar (spicy pickles), asinan (wet dressed chopped salad), petjil (spicy salad with shrimp-paste and crumbled peanuts), patjeri (a sweet spicy dish that resembles a cooked pickle of sorts, often with coconut milk in the sauce), kroepoek (kropek; shrimp chips and similar items), seroendeng (serunding; mild-spiced toasted shredded coconut or other things with often peanuts added).
And, of course, that most typical of Dutch desserts, pisang goreng (fried banana).

For a party of four or five people, three or four dishes plus rice and soup is plenty. Your tastebuds won't get overwhelmed, and with two or three sambals (chili preparations) along with something crisp-spicy-crunchy, it's still a feast.
Avoid the pisang goreng afterwards.
Follow dinner with a shot of espresso or cardamom coffee, and a cigar.

Perfect rainy day food.
In case you were wondering.


If it's still around, Restaurant Poentjak Pas on the Nassau Kade near the Second Helmer Street in Amsterdam is an excellent place for a ryst tafel. There's also a place around the corner on the Overtoom (Restaurant Kartika), which does good Indonesian food. And not too far away, on the Spui, is a business that does the antique ambiance very well - Kantjil en de Tijger.
But the best Indo food is in Den Haag.
Kota Radja.




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THE VERY LONG WEEKEND

I do not eat breakfast in the morning. It takes me two cups of coffee to wake up plus a bit of reading, and only after I've shaved and showered am I ready for the day.
During the week that means heading off to work at that point, where over a period of four or five hours my stomach will gradually make its emptiness known.
On weekends I pad around in my jammies until my roommate leaves, whereupon I head into the bathroom to take a very long bath.
Warm water, luxurious soaking, and time to kill.
I lounge amid the rising steam.
Toes will be twiddled!

On Saturday I save the first pipe of the day for when I head to the office after a mid-afternoon bite in Chinatown.
Often Virginia tobacco, timed to last until I'm near the building.
Today, for instance, I indulged in a bowl of Samuel Gawith's St. James Flake, and was knocked over by how delicious it was.
In every way a thoroughly decadent and effete pleasure.
Not as good as sex, but oddly reminiscent thereof.

[Expect a full review of St. James Flake on this blog at some point, possibly in over-the-top terms, with metaphors of a very dubious nature. Pipe tobacco is for dirty minds.]


Tea at the office, plus several hours of reading on the internet.
It's a good place to stay for the afternoon - alone, but not lonesome.
Then, long after dark, off to the cigar bar for a dreamy end to an empty day.


My roommate always has a much fuller Saturday.

Even though she and wheelie boy have had some marvelous blow-ups, she's still together with that man - and she still gets that nauseating silly grin on her face whenever she thinks of him - so she will spend from lunchtime till late evening in his company.

After she's bounced around since the crack of dawn, fixed herself breakfast, chatted with him on the phone, and done various other things, she leaves the house between twelve and one o'clock to go have lunch with him.
I will not see her again till Sunday morning.
Usually only briefly then.

For a few hours at least I enjoy the peace of having the apartment to myself.
A nice long soak is profoundly good for the soul.

Eventually hunger and a longing for the presence of people combine to drive me out.


LUNCH TODAY, DINNER TOMORROW

Today I ate at a place where no one spoke English and all the dishes were in Chinese.
Because of the New Year fair and parade I decided to hunt for food further up hill, and picked this particular place entirely on a whim.
I didn't notice their extensive selection of offerings till I looked up from my shrimp bonnets and siu mai.

They are far more than just a snack counter.
This is a small neighborhood eatery that caters to a picky audience with very home town tastes, but which may not yet have quite the wealth to spend recklessly.
Their kitchen promises a number of yummy dishes.


FOR INSTANCE:

鹹魚蒸肉餅
Haahm yu tsing yiuk bing (steamed pork patty with salt fish).
姜葱田雞
Geung tsung tin kai (ginger and scallion frog).
涼瓜炒蛋
Leung gwa chau dan (scrambled egg and bitter melon)
枝竹班球
Kei tsuk ban kau (dried tofu with fish chunks).
蒜香肉排
Suen heung yiuk pai (dry garlic spareribs).
四季豆雞球
Sei gwai dau kai kau (stringbean chicken stirfry).
咖哩羊腩煲
Ka-lei yeung naam po (curry lamb in clay pot).
鹹魚茄子煲
Haahm yu kai-tzi po (salt fish and eggplant clay pot).
臘味煲子飯
Laap mei po-tzi fan (preserved pork belly and sausage clay pot rice).
冬菇雞煲子飯
Dong-gu kai po-tzi fan (black mushroom and chunked chicken clay pot rice).
鹹魚臘味煲子飯
Haahm yu laap mei po-tzi fan (salt fish and preserved pork clay pot rice).
麻婆豆腐, 黑椒排骨, 魚香雞球, 海鮮湯麵, 芥蘭肉片 ........
Mapo daufu, hakchiew pai gwat, yu heung kai kau, hoisin tong min, kai lan yiuk pien ........
[Respectively: tofu with spicy meat sauce, black pepper spare ribs, stir-fried garlic sauce chicken curls, seafood variety noodle soup, kai lan with pork...]


Many other dishes involving dried fish (鹹魚 haahm yu), bitter melon (涼瓜 leung gwa), tofu sheet (枝竹 kei tsuk), stringbeans (四季豆 sei gwai dau), preserved pork product (臘味 laap mei), in various combinations with beef, pork, chicken, whether sautéed or in a clay pot (煲子), perhaps involving ginger and scallion (姜葱 geung tsung), curry (咖哩 ka-lei).
Rice plates, noodle preparations, soup.
All at reasonable prices.

The siu mai and shrimp bonnets were utterly delicious.

It is a place that bears considerable investigation.

I look forward to going there again. Lunch or dinner.

Another person who can't read Chinese well but does know Cantonese would be ideal company at the table.
I can read everything they have on the wall, but I'm not a fluent speaker.
If there are two of us, we can share a selection of dishes.
More fun that way, and there's more to taste.
No, I'm not taking my roommate.

[Expect a review of the restaurant, probably soon. Until then I shan't mention the name or the address. But if those siu mai and shrimp bonnets are any indication, their prepared dishes are probably exceedingly tasty too.]


Dining with someone who likes trying something new is always better.
There is more that can be happily discovered that way.
And sharing tasty food is a pleasure.


Weekends mean solitude and smoking my pipe a lot.
Plus enjoying long baths and good food.

There used to be more.


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DINNER FOR ONE

In the past year and a half I've cooked rice probably three times. The strangeness of that is that rice is one of the fundaments of a meal. If there is no rice, have you really eaten?

A proper meal consists of soup, two or three dishes, white rice, and a chili-paste preparation (sambal).
Rice is key.

It's rather pointless to cook rice for only one person.
Actually, it's quite as ridiculous to cook soup, main dishes, and a sambal just for yourself.


THE WELL-DRESSED TABLE

Several things combine to make dinner. Soup is optional, but a variety of dishes isn't.
There should be a mainly vegetable dish, a mixed dish, and a meat or seafood dish. None of these need to be huge portions, and cooking them really doesn't take much time.
Even a stew as one of them doesn't require any great effort.
I usually do three dishes while the rice is cooking, and wash the pots before putting the food on the table.

I do not cook very much nowadays.
Odd, considering how often food is mentioned here.
When you eat alone, talking about food is more fun than making it.



RICE PLUS TWO OR THREE DISHES

In addition to cooked rice, the following:


Main dish ONE

Poached fish with shredded ginger and black mushrooms.
OR
Stirfried chicken and Chinese broccoli.
OR
Steamed fatty pork with ginger and shrimp paste.
OR
A nicely roasted bird.


Main dish TWO

Meatballs and dried oysters on a bed of greens.
OR
Sautéed longbeans with dried shrimp and chili-paste.
OR
Shrimp stir-fried with eggplant.
OR
Peppery lamb stew.


Main dish THREE

Pan-fried fish with well-thought out garnishes.
OR
Rice wine and soy sauce stewed chicken.
OR
Black-pepper crusted lamb chops.
OR
Mussels in broth with scallions and cilantro.


Main dish FOUR

Sautéed mushrooms with little bits of sausage.
OR
Coconut curry potatoes and shrimp with basil leaves.
OR
Spinach stir-fried with pork and shrimp-paste.
OR
Mixed vegetables and chicken chunks with garlic sauce.


Main dish FIVE

Cold boiled pork with garlic sauce.
OR
Steamed lemongrass chicken.
OR
Stirfried mustard green with oyster sauce.
OR
Asparagus with caper-lemon-mustard sauce.


And so forth, and so on.

One of the main dishes might actually be roast duck or soy-sauce chicken from one of the take-out counters in Chinatown.
Plus soup - for instance chicken broth with tofu skin, or tamarind and fish with some chopped vegetables. Basically something that serves to refresh and augment rather than fill.
Although a zesty seafood chowder or an Indonesian chicken and vegetable soup could very well be the main course.
A spicy sambal on the side. Along with rice, sambal is essential.
Lime and fish sauce may also play a role.
Perhaps as a dip.


I usually don't bother preparing dinner anymore.


I rather miss cooking.


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GOOD FOR WHAT AILS

At tea time I headed into C'town for a late lunch. Actually it was a long delayed breakfast, and given that I hadn't eaten since yesterday afternoon, I should have been ravenous. Not so. Mildly peckish, yes.
The best thing for an appetite is the presence of a charming woman to share a meal, which you probably realize is the one thing most markedly missing in my otherwise "very full" life.
A nice person with whom to eat makes food taste much better!
Heck, it might even lead to THREE meals a day.
Instead of one every 24 hours or so.
Just not hungry much.


RIVER NOODLE SOUP

Ended up at the San Sun Restaurant, where the owner happily recognized me. Since it relocated from the building on Stockton Street it has become one of my favourite places to eat, largely because of the food. Affordable, and considering the sheer quality of their dishes, as well as the cleanliness of place, it is quite a bargain.
A lovely bowl of broad rice stick noodles in a clean broth, with beansprouts, chopped scallion, cilantro, and a sprinkle of crispy fried onion shreds for garnish. Plus a plate of thin grilled pork, with that marvelous slightly sooty fatty taste.
And milk tea over ice.

[San Sun Restaurant: 三陽咖啡餐屋 (saam-yeung kafei tsan-ok), 848 Washington Street, San Francisco, CA 94108. It's between Grant and Stockton, on the corner of Ross Alley. Rice stick noodles in broth with grilled pork: 燒猪肉河粉 (siu chü yiuk ho fan). Grilled pork: 燒猪肉 (siu chü yiuk). Broad rice stick noodles: 河粉 (ho fan: "river noodles"). Iced milk tea: 凍紅茶奶 (tung hong cha nai).]

I scoped out the other customers who were reflected in the mirrors lining the walls.
Two animated white women, one of whom demonstrated awkward dexterity with her chopsticks. A table with South Americans joyously scarfing huge mounds of shrimp-fried rice and chowmein. A junior HK goomba and his moll. A sweet young couple at another table, both obviously ABC.
A gentle elderly white gentleman and his Cantonese wife. Some Mandarin speakers. Plus a European tourist family happily chowing down on stuff that from that distance I could not identify.
I'm sure it was food, though.

Afterwards, I headed around the corner into the alley, lighting up in front of the 南海同鄉會. I'm not sure exactly where Naam Hoi (南海) district is in Canton Province, but guessing by the location of their association hall it cannot be very important here in SF. All the big associations are on Grant Avenue or Waverly.
Ross Alley is not, strictly speaking, the epicentre of high status.

Opposite the other end of the alley on Jackson, a little down the street, is a small enterprise which may not be even noticed by outsiders.
The items in their window are not identified with name tags, and the name of the place is listed only in Chinese, on the awning and on the old-fashioned black and gold sign hung inside: 容記糕粉.
There is no English name.
It's next to Tung Shing Trading Co., in case you're wondering.


YONG KEE RICE NOODLE COMPANY

They make various dumplings, cookies, and dim sum items. And while they are very well known for their large and tasty chicken buns, for me the main draw is the best 鹹蛋酥 (haahm dan so) in Chinatown. Haahm dan so are small dome shaped pastries with a crumbly sweet crust, enclosing a salted egg yolk held in place by lotus seed paste. They are absolutely superlative with a cup of hot milk tea.
Because Yong Kee does not have tables, you have to buy them to take home.
I purchased six. I don't think my roommate has ever had one. She'll probably enjoy one or two of them for breakfast tomorrow.
Think of haahm dan so as similar to mooncakes. But more delicious, less refined. And available all year round.

[容記糕粉店 (yong gei gou fan diem), 732 Jackson Street, San Francisco, CA 94133. 415-986-3759. ]


Tasty food, a caffeinated beverage, delicious pastries, and a pipe.
Not a substitute for love, but a darn good cure for a headache.



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CHINESE BROCCOLI - A SANE ALTERNATIVE TO THAT HORRID VEGETABLE YOU NORMALLY EAT!

Chinese Broccoli is easier to cook than Italian Broccoli, not malodorous, and far less woody and cabbagy.
It is slightly more bitter, but that adds inestimably to its appeal.
After washing and chopping, blanch briefly in boiling salted water, remove, drain, rinse with cold water, then stirfry. When the pan is good and hot add a splash of sherry or stock to flash-steam the vegetable.
A few drops of sesame oil for fragrance, and you're done.
It's wonderful with shrimp-sauce, oyster sauce, or combined with fish or meat (also briefly pre-cooked).


芥蘭, 芥蘭芯, 或蘭芯菜也...

If you're looking for it at a Chinese store or on a restaurant menu, you will probably see it listed as 芥蘭 (kai-lan) or 蘭芯 (lan-sam).

The second term, lan-sam, refers generally to the pithy inner stalks with the outer leaves removed.

For instance: 炒芥蘭芯 (chau kai-lan sam) is stir-fried Chinese broccoli, 蠔油蘭芯 (hou-yau lan-sam) is the stalky parts stirfried with oyster sauce.
蝦醬芥蘭 (haa-jeung kai-lan) is Chinese Broccoli flash-stirfried with a dollop of fragrant shrimp paste (鹹蝦醬 haahm-haa jeung), some chili, and jiggers stock and rice wine.
Most delicious!


Now, please stop reheating that sulfurous other 'thing' in the office microwave.



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PLEASANT CHINATOWN INTERLUDE

The period between Christmas and New Year was lovely.
Short days at the office, followed by a relaxed lunch, and a pipe.
Only a few minor cloud whisps in the sky.....


Monday the 26th.
Had bitter-melon chicken over rice (凉瓜雞球飯 leung-gwa kai-kau fan) at Joy Hing Barbecue Noodle House (再興黄毛雞粉 Tsoi Hing wong-mo kai fan) on Kearny Street. Tasty, but it could have been better. They cut the bittermelon straight across rather than at a slant (which is a more exciting cut, cooking-wise), and used more salted black bean (豆豉 dausi) than I would have added. Normally I will simply have rice-stick noodles (河粉 ho-fan; 'river noodles') in soup at Joy Hing, but I was feeling adventurous. Why stick with the tried and true? And I am very fond of bitter melon.
I discovered that the patient waitress with the nice smile has cousins who work during lunch time on weekdays.
She herself doesn't.
So I should probably only go there evenings or weekends.
Service excellent at all times, drip coffee likewise splendid also.


Tuesday the 27th.
Wonton noodle soup (雲吞湯麵 wantan tong mien) at Hon's (洪記麵家 Hung Gei Mien Ga) on Kearny.
Tasty. Shrimp and pork mince in tender dough skins, al dente fresh noodles, stock made with dried flounder as part of the fond.
This place is odd because half of the people who work there are Mandarin-speakers, the others are elderly Cantonese. The northerners perfectly represent what everyone always finds mildly unfortunate about them, namely that they are larger than normal, and have meatier features. This does not detract in any way from the experience.
Darn fine wonton.


Wednesday the 28th.
Washington Street, grilled pork and river noodles in broth (燒猪肉河粉 siu chü yiuk ho fan) at San Sun Restaurant (三陽咖啡餐屋 saam yeung kafei tsan-ok) on Washington.
Yummy. Scrumptious. Orgasmic. Especially with hot sauce.
Followed by Vietnamese coffee (越南咖啡 YuetNaam kafei).


Thursday the 29th.
Nah, ain't gonna mention where I ate. Reason being that it was not up to par. An "educational" experience at a crowded and well-known place.
Poached chicken and roast duck with rice, Hong Kong style milk-tea. The food was barely okay, the milk-tea with extra condensed milk was good..... but had its very own wading pool. Harried waitresses and an atmosphere of chaotic frustration.
One of the people at the next table was falling asleep into the cold remains of his iron-plate steak dinner, most of the other customers were having noodle soup or spaghetti.

Why do I see a large mound of potato salad over there?
It looks seriously past its due-date.
Came with the steak dinner.

Overmuch absurd.


Friday the 30th.
Back to Joy Hing. Yellow-fuzz chicken and river noodles in broth (黄毛雞粉 wong-mo-kai fan). Plus, of course, Vietnamese coffee.
Superlative as usual. Heaven itself, twixt a warm bowl and a cold glass.
Listened to two gruff Mandarin-speaking male customers and a limp noodle of a woman at the next table seriously discussing San Francisco - which baffles them - as well as a taped Cantonese comedy show from Kuala Lumpur filled with hysterical laughter and zaniness. Perhaps the studio audience was told they'd all be slaughtered if they didn't make pronto with the giddy noise?
I hope they turn that crap off in the evening when I intend to be there again, because it really isn't an improvement.


Saturday the 31st. and Sunday the 1st.
Snackipoos Saturday, 肉鬆包 and 蛋撻 for breakfast on Sunday, and a late lunch at a Vietnamese restaurant overlooking the park.
Basically three different places for coffee (咖啡) and eaties.
At the Viet place you can add an egg to everything.
Each time, food was followed by a pipefull.

I smell lovely -- you will please follow the pleasant aroma of pipe tobacco to find the foxy Dutch-American.


Monday the 2nd.
Darn. The charming small woman with the beautiful hands is off on Mondays!
Woe!
Oh well, the steamed pork cake with salt fish (鹹魚肉餅 haahm yu yiuk bing) is nevertheless delicious, and both 'aunties' are kinda flabbergasted that I'm eating it with evident enjoyment. How strange!
The other two customers in the place are a serious Chinese Christian fundamentalist who doesn't remember me thank heavens and his potential long-suffering life-mate the poor dear. Other than their humourless demeanor, there isn't much interesting about them.
Loaded up my pipe and waltzed out feeling on top of the world.


By my standards, it was a very productive week.


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DISAPPEARI​NG RESTAURANT​S ON STOCKTON STREET IN SAN FRANCISCO

You may not have noticed, but Stockton Street has become somewhat poorer. Four good eateries have recently closed down, in order that we may dig a metro line. Their locations are vacant, and the long building at the north end of the block where they were will probably be torn down soon.

You's Dimsum. Little Paris. San Sun. Joy Hing.
Respectively: yummy cheap snackiepoos, Vietnamese sandwiches, oodles of noodles, and superlative hot chicken noodle soup (phở gà).
Plus Vietnamese coffee with ice and condensed milk (cà phê nâu đá) at two of them: Little Paris and Joy Hing.
There will be far less fun on Stockton now that they're gone.


But they have all found new spaces.


得意糕點
YOU'S DIMSUM
Old address: 937 Stockton Street.
New address: 675 Broadway, San Francisco, CA 94133.
Tel. 415-781-6923

小巴黎咖啡室
LITTLE PARIS COFFEE SHOP
Old address: 939 Stockton Street.
New address: 2305 Irving Street, San Francisco, CA 94122.
Tel. 415-681-7666

三陽咖啡餐屋 [麵飯粥粉]
SAN SUN RESTAURANT
Old address: 941 Stockton Street.
New address: 848 Washington Street, San Francisco, CA 94108.
Tel. 415-296-8228

再興黄毛雞粉
JOY HING B.B.Q. NOODLE HOUSE
Old address: 943 Stockton Street.
New address: 710 Kearney Street, San Francisco, CA 94108.
Tel. 415-981-0531


With the exception of Little Paris, they are within easy walking distance of their previous location. And Joy Hing will be a most welcome addition to my lunch or dinner list, as it is now only a stroll away from work. They plan to re-open on November 14.
I'll let you know if there are any delays.



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BON APPÉTIT

Eating in solitude is a symptom of disease, insanity, disgrace, untouchability, and personality malfunction.
We were not meant to eat alone, we are social animals. Eating with someone is a manifestation of connection and belonging. And shared food tastes better.

Eating lunch at one's desk, or going to a restaurant by oneself, is not dining with other people. It's barely better than simply sustaining the body.

People in psych wards and hospitals eat alone - when you think about it, the tray brought to the bed of the invalid is perhaps one of the most brutal aspects of modern medicine.
Nothing says "outcaste", "plague carrier", "possibly soon dead", and in any case "discardable individual" quite so much.


"Here's some fuel. If you get better, we CAN get rid of you. If you don't get better, we WILL get rid of you.
Now obediently shovel it in, and please don't bother us while you're doing so. We really don't give a damn."


Lone wolves and rogue elephants eat alone. Both belong to social species with recognizable group dynamics. Yet neither solitary creature has companions with whom to dine.
Whether or not they nourish themselves or starve is not of concern to others of their kind.
They could just stop eating, really, it wouldn't matter.


The single-person-serving has to be one of the sickest manifestations of social custom ever invented. It says that one does not want to share, any others at the table are merely background noise, and in any case they are almost certainly too selfish and culinarily eccentric to want any part of what one is eating.
They're just there, but they might as well be not - there is no commonality to be found among them.
Such deliberate demarcation and delimitation makes a mockery out of breaking bread together.

"No, that's okay, you can go ahead and eat all of that weird nasty muck which we despise, really...... and you can't have any of ours! Don't touch me!"

When you think about it, it kinda puts a damper on lunching with a group, doesn't it?
You're supping in company by pure coincidence, you don't have any tastes in common, you're not eating the same things.

Shared food is sacramental. Solitary food is, more or less, carrion.


What are you planning to do this evening?


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SOUR 你嘅 臭 GRAPES

No love, no affection, no warm cuddling, no wild sex with gay abandon.
And no fried chicken.

The fried chicken would make up for a lack of the other four things.
Sort of.
But, apparently, there is NO fried chicken either.

I should have learned by now that if I rely on my SF friends for fried chicken I will get royally screwed.

This evening there was a rematch. Someone, I forget who, was unhappy about the results of the fried chicken cook-off several months ago.
Forty pounds of chicken. Four contestants.
Same people as the previous event, and I heard that the fried chicken that evening was just about fantabulous.
Why, they raved about it for weeks! afterwards!

Unlike the last time, I got there early.
But, as one of the contestants was disqualified because we waited for him for half an hour - he couldn't flag down a cab with his bucket of chicken - when the contest was opened up I held off.
I felt it was the gallant thing to do.
It would be so sad when he got here, with his losing entry, if everyone was already full, and no one wanted his fried chicken.
That's okay. Let the rabid piranhas descend on the other three batches like a horde of hungry locusts.
I'll wait. I'm sure his fried chicken is fine.

By six thirty five there was no more fried chicken.

Eric waited. A nice blonde mother of grown children waited.
A woman with a lovely bosom waited.
And I waited.

Last time I didn't get any fried chicken.
And I was so looking forward to it, too!
Today I waited for over two hours.
And didn't get any fried chicken.

How frikkin' long does it take to catch a cab in San Francisco?!?

It has been a year of no love, no affection, no warm cuddling, no wild sex with gay abandon.
I'll settle for some fried chicken.

Left the bar about ten minutes ago.
By which time I had lost my appetite.
Hadn't had a conversation with a live human being since seven o'clock.
The mother left with her roommate. The young lady with the nice bosom was disconsolately staring off into space.
Eric was chatting with miz T.
I was in a corner by myself.
My personal magnetism succesfully kept everyone away.

No social interaction. No love, no affection, no warm cuddling, no wild sex with gay abandon.

AND NO FRIED CHICKEN!

As a matter of principle, seeing as America is determined to deny me any and all fried chicken, I will avoid that dish for one HELL of a long time.
You don't want me to have fried chicken? Fine! That's just fine! Really!
It's TOTALLY fine!
I won't have any fried chicken!

Don't need your horrible greasy nearly burned chewy tasteless southern relative of miniature velociraptor anyway!

Hmmmph!


Dew nei-ge low mow, sei meikok naam fong kuei.
Ngoh m-yiew!


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LET US SHARE OLEAGINOUS SUBSTANCES

I’ve been thinking an awful lot about food lately.
Mostly stuff I used to eat – things which I haven’t had for over a year now.
Like liver pâté, Bearnaise sauce, chicken Kiev, and oysters.

I woke up this morning with the words to “The Walrus and the Carpenter” going through my head.

But four young Oysters hurried up,
All eager for the treat:
Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
Their shoes were clean and neat--
And this was odd, because, you know,
They hadn't any feet.

Four other Oysters followed them,
And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
And more, and more, and more--
All hopping through the frothy waves,
And scrambling to the shore.

Oysters. To be steamed, with either black beans or green chili and ginger.
Or made into a nice serving of Oysters Rockefeller.
Deepfried with a tangy sauce to dip.
Po'boy.


IT'S SMOOEE!

Mostly the stuff I haven't had in a while is rich food that requires accompaniment by other side dishes to tone down the total effect. Eaten by themselves, they lead to a heavy stomach and the possibility of gout. The Dutch word "smeuig" applies admirably. Sauces of an emulsified or bonded nature, goos and dips with just enough oil or butter to make them luscious in the mouth.
Juicy, thickish, and zesty.
Smooee. There's nothing like it.

The oyster is a remarkably smooee beast. Just chock full of nutrition, and velvety on the tongue.
Or grilled and served with melted butter.
Mmmmm, smeuig!

"I weep for you," the Walrus said:
"I deeply sympathize."
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.

Can't really order them by oneself in a restaurant - too much of a good thing.
Nor is it fun to make them at home, as eating a feast alone is rather like dressing up and finding that the ball was cancelled.


HYPTHETICAL ADVERTISEMENT

I'm thinking of placing a personal announcement, just don't know what publication would be suitable, or would even consider publishing it.

Wanted: young woman with an appetite.
Me: hungry.
You: adventurous inquisitive eater. Must like seafood and various ingredients for which there are no English words.
Let me talk dirty to you: "Murgh makhni, lamb chops, oysters, noodle soup, pad kao, larb, choi sam, lung ley yu, succulent duckling, poached chicken, eel, kufta and kulfi, frikandel, fried objects, chopped liver, gribenes, borsht, lobster Cantonaise, marzipan, mooncake, shortbreads, sweet breads, mussels in butter and sherry, paneer, stuffed squid, smetana, zattar, rasmalai, bheja masaledar, pansit molo, lumpia, gulai kambing, babat goreng asam pedas, curry laksa, murtabak, siu ngaap....... "
You gotta be picky!
If all you want is a burger, what's the point?


The concept of finding someone with whom to share smooee things is infinitely attractive.
White table cloths. Polished cutlery. Candle light.
And something smooee.


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REMEMBERING BAMBOO SHOOT IN COCONUT MILK - GINATAAN LABONG

Batangueños are, on the whole, rather proud of their province. And there is much to be fairly chuffed about - coffee, cattle, Christianity.
The coffee is not at all bad.
Their beef can be good.
As for the Christianity....... opinions differ a bit.

And although their version of Tagalog is purer than Manileño Tagalog by far, it's a bit weird hearing 'eh' after everything.
That's rather Canadian, eh.

Locals point out the national dress shirt ('barong Tagalog') is made with pineapple-leaf fibre from their province, where it actually originated, and they boast about their alcoholic beverages. At times they will also speak of the butterfly knife (balisong), which was invented here, and without which no Batangueño feels fully able to go out in public.


"Eat our fish! And labong cooked in gata!"


One thing that they almost never mention is tikwe.
Which is odd, because that, along with coco jam and Tabacalera cigars, made the biggest oral impression on me.
Batangas produces the ingredients for the first two, and along with several other regions grows some of the contents for the last one.

[Tabacalera is a brand of cigars made by La Flor de la Isabela (as are also 'Don Juan Urquijo', '1881', 'Alhambra' and 'Calixto Lopez'). La Flor is the heir of Compania General de la Tabacos de Filipinas, founded in 1881. Most of the best cigar leaf is grown in Isabella in North-East Luzon. The two best known brands are Alhambra and Tabacalera. Both are hand-made products that are easy to like, reminiscent of Java and Sumatra leaf.]


Tikwe: Sticky rice flour, coconut milk, molasses. Mixed gloopy, then slow cooked to a fudge-like consistency, cut, and cooled. Very simple. Depending on the proportions, it can be sticky, waxy and rich, or soft and chewy.
Halfway between biko (Filipino glutinous rice cake made with whole grains) and dudol (Indonesian glutinous rice taffy).

Batangas is one of the main sugar areas of the Philippines, with azucaleras established there centuries ago. Consequently there is a wide range of sweets made locally, many of them variations on the ingredients listed above. Rice flour, coconut milk, molasses.

Coco jam, which is nice on toasted pan de leche, is also made here.
Both tikwe and pan de leche con coco jam are good with Batangas coffee. Not quite the breakfast of champions, but an excellent basis for the first cigar of the day.

Tikwe. Coffee. Cigars. Rain.

I did not spend very much time in Batangas. While it is a beautiful part of the Philippines, with a number of scenic sights and historic places, it can be a bit unsafe. This is where the revolution against the Spanish started, and where the last general to fight the American invaders kept up the struggle (till 1902). Like any area with a colonial cash-crop economy, especially if sugar and tobacco are part of the equation, the province has produced both poverty and rebelliousness.
The NPA are still active in Batangas today; a quarter of a century ago they practically owned the place.
The great estancias and wealthy conventos have long since been broken up, but the underlying inequalities remain.


DAENG TAN GINATAAN LABONG

That is what it is called in Pangasinan. Dried fish, and julienned bamboo shoot cooked in coconut milk. A Tagalog speaker would call it 'daing at ginataan labong'. Same dish.
The combination is easy. For one pound of fresh bamboo shoot (labong), use one and a half to two cups coconut milk. Cut up the shoot, simmer till tender in salted water. Rinse thoroughly, then squeeze out well. Colour some chopped ginger and garlic in hot oil, add the bamboo shoot and sauté briefly. Then pour in the coconut milk, add a small whole dried fish on top for extra flavour. Simmer till the liquid is slightly thickened and the dried fish can be broken apart.
It should still be soupy enough to wet your plate of rice.

To me any dish with coconut milk requires at least a pinch of turmeric and a little hot chili added during the cooking.
But that isn't essential, and Philippinos omit both ingredients.
The chili in any case can be a fresh paste on the side, or sliced into a little bowl of vinegar.

Daeng tan ginataan labong: It's the dinner of champions.


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HERE FOR YOUR EDIFICATION!

A friend indicates that my previous post is profoundly queer.
Reading it left him feeling quite distressed!

I fail to see why..... it was mostly about food.


In order, the following:

Chocolate cake. Wonton noodle soup. Steamed oysters. Roshgullas. Flaky meat pies. Bonbons. Samosas. Dairy.
Yankee pot-roast. Madeleines. Pudding.
Crustaceans. Pizza. Dim sum. Ghee. Oyster Sauce.
Laddoos, rosmalai, sondesh, rimjim, mistee dohi.
Honey.
Cooked zebra.
Whipped cream.
Madeleines. Crisp apples.
Black mustard seed, tej patta, amchur, and cayenne.


These are all very good things!

Literature was also mentioned.
Vampire novels. Famous poet Buddhadev Bhosu. Marcel Proust.

It was a very uplifting post.
And tastefully accented by a classical image, much like painters and poets have done since Greek and Roman times.


EDIFYING VISUAL: VELASQUEZ




So, if you think about it, the previous post was an example of culture in action.
Not problematic at all.



Unless, of course, you do indeed consume overmuch ghee and oyster sauce.
I wouldn't recommend that.
It can't be very good for your health.


Whipped cream is an entirely different matter.


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