F-odd: Zombie appetite

Last week, I met up with Umami for lunch around Rue Mouffetard before her French class.


We went to a much lauded restaurant, Christophe, which had been written about in multiple guides to much praise.


We went with the two course set menu in which I had:


Accras de Peche, which turned out to be three fried balls made out of fish paste, the fish being sea bass and one other which I forget.


This was served with kind of chutney of olive leaves and a balsamic vinegar reduction. Both of us felt that the balls themselves were quite plain and would have been tasteless and mushy if not for the chutney. To their credit though, they were not greasy or over fried.


As for my main, I had the Cervelle de Veau. I hesitated for a tiny second, unsure what it was but suspecting they were brains.


And they were, served on a bed of risotto.


As soon as I was certain, I enthusiastically ordered it. Obscure, never before tried food is something I love trying (bar insects... I cannot abide them).


However, when it came out, I fully admit I was a bit taken aback. After all, they look....just like brains. I am not sure what I expected but I guess I didn't expect a slab o'brain.


It was pan fried perfectly, with a nice, slightly burnt crunchy crust giving way to the creamy insides, whose texture reminded me more of "ju huet", coagulated pig's blood, and tofu.

It was interesting, if not exactly too tasty.

The risotto served with the brains was interesting in that it mimicked the color and perceived texture of brains with its knobbly-ness and white opaque color. Overall, I'm glad I tried it but it was not tasty enough to bear a repeat.


Unfortunately both Umami and I were quite let down by our meal. It's price was right but it's tastiness definitely did not merit a repeat interest.


The boy, however, was completely horrified by my meal. I was somewhat surprised, given his general enthusiasm and willingness to try new foods. It turns out that he's disturbed by the thought of eating brains because "that's what zombies eat". Riiiiiiiiiiiight. The boy has an odd fascination/fear relationship with Zombies, which explains his utter joy when I presented him with his Valentine's present.


Christophe
8 Rue Descartes
75005
Tel: 01 43 26 72 49
Metro: Maubert - Mutualite

Cast iron!?!

As you all well know, I know jack about cooking.

Even less about cooking implements.

The other day, while meeting with the lovely sweet Umami, who took me to the most famous cookware shop in Paris, Dehillerin.

I went in with no intention of buying anything, having been put on a strict budget due to my sabbatical here. However, I couldn't resist the cast iron pan selling for an extremely reasonable 13 Euros.

The extremely camp and overly enthusiastic man who served us, warned us to coat the pan in a layer of oil and heat for about 10 minutes before using to "seal" the iron.

Which I did.

Then I fried up some bacon in order to use something with oil in it. I also obediently followed his instructions to put a tablespoon of salt and swirl around with a paper towel before wiping it off as opposed to washing it.

It looked awful. All blotchy and scratched but I ignored it, thinking it was right. Unfortunately, I cooked a stir fry in it which made it all sticky so I couldn't help but rinse it out, right?

Wrong.

It rusted straight away!

I immediately went online to find this: Cast Iron Jack McGrew's Ultimate Method For Seasoning Cast Iron Cookware.

Well, I thought, the man has Cast Iron in his name so surely he should be an expert, right?

So, I applied a bit of elbow grease and scrubbed and scrubbed until the rust was more or less gone. After which, I seasoned it lovingly with my fingers in olive oil and turned it upside down to air dried it for 5 days before putting it into the oven at gas mark 9 for 1 hour.



This is what it looks like now. All mottled in some bits. I remembered from the warning that it should turn black. Mine was black alright but only in certain spots. I decided to heed Cast Iron Jack's advice to do it again.



This time, I oiled and left for another 2 days and then once again, put it into the oven at gas mark 9 for 1 hour.

It still came out mottled but darker than previous attempts. As it was quite dark, almost black, I thought it worked.

However, the real test came when it was time to fry an egg. I heated the pan, put in a tablespoon of oil, swirling it around the pan, then cracked my egg in to fry. Well I still must have done something wrong because it still stuck. However, no matter, a scraping and a bit of paper tower with oil got most of the bits off. Now I just have to use it more often and fingers crossed, it has seasoned.

If anyone has any advice on this, would love to hear it!

From Oursins to Oursons

For weeks, nay months, I have boasted boastfully about my upcoming trip to the Sea Urchin Festival. Becoming much the envy of my food-loving friends and thinking that this would be a trip of a lifetime.

I had puffed out my chest and smiled pridefully. Emailing to share my excitement with those who share my waist expanding hobby of eating.

The boy, indulgent enough, had planned a trip down to see his wonderfully patient parents near Aix en Provence. They had been kind enough to not only take us to the market in Aix on Saturday, endure our wonderment and excitement for the HUGE Carrefour, eat the Chinese food we prepared for them on Lunar New Year's Eve but also drive us 40 minutes to Carry Le Rouet for the Oursinade.

Upon arrival, we immediately stumbled upon a stall selling plenty of the spiny needled creatures with their gold, creamy insides for the price of 9 euros a dozen! When I became overly excited, the boy's parents tried to calm me down and get me to move on by telling me of the dozens and dozens of stalls there would be by the waterfront, promising to buy me a huge platter, a couple of bottles of wine and hunker down to sea creature filled meal.

Upon hearing this, I hurriedly rushed to walk over to the seafront pausing only to check out the restaurants and admire the seafood platters they had on display.

When I got to the seafront I encountered only this. Beautiful to be sure, rolling clouds, crashing waves and behind me was a row of seaside restaurants. I turned around to face the boy's parents, to see them looking around them with a state of bewilderment. Onto the tourism office we marched, demanding to know where our expected stalls of sea food delights were. Meanwhile bus loads of tourists kept driving into the tiny village.

As it turns out, we had become victims of what is a very French turn of events. At 10am that very morning (we had arrived at 11am), the organizers had decided to cancel the Oursinade and perhaps, only perhaps, we were to note, that it *might* be on the following weekend but that it would not be decided until Thursday at the earliest. The reason given was bad weather. It was cold I grant you, with strong winds and intermittent rain but we were talking about sea urchins here! Surely people would be willing to put on another jacket or two?

Much dejected, we walked around to find one or two enterprising fellows with their buckets of sea urchins for sale before heading back to the original shop where I ordered a dozen of everything and a bottle of wine (I only ordered a dozen as the boy's parents did wish to partake in cold sea food that morning) before driving back another 40 minutes home where we had a huge feast o' seafood including these muddy shell like escargot creatures, fresh sweet mussels, tasty clams, briny oysters, sea urchin which were creamy with a shockingly sweet aftertaste, all washed down with a surprisingly good Oursinade wine.

So, as disappointed as I was, when we got home, with the fire roaring, platters of fresh, sweet seafood including the much beloved sea urchin, I felt not so much the absence of the L'Oursinade as I did like an ourson, all fuzzy and warm inside.

Of course this was much helped by the roasting of marshmallows we ate following our feast of the sea...

Louis XIV? Non, c'est Louis Philippe

The boy, I trust, was a real handful as a teenager. Always one to do exactly the opposite of what he was told, he, for the first time in 4+ years, decided to take me out to dinner on Valentine's day.

Perhaps it had to do with being in the most romantic city in the world, or perhaps it was because we didn't feel like Hallmark hit us viciously and repeatedly over the head as the holiday approached that he felt it was time to do something.


I, of course know better. It had to do with the old men at the bar. Throwing back espressos and carafes of red throughout the day, they were the most typical French men I have ever seen. The boy immediately wanted to go over, shake their hands and buy a round. But I was hungry and it doesn't do to keep me hungry.




So, we traipsed upstairs to a more quiet location, which, to the boy's horror was decorated for the holidays with heart shaped sprinkles all over the table. Seeing his face pale, I quickly distracted him with the menu, which was charmingly homemade on pink carton cut out in the shape of a heart.









I began with the "Queues d'ecrevisses au foie gras au vinaigre de Xeres", which was a lovely shrimp tail salad with foie gras slivers on tossed salad. Yes, I am still allergic to shrimp but I risked having a bite before turning it over to the boy, who had ordered "Oeufs brouilles aux cepes", which was like a breakfast comfort food, mashed egg with cepes.


For my main, I had the "Magret de canard aux cerises et aux pommes fruits", taking the opportunity to combine fruit with savory meats, something the boy detests. It was delicious. Sweet and very tangy with plump pitted cherries and pink duck breast. The poached and browned apples were a nice accompaniment.


The boy had the "Duo de poissons homardine", which was a nice, perfectly cooked piece of salmon which proved to have the most tender texture despite my initial suspicious that it appeared dry, as well as a white fish may have been Rouget? It was served with wild rice and a lobster sauce. The boy was well satisfied.



For dessert, the "Marquise au Chocolate" didn't work out according to the very charming waiter, but we were served pear frangipane tart with vanilla ice cream stuffed profiterole with hot chocolate sauce. It was exquisite. Although to my never ending shame, I couldn't finish it. The boy insisted I take a photo of what I couldn't' finish after expressing great shock at my shame. But, after all, this is MY blog so no pic for you!


As we left the waiter handed me a rose, I smiled and immediately cut my finger on a thorn. Happy Valentine's indeed.

The meal cost a reasonable 30 Euros not including drinks and tip.


Cafe Louis Philippe
66, Quai de l'Hôtel de Ville
75004, Paris
Tel : 01 42 72 29 42

Gaarrr!

Have just returned from Seattle and unfortunately due to wedding errands (not mine) was not able to sample some of their finer foodstuffs.


However, before I departed, I was able to pick up a packet of an oddly named but apparently popular snack.

Pirate's booty.




Nope, as much as the boy thinks that I'm referring to his behind, it is in actual fact a puffed rice and corn snack flavored with aged white cheddar. And you know how fond I am of cheese flavored snacks.

But I had to pick it up for the name alone. And the Quagmire-looking pirate. And the cheesy (pardon the pun) pirate-y sayings. The bubbles toting the healthiness of the snack was not the selling point.





So the verdict?





Good but not great. Addictive and somewhat healthier than the E-numbered, Tara Reid's faux tan colored Cheetos that I still love.

The Three C's: Couscous, Crepe and Confit!

That about sums up my weekend.


Saturday we first went to Le Marché des Enfants Rouges on Rue Bretagne, where we saw some charming international stalls serving food, one of which was run by very efficient Japanese headscarved women serving Japanese delicacies, either warm or cold, an Italian stall, very popular for its coffees and the North African stall where we were enticed by the stacked conical fragrant tagines offered up to a modest line of customers. Considering the cold weather, the North African stall was doing brisk business, selling round plates of couscous to the shivering customers who hurriedly shoveled the tasty tagines into their mouths before it cooled down too much.



I had the couscous with lamb tagine which contained generous bone-in lamb shanks cooked with onions, green olives and prunes alongside with a type of root vegetable stew. The prunes did not taste cooked with the lamb but lent a sweet touch when eaten with the lamb tagine. It was delicious but next time I aim to try the chicken with preserved lemons and green olives... unless of course, I get distracted by the Japanese stall....



After much walking around, seeing Places des Vosges and dreamily thinking about living in one of the gorgeous buildings around the area, we retired home for a cup of tea and a small treat from one of the local bakeries. The boy had a dry, tired brownie, which serves him right, really, for ordering a brownie from a French bakery! I had a beautiful thin, thin apple tart which was deliciously light and tasty.



For dinner, we went down to the Latin Quarter where we were overwhelmed with choices for cheap dinners, many of which appeared very touristy and busy. Although very much tempted to go for fondue, we plumped for crepes at La Crêperie de Cluny which I remembered from The Girl Who Ate Everything's blog. I was, shockingly, not too hungry and plumped for 8 Euro deal which included a main crepe and a dessert crepe with a bolee of cider. My main crepe was forgettable but my dessert crepe of marron creme was chestnut creme as I've never had it before. Tooth achingly sweet it was more like mash sweetened chestnut served in a warm blanket of crepe....mmmmmmnnn

On Sunday, it was free museum day! We went to the Musée d'Orsay where we headed straight for the Impressionist paintings before going down to see the sculptures and the Art Nouveau furniture by artists such as Gaudi.



Seeing such hardwork by the artists made us hungry so we traipsed across town to Montmartre, where, while not exactly capturing the mood of Amelie, we decided to stop in Un Zebre A Montmartre, which was friendly and full, which we took to be a good sign.

I decided on the Confit de Canard a Gervois (this was written on a blackboard which had rubbed up against many a sleeve so apologies if Gervois is incorrect), which was a perfectly cooked leg o' duck with a sauce of mixed mushrooms. If I had one complaint it was that the skin was not crackly and delicious but was instead quite soft and floppy. I traded the chips to the boy for some of his potatoes dauphinoise.

Everything was forgiven once the dessert came. A pear tart with hot chocolate sauce, it was a beautiful plate full of dark chocolate sauce, sprinkled with nuts, powdered sugar, cocoa and real whipped cream. It was sinful and absolutely delicious. The boy was only allowed a little bit of whipped cream while I did the plate justice.

Damn I love weekends.

La Crêperie de Cluny
20 Rue de la Harpe, 75005
Tel : 01 43 26 08 38

Musée d'Orsay

1, rue de la Légion d'Honneur

Tel: 01 40 49 48 14

Un Zebre A Montmartre

38 Rue Lepic, 75018

Tel: 01 42 23 97 80

Bottom of the Barrel

Wandering around my 'hood the other day, I stumbled (ok, I "deliberately" my way there), into the Jewish quarter, as evidenced but lovely bakeries full of breadstuffs with unpronounceable (to me) names. Chilled by the cold and encouraged by the walk, I wanted to go in and have a bite of everything when I spied the much blogged about L'As de Fallafel!

Well, what can I say about L'As de Fallafel which hasn't been said before here and here?

It's good, 'nuff said.

Moving now to my lunch today....

Bread soup.

Have you ever heard of such a thing? I had heard talk of it but had not much desire to try it. Until today. Let me explain.


Having gone overboard with the bounty of bakeries everywhere, we had been buying bread at every opportunity. A lot of bread. Unfortunately baguettes don't keep very well. And what to do with old stale bread? Well we could make croutons or stuff chicken but since I'm not fond of croutons and with no chicken in the fridge, I thought I'd cut them up and freeze them until needed.


And much, much, much earlier than I would have imagined, I needed them.

I've been stuck at home (damn the inefficiency of this delicious country!) for 2 days now waiting for a locksmith. And, thus we don't have any food. Still trying to resist the lure of the instant noodles, I thought I'd see what I can do with the stale bread and vegetable stock I had made over the weekend when this popped up. Pappa Al Pomodoro sounded just perfect on this chilly day. If only I had garlic, onions, etc, etc.


So, what's a girl to do? Improvise of course! (And people always wonder how come my food looks nothing like the recipes!)


So, 1 can of tomatoes, a squirt of tomato paste, black peppercorns, smoked paprika and a bit later I had this.


Ok, so it's not the best, tasting more like adult baby food than some exotic Italian soup but it did use up some of the bread and stock. With some black pepper and a splash of olive oil, it was palatable, although not likely to be repeated.

Apologies if this entry isn't up to scratch but it's been a bit difficult recently. For those who are interested in hearing the dark side of my rose-tinted world, I have been "helped" into annoyance. Soothing sounds and words from the landlord has inspired me to compile a list to help those of you who may be landlords.

Not to sound ungracious but please, if send some to clean the flat and fix the issues, please make sure that person does NOT:

• break the lock and neglect to telephone the tenant and instead jam the door in order to provide some obstacles to would be thieves
• break the lamp and hide it in the cupboard hoping we won't notice
• stain the carpet
• throw out half of the tenant's stuff because they think its trash
• reshuffle all the dishes and plates to their liking, causing the tenant to search all over again for hidden dishes
• eat the tenant's biscuits then hide them at the back of the cupboard in hopes that the tenant will not notice. I will notice. I don't mind, eat my biscuits but don't hide the packet or how will I know to replace them?

And whatever you do, please please please send the locksmith when you say you will so the tenant is not sitting there all day waiting for the bloody lock to be fixed in order to leave the house!

Mais, c'est le Weekend

The excuse of the French use to indulge. I heard on multiple occasions, whether it was my friend to convince his girlfriend to go out for a drink or the market stand which convinced the lady to buy more of her tempting pastries.

So on Saturday, I did what countless people of my race did during the weekend, I went to Chinatown. Well, Belleville really but still, Chinese enough. Before you sit back, cross your arms and shake your head in disbelief thinking that I have turned into my Dad's side of the family who insist on Chinese food all the time, let me first ask that all of you who do not own soy sauce or a bag of rice in your cupboard to throw the first dumpling.

Fine. Now that we have set that straight, let's continue.

We needed to pick up some staples and take stock to see what the most romantic city in the world had to offer in terms of Asian delicacies. I found a few places serving up "siu mei" roasted meats and such as well as Chinese buns and a number of cake shops. After filling up on staples such as rice, rice noodles, a few guilty packages of instant noodles, an assortment of sauces and foodstuffs, we went to Tin tin, nope, not the current exposition at the Centre Pompidou but a restaurant for Vietnamese food in Paris. It was quite busy when we arrived and we were seated sharing a table with others. The food was unremarkable and of a lesser quality than Vietnamese restaurants in both Hong Kong and Montreal but it was nice to have hot soupy noodles in the cold.

Saturday afternoon was spent accompanying friends to the huge mall Les Quatre Temps at La Defense before killing time in a cafe until late in the evening. Unfortunately it took over 2 hours to get into the flat due to the tempermental lock. It is the one thing which has really marred my time here thus far.

Sunday morning was spent at the Bastille Market where after running around like excitedly and poking my nose where it was quickly shoved back by an irate elbow, we finally settled down and bought some fruits and vegetables.

Those of you who are perceptive will remark that tucked away there is a little basket of goodies, namely the David Lebovitz' Hot Chocolate with Salted-Butter Caramel. I couldn't resist a packet of fleur de sel salted butter caramels, which I had to take away from the boy, who kept dipping into his pockets surreptitiously and replying to all my questions with gestures and sticky one word answers.

After picking up a copy of The Observer, which, to me and the boy's great dismay, was missing its food and music special, we returned home for a relaxing Sunday afternoon.

That evening, we had a great treat in store. Having just arrived in Paris, we only have the impressive number of 2 friends in the city. One being a dear friend of 15 years and the other his lovely Algerian girlfriend. We were lucky enough to be invited over for a typical dinner consisting of couscous with large broad beans served with curdled milk, a simple but tasty dish served at room temperature. The curdled milk tasted like yogurt and gave a creamy texture and tangy taste to the couscous. I ate a large plateful.

Unfortunately, unknown to us was that this was to be followed by a sort of spicy stew/soup made with a type of vegetable resembling a large dried celery called "caldan", which I had never tried before. It was deceptively spicy and the meat was melt in the mouth tender. In fact, we only needed spoons to finish up the plate.

After coffee and chocolate, we rose (with difficulty) to waddle back the 20 minutes to our flat, struggle with the door for another 20 minutes before collapsing on the couch clutching mugs of steaming hot peppermint tea.

Masi, c'est le Weekend indeed.

Tin Tin Restaurant

17 Rue Louis Bonnet,

75011 Paris

Tel : 01 43 55 50 13

Métro : Belleville

Les Quatre Temps - La Defense

15, Parvis de la Defense

92092 Paris

Tel: 01 47 73 54 44

Métro: La Defense

Bastille Market

Every Thursdays from 7h30 à 14h30 & Sundays from 7h00 à 15h00

On Boulevard Richard-Lenoir from Place de la Bastille

Métro: Bastille

If you insist...

I have discovered one of the benefits of jet lag.... you can fit in more meals!

Upon waking at 5am and finding myself in a ravenous state due to last night's dinner of yogurt and miso soup (people, soup is NOT a complete meal, it's a drink!), I had a peach yogurt. Still being hungry when the boy woke up at 7, I decided to break into one of my pot noodles (hey, it's a fancy Japanese one, you snob!) for a warm meal to start the day.

Then, looking online, I found that there was a market nearby:

Enfants rouges Market

39 rue de Bretagne

Tuesday to Saturday, 8.30 a.m. to 1 p.m. and 4 p.m. to 7.30 p.m. (until 8 p.m. on Friday and Saturday) Sunday, 8.30 a.m. to 2 p.m.
Metro : Filles-du-Calvaire

so I decided to wander over there at 10am. Unfortunately something must have been wrong with the above because it clearly wasn't there. I saw a few metal frames on the sidewalk but they showed no signs of opening. Could it be the weather? It is -4 Celsius today...

Ah well. All was not lost. I found the much lauded Chez Omar restaurant and, much to my delight, a large fromagerie selling all types of cheese, Poilane bread and eggs, three things on my list. I bought a Comte, a St Marcellin and a very holey (check out the huge holes!) of Emmenthal, four slices of Poilane traditional bread and a half dozen eggs.

Walking along home, quite pleased with the cheesy purchases although disappointment of the lack of market...I suddenly came upon a stand of oysters! Approximately a dozen varieties (no names unfortunately) ranging in prices from 5.40 euros to 17 euros, slightly higher if you wish the man to open them for you. Which of course I did upon ordering a mixed dozen of 2 of the smaller varieties from the sea. I paused for just one second when he asked me if it was for lunch but quickly said yes to avoid admitting that I would be inhaling the bivalves upon returning home.

The oysters, accented with a squeeze of lemon, were translucent, fresh, salty and mild. I made quick work of them before having a half slice of Poilane (I had to taste, didn't I?) with a wedge of Comte. Unfortunately, the Comte is quite addictive, especially when surfing the food sites.

And no, I didn't save any for the boy....they wouldn't keep!!

J Duannaul

Maitre Fromager - Affineur

39 rue de Bretagne

75003

Tel: 01 42 78 52 61

A Table

Getting in last night was a bit tiring what with delays getting into Frankfurt and the almost three hour layover.

Finally got into Charles De Gaulle at just past 11pm and went straight to the flat and falling fast asleep. Got up this morning to walk the boy the the train station ... well, lest you think that I really am such a lovely person, it was actually was a sad excuse to go get a pain au chocolate!

Unfortunately, my first bite of Parisian pastry was not as good as I had hoped, sure, the pain was flaky and it had the lovely crunchy flakes on top and the two columns of chocolate running through but the dough itself felt heavy and thick.

Have no fear, I have 3 bakeries within a 3 minute walk, I shall sacrifice my waistline to bring you the very best in fooding!

Wah Good Beef!

Last night being one of the final dinners with my parents and the boy, we went to one of the boy's favorite meals, the all-you-can-eat crab hotpot at En.

Luckily for us, if you have 4 or more diners, you are able to have the crab AND Wagyu beef hotpot, which of course, being a greedy family, we did.

And OH MY. Was the beef good. The very marbly, thinly sliced meat, warmed and quickly cooked in the mild broth hardly needed chewing.

The crab was less good than usual but the beef...the beef....my usually less carnivorous Mom barely stopped to chat, too busy she was trying to fight my Dad for the beef.



*Last post from Hong Kong!!!

Sugar High Friday #27 - Rocky Road

When I saw that David was hosting the Sugar High Friday this month, I knew I had to participate.

Not having done one of these before and quite obviously not a very good cook, I was sucked in by the theme "Chocolate by Brand". Because I am due to move, I have been trying to clear the cupboards of as much food as possible and whilst rummaging, I stumbled upon 5 bars of Cailler 74% Cacao Extreme left over from a chocolate fountain party (yes, I have a chocolate fountain!).

The recipe had to be an easy one that I couldn't mess up, that's when I thought of rocky road. I adore rocky road and often buy it from the See's Candy shop, each time kicking myself for spending so much on something so simple.

With the fragrant warmth of the roasted almonds, the slight tanginess from the dried blueberries, additional sweetness of the mini marshmallows, these dark chocolate treats were addictive and popular with my family (who begged me to stop attempting to bake cakes and only make these from now on).

Rocky Road

- 500g Chocolate (or 5 bars of Cailler in my case)
- 150g Mini Marshmallows
- 150g Almonds (or other nuts)
- 200g Dried Blueberries (or Cranberries, Raspberries or even, ick, raisins)


1 - Roast the almonds either in the oven, watching carefully and turning frequently until browned and fragrant. Cool.

2 - Toss together the marshmallows, dried blueberries and almonds and set aside.

3 - Melt approximately 350g of the chocolate on top of a double boiler (or in my case, a stainless steel bowl set on top of gently simmering water) until fully melted, then remove from heat and stir in remaining chocolate until all melted. This will have the effect of slightly tempering the chocolate and also cooling it enough to not melt the marshmallows.

4 - Pour chocolate over the marshmallow, blueberry and almond and mix with spatula until well coated and either spoon into candy holders or into a wax paper lined baking pan.

5 - Put chocolates into the fridge to cool for an hour, then remove to room temperature.

Keeps well in a tin for up to 2 weeks.

Honestly, these are so easy and versatile but yet so delicious, I'd encourage you to make them anytime you have extra chocolate lying around (as if that ever happens).

Now what to do with the other half dozen bars of assorted brands of chocolate?

Dai Pai Dong

Big License Stand is the formal translation but it is usually used to refer to stands which traditionally did not own a license but would open up to serve food after most of the shops had closed. Nowadays though, they are often licensed restaurants that spill out onto the streets which serve basic, affordable food, making it popular for late night meals with late eaters and party goers.

I adore Dai Pai Dongs despite my squeamishness of dark alleys and places close to wet markets (rat phobia). I adore them because of my memories of going there with my father. As a little girl, I did not see my father frequently as he worked long hours often entertaining in the evenings. However once in a little while I would still be up when he came home from work. On those evenings, absolutely ravenous, he'd be looking for a little company while he ate. My mom not being keen to eat so late and with us not having much time to spend with my dad, I was sometimes allowed to go to Dai Pai Dongs with him for a snack. Being allowed to stay up late, walk outside in my pyjamas to go sit outside and eat late at night, was to me, at the time, some of the most exciting and fun times.

My Dad took us to one tonight, across from the Bowrinton Road Market near Times Square and it was much like I remembered, dirty, rundown and delicious.

We started with a dish of bamboo clams fried in black bean sauce. Slightly spicy, with strong preserved black bean sauce, it was perfectly cooked with the sweet bamboo clams.


The second dish to come was the steamed pork with shrimp paste, very salty with a pungent kick from the lavender shrimp paste.



The fish was tender, flaky and almost boneless, cooked with Chinese celery, slivered radish and straw mushrooms.



We had this with fish congee and the fried soy sauce noodles with bean sprouts and chives, sprinkled with sesame seeds. The noodles were delicious, slightly charred and cooked to perfection with plenty of "wok hei", literally breath of the wok, which provides that smoky, slightly charred delicious taste.

For those of you wondering, no, my clothing of choice was not pyjamas this particular evening.

From Dim Sum to Patisseries

A close friend gave me a book in 2001 inscribed with what she marked as a random quote by E.B. White:

"We should all do what in the long run, gives us joy, even if it is only picking grapes or sorting laundry."

The book was "Paris to the Moon".

As long as I can remember, I have wanted to live in Paris. My friends knew it, my family knew it and the boy knows it.

By some hook or by crook the boy landed himself a project in Paris. And being the loyal, self-sacrificing (ahem) girl I am, I have quit my job and will be moving there for 6 months.

So I have been in the midst of quitting, packing and generally running around alternately elated and scared trying to sort out my life. Which has left a huge gap in fooding so for that I apologize but do not fear, the rest of the year promises to look vastly different to last year, with lots of French foods coming your way.

Make way and quake in fear as Sui Mai takes on France!

Arm's length

There's just something about having huge foods that make me happy.

Before you sit back in your computer chair, all arms crossed and judgemental, think about the last time you bought a foot long hot dog. Come on. Admit it. It was the FOOT long that sold you more than the hot dog itself, didn't it?

Of course.

Well one of the dishes we ordered last night at Khana Khazaa had the seemingly innocent (to my ignorant fool brain anyways) name of "Paper Dosa Masala".

"Mmm", thought I, "Thin crepe/bread wrapped with curried potatoes....MMMMMM"

So of course I ordered it.

When it came, it was big.


Really big.


As in longer than my arm big.


The Dosa was at least the width of the table and longer than my arm.


I was happy.


Arm's length happy.



Khana Khazana Vegetarian Indian Restaurant
1/floor 20 Dannies House
20, Luard Road
Wanchai
Tel: 852 25205308

The restaurant serves up delicious vegetarian Indian food but oddly also serves up Mexican and Italian food as well...

Happy New Year!

Last meal I ate in 2006?


Chilli Crabs from Under Bridge Spicy Crab.


Yum, yum, together with roasted pigeon, black bean clams, 'dou mui' greens, salt 'n pepa squid and baby oyster congee.


The first thing I ate in 2007?


To my shame, half a Krispy Kreme glazed donut left over from 2006...


Sorry for the lack of pics, the connection has slowed considerably since the Taiwan earthquake.




Under Bridge Spicy Crab
Shop 6-9, G/F, 429 Lockhart Road
Tel: 2893 1289