Occasionally I embark on a quest to replicate with reasonable results at home the things we often order at restaurants or as takeaway. My excuse for doing this is the vague and somewhat unrealistic eventual aim of not having to resort to these methods to obtain food -- unrealistic because the usual reason for obtaining food in one of these ways is either (in the case of the former) to go out for its own sake, not just because of hunger, or (in the case of the latter) because we are hungry and can't be bothered to cook. In either of these cases, simply being capable of cooking the food we would otherwise order probably won't help. On the other hand, sometimes you just have a craving for a particular dish, regardless of where you obtain it and whether you have to (or can) make it yourself, and then knowing a copycat version comes in handy as well as saving money. My wallet is definitely fatter for the discovery that all I need to make a Japanese kare raisu indistinguishable from that available in your average restaurant is some carrots, onions, hot water and a block of instant curry roux; so too is my waistline.
One of Lee's favourite things-to-order-from-the-local-Chinese is sweet & sour pork, so this was an obvious one to attempt. I have actually made sweet & sour a couple of times in the past, but it involved quite a bit of dash-of-this splash-of-that taste-and-adjust, and was sufficiently long ago that I had no idea of what I eventually used. Since the goal is to produce replicable and reliable results that can be made quickly without having to spend too much time tasting and adding this and that, I decided a more scientific approach was in order, and started with measured quantities designed to approximate the sweetness and sourness as well as saltiness and appropriate red-but-not-fluorescently-so colouration. There was still a bit of adjusting required but this was more or less what I came up with after that -- some further testing may be needed but for now, this is a good draft version. Given the results produced even by this first attempt, I expect needing to make this again (FOR SCIENCE!) will not be a problem...
Sweet and sour sauce
2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1 tbs finely chopped fresh ginger
2 spring onions, finely sliced
1 small onion, sliced into wedges
1/2 red capsicum, chopped into bite-size chunks
1/2 yellow capsicum, chopped into bite-size chunks
1/2 tin pineapple slices, chopped into chunks (reserve juice for sauce)
1/2 cup pineapple juice
1/4 cup rice vinegar
3 tbs soy sauce
2 tbs shaoxing rice wine
1/4 cup sugar
1/4 cup tomato ketchup
1 tbs cornflour
Over medium-high heat, stir-fry garlic, ginger, spring onions and onion until fragrant and slightly softened; add capsicum and continue to stir-fry until capsicum is also slightly cooked. Meanwhile mix together all the other ingredients (apart from pineapple pieces) in a cup or bowl until sugar, ketchup and cornflour are dissolved. (This is where you start to understand why so many Chinese recipes have 'Set A' and 'Set B' ingredients...) When vegetables are just cooked, stir sauce mixture to homogenise (in case cornflour has settled) and then add pineapple pieces and sauce to wok and allow to boil for a few minutes, until sauce is glossy and translucent. Toss with your choice of deep-fried crispy thing (see below).
The sauce can be made in advance and reheated just before tossing the fried stuff in; the vegetables will go a bit soft, but if wok/burner space is limited this saves precious minutes during the critical time just before serving, when you're trying to get six different dishes all hot and on the table at the same time. Cooking the vegetables less before adding the sauce mix might help keep them crunchy and bright-coloured -- I will try this next time.
The advantage of covering things in crispy batter and deep-frying them is that it doesn't much matter what's inside, so I also decided this was a good opportunity to try sneaking in a cheeky faux-meat substitute instead of pork. Marinating about 450g of Quorn chicken pieces with some egg white, rice wine and dark soy sauce and then tossing it with potato starch before deep-frying gave a nice dark colour and a reasonably crisp coating, and then all that was needed was to toss it in the hot sauce. Result!
(And everyone thought it was pork. Ah, the power of suggestion and deep-frying.)
Monday, 2 March 2015
Friday, 27 February 2015
A month of Sundays
For the last several weeks, a group of young men have been coming around to our flat on Sunday mornings and beating each other with sticks for two hours in the abandoned second floor (there's an explanation for this that is less dodgy than I've made it sound, but this is a food blog so I'm not going to bother with it :D ) before coming back upstairs to revive themselves with tea and what has turned out to be an ever-increasing variety of food.
It started with snacks to accompany tea -- steamed buns, dumplings and stuffed pork rolls -- but one week, returning from a tropical holiday to the wintry climes of a Manchester January, I decided something more substantial was required and threw together some soy-simmered chicken with daikon and carrots (I was really craving oden, the Japanese brothy stew with all sorts of delicious root vegetables and other goodies, but nobody except for me likes those wobbly chewy things and anyway I don't know where to buy them, so I had to make do) and some leafy greens with ginger and garlic sauce. Since then, snacks have turned into full-on lunches, which is proving to be simultaneously an opportunity to exercise my culinary repertoire and test out new recipes, and a challenge for my ingenuity, as I try to cook something different every week -- even when I'm not there to prepare it at the time! The slow-cooker and rice cooker are getting a workout for their keep-warm properties, as is our new microwave.
Menus so far have included
- red curry chicken with pineapple; stir-fried vegetables with sweet basil and chilli; pan-fried pork dumplings (this would have worked better had I left explicit instructions, since in the absence of these nobody thought to put things in the microwave. Nonetheless, cold dumplings still appeared to be adequate, since the plate was empty when I came home...)
- slow-cooked beef stew; mashed potatoes kept hot in the rice cooker and green beans and carrots in the steamer insert on top
- gyoza; karaage fried chicken; green beans with sesame sauce; chashu belly pork with bok choy; Sichuan aubergine (the last was a real hit, with me and everyone else; I may never cook anything else again...!)
- slow-cooked beef rendang; green beans with chilli and garlic; choi-sum and poku mushrooms with oyster sauce (this time with appropriate use of the microwave, thankfully; cold poku mushrooms are a bit wrong...)
This week is an additional challenge, since (due to circumstances beyond just the usual Sunday stick-beating) there might be anything up to 13 people for lunch, or alternatively 9 for lunch and 6 for dinner. I've decided the best way to deal with this is to lay in enough supplies for lunch, with an additional backup dinner plan of a quick Thai curry, tofu & basil stir-fry and maybe a hasty trip to Chinatown for some char-siu to throw into a sizzling pan with some green vegetables and Peking sauce. The lunch plan, meanwhile, involves sweet and sour chicken; aubergines with black bean and garlic sauce; mapo tofu; babi kecap; gai-lan with crab; and crispy fish in Sichuan sauce... and maybe some buns and dumplings, for the sake of tradition.
At some point I should really get round to posting recipes for all of these things I now know how to make in a systematic and efficient way suited to having half-a-dozen or more people over for a meal on a regular basis. Maybe this Sunday I'll even remember to take photos!
It started with snacks to accompany tea -- steamed buns, dumplings and stuffed pork rolls -- but one week, returning from a tropical holiday to the wintry climes of a Manchester January, I decided something more substantial was required and threw together some soy-simmered chicken with daikon and carrots (I was really craving oden, the Japanese brothy stew with all sorts of delicious root vegetables and other goodies, but nobody except for me likes those wobbly chewy things and anyway I don't know where to buy them, so I had to make do) and some leafy greens with ginger and garlic sauce. Since then, snacks have turned into full-on lunches, which is proving to be simultaneously an opportunity to exercise my culinary repertoire and test out new recipes, and a challenge for my ingenuity, as I try to cook something different every week -- even when I'm not there to prepare it at the time! The slow-cooker and rice cooker are getting a workout for their keep-warm properties, as is our new microwave.
Menus so far have included
- red curry chicken with pineapple; stir-fried vegetables with sweet basil and chilli; pan-fried pork dumplings (this would have worked better had I left explicit instructions, since in the absence of these nobody thought to put things in the microwave. Nonetheless, cold dumplings still appeared to be adequate, since the plate was empty when I came home...)
- slow-cooked beef stew; mashed potatoes kept hot in the rice cooker and green beans and carrots in the steamer insert on top
- gyoza; karaage fried chicken; green beans with sesame sauce; chashu belly pork with bok choy; Sichuan aubergine (the last was a real hit, with me and everyone else; I may never cook anything else again...!)
- slow-cooked beef rendang; green beans with chilli and garlic; choi-sum and poku mushrooms with oyster sauce (this time with appropriate use of the microwave, thankfully; cold poku mushrooms are a bit wrong...)
This week is an additional challenge, since (due to circumstances beyond just the usual Sunday stick-beating) there might be anything up to 13 people for lunch, or alternatively 9 for lunch and 6 for dinner. I've decided the best way to deal with this is to lay in enough supplies for lunch, with an additional backup dinner plan of a quick Thai curry, tofu & basil stir-fry and maybe a hasty trip to Chinatown for some char-siu to throw into a sizzling pan with some green vegetables and Peking sauce. The lunch plan, meanwhile, involves sweet and sour chicken; aubergines with black bean and garlic sauce; mapo tofu; babi kecap; gai-lan with crab; and crispy fish in Sichuan sauce... and maybe some buns and dumplings, for the sake of tradition.
At some point I should really get round to posting recipes for all of these things I now know how to make in a systematic and efficient way suited to having half-a-dozen or more people over for a meal on a regular basis. Maybe this Sunday I'll even remember to take photos!
Monday, 24 March 2014
Nasu dengaku (sort of)
Yet another way to eat my most-beloved vegetable, nasu dengaku is a Japanese dish featuring aubergines halved lengthwise, grilled over coals and brushed with a miso glaze. The contrast between soft flesh and charred, bubbling glaze, sweet and salt in the miso and rich flavour of the aubergine makes for a perfect combination that brings out the best of the vegetable.
My version cheats and cooks the eggplant under the oven grill; it doesn't have quite the same charcoal-fired smokiness but still tastes good and is super-easy.
Glaze:
2 tbs white miso paste
3 tbs sake
2 tbs sugar
2 tsp light soy sauce
(optional: 1/2 tsp grated ginger; 1/2 tsp grated garlic)
Halve two medium aubergines lengthwise and place under grill heated to maximum. cut sides down, until skin is hardened and puffed and flesh begins to soften (about 10 min). Turn over, slice diamond patterns into flesh of cut sides and spoon glaze over. Grill until flesh is soft and glaze begins to bubble and develop charred spots (about another 5 min), watching carefully to make sure glaze does not burn. Sprinkle with sesame seeds and sliced green onions and serve with steamed rice.
My version cheats and cooks the eggplant under the oven grill; it doesn't have quite the same charcoal-fired smokiness but still tastes good and is super-easy.
Glaze:
2 tbs white miso paste
3 tbs sake
2 tbs sugar
2 tsp light soy sauce
(optional: 1/2 tsp grated ginger; 1/2 tsp grated garlic)
Halve two medium aubergines lengthwise and place under grill heated to maximum. cut sides down, until skin is hardened and puffed and flesh begins to soften (about 10 min). Turn over, slice diamond patterns into flesh of cut sides and spoon glaze over. Grill until flesh is soft and glaze begins to bubble and develop charred spots (about another 5 min), watching carefully to make sure glaze does not burn. Sprinkle with sesame seeds and sliced green onions and serve with steamed rice.
Friday, 10 January 2014
Playing Peter Piper
We didn't host Christmas this year, so there was no what-to-do-with-turkey-leftovers problem before New Year -- not that this is much of a problem; a few rounds of sandwiches, a pasta sauce or two, and a giant vat of stock to deal with the bones usually sorts it nicely. As a combined result of going away just after New Year and having lived on pretty much nothing but mince pies, stollen, Stilton and sherry in the week after Christmas, however, I did have the problem of a fridge full of vegetables that would long be green slime before I got back to use them. What to do? Sweet potatoes and a couple of carrots became soup; potatoes became stuffed potatoes and stored in the freezer for future snack emergencies...
... and red cabbage, white cabbage, still more carrots, half a cucumber, two capsicums, red chillies, green chillies, onions and an entire swede became a diverse array of different pickles!
The "pickle everything in the fridge before going away" has worked reasonably well for me once before, but this time I wanted to make sure they would last a while since even with my love of pickled things, it might take me some time to get through this quantity. Recipes often emphasise the importance of sticking to the correct quantities of known-acidity vinegar and salt in order to preserve pickles safely, but frustratingly don't always provide a generalised guide as to what the proportions should be.
I found one recipe specifying a 1:1 mixture of 5% vinegar and brine (made with 1 cup salt per gallon of water) for final concentrations (before allowing for vegetables releasing liquid) of 2.5% vinegar and about 1/8 cup salt per litre; and another saying "6 cups of water, 3 cups of vinegar and 1/2 [presumably 1/2 a cup] pickling salt", which is slightly under 1/4 cup salt per litre. Not knowing the concentration of my vinegar, I decided at first to go for a 2:1 rice vinegar:water mix with a scant 3tbs salt in 3 cups of liquid (the salt ratio of the second recipe). I blanched the red cabbage for a few minutes and used the water in the pickling liquid, which I simmered with star anise, peppercorns and cloves -- but on tasting, it was WAY too salty! I added another 1/2 cup each of water and malt vinegar and 3/4 cup sugar; it was still on the salty side but better. Half a head of red cabbage made the large jar shown at right. I suspect when using it I may rinse it, or use it in dishes without added salt, or mix it with fresh in order to dilute the saltiness.
The leftover red cabbage pickling liquid was a deep purple colour, so I thought I'd make some pickled carrots (I had a LOT of carrots; the 1.5kg bags were 69p the week before Christmas) -- second from left. I cut them into sticks in order to squeeze as many into the jar as possible, and then simmered them in the pickling liquid for about five minutes before bottling. Next up were a couple of bottles of mixed vegetable (cucumber, carrot and chilli; and cabbage, carrot and chilli), using rice vinegar and ginger; and then the pickled peppers, with most of the red and green chillies, yellow and green capsicum, and some sliced red onions. There was enough pickling liquid left for a jar of pickled red onions with stray chilli bits too.
That still left the swede. Now, swedes are fairly dense and hard, so I thought that shaving them into thin slices with my peeler-slicer would be a good start. Then I got thinking about thinly sliced other sorts of pickles, like radish, and the next thing that came to mind: kimchi! A bit of googling revealed that turnip was a fairly common kimchi choice, and that virtually anything could be kim-chied. The first step was to peel the swede, cut it into manageable sections and then slice into fine cross-sections. These were sprinkled with 2-3tbs salt and mixed thoroughly then left to stand for a few hours. Some recipes say rinse, others don't (and vary the salt accordingly -- 2tbs salt to about 2lbs vegetables was a common don't-rinse proportion); I went for a compromise of rinsing once in a measured amount of water (3 cups, which would result in a brine as concentrated as that recommended by the second pickling recipe) and then draining thoroughly. A taste test indicated not too salty, not too bland.
For the rest of the mix, opinions were divided on the effectiveness and authenticity of using gochujang (chilli paste) rather than gochugaru (chilli powder) but the former was what I had, in exactly the right quantity to use up for this size batch -- about 1/4 cup. Following another recipe, I blended up half a red onion and half an apple; garlic is also usual and the importance of ginger is stressed, but I had none left of either so I threw in a few scoops of pickled ginger instead, and a slosh of vinegar. Mixed all together, this looked like a promising start to kimchi and tasted pretty good as well.
I packed the mix into a couple of jars, pushing it down tightly -- I think this is to remove air spaces and allow the anaerobic fermentation to take place. Apparently after that kimchi just looks after itself, usually at room temperature for a day or two to begin fermentation before cold storage for a week or two, but I put mine straight in the fridge as I was going to be away and had visions of it coming to life and escaping. I left the lids on loosely to allow some room for fermentation -- if it expands too much, at least the jars are sat in the (now empty) crisper drawer and won't overflow everywhere! We'll see what it's like in a few weeks' time...
... and red cabbage, white cabbage, still more carrots, half a cucumber, two capsicums, red chillies, green chillies, onions and an entire swede became a diverse array of different pickles!
The "pickle everything in the fridge before going away" has worked reasonably well for me once before, but this time I wanted to make sure they would last a while since even with my love of pickled things, it might take me some time to get through this quantity. Recipes often emphasise the importance of sticking to the correct quantities of known-acidity vinegar and salt in order to preserve pickles safely, but frustratingly don't always provide a generalised guide as to what the proportions should be.
I found one recipe specifying a 1:1 mixture of 5% vinegar and brine (made with 1 cup salt per gallon of water) for final concentrations (before allowing for vegetables releasing liquid) of 2.5% vinegar and about 1/8 cup salt per litre; and another saying "6 cups of water, 3 cups of vinegar and 1/2 [presumably 1/2 a cup] pickling salt", which is slightly under 1/4 cup salt per litre. Not knowing the concentration of my vinegar, I decided at first to go for a 2:1 rice vinegar:water mix with a scant 3tbs salt in 3 cups of liquid (the salt ratio of the second recipe). I blanched the red cabbage for a few minutes and used the water in the pickling liquid, which I simmered with star anise, peppercorns and cloves -- but on tasting, it was WAY too salty! I added another 1/2 cup each of water and malt vinegar and 3/4 cup sugar; it was still on the salty side but better. Half a head of red cabbage made the large jar shown at right. I suspect when using it I may rinse it, or use it in dishes without added salt, or mix it with fresh in order to dilute the saltiness.
The leftover red cabbage pickling liquid was a deep purple colour, so I thought I'd make some pickled carrots (I had a LOT of carrots; the 1.5kg bags were 69p the week before Christmas) -- second from left. I cut them into sticks in order to squeeze as many into the jar as possible, and then simmered them in the pickling liquid for about five minutes before bottling. Next up were a couple of bottles of mixed vegetable (cucumber, carrot and chilli; and cabbage, carrot and chilli), using rice vinegar and ginger; and then the pickled peppers, with most of the red and green chillies, yellow and green capsicum, and some sliced red onions. There was enough pickling liquid left for a jar of pickled red onions with stray chilli bits too.
For the rest of the mix, opinions were divided on the effectiveness and authenticity of using gochujang (chilli paste) rather than gochugaru (chilli powder) but the former was what I had, in exactly the right quantity to use up for this size batch -- about 1/4 cup. Following another recipe, I blended up half a red onion and half an apple; garlic is also usual and the importance of ginger is stressed, but I had none left of either so I threw in a few scoops of pickled ginger instead, and a slosh of vinegar. Mixed all together, this looked like a promising start to kimchi and tasted pretty good as well.
I packed the mix into a couple of jars, pushing it down tightly -- I think this is to remove air spaces and allow the anaerobic fermentation to take place. Apparently after that kimchi just looks after itself, usually at room temperature for a day or two to begin fermentation before cold storage for a week or two, but I put mine straight in the fridge as I was going to be away and had visions of it coming to life and escaping. I left the lids on loosely to allow some room for fermentation -- if it expands too much, at least the jars are sat in the (now empty) crisper drawer and won't overflow everywhere! We'll see what it's like in a few weeks' time...
Wednesday, 8 January 2014
Wolcum alle another yere!
Another year (or yere, as the Middle English text made famous by Benjamin Britten would have it), another chance to reflect ruefully on my failure to blog as much as I'd like... Despite my resolution of last year to achieve one new food-related experience and one blog post each week, in 2013 I managed just 18 posts. But at least I can say with certainty that this wasn't due to a lack of new experiences; rather, I was too busy having the experiences to blog about them! Where things really went to pot (cooking pun slightly intended) was in May, when fairly massive work commitments came to an absolute crunch (why is crunch such a savoury, delightful description for food but such a horrible term in the context of crunch-time? Personally I think crunch-time ought to refer to that blessed hour of the day when it is acceptable to break out the wine and crisps) and I barely got everything done the day before heading off to Ecuador for two months.
Ecuador was full of memorable and interesting food experiences -- some for better reasons than others: Chef Olga's fried dough balls will stay with me for a long time, in fact I think I can still feel them sitting in my stomach now. And though her arroz con menestra was quite tasty, there's only so much rice and beans one can eat before it becomes tedious. Then there were the chuntacurrus: marinated, deep-fried grubs with a horny head, a tough leathery skin and squooshy innards. Although not terrible, they still fall into the category of 'things I can say I've eaten' rather than 'things I'm glad I ate'.
On the other hand: I had some truly superb seafood while staying in Puerto Ayora in the Galapagos, including a fabulous juicy, sweet and tender grilled lobster with accompaniments for $25; a very tasty encocado de camaron in a lush coconut sauce; a great mixed seafood grill; and an utterly delicious dish of sea snail in garlic sauce, all from the seafood shacks along Charles Binford Avenue. There was also the freshest of fish straight off the boats, filleted and cooked right at the dock (with sea lions and pelicans waiting to snatch up the scraps); and the enticingly fragrant caldo de bolas de verde, too hearty to be a mere soup, rich with peanuts and spices, spiked with lime and with a generously sized tender plaintain dumpling stuffed with meltingly stewed goat in savoury sauce. And I became quite a fan of the $4 almuerzos and meriendas, including a soup, juice and choice of daily dishes -- not gourmet but good homely fare, and both cheap and comforting in my temporary home. The Ecuadorian range of hot sauces also has to be seen (or perhaps tasted) to be believed! I was in heaven at the supermarket and tried to buy one of everything; after two weeks of thirty people sprinkling them lavishly over Olga's rice and beans, we had just about exhausted the supply.
Anyway, once I got back it was off for September's pre-semester conference round and then straight back into being buried in work. Leisure to blog was hard to come by and with so many weeks of posts unposted, it seemed in vain to try to catch up. I do have quite an archive of notes and photos awaiting write-up, though, so I haven't been entirely stagnant in the fooding aspect of my life. Maybe 2014 will be a chance to get more of my thoughts and ideas and memories down in blog form. Here's hoping!
Ecuador was full of memorable and interesting food experiences -- some for better reasons than others: Chef Olga's fried dough balls will stay with me for a long time, in fact I think I can still feel them sitting in my stomach now. And though her arroz con menestra was quite tasty, there's only so much rice and beans one can eat before it becomes tedious. Then there were the chuntacurrus: marinated, deep-fried grubs with a horny head, a tough leathery skin and squooshy innards. Although not terrible, they still fall into the category of 'things I can say I've eaten' rather than 'things I'm glad I ate'.
On the other hand: I had some truly superb seafood while staying in Puerto Ayora in the Galapagos, including a fabulous juicy, sweet and tender grilled lobster with accompaniments for $25; a very tasty encocado de camaron in a lush coconut sauce; a great mixed seafood grill; and an utterly delicious dish of sea snail in garlic sauce, all from the seafood shacks along Charles Binford Avenue. There was also the freshest of fish straight off the boats, filleted and cooked right at the dock (with sea lions and pelicans waiting to snatch up the scraps); and the enticingly fragrant caldo de bolas de verde, too hearty to be a mere soup, rich with peanuts and spices, spiked with lime and with a generously sized tender plaintain dumpling stuffed with meltingly stewed goat in savoury sauce. And I became quite a fan of the $4 almuerzos and meriendas, including a soup, juice and choice of daily dishes -- not gourmet but good homely fare, and both cheap and comforting in my temporary home. The Ecuadorian range of hot sauces also has to be seen (or perhaps tasted) to be believed! I was in heaven at the supermarket and tried to buy one of everything; after two weeks of thirty people sprinkling them lavishly over Olga's rice and beans, we had just about exhausted the supply.
Anyway, once I got back it was off for September's pre-semester conference round and then straight back into being buried in work. Leisure to blog was hard to come by and with so many weeks of posts unposted, it seemed in vain to try to catch up. I do have quite an archive of notes and photos awaiting write-up, though, so I haven't been entirely stagnant in the fooding aspect of my life. Maybe 2014 will be a chance to get more of my thoughts and ideas and memories down in blog form. Here's hoping!
Wednesday, 18 December 2013
Tinned Tomato Taste Test
My local preferred supermarket sells two varieties of tinned tomatoes, and neither of them are San Marzano, which I understand to be the brand-of-choice for today's foodie. Instead, they come in ordinary and premium types. The latter has a more gourmet-looking label and costs 46p (or 39p on special) instead of 31p. But is it worth the extra 15p?
A monster chilli cooking session provided the opportunity for a comparison: I bought four tins of each type, thinking to smooth out any quality-related difference in the finished product by combining them. (A real test would have been to make two separate batches, one with each kind, but I had neither the time nor inclination nor kitchen facilities for that!)
The premium chunky chopped look a bit more rugged when the tin is opened; the regular kind have lots of smooth juice, though it's not too thin.
Emptying each tin into a bowl shows the textural difference; interestingly the regular has a deeper red colour than the premium.
But the real difference is in the taste: comparing a spoonful of each, the regular tomatoes taste weak and slightly acidic compared to the rich, round flavour of the premium kind. For around 30p more per average pot of tomatoey-saucey thing, it seems worth the extra. Then again, given the cheapness of tinned tomatoes, 15p represents a 50% price increase. If the tomato flavour is the star and needs to shine through, I expect the premium would be the better pick. But if the dish is going to be loaded with other flavours and spiked with additional tomato paste, maybe it wouldn't be especially noticeable. Perhaps I do need to do that double-batch taste test after all...!
A monster chilli cooking session provided the opportunity for a comparison: I bought four tins of each type, thinking to smooth out any quality-related difference in the finished product by combining them. (A real test would have been to make two separate batches, one with each kind, but I had neither the time nor inclination nor kitchen facilities for that!) 
Emptying each tin into a bowl shows the textural difference; interestingly the regular has a deeper red colour than the premium.But the real difference is in the taste: comparing a spoonful of each, the regular tomatoes taste weak and slightly acidic compared to the rich, round flavour of the premium kind. For around 30p more per average pot of tomatoey-saucey thing, it seems worth the extra. Then again, given the cheapness of tinned tomatoes, 15p represents a 50% price increase. If the tomato flavour is the star and needs to shine through, I expect the premium would be the better pick. But if the dish is going to be loaded with other flavours and spiked with additional tomato paste, maybe it wouldn't be especially noticeable. Perhaps I do need to do that double-batch taste test after all...!
Saturday, 16 November 2013
Eating Bruges
Well, it's November, week 46, nearly the end of the year and I have no idea how far behind I am with my New Year's one-post-one-new-thing-a-week resolution. Although posts have been sadly lacking over recent months, one of the reasons is that I've been away for a lot of that time and hence having lots of new food (and other) experiences, even if failing to write about them!
Right now, as it happens, I'm in Bruges for a day or so. Work takes me to Brussels more often than any other Continental city, and I do like it there (dinner in Little Vietnam is always a highlight, and the bars and cafes around Grand-Place for the proper tourist experience, or the back streets of Ste Catherine for funky chill-out drinking venues) but I feel like I've 'done it' enough, whereas Bruges is renowned for being historic and picturesque and is only an hour by frequent train from Brussels, and yet until now I'd never been. An evening and a day is only enough (especially when one spends half of that time working on a paper for deadline) to get a taste of the atmosphere, wander around and see a few sights -- but also enough to sample some of the city's dining and drinking spots.
I arrived at Bruges station around 4:30; dusk was just falling by the time I reached the town centre, so after finding my hostel and checking in, I decided a drink in the hostel bar was in order. They serve a decent house beer, Augustin, which seemed like a good place to start a Bruges beer adventure; I also tried a Keiser Karel. I know next to nothing about beers and can't even say what type these were, but both were rich, full-bodied and long-tasting.
Two beers down, I was getting quite hungry and ventured out in search of dinner. After getting distracted by the night-time canal-side scenery and meandering through a few back streets, I ended up back at a little place just across the road from the hostel. De Gouden Kroes is a seafood restaurant that comes reasonably well-recommended on TripAdvisor, which in this city that seems to have more restaurants than residents (I'm sure 90% of the people I've seen have been tourists) is as good as any other way to choose -- that and the €35 seafood platter, which when one is trying to decide between oysters, mussels and other options, provides a perfect compromise. I was slightly surprised that they were entirely empty at 7:30 on a Friday night, but this didn't detract too much; the atmosphere was neat and clean, and the huge tank of live seafood on display inside the restaurant promised good things.
Complementary appetisers consisting of a dish each of green olives, little brown-grey soft-shell shrimp and winkles (complete with pin for winkling) were very welcome, even if the inclusion of the latter also on the seafood platter made them a tad redundant. The platter itself was enormous, excellent quality and very good value. Three types of oyster (I'm afraid I don't remember which, though they were all subtly different and deliciously fresh); a generous helping of mussels and a similar number of large whelks, both steamed; a pot each of crevettes and winkles; three big, juicy prawns; two edible crab claws and two lusciously meaty spider crab claws; two langoustines complete with spiky claws and sweet, springy tail meat; and a huge whole scallop, together with a dish of thinly sliced scallop meat (possibly again different types; I didn't ask, but they seemed different - though that may have been due to the different presentation), both raw and with a wonderful sea-fresh sweetness. A choice of sauces came alongside: shallot vinegar, mayonnaise, aioli and a lightly spiced rouille; and the Muscadet available by the half-bottle was a perfect accompaniment.
The next morning, I needed to find somewhere for a tea-fueled writing session. (Not only did I want to get out and see somewhere other than the hostel cafe, but the frankly unenthusiastic service of the morning staff didn't induce me to stay!) Gingerbread Cafe, on Sint-Amaand St, fit the bill well: a spicy lemon black tea, and then a praline-scented black tea with hazelnut and almond, were both suitably aromatic and invigorating, and came with free hot water refills and a little chocolate and friand to nibble. I didn't feel up to cake for breakfast but picked up some ginger cake to take home.
Deadline met, I was ready for a late lunch around 2pm. Following my Lonely Planet mini-guide, I decided to head to Cafedraal, near the massive St Salvador's Cathedral, so I could see a bit more of the city en route. While I felt the welcome from the front of house was rather snooty ("A table? Well, just one dish and order quickly, the kitchen closes at 3..."), my at-table waitress was lovely, recommending which beer would go with my food (something called Bruges-Zot, with a nice rounded bitterness) and being all-round smiley and nice. The food itself was also excellent: I defied the maitre d' and ordered two dishes, though I did concede they could come at the same time -- a half-dozen oysters, and a "North Sea fish soup". The oysters were plump and everything one could want an oyster to be (save for detached-from-their-lower-shells, which I had to attempt myself with the oyster fork); the soup was outstanding. Tender chunks of salmon and whitefish, mussels and a fat prawn swam in a rich, tomatoey broth laden with finely diced vegetables. Little croutons, spread with a rouille that was piquant rather than creamy and sprinkled with shredded cheese, acquired a perfect texture and savouriness from bathing in the soup. Though listed under starters, this was easily hearty enough to be a main course in itself; I left full and satisfied.
After a canal tour and a walk around the city, it was time for more beer-sampling at the oldest pub in Bruges, Cafe Vlaamische. I was curious to try a Gueze, which they had on the menu: it turned out to be a light-tasting beer with a long, slightly sour aftertaste. Next I tried a Brugge Tripel, a heavier beer, more in the style of the ones I had sampled the day before.
For a final Belgian meal, I succumbed to the tourist lure of the restaurants lining the grand square of Markt, with their prix-fixe menus of typical Belgian specialities: I couldn't leave without at least one meal of moules frites! For starters I went for the shrimp croquette, which was tasty enough but overall unremarkable. The mussels, cooked in beer, were really quite good -- the beer-based liquor was heady and savoury, and complemented the juicy mussels and tangy sauce. Dessert was a choice of ice cream or chocolate mousse; I picked the latter, which did what it said on the tin that it might well have come out of.
So, that was Bruges in a nutshell (or teaspoon). Plenty of good food and new places, and a post to boot! Let's see how much I can catch up from here on...
Right now, as it happens, I'm in Bruges for a day or so. Work takes me to Brussels more often than any other Continental city, and I do like it there (dinner in Little Vietnam is always a highlight, and the bars and cafes around Grand-Place for the proper tourist experience, or the back streets of Ste Catherine for funky chill-out drinking venues) but I feel like I've 'done it' enough, whereas Bruges is renowned for being historic and picturesque and is only an hour by frequent train from Brussels, and yet until now I'd never been. An evening and a day is only enough (especially when one spends half of that time working on a paper for deadline) to get a taste of the atmosphere, wander around and see a few sights -- but also enough to sample some of the city's dining and drinking spots.
I arrived at Bruges station around 4:30; dusk was just falling by the time I reached the town centre, so after finding my hostel and checking in, I decided a drink in the hostel bar was in order. They serve a decent house beer, Augustin, which seemed like a good place to start a Bruges beer adventure; I also tried a Keiser Karel. I know next to nothing about beers and can't even say what type these were, but both were rich, full-bodied and long-tasting.
Two beers down, I was getting quite hungry and ventured out in search of dinner. After getting distracted by the night-time canal-side scenery and meandering through a few back streets, I ended up back at a little place just across the road from the hostel. De Gouden Kroes is a seafood restaurant that comes reasonably well-recommended on TripAdvisor, which in this city that seems to have more restaurants than residents (I'm sure 90% of the people I've seen have been tourists) is as good as any other way to choose -- that and the €35 seafood platter, which when one is trying to decide between oysters, mussels and other options, provides a perfect compromise. I was slightly surprised that they were entirely empty at 7:30 on a Friday night, but this didn't detract too much; the atmosphere was neat and clean, and the huge tank of live seafood on display inside the restaurant promised good things.
Complementary appetisers consisting of a dish each of green olives, little brown-grey soft-shell shrimp and winkles (complete with pin for winkling) were very welcome, even if the inclusion of the latter also on the seafood platter made them a tad redundant. The platter itself was enormous, excellent quality and very good value. Three types of oyster (I'm afraid I don't remember which, though they were all subtly different and deliciously fresh); a generous helping of mussels and a similar number of large whelks, both steamed; a pot each of crevettes and winkles; three big, juicy prawns; two edible crab claws and two lusciously meaty spider crab claws; two langoustines complete with spiky claws and sweet, springy tail meat; and a huge whole scallop, together with a dish of thinly sliced scallop meat (possibly again different types; I didn't ask, but they seemed different - though that may have been due to the different presentation), both raw and with a wonderful sea-fresh sweetness. A choice of sauces came alongside: shallot vinegar, mayonnaise, aioli and a lightly spiced rouille; and the Muscadet available by the half-bottle was a perfect accompaniment.
The next morning, I needed to find somewhere for a tea-fueled writing session. (Not only did I want to get out and see somewhere other than the hostel cafe, but the frankly unenthusiastic service of the morning staff didn't induce me to stay!) Gingerbread Cafe, on Sint-Amaand St, fit the bill well: a spicy lemon black tea, and then a praline-scented black tea with hazelnut and almond, were both suitably aromatic and invigorating, and came with free hot water refills and a little chocolate and friand to nibble. I didn't feel up to cake for breakfast but picked up some ginger cake to take home.
Deadline met, I was ready for a late lunch around 2pm. Following my Lonely Planet mini-guide, I decided to head to Cafedraal, near the massive St Salvador's Cathedral, so I could see a bit more of the city en route. While I felt the welcome from the front of house was rather snooty ("A table? Well, just one dish and order quickly, the kitchen closes at 3..."), my at-table waitress was lovely, recommending which beer would go with my food (something called Bruges-Zot, with a nice rounded bitterness) and being all-round smiley and nice. The food itself was also excellent: I defied the maitre d' and ordered two dishes, though I did concede they could come at the same time -- a half-dozen oysters, and a "North Sea fish soup". The oysters were plump and everything one could want an oyster to be (save for detached-from-their-lower-shells, which I had to attempt myself with the oyster fork); the soup was outstanding. Tender chunks of salmon and whitefish, mussels and a fat prawn swam in a rich, tomatoey broth laden with finely diced vegetables. Little croutons, spread with a rouille that was piquant rather than creamy and sprinkled with shredded cheese, acquired a perfect texture and savouriness from bathing in the soup. Though listed under starters, this was easily hearty enough to be a main course in itself; I left full and satisfied.
After a canal tour and a walk around the city, it was time for more beer-sampling at the oldest pub in Bruges, Cafe Vlaamische. I was curious to try a Gueze, which they had on the menu: it turned out to be a light-tasting beer with a long, slightly sour aftertaste. Next I tried a Brugge Tripel, a heavier beer, more in the style of the ones I had sampled the day before.
For a final Belgian meal, I succumbed to the tourist lure of the restaurants lining the grand square of Markt, with their prix-fixe menus of typical Belgian specialities: I couldn't leave without at least one meal of moules frites! For starters I went for the shrimp croquette, which was tasty enough but overall unremarkable. The mussels, cooked in beer, were really quite good -- the beer-based liquor was heady and savoury, and complemented the juicy mussels and tangy sauce. Dessert was a choice of ice cream or chocolate mousse; I picked the latter, which did what it said on the tin that it might well have come out of.
So, that was Bruges in a nutshell (or teaspoon). Plenty of good food and new places, and a post to boot! Let's see how much I can catch up from here on...
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