Prawn Paste Chicken

I could smell the fermented prawn paste once the bottle was open. Phwoar! This is potent stuff!

It wasn't belachan, which is quite harmless until it's toasted or fried. Nor was it Penang hae ko, which is absolutely benign because it's got lots of sugar.

What I had was har cheong, a liquid prawn paste made in Hong Kong. It was a very appetizing grey – oh yum! – and the label on the bottle said, so reassuringly, 'Cooked [sic] Before Eating'. Thanks for the warning! You bet I will!

Your first whiff of har cheong might make you think of a rotting rat or, as a friend puts it ever so nicely, a mortuary with no power supply. But once you take a deep breath – be brave! – you'll get the aroma that explains why fermented prawn paste is cherished in Malaysia, the Phillipines, Indonesia, Vietnam, Thailand, Laos, Myanmar, Cambodia, and some parts of China. That's, what, easily several hundred million people? Oh hang on, I almost forgot Singapore. That adds another few million who eat lots of belachan (but don't make any).

There are many types of fermented prawn paste, and they all have their own following. I think Hong Kong har cheong is excellent, but someone from maybe Thailand would (almost certainly) disagree. Some say the best belachan in Malaysia is from Malacca; others say it's Penang. I guess what's best depends on what you grew up eating. It's not the absolute standard but the emotional connection that counts.

The first time I made har cheong gai was several years ago with a recipe from Lee Kum Kee. Marinated with just har cheong and a wee bit of sugar, the chicken was so salty only half of it was eaten. After the flop, the bottle of LKK Fine Shrimp Sauce sat untouched in the fridge for a few years! It was eventually binned only when I moved house.

Today, I finally made another stab at HCG. Giving LKK a wide berth, I armed myself with a different recipe and a different brand of har cheong. Unlike the first attempt which was verging on inedible, this recipe had water, a bit of oyster sauce, and more sugar to tame the massively salty har cheong. More importantly, the har cheong was, I think, far superior to LKK's. Everyone voted with his mouth, and there wasn't a single piece of chicken left.

If there's a favourite fried chicken in Singapore, my guess is it's HCG. Now I know how to make it. Mission har cheong gai finally accomplished – yay!



Related links:
Making har cheong in Hong Kong
History of Har Cheong Gai

17 July 2012 Update

Here's how I make har cheong gai:

HAR CHEONG GAI (虾酱鸡; PRAWN PASTE CHICKEN) Source: Adapted from All About Ci Char Cuisine (Recipe for 4 persons) 1 tbsp sugar ½ tbsp oyster sauce 2 tbsp water 2 tbsp 虾酱 (har cheong; Chinese fermented prawn paste) 2 chicken legs, about 400 g, wash, drain, and chop chunky ¼ cup tapioca starch vegetable oil for deep-frying The most important ingredient for prawn paste chicken is, other than prawn paste and chicken, water. The tapioca starch is also crucial. That's what Hong Kong Street Zhen Ji uses for its very popular har cheong gai, as shown in the video here. It's pretty good, better than cornflour. Add sugar, oyster sauce, water and har cheong to chicken. Stir thoroughly. Marinate 3-4 hours, turning over once mid-way. Bring chicken to room temperature. Shake off excess marinade from chicken. Dredge in tapioca starch till thinly coated. Pat lightly to get rid of excess starch. Deep-fry chicken in moderately hot oil over medium heat till cooked through and lightly golden brown. Remove chicken to a sieve. Increase heat to high. Heat oil till just smoking. Refry chicken till golden brown. Drain in a sieve lined with paper towels. Serve immediately.

The 'Mee Siam Mai Hum' Mystery

During one of his speeches a couple of years ago, the Prime Minister said, 'Mee siam mai hum.' He was relating how he would order the noodle dish, mee siam, without cockles.

The PM was perhaps making an attempt to connect with commoners who eat humble stuff, like me. But the speech set tongues wagging, to put it mildly, because mee siam doesn't have cockles, ever.

The harsher critiques thought the PM's little boo-boo showed how disconnected he was with everyday life. But I think there could be another explanation for his culinary faux pas. What he actually wanted to say was mee siam without tamarind, or mee siam mai assam. How do I know that? Take a look at his grandmother's mee siam recipe, extracted from Mrs Lee's Cookbook (Mrs Lee being said grandmother):

Run your eye through the list of ingredients for the gravy. See? There's no assam in Grandma's recipe.


So, confronted with the commoners' version that always comes with assam, the PM would say mee siam mai assam. But that fateful day, no thanks to a slip of the tongue, he said mai hum instead.

That might be one mystery solved, but I'm still scratching my head. Every single mee siam I've ever eaten is slightly tangy with assam. When I have a craving for mee siam, it's the spicy sourness that I long for. Why on earth would anyone make mee siam without assam?

Pandan Chiffon Cake (I)

I'm in the mood for a local cake, and no cake is more local than Pandan Chiffon. I start by comparing recipes from Epicurative, The Best of Singapore Cooking, The Raffles Hotel Cookbook, and the four featured by ieat. I put everything in Excel with the amount of flour in every recipe standardized to 100 g, and all the other ingredients adjusted proportionately. (Yup, I'm a geek, and proud of it.) Here's the spreadsheet (strictly for geeks like me):

Once I'm comparing apples and apples, it's obvious The Best of Singapore Cooking has heap loads of everything, from coconut milk to oil, egg whites, egg yolks, and especially sugar and baking powder. Every . . . single . . . thing! Hmm, doesn't seem right. BSC – out!

Epicurative and Raffles Hotel share practically the same oil-less ingredients, but the mixing methods are different. The "Grande Dame of Singapore" – or rather her servant, Ah Teng – whisks only the egg whites, and all of the sugar bar 10 g is added to unwhisked yolks. I don't like the method because whisked egg whites with only 10 g of sugar may be unstable, and unwhisked yolks doesn't have much volume. Ah Teng – out!

I decide to try Epicurative's recipe, splitting the sugar between the whites and yolks, then whisking each lot separately. I bake the cake for 40 minutes, which is plenty for a 21-cm chiffon. The crust is brown, but the inside is still wet whilst the cooked part is dry. As the cake cools down, it shrinks badly since it isn't cooked through. There's probably too much coconut milk in the recipe. Epicurative – out!

So, I'm left with ieat's four recipes. Hmm, Asianbakes seriously stinches stinges on yolks, whites, sugar and oil. Out!

Anna Chan's is an oil-less recipe, and my experience with Epicurative's oil-less chiffon hasn't been good. Out!

Of the remaining two, ieat recommends the one "with more egg whites" from Kiamniangwong. Actually, the recipe has less whites than Prima's, per 100 g of flour. But it has more in absolute number because it's for a bigger cake. (See? A spreadsheet helps!)

I take the doctor's order since he has clinically tested his prescription. My verdict? I'm very impressed by the cake's texture which is as soft as Bengawan Solo's. But the taste, using pandan essence/paste, leaves much to be desired, not to mention the hideous colour.

In case you don't know, squeezing juice out of pandan leaves is like squeezing blood out of stone. That's why most people use pandan essence, artificial green food colouring and, maybe to appease their conscience, a token amount of real pandan juice.

To make a pandan cake without fake food colouring, I have to figure out something: how to squeeze blood out of stone! Epicurative soaks finely ground stones leaves in water overnight, strains, then lets the mixture settle, and finally skims off the excess water floating above the juice. After trying her method, my verdict is: there're far too many steps, it takes way too long, and it's difficult getting rid of the excess water, so the juice is too diluted.

Epicurative's juice extraction method isn't good, but the principle behind it is. Why don't I mix the pandan with coconut milk instead of water? Bingo! The coconut milk turns from virginal white to Martian green, and all I have to do is get rid of the fibrous pulp with a strainer. Two hours later, I'm chomping on pandan cake that's full of the aroma of real pandan. It's light as air, soft as cotton, and green as a Martian – as good as Bengawan Solo's but baked by yours truly!

7 May 2012 Update:
Click here for more tips in baking the perfect pandan chiffon cake, and here's my step-by-step video:

PANDAN CHIFFON CAKE Source: Adapted from Kiamnianwong's recipe (Recipe for one 21 cm cake) 100 g pandan leaves, use only soft and moist young leaves buy 250 g and use only 100 g of the innermost, light green leaves 70 g freshly squeezed coconut milk, undiluted 180 g egg whites ½ tsp cream of tartar 50 g sugar 60 g egg yolks 50 g sugar 60 g vegetable oil ¼ tsp salt 100 g cake flour, sifted with baking powder 1 tsp baking powder Don't use old, dark green pandan leaves. Not only do these not have any juice, they actually absorb liquid because they're very dry. If you blend old and young leaves together, the juice of the young ones would be absorbed by the old leaves. 7 May 2012 Update: Click here for my step-by-step video and more tips on baking the perfect pandan chiffon cake. Preheat oven to 180°C (355°F). Wash and roughly chop pandan leaves. Blend with coconut milk and 1 tbsp water. Strain, pressing leaves hard. Discard pulp. Set aside green liquid, which should weigh 95 g.  Whisk egg whites with sugar and cream of tartar till just reaching stiff peaks. Set aside. In a separate bowl, whisk egg yolks and sugar till pale, thick and creamy (ribbon stage). Add green coconut milk, then vegetable oil, whisking till evenly mixed. Gradually add flour mixture, along with salt, again whisking till just evenly mixed. Add egg whites in 3 batches, whisking gently by hand in electric whisk's direction. Scrape down with spatula before mixing last batch of egg whites. Bang mixing bowl against worktop 2-3 times to remove air bubbles. Pour batter into 21 cm 2-piece chiffon tin that's not non-stick, slowly so that air bubbles still trapped in the batter are released. Run a chopstick round side of tin to remove more air bubbles. Level and smooth top. Bake cake in bottom of oven till risen and almost level with top of tin, about 15 minutes. Cake should now be very slightly brown and not cracked. Place baking tray in top of oven to block top heat. Continue baking till inserted skewer comes out clean, 20 minutes or so. Cake should now be slightly cracked. Remove tray from top of oven. Continue baking till top of cake is dry and medium-brown, another 5-10 minutes (7½ minutes for my oven). Remove cake from oven. Invert onto a bottle. Leave till cool, an hour or so. Cut cake out of tin.

Chicken Satay & Peanut Sauce

Do you know how satay sauce gets its tinge of yellow? Turmeric? Wrong! The golden hue comes from roasted peanuts, which have to be finely ground and boiled to release their colour.

The first round of satay sauce I made was too chunky because the peanuts were all roughly chopped as per the recipe. So for the second round, I pulverized half of the peanuts for a smoother and thicker consistency. Surprisingly, that also gave me the right shade of colour for the sauce.

Aaah, so that's how, and why!

I was following the satay sauce recipe in The Best of Singapore Cooking, and wondering why the roasted peanuts had to be boiled. Now I know! I thought I had to add a pinch of turmeric to make the sauce yellowish but that was unnecessary and, I'm sure, totally wrong.

Besides changing the colour of the sauce, the finely ground peanuts also enhanced the . . . 'satay flavour'. You know what I mean, that special flavour and fragrance unique to satay, that makes satay taste like satay?

For the chicken, I used the oven's grill function. What, no charcoal?! Ok, before the satay police arrests me for committing a crime against satay, let me say that the chicken was really succulent even without basting. A charcoal fire imparts a wonderful smoky fragrance but, in the wrong hands, it may dry out the meat, especially when basting oil keeps dripping on the charcoal. If there's a miserly amount of meat on the stick, the heat from naked flames would be too intense.

Compared to some satay that looks two-dimensional because the meat is so thinly sliced, my version was of generous proportions – definitely plus size! There wasn't any drama from leaping flames, dancing sparks or furious fanning, but there was plenty of juicy, succulent meat.

How good were the satay and satay sauce? Well, these were some of the comments I got: 'Where's the ketuput?' 'No ketuput ah?' 'Someone ate all the ketuput?'

Aaaa . . . argh! There's no ketuput. I don't know how to make ketuput. NO KETUPUT, OK? NO KE . . . TU . . . PUT! Om, om . . . OMOMOMOMOM!


Just kidding, folks. No one said anything about ketuput, but I did think the satay was missing something because there wasn't any rice cake cooked in coconut leaves. So I did a search, and found this:



Hmm, the weaving looks doable. Once I know how to do that, with coconut leaves instead of ribbons, the rest is a doddle. Fill the ketuput with rice and boil it – for five hours! And there's a coconut tree at St Pat's, just by Marine Parade Road, that can be quite handy. It's a funny looking tree because all you see is a circle of coconut leaves hovering just above the ground, instead of way up there, and the trunk is completely hidden by the leaves. I think it probably holds the Guinness record for the shortest coconut tree ever. I could just reach out and pluck some leaves for ketuput! Whilst I'm at it, I might as well get a few more for otak-otak, and there're several mangosteen trees not too far from St Pat's . . . .

CHICKEN SATAY & PEANUT SAUCE Source: Adapted from The Best of Singapore Cooking, by Mrs Leong Yee Soo (Recipe for 40 sticks and 2 cups of sauce) Chicken marinade 4 tbsp coriander seeds 4 tsp cumin seeds 20 shallots (120 g) 4 cloves garlic (25 g) 8 stalks lemon grass, tender part only, washed, and roughly chopped 4 slices galangal, washed, and roughly chopped 1 tsp turmeric powder, or ¼ thumb size piece turmeric 2 tsp salt ¾ cup sugar 2 tsp dark soya sauce 1 kg boneless and skinless chicken thighs, washed, dried, and cut small, bite size 8 tbsp oil 40 skewers, soaked in water overnight Satay peanut sauce 60 g assam (tamarind), mashed with ½ cup warm water and drained; seeds discarded 250 g toasted peanuts, skinless, and roughly chopped 250 g toasted peanuts, skinless, and finely ground 50 g shallots (8 pieces), roughly chopped 25 g garlic (4 cloves), roughly chopped 2 stalks lemongrass, tender part only, roughly chopped 4 thin slices galangal, roughly chopped 2 tbsp chilli powder, or to taste, mixed with an equal amount of water 6 tbsp vegetable oil 60 g palm sugar, roughly chopped 60 g sugar (4 tbsp) ½ tbsp salt Garnish – all in thin, bite size wedges ¼ cup red onion, layers separated ½ cup pineapple ½ cup cucumber To marinate chicken, toast coriander and cumin seeds over medium/low heat till toasty. Whilst still hot, pound or blend with shallots, garlic, lemon grass, galangal and fresh turmeric (if using) to a smooth paste. Mix with remaining ingredients for marinade. Refrigerate for 10-24 hours, covered. To grill chicken (after making peanut sauce – see below), thoroughly mix chicken and marinade with oil. Thread chicken on skewers, snugly. Spread marinade on the meat. If you want jumbo size satay, make 30 skewers instead of 40. I prefer the bigger ones for their succulence, and the size makes everyone go 'Wow!' Grill chicken till slightly charred and just cooked, about 5 minutes each side. Garnish with pineapple, cucumber and onion. Serve immediately with sauce on the side. To make satay sauce, place peanuts and assam water in a pot. Top up with water to cover peanuts by 3 cm (1 inch or so). Bring to a boil. Simmer gently for about 20 minutes, covered. Whilst peanuts are simmering, pound or blend shallots, garlic, lemongrass and galangal to a smooth paste. Fry paste with chilli powder in hot oil over medium heat till fragrant and colour darkens. Add to peanut mixture together with palm sugar, sugar and salt. Stir to mix thoroughly. Bring back to a boil, and simmer gently for 10 minutes. Reduce sauce or add more water as necessary to get a thick consistency. Taste and adjust seasoning if necessary. Turn off heat. The sauce continues to thicken as it cools down. If necessary, add a wee bit of water and stir through. The sauce is typically served at room temperature or slightly warm, but I think it's ok too piping hot or chilled. The recipe makes 2 cups or about 2 tsp per skewer. You'd have to make more if, like me, you like to drown your satay in peanut sauce.

Thai Stuffed Chicken Wings

If you hate bones as much as this chap who's gritting his teeth, and staring daggers at the person who's making him gnaw his food like Bo, then . . .

. . . stuffed chicken wings would be your kinda thing.

No bones; no worries! You'll be licking your lips, not gritting your teeth.

There you go, crispy chicken wings filled with fresh, juicy prawns, entirely boneless except for the tips – which I love gnawing on, but that's totally optional. What's not optional is the sweet chilli sauce . . . nor the ice-cold beer.

You don't say!  ldfd ldkfjld ldjfldjlljdfdldl jldlj. . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . .

THAI STUFFED CHICKEN WINGS (KAI SAWT SAI TAWT) (Recipe for 4 persons) 8 big chicken wings, tips and mid-joints only, washed and dried Marinade 5 pieces coriander root, pounded 1 large shallot, pounded 2 tsp fish sauce 2 tsp light soya sauce 1 tbsp oyster sauce ½ tsp salt 2 tsp brandy 2 tsp ginger juice ½ tsp sugar ¼ tsp ground white pepper ¼ cup sweet potato flour vegetable oil for deep-frying Filling 300 g prawns 3 water chestnuts, peel, wash and chop roughly 4 bird's eye chilli, or to taste wash, trim, and chop finely ½ tsp salt 1 tbsp roughly chopped coriander dash of ground white pepper To make 'chicken pockets', cut tendons around exposed tip of bones. Scrape/cut meat from each bone with a knife without damaging chicken skin. When bones are almost fully exposed, twist and remove smaller bone. Cut and remove bigger bone from joint. Thoroughly mix chicken wings with marinade. Marinate for 6-8 hours. To make the filling, shell and wash prawns. Dry thoroughly with paper towels. On a dry chopping board, with the side of a dry cleaver, flatten each prawn with a hard whack (or two). Place prawns in a bowl. Stir vigorously with a pair of chopsticks in one direction till sticky. This should take no more than a few minutes if prawns are dry. When prawn paste is sticky, add all other filling ingredients and mix thoroughly. To deep-fry, fill chicken wings with prawn mixture till about 80% full. Dredge with sweet potato flour. Set aside for 5 minutes to let flour adhere well to chicken wings. Tap gently to remove any excess. Deep-fry wings in moderately hot oil over medium-low heat till just cooked and lightly brown, 4-5 minutes depending on size. Remove wings from oil. Reheat oil till just smoking. Refry wings till golden brown. Serve immediately with sweet chilli sauce on the side.

Stuffed Tau Pok

Working out the recipe for Chinese rojak didn't seem like work since it didn't involve any cooking. In fact, stirring and tasting was my kind of entertainment. Once I figured out how it was done, I wolfed down a huge bowl of fruits and vegetables. That was my '5 a day' as per doctor's orders, in one shot.

I then made a bucketload of the sauce, and kept some chopped up fruits and veggies in the fridge. When I felt like having rojak, all it took was 30 seconds. Rojak had never been so good and quick.

The readymade supply didn't last long and soon, I had to whip up another batch. This time, oh boy, it seemed like a lot of work!

Making the tamarind water was a real pain 'cause it was too thick for the strainer, so I had to pick out the seeds one by one . . . by one . . . . I counted up to 127, then started chanting, "Om . . . ."

Meanwhile, the peanuts were roasting away. I had to stir them a couple of times so that they browned evenly. And then I had to rub off all the skins. And then I had to toss 'em high in the air outside the window so that the wind blew the skins away. Luckily, the wind direction was cooperative and nothing flew into the house. A round of vacuuming would have made me go "Aaaaargh!" "Om . . . ." again.

Finally, I had to get down to the chopping, slicing, measuring, dragging out the mini chopper to give the peanuts a whirl . . . .

I knew exactly what I had to do, so it was rather boring. I need something new!

Since I was, ahem, a veteran rojak maker (with a grand total of two weeks' experience), making a sauce for stuffed tau pok seemed like the natural progression. I made basically the same sauce as for Chinese rojak but added lime juice, kecap manis, and a thin instead of thick tamarind juice. I also added some palm sugar, which made the sweetness more nuanced. Mmmmm . . . . It was nice. Eaten with tau pok stuffed full of cucumber and blanched bean sprouts, the combination was surprisingly different from Chinese rojak. It was lighter and tasted of veggies, in a good way.

I think I'm done with rojak anything for a while. Oooh, what's that coming out of my ears?

STUFFED TAU POK WITH ROJAK SAUCE (Recipe for 4 persons) Sauce – makes about 1½ cups 60 g palm sugar (4 tbsp), mince and steamed till dissolved 2 tbsp sugar 60 g tamarind (4 tbsp; Orchid brand), mix with 90 ml hot water, drain and discard seeds 1½ tbsp chilli powder, or to taste 90 g fermented prawn paste (Two Boys brand) 1½ tbsp rojak flower (aka torch ginger bud) ½ cup peanuts (80 g), toast, rub off skin, and chop/pound roughly juice and finely minced peel of 1 calamansi lime 2 tbsp kecap manis (ABC brand) 8 pieces tau pok (豆卜, beancurd puffs) 100 g bean sprouts, blanch briefly, drain, and dry with paper towels 100 g cucumber, cut matchstick size, and dry with paper towels 2 pairs you zha kueh (aka Chinese crullers, 油条), separate each pair into two pieces The sauce is similar to the one for Chinese rojak but it's less thick since it's a dip. And it's got a more rounded sweetness from palm sugar, kecap manis and lime juice. Besides you zha kueh and stuffed tau pok, it's also a great dip for tart fruits like green mangoes. Mix all ingredients for sauce. Taste and adjust if necessary. Set aside. Mix cucumber and bean sprouts. Slit one side of beancurd puff in the middle to make a pocket. Stuff with bean sprouts and cucumber. Place tau pok on a rack if not grilling immediately so that excess water from the bean sprouts and cucumber drains away. Stuffed tau pok should be eaten the day they're made while the veggies are still crisp. Grill tau pok and dough fritters till crisp. Cut tau pok into 2 or 4 pieces, and you zha kueh into 5. Serve immediately with sauce on the side. Why not make some Chinese rojak as well? Click here for the recipe.

Steamed Garlic Pork Ribs

Let's see . . . I've done pork ribs with orange, coffee, red yeast wine dregs, fermented black beans, teriyaki sauce, and pickled plums. That's quite a lot already but here's one more: Steamed Garlic Pork Ribs. Yup, tonnes and tonnes of garlic; heaps of garlic; garlic galore!

Compared to the other recipes, steamed garlic pork ribs is really simple, using garlic as its flavouring agent.

Hmm, a bit too simple, perhaps?

Nope, don't worry. As Leonardo da Vinci said, "Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication." Don't underestimate the plant that sprouted from Satan's left foot as he was evicted by his landlord.


If you love garlic, Steamed Garlic Pork Ribs would be right up your alley. The ribs are marinated with raw and fried garlic and then steamed. The moist heat mellows the two types of garlic and, when the meat is almost falling off the bones and the cooking is done, more fried garlic is added. This time, it stays crisp and fully aromatic, making it taste quite different from the fried garlic that's been steamed. To round off the dish, a few drops of the oil from frying the garlic is drizzled on the ribs, reinforcing the aroma of the crispy garlic.

The layering effect creates a complexity that belies the use of only one flavouring agent. Isn't that simple yet sophisticated, incorporating one ingredient in four different ways?

The ingredients for steaming ribs with garlic are really simple. It requires no skill at all, and takes no more than a few minutes to put together. So go on and give it a try. You'll see the beauty of garlic, and why it's been a cooking ingredient for over 6,000 years . . . . Unless you're a vampire? Hey, I should send Buffy the recipe!

STEAMED GARLIC PORK RIBS (蒜香蒸排骨) Source: Adapted from All About Pork Ribs (Recipe for 4 persons) 400 g pork ribs, rinsed, dried, and chopped into small pieces 2½ cm (1 inch) long 2 packed tbsp fried minced garlic 2 packed tbsp raw garlic ⅛ tsp chicken powder ½ tsp salt ¼ tsp sugar ½ tbsp potato flour Garnish ½ packed tbsp fried minced garlic ½ tbsp roughly chopped coriander ½ red chilli, slice thinly crosswise ½ tsp oil from frying garlic In a deep plate, thoroughly mix everything except potato flour and garnish ingredients. Marinate for 30 minutes. Sprinkle with potato flour and mix till evenly coated. Steam ribs over rapidly boiling water till tender, about 1 hour. Taste and adjust seasoning if necessary. Sprinkle with garnish ingredients. Serve.

Korean Sweet Crispy Chicken (Dak Kang Jung)

Fried chicken coated with sugar, chilli flakes, candied ginger, toasted peanuts and sesame seeds – how does it sound? Dak Kang Jung (Sweet & Crispy Chicken) hails from Korea and, like most Korean food, subtlety ain't its middle name. I don't usually like meat that's sweet but it's a different story when it's also spicy and nutty.

Dak Kang Jung has so many layers of flavour that it's hard deciding what I like most about it. I love the ginger 'cause it's sweet and chewy. No wait, I love the peanuts that are so fragrant, and sweet and spicy at the same time. Yup, the spiciness from the chilli flakes is really good. But so is the spiciness from the candied ginger. Oops, I almost forgot the chicken. Yes, there's juicy, succulent fried chicken, but it's redundant 'cause the stuff sticking to it is so good. Oh hang on, it's better with chicken. Nah, it's just as good without chicken . . . . See what I mean?

Seriously though, whilst each component is good "solo", Dak Kang Jung is best when it's a "symphony". Sweet and spicy fried chicken combined with a peanut or two, a small piece of ginger and a good spattering of sesame seeds – all in one bite. Now that's what I call a culinary orchestra!

I love fried chicken, and have a list of how I like it done. Dak Kang Jung has a very prominent position on the list: right at the top. (Sorry, Mom, your fried chicken wings have been bumped down to the second spot!)

SWEET CRISPY CHICKEN (DAK KANG JUNG) Source: adapted from maangi.com (Recipe for 10 chicken wings) 10 chicken wings, without tips and chopped at the joint; or 20 chunky pieces of chicken 2 tsp salt ½ tsp ground white pepper 1 egg ½ cup plain flour ½ cup potato flour vegetable oil for deep-frying ½ cup water 65 g soft brown sugar ( ⅓ cup packed) 2 tbsp vinegar 1 tbsp light soya sauce ½ cup thinly sliced ginger ½ cup corn syrup ½ cup peanuts, toast till brown and fragrant, rub off skin and chop roughly ¼ cup white sesame seeds, toast till brown and fragrant 2 tbsp dried chilli flakes, or to taste I've adapted the recipe to suit my taste by adding more salt and chilli flakes but less sugar. And I've doubled the amount of flour for the batter. In a pan or wok, bring water, sugar, vinegar, light soya sauce and ginger to a boil. Simmer gently for 5 minutes. Add corn syrup. Simmer gently for another 30 minutes. Whilst sauce is simmering, wash and drain chicken, then sprinkle with salt and pepper. Add egg and mix thoroughly by hand. Sprinkle with plain and potato flour and, still mixing by hand, make sure chicken is evenly coated. Deep-fry in almost smoking vegetable oil over medium-high heat till just cooked and slightly brown. Reheat oil to just smoking. Refry chicken till golden brown. Turn off heat. Drain. When sauce is sticky and just thickened (not too thick or it will stick to your teeth), add chicken, peanuts, sesame seeds and dried chilli flakes. Turn off heat. Toss till chicken is evenly coated. Taste and adjust seasoning. But be very careful because melted sugar in the sauce is extremely hot! Serve as finger food with drinks, or eat with rice.

Chinese Rojak

Once in a while, I go on a binge eating session at a hawker centre to indulge in the "fun stuff". It's a low-carb pig-out so that there's as much variety as possible. Everything is, on its own, not very filling but when they're eaten together in one sitting, leave my friends and I barely able to move. A typical session may see us digging into barbecued stingray, barbecued crabs, stir-fried clams, fish soup, oyster omelette, chendol, ice-kacang and ngoh hiang. Anything else . . . ? Oh yes, we mustn't forget our fibre, so we'd have a plate of fruits and veggies in the most fun way possible – rojak!

I was busy stirring bowl after bowl after bowl of rojak sauce last weekend, trying to find one that I liked. The first mistake I made was with the tamarind water. I followed the rojak recipe in The Best of Singapore Cooking, mixing a walnut size blob of assam with 80 ml of water. That totally spoilt the sauce/dressing 'cause it was way too watery. I had to reduce the amount of water, and leave out the lime juice in the recipe, before I finally got a thick and sticky consistency.

Nailed it? Not yet, not so fast. The sauce turned watery again after I mixed it with fruits. The culprit this time was the (rather) expensive 'crystal' pineapple I had bought. It was really juicy and ideal for eating straight, but not for making rojak. The colour of the sauce wasn't right either. It should be almost black or very dark brown, but mine was more like a medium brown. Also, the fermented prawn paste didn't taste right, in a I-can't-put-my-finger-on-it-but-it's-not-quite-right kind of way.


I was into my third bowl of rojak sauce – making, not eating – and on a roll. Off I trotted to a minimart to look for a different brand of fermented prawn paste. 'This is the one rojak hawkers use!' the friendly shopkeeper assured me, holding up a red and blue plastic tub that said 'TWO BOYS BRAND'. 'Really ah?' I took his word for it, and also picked up a cheap, green and hopefully not so juicy pineapple.

On the fourth attempt, I finally nailed it with the help of the two new ingredients. The sauce tasted quite similar to the (famous) rojak in Balestier – hey, the one Chow Yun Fat goes to! It was a lighter version though, with less sugar and prawn paste – the way I liked it. If you prefer a richer sauce, just add more of both and peanuts, and provide for more sauce. And don't forget to toast the dough fritters and beancurd puffs till they're really crispy. That's the whole point of making rojak, to have you zha kueh and tau pok that go c-r-u-n-c-h! Plus, I can have as much green mango and jambu as I like! Plus, I don't have to wait – hey, the good places for rojak have electronic queue systems!


Was Chinese rojak invented by the Chinese? I hope so. It's a nice symbol of the old immigrants' assimilation into life in the 'South Ocean' with the use of ingredients from China and Southeast Asia. Even the name 'rojak', which means mix, is so apt. Do the 'new immigrants' know that, I wonder . . . .

CHINESE ROJAK (Recipe for 6 persons) 150 g mang kuang (local turnip; yam bean; jicama; 沙葛) 150 g cucumber 80 g under ripe pineapple 80 g green mango 100 g jambu (rose apples) 1 pair you zha kueh (Chinese dough fritters; 油条), toasted till crisp 4 pieces tau pok (beancurd puffs; 豆卜), toasted till crisp Rojak sauce (dressing) – makes 1 cup 90 g fermented prawn paste (6 tbsp) 60 g tamarind paste (4 tbsp), mixed with 3 tbsp hot water and drained; . . . seeds picked out and discarded (Orchid brand) peel of ½ calamansi lime, finely minced 1 packed tbsp torch ginger bud (aka rojak flower), finely minced 4 tbsp sugar 1 tbsp chilli powder, or to taste ½ cup toasted peanuts (80 g), skinless, and coarsely ground The dressing is sufficient for about 1 kg (8 cups heaped) of ingredients. Besides those listed above, other popular choices include green apples, buah kedongdong, cured jellyfish, cured squid, and blanched bean sprouts and kangkong (water spinach). Choose whatever strikes your fancy. Everything should be peeled, trimmed, washed and thoroughly dried as necessary, then cut bite size, into thin wedges where possible. To make rojak sauce, thoroughly mix all ingredients except peanuts. When sugar is melted, add all of ground peanuts except 2 tbsp and stir till evenly mixed. You should have 1 cup of sticky sauce that's as thick as peanut butter. Taste and adjust if necessary. Toss everything, adding dough fritters and beancurd puffs towards the end so that they don't turn soggy. Plate and sprinkle with remaining peanuts. Serve immediately. Why not make some Stuffed tau pok with rojak sauce as well? Click here for the recipe.