15-Minute Flower Crab Dry Curry

If you like crab but can't stomach the idea of being a crab killer, flower crab would be right up your alley. The blue crustaceans are mostly sold dead; live ones caught by local kelongs are available only once in a blue, blue moon, when you're extremely lucky. Or maybe unlucky if you're not into buying food that's still moving.

The taste of flower crab is quite different from that of the ubiquitous mud crab. Because flower crabs live in the sea, the meat tastes cleaner and sweeter than their muddy cousins which live in river estuaries. There's also a difference in texture. Flower crab is smooth, delicate and moist whereas mud crab, if it's big, can be quite coarse, overly firm and a bit dry. Both types of crab are the same though when they're not fresh – mushy and gross!

Do I prefer mud or flower crab? Hmm . . . they're different, as different as, say, mud crab and prawns. I like 'em both but if I really had to choose, I'd say fresh, good quality flower crab is actually nicer than live mud crab.

Most flower and mud crab recipes are interchangeable, but there're a few that aren't if you're a fusspot like me. Chilli Crab, for instance, should be made with mud crab. Curry powder, on the other hand, goes with flower crab. If flower crab isn't available, I think prawns would make a better substitute than mud crab. Mind you, if you put a plate of mud crab curry in front of me, I'd still eat it and enjoy it. I never say no to crab, and I've never met any crab I don't like so long as it's fresh.

With the help of a pack of readymade curry powder, making Flower Crab Dry Curry takes no more than 15 minutes from start to finish: four minutes to clean and chop four crabs, and three minutes to peel and chop some shallots and garlic, leaving eight minutes to stir-fry. Do you have 15 minutes to make a delicious crab dish? Of course you do! Do you have time to eat it though? Of course you do! What could be better than picking out the meat bit by bit from the nooks and crannies?

Some people like to stop and smell the roses but me, I prefer to stop and eat crab.

FLOWER CRAB DRY CURRY (Recipe for 4 persons) 2½ tbsp vegetable oil 60 g shallots peel, rinse and mince finely 40 g garlic peel and mince roughly 30 g curry powder for chicken (I use Nonya brand) add 3 tbsp water and stir to make a thick paste 4 flower crabs (aka blue crabs) weighing about 1 kg discard abdominal flap; separate shell from body; discard gills, and stomach in shell; rinse thoroughly and drain; twist off pincers and crack slightly with side or back of cleaver; chop and discard last joint of small claws; chop each crab into 4 quarters 40 ml light soya sauce 2 eggs, beaten Heat well-seasoned wok till just smoking. Add vegetable oil and heat till very hot. Add shallots and stir-fry over high heat till translucent. Add garlic and stir-fry till slightly golden. Reduce heat to medium-low. Add curry paste and stir-fry till fragrant, drizzling with 2-3 tsp water at a time if spices stick to wok. Do not add too much water in one go or you'd be simmering instead of frying. If you like, you could fry with more oil instead so that curry paste doesn't stick. Increase heat to high. Add crab. Stir-fry till thoroughly mixed and heated through, again drizzling with 2-3 tsp water at a time to deglaze spices that stick to wok. Drizzle with light soya sauce. Stir till absorbed. Add enough water to cover half of crab, about ⅓ cup. Bring to a boil, stirring to mix well. Reduce heat to low. Cover and simmer 3 minutes. Stir, then cover and simmer another 3 minutes. Crab should be cooked now. To check, pick a piece which has a pinky and ring claw and snip between the two claws with a pair of scissors. Meat is cooked if firm and opaque. Increase heat to medium-high. Stir to mix crab and curry sauce thoroughly. Turn shells upside down, i.e. cavity facing up. Drizzle a bit of curry sauce into shells, and then a bit of egg. Drizzle remaining egg on crab. Let egg set slightly, about 5 seconds. Stir to mix through. Sauce should now be just thick enough to coat crab. Adjust if necessary by adding a bit of water if too dry, or cooking a bit longer if too watery. Taste sauce and adjust seasoning if necessary. Plate and serve. Pssst! I'll let you in on a little secret. The eggy curry sauce is more yummy than the crab!

Kuih Seri Muka/Kueh Salat (I)

The custard layer of my kueh salat (aka kuih seri muka) is a pale avocado green. That's because it's made with (a lot of) pandan leaves. Do you know how the bibiks of yesteryears get a brighter green, naturally? They used dark green leaves called daun pandan serani/suji, which look like pandan leaves but are smaller and darker.

Somewhere along the way, pandan serani got edited out of most recipes and was replaced with artificial green food colouring. It's so rarely mentioned nowadays that a lot of modern cooks don't even know about these leaves.

Some cooks then edit out artificial green food colouring in their recipes, but not in the kueh or cake they make for their photos. Yup, they cheat (shock! horror!). Prime example: Rasa Malaysia's kueh dadar, which you can see here. There's absolutely no way she can get that radioactive shade of green with five precious pandan leaves for 300 ml of coconut milk and 120 g of flour.

Indeed, one of Rasa Malaysia's readers asks why he can't get the green colour in her photos although he follows her instructions. You should have used fresh leaves, she says. *snort; roll eyes* Never mind five. If she can get the radioactive green with 50 FRESH pandan leaves, I'll go scrub her kitchen floor for free. In fact, if she can get even a tiny hint of green of whatever shade with just five pandan leaves, I'll kneel and scrub away.

Isn't it sad that a lot of people have never heard of pandan serani, much less use it? And they wonder why their pandan chiffon cake, ondeh-ondeh, kueh dadar or kueh salat isn't bright green even though they've squeezed – and squeezed, and squeezed some more – the four, five or even 10 pandan leaves as instructed.

Which brings me to the splotches of blue, made with blue pea flowers, in the rice layer of the kueh salat. It's another thing that's been edited out of most recipes because, you know, we are all 'time-poor'. But if we keep changing recipes, for no reason other than to save time, adopt the latest food fad, or dumb-down for the benefit of those living in foreign land, mistakes sometimes creep in and we don't even realize it. Isn't it nice to make something the way it used to be made? At least once in a while so that we don't become too 'food-culture-poor'?
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20 August 2012 Update

KUEH SALAT (COCONUT CUSTARD ON GLUTINOUS RICE CAKE) Source: Modified from Cooking for the President (Recipe for 16 pieces) Rice layer 5 young pandan leaves, rinsed 250 g glutinous rice wash and drain in a sieve 125 ml water 1/2 tsp salt 125 ml freshly squeezed coconut milk, undiluted 50 bunga telang (blue pea flowers) pound finely and strain; discard pulp Custard layer 5 eggs stir thoroughly and sieve 100 g young pandan leaves wash and cut ½ cm long; blend with coconut milk; strain to yield 150 ml; add flour, salt, sugar and water to coconut milk; discard pandan pulp 150 ml undiluted fresh coconut milk 2 tbsp plain flour 1/8 tsp salt 115 g sugar 90 ml water To make rice layer, line bottom of 18 x 18 x 5 cm cake pan with parchment paper, leaving some overhang. Spread half of rice in pan evenly. Top with pandan leaves, then remaining rice. Add water and sprinkle with salt. Steam 10 minutes over rapidly boiling water. Drizzle with coconut milk. Mix thoroughly. Steam 20 minutes. Discard pandan leaves. Drizzle with bunga telang juice, unevenly. Steam 5 more minutes. Check that rice is cooked. If it isn't, drizzle with 1 tbsp water and steam a few minutes. Toss to mix the colours slightly. Press into an even, compact layer with a wet spatula or spoon. Cover and steam another 5 minutes. Proceed to steam custard as detailed below. If custard isn't ready yet, reduce heat to lowest possible and continue steaming. Rice must be hot and moist when custard is added or the 2 layers won't stick together. To make custard layer, cook coconut milk mixture over medium heat till gently simmering, stirring to dissolve the sugar. Remove from heat. Pour half slowly into eggs, stirring to mix eggs and coconut milk evenly. Next, add eggs to remaining coconut milk. Cook combined mixture over low heat, scraping bottom and sides of pot to prevent lumps, till slightly thickened. When rice is cooked, pour custard onto rice. Reduce heat to lowest possible. Keep steaming water just below boiling point, with the steamer's cover slightly ajar if necessary. Steam till custard is just set in the middle, 35-45 minutes depending on steaming temperature and thickness of custard before steaming. Test by inserting skewer in the middle and wriggling slightly (the skewer, not you). If skewer comes out clean, kueh is done. Final steps: Remove kueh to a wire rack. Allow to cool completely and set, 3 hours or so. Unmould by lifting parchment paper, onto a chopping board. Cut kueh with an oiled knife, scraping knife after each cut. Discard parchment paper. Serve as dessert, snack or for tea. Rice should be firm, not mushy; custard should be soft, smooth and rich. Refrigerate leftovers for up to 2-3 days, then bring to room temperature. Steam over rapidly bubbling water to reheat, about 4 minutes if cut serving size. Don't steam longer than necessary or colours would fade. Cool to room temperature before eating. 22 August 2012 update: Just thawed a piece of frozen kueh salat and steamed it. Guess what? It eats like it's freshly made.

XO Cognac Fried Chicken Wings

I have a friend who knows a thing or two about food. He doesn't cook but he's a discerning eater. If he says a restaurant is good, then it's either very good or at least above average. His restaurant recommendations never disappoint me, and I have total trust in his opinion.

One day, this friend of mine asked me to bring him some bak chang made by his mother. He was living in New York at the time, and I was going to visit him for a couple of days.

Smuggle some comfort food to the other side of the planet for a dear old friend? No problemo.

I hopped along to his mother's place, and Aunty gave me six bak chang to hand-carry to her son, plus another six as reward for the bak chang mule.

When I got home, I immediately steamed one of the little pyramids of glutinous rice, pork, mushroom, chestnuts, etc wrapped in bamboo leaves. I eagerly unwrapped the piping hot dumpling and took a mouthful, making sure there was a bit of each ingredient balanced on my chopsticks.

Chomp, chomp, chomp . . . chomp . . . ch . . . .

But . . . but . . . this is very ordinary what!

The dumpling wasn't bad, but it wasn't very good either. I was expecting something extraordinary because my friend had said his mother's bak chang was the best in this and the next galaxy, or something to that effect. But what I got instead was a very mediocre, average bak chang that was nothing compared to those made by my mother.

The next day, I and 11 bak chang flew off to New York, and promptly got thrown into jail for smuggling . . . . Just kidding. With my innocent look, I sailed through customs, like always (unlike those guys here.)

I stayed with my friend for two days and we had bak chang for breakfast on both days. Watching my friend's rapturous enjoyment of the unremarkable dumplings, I realized he wasn't at all objective in judging his mother's cooking. His mum's dumplings may be ordinary but, to him, they were so precious that he froze the seven he had remaining because he couldn't bear to finish them too quickly. Guess what? I couldn't either if I were he, which was why I nodded enthusiastically when he asked me if the bak chang was the best in this and the next galaxy.

I'd like to say the fried chicken wings my mother made were the best ever bar none. But I'm mindful that I'm not the best judge of my mother's cooking. You should take what I say with a pinch of salt, as I do when other people rave about their mother's cooking.

Oh look, here's another one who thinks his mother's cooking is the bee's knees:

'My mother loved good food and liked to cook for her children. When I went to college and had to eat institutional food in the hall, I was miserable. After I married and set up home, we had Cantonese maids. They were good cooks, but they could not quite reproduce the Peranakan dishes my mother cooked. So we got used to different standards. A year ago, my niece, Shermay Lee, updated my mother's cookbook and called it The New Mrs Lee's Cookbook Vol. 1: Nonya Cuisine. It won an international award. She had invited me to dinner at her cooking school in Chip Bee Gardens. Her dishes evoked memories of my mother's food. But either because of my age my palate has become dulled and jaded, or the ingredients are no longer the same; in my memory, my mother's dishes were better. However, for those who have never tasted my mother's cooking, Shermay's will be the next best available.' Lee Kuan Yew, 3 August 2004 Foreword to The New Mrs Lee's Cookbook Vol. 2

What was LKY's mother's cooking really like? Click here to find out.

Whenever my mother made fried chicken wings, she'd nick my father's XO Cognac and add a good splosh of the expensive brandy to the marinade. That, along with ginger juice, was what made her fried chicken wings special, she said.

In a time when meat was scarce, it was strictly one chicken wing per person. As a kid, I ate only half of my entitlement at the dinner table. The remaining half – the tip and the 'mid-joint' – I would savour it sitting on the swing in the backyard. I chewed off the skin very slowly, nibbled on the meat, then sucked on the bones. I could, I swear, make half a chicken wing last 30 minutes. That's the fondest memory I have of food in my childhood, and it explains why I think KFC is verging on inedible.

Is my mother's recipe for fried chicken wings the bee's knees? I think so but then I'm totally biased. You'd have to try it and see for yourself.

XO COGNAC FRIED CHICKEN WINGS (Recipe for 12 wings) 12 chicken wings weighing 1 kg wash and drain; chop each wing along main joint into 2 pieces; chop and discard tips if not eating Marinade 2 tbsp light soya sauce 3 tbsp oyster sauce 1 clove garlic, peel and pound finely 3 shallots, peel, wash and pound finely 70 g ginger, peel, pound finely and squeeze to yield 2 tbsp juice 1 tbsp Cognac ¾ tsp salt ¼ tsp ground white pepper ⅓ cup tapioca flour vegetable oil for deep-frying Marinate chicken for 24 hours, refrigerated, covered, and placed in a single layer if possible, in maybe a roasting pan or large Ziploc bag. Turn over once midway, or once every few hours if not in a single layer. 20-30 minutes before cooking, remove chicken from fridge to come to room temperature. When you're ready to deep-fry, drain and discard marinade. Dredge chicken in tapioca flour, patting gently to remove excess. Deep-fry wings in hot oil over medium-high heat till golden brown and cooked (meat feels firm when pressed). Remove from oil. Increase heat to high. Reheat oil to just smoking. Deep-fry wings again, this time till just golden brown. Drain using rack or sieve lined with paper towels. Serve immediately with sweet or garlic chilli sauce. Meat should be juicy, fragrant and nicely seasoned; batter should be crisp and not oily. To make fried chicken wings that are juicy, crispy and not oily, you need to do 5 things: [1] Deep-fry right after dredging the wings in tapioca flour. If you wait, the flour will turn soggy, and soggy tapioca flour absorbs a lot of oil when it's deep-fried. [2] The oil for the first round of deep-frying should be hot enough to bubble rapidly around the chicken. [3] The oil for the second round should be hot enough to bubble furiously. [4] Use a rack/sieve (to prevent condensation) lined with paper towels (to absorb excess oil) for draining the fried chicken. [5] Serve immediately once the chicken is drained.