Portuguese Egg Tarts (葡式蛋挞)

Your egg tarts look more like curry puffs! That's what one reader says about Rasa Malaysia's Portuguese egg tarts.

Indeed, her tarts don't have any of the signature black burn marks. To me, what's supposed to be the custard looks more like an omelette . . . or maybe quiche filling.

Do you know what's wrong with Rasa Malaysia's recipe?

It's the shortcrust pastry she uses. Hong Kong egg tarts may be made with either shortcrust or puff pastry but their Portuguese cousins are always made with puff pastry. Why? Because, to get the hallmark splodges on the custard, the tarts have to be baked at a very high temperature. How high? About 250°C, which would have shortcrust pastry incinerated. That's why Rasa Malaysia bakes her tarts at 200°C. At that temperature, the shortcrust pastry doesn't burn but then neither does the custard even when it's overcooked (you can tell from the leathery, crumpled top).

If someone said to me that thing in her photo is a Portuguese egg tart, I would say, "On which planet?" Krypton maybe?

If you replace the shortcrust pastry in Rasa Malaysia's recipe with puff pastry and increase the oven temperature, would the egg tarts turn out ok?

Nope, because her custard filling doesn't have enough milk. You know how milk forms a skin when heated? The custard has to form the same skin and it's that skin that's burnt, not sugar or custard. What is that skin? It's a film of the milk proteins, whey and casein, which is formed when milk is heated. Too little milk means too little protein; too little protein means no skin; no skin means no burn marks even at 250°C, at least not before the pastry's burnt.

A lot of people think PETs' burnt splodges are bits of caramelized sugar. But sugar, or rather sucrose, turns black only when it hits at least 210°C. At that temperature, the pastry would turn black too. Milk proteins, OTOH, brown at a much lower temperature. That's why it's burnt when the pastry and sugar aren't.

Besides a layer of burnt protein, there's something else lurking atop the custard. You notice how shiny the custard is on top? The shine is because of melted sugar, not protein because protein isn't shiny. Some of the sugar separates from the custard mixture when it's heated at 250°C. It then bubbles up to the top, giving the tart its shiny look.

Separated sugar's a good thing except not all of it finds its way up if there's a lot. Some of it may sink to the bottom of the tart and turn the pastry soggy. How do you tackle this problem? By controlling the amount of sugar that separates from the custard mixture. How do you do that? By keeping the oven temperature low if you were baking Hong Kong egg tarts. For Portuguese egg tarts which must be baked at a high temperature, you do it with cornflour. The flour stabilizes the custard and, hence, reduces the amount of sugar separated.

To activate the binding quality of cornflour, it has to be added to the custard and then heated on the stove till the whole mixture reaches the right consistency. If it's too thick, it'll turn into scrambled eggs when it's baked. If it's too thin, it'll allow too much sugar to separate, turning the pastry soggy.

Unless you're making your own pastry, the only tricky step in making Portuguese egg tarts is when you cook the custard on the stove. Remember the thickening is a one-way street. If you overshoot, there's no turning back. Adding milk to thin it down doesn't work. Once the consistency looks right, you should put the pot in a water-bath to cool down quickly.

If you look at online photos of PETs, you'll see that a lot of store-bought tarts have a sunken top. Even Lord Stow's, the gold standard, are picture perfect only some of the time, i.e. when there's a press review!

How do you stop the custard from sinking as it cools down so that the top stays level?

Again by stabilizing it with cornflour. You see how important the cornflour is but it's missing from Rasa Malaysia's recipe?

And what's with her three drops of vanilla extract for 10 tarts? Three drops? Would these be three American plus-sized drops?

If you use readymade pastry shells, making Portuguese egg tarts is a cinch . . . . Well, it is provided you're not using a crap recipe like Rasa Malaysia's. Here's my video to show you how to make Portuguese egg tarts that look like Portuguese egg tarts rather than curry puffs or mini quiches:

MACAU STYLE PORTUGUESE EGG TARTS (葡式蛋挞) (Recipe for 9 tarts) 60 g dairy cream, 35% fat 60 g sugar 2 egg yolks, 30 g 1 tbsp cornflour 260 g full-fat fresh milk ½ tsp vanilla extract 9 frozen puff pastry shells, each measuring 7 x 3 cm (top D x H) To make custard filling, whisk cream, sugar, yolks, milk and cornflour till smooth. Stir over medium-low heat till thick enough to coat pot thinly (or metal spoon if using non-stick pot). Place pot in water-bath. Add vanilla extract. Stir till mixture is half-cool. Leave to cool completely. Preheat oven to 250°C. Line baking tray with aluminium foil, shiny side up. When oven is ready, remove pastry shells from freezer. Place slightly apart on baking tray. Fill shells with custard to 5 mm from edge. Bake till crust is brown, and custard is burnt and just stops bubbling. This takes about 30-35 minutes. You should check every 10 minutes and rotate tray as necessary so that all tarts brown evenly. Remove tarts from oven to wire rack. Leave till cool. Serve within a few hours whilst pastry is crisp. Leftovers should be unmoulded before pastry softens, then refrigerated uncovered (make sure there isn't any funky odour in your fridge). Reheat tarts on foil lined baking tray at 200°C. Pastry would turn soggy after 5 minutes, then crisp up nicely after another 5 minutes or so. Custard would be creamy and smooth but a bit sunken.

Chai Tow Kway (菜头粿; Fried Carrot Cake)

If you're looking for a good chai tow kway recipe, you've come to the right place. How do I convince you my CTK is good? By comparing to one that's bad, here, from The Little Teochew in a guest post for Rasa Malaysia. 

I've read many recipes for various sorts of steamed cakes made with rice flour, such as chwee kueh, orh kueh, lor bak gou, pak tong gou and, of course, chai tow kway. What's the one common feature they all have? The batter is cooked on the stove before it's steamed. The Little Teochew, unlike everyone else, mixes rice flour with room temperature water, then steams the batter straightaway. Why do the rest of us do extra work? Because unless the batter is thickened before it's steamed, the rice flour would sink and form a hard layer at the bottom of the cake. If you steam rice flour batter without thickening it first, your kway is doomed for failure.

Besides thickening the batter before steaming, recipes for steamed rice cakes have another common feature. What's that? There's a bit of oil in the batter. TLT's recipe, unlike everyone else's, has no oil. An oil-less cake would be gritty, not smooth.

The Little Teochew says,

"Feel free . . . to adjust the proportions of radish, [rice] flour and water.  Unlike baking, there are no hard and fast rules to making [chai tow kway], and a  little more (or less) here and there will not hurt."

A little more or less of water will not hurt? Sorry, that's utter nonsense. For the 200 g of rice flour in her recipe, even a bit more or less of water makes a big difference to the cake's texture. If you've never made steamed rice cake before, imagine it's 200 g of rice you're cooking and it's got the exact texture you like. Now imagine cooking the rice with an additional tablespoonful or two of water. Would the rice be edible? Of course. Would it still be perfect? Of course not. Naturally, what's perfect for you may not be perfect for me. You may use a bit more or less water than me. But you wouldn't want to use a bit more or less water than what would make the perfect rice for you.

Btw, my CTK recipe is adapted from Honey Bee Sweets' chwee kueh recipe, which has none of the a-bit-more-or-less-won't-hurt nonsense. She tells her readers to boil 1,020 ml of water, allow 20 ml for evaporation, and use 1,000 ml to make the batter. The chwee kueh made with her recipe is, I tell ya, as good as the best money can buy.

If you don't change the amount of water and cook the batter before steaming it, could TLT's recipe work? No way. Why? Because her water to flour ratio is wrong. I estimate her recipe has only 2.9 parts water (including the juice released from a craaaazy amount of radish) to 1 part rice flour. In comparison, my orh kueh uses 4.2 parts water to 1 part rice flour even though orh kueh is set a bit firmer than chai tow kway. With a ratio of 2.9, TLT's chai tow kway would be way too hard.

Why do I compare TLT's CTK to my orh kueh instead of CTK? Because my orh kueh, like her CTK, is made with only rice flour. My CTK, in contrast, is made with a mix of rice flour, cornflour and wheat starch. When you use only rice flour, the cake is harder. With a mix of cornflour and wheat starch added, it's softer (all other things being equal). And it's slightly gooey after it's fried. You'll never get the soft gooeyness if you use only rice flour, no matter how much water you add.

Why on earth does TLT steam the radish for 30 minutes? God only knows. I just boil mine. Five minutes is all it takes.

The Little Teochew calls chai tow kway radish cake. Please lah, dat is so anal! Every true blue Singaporean knows chai tow kway is carrot cake in English even though there's no carrot in it. Every true blue Singaporean also knows there's  usually no radish in chai tow kway unless it's homemade. And no true blue Singaporean makes chai tow kway at home except a few crazy ones like yours truly. So what's the point of calling chai tow kway radish cake, right?

The texture of the rice cake depends on not only the balance of flour, starch, water and oil, but also the consistency of the batter after it's cooked on the stove. Thicker batter makes a harder cake, and vice versa, even if the ingredients are exactly the same. You must therefore learn to judge when the thickness of the batter is just right. With my recipe, the kway is very soft but not mushy if the batter is cooked to the right consistency.

To get the frying part right, you need good quality ingredients. How fragrant is the garlic you buy? What about the spring onions, chai poh, eggs, fish sauce and light soya sauce? Your CTK can't possibly be fragrant if the ingredients are substandard. Good quality stuff would need just high heat and sufficient time to brown properly to give you kick-ass CTK.

After steaming your kway to perfection and carefully selecting the best ingredients to fry with, your efforts will go to waste unless you use the right wok. You should use one that's well-seasoned or the kway will turn into mush as you try your damndest to pry it loose.

How do you tell if your wok is well-seasoned? If you need to ask, then it probably isn't! In that case, please do what The Little Teochew recommends. Which is? Use non-stick, of course. I tend to think non-stick is for wimps but I'm sure that's just me. Anyways, did TLT actually make the CTK in her photos? If she did, why is her recipe so bad? Heheheh . . . heh . . . . Maybe she bought the CTK from some hawker centre! Oh well, it's none of my business. I just make CTK my way, for fun.

If you have Singaporean or Malaysian friends/relatives living somewhere where CTK isn't available, please send them this video and tell them to follow my recipe, not the one on Rasa Malaysia's blog:

CHAI TOW KWAY (菜头粿; FRIED CARROT CAKE) Source: adapted from Honey Bee Sweets' chwee kueh recipe (Recipe for 4 portions) Steaming 250 g grated white radish 480 g water 150 g rice flour 12 g cornflour 12 g wheat starch ¾ tsp salt 2 tsp vegetable oil 220 g water Frying 100 ml lard, melted replace with vegetable oil if you're a Muslim, Jew or wimp; if you're Muslim or Jewish but not a wimp, use duck or goose fat 40 g minced chai poh (菜脯; salted radish), Twin Rabbit brand rinse twice; soak 2-3 minutes in enough water to cover; taste and soak longer if too salty; drain  20 g garlic, peel and mince roughly 2 tsp light soya sauce 1 tsp fish sauce sambal (chilli paste) to taste 4 eggs 2 tsp light soya sauce, add to eggs and whisk thoroughly 200 g bean sprouts, rinse and drain thoroughly 40 g spring onions, wash and chop roughly To make steamed kway, place radish in a small pot. Add 480 g water. Weigh pot and contents. Take note of weight. Bring to a boil over high heat. Reduce heat to low. Simmer, covered, till radish is soft, about 5 minutes. Turn off heat. Remove cover. Wait till evaporation stops, about 10 minutes. Weigh pot and contents again. Weight should be lower by 100 g. Top up with water or discard excess liquid as necessary. Whilst radish is simmering, assemble rice flour, cornflour, wheat starch, salt, oil and 220 g water in a wok. Stir batter till smooth. When radish is ready, add radish liquid. Cook over medium-low heat, stirring constantly, till batter is creamy. Add cooked radish. Continue cooking and stirring, reducing heat to low as batter thickens, till batter is thick but not thick enough to hold its shape. Pour batter into 18 x 5 cm round cake pan. Level and smooth top. If you have difficulty smoothing the batter, that means it's too thick and your kway will be hard. If the top is smooth without human assistance, the batter is too thin and your kway will be mushy. Steam batter over rapidly bubbling water till cooked, i.e. inserted skewer comes out almost clean. This takes about 40 minutes. Remove cake from steamer. Leave till cool. Refrigerate overnight. Cut into bite-sized pieces. To fry kway, heat well-seasoned wok till very hot. Place 1/3 of lard in the wok. Heat till just smoking, swirling so that lard coats bottom of wok. Add steamed kway. Spread in a single layer. Fry over high heat till lightly golden. Turn over. Drizzle with a little lard. Fry till second side is also lightly golden, stirring to check if it is. Add chai poh and garlic. Drizzle with more lard. Stir to mix thoroughly. Drizzle with 2 tsp light soya sauce and 1 tsp fish sauce. Stir thoroughly. Alternate frying and stirring till kway is nicely brown and aroma of chai poh is released, drizzling with more lard when wok looks dry. Add eggs, followed by yet more lard. Turn over when bottom of eggs is golden brown,  pressing lightly with spatula after flipping to help eggs stick to kway. Fry till golden brown again. Add sambal. (If you prefer black CTK, add sweet sauce now, about 1 tbsp per portion.) Stir till thoroughly mixed. Add bean sprouts, then more lard. Stir till bean sprouts are heated through but not wilted. Add spring onions, leaving aside 1 tbsp or so. Stir through. Quickly taste and, if necessary, adjust seasoning with pinch of sugar if too salty or a few drops of fish sauce if too bland. Plate, sprinkle with remaining spring onions and serve immediately.

Ang Ku Kueh (紅龟粿; Kuih Angkoo)

I've just made some 紅龟粿. Is it good? Heheheh . . . heh . . . . Is your mother a woman?

It's my virgin attempt but the results are as good as the best store-bought ang ku kueh in town. The mung bean filling is uber smooth, has a very strong "beany" fragrance and isn't too sweet. The "skin" is very chewy and yet very soft. I tell ya, this 紅龟粿 is really to die for.

I'd like to think my kick-ass AKK is because of my brilliant culinary talent and all that. But the truth is the success is due to the excellent recipe from none other than Cooking for the President. I just followed the instructions (more or less).

C4P's dough recipe is quite unusual. The ingredients are roughly the same as other recipes but the method is very different. First, glutinous rice flour is combined with water and then refrigerated overnight. Second, coconut milk is cooked with rice flour, oil and sugar into a paste before it's mixed with mashed sweet potato and the wet glutinous rice flour. Other recipes don't have these two steps. Instead, the ingredients are just mixed together.

I think the extra work in C4P's method is the key to the chewy and soft "skin", which is so good I shan't bother to try other recipes. It doesn't get better than this, seriously.

What about the mung bean filling? That's less complicated compared to what it's wrapped in. It's not rocket science but a lot of people get it wrong. Why? Because of their obsession over cutting down as much fat as possible. Compared to other recipes, there's a lot of oil in C4P's filling. The amount is absolutely necessary to give the mung bean paste its velvety smoothness and strong fragrance, without making it overly rich.

I've made 紅龟粿 all of one time but, hey, I already have quite a few tips for conquering the traditional kueh. Here we go:

Don't soak split mung beans for too long. The longer the beans sit in water, the more flavour (and nutrition) they lose. An hour is ample, IMO. C4P says three hours, which might be ok. Some recipes go for an overnight soak. That's definitely too long.

A lot of recipes, including C4P's, have the soaked mung beans steamed. I think boiling is better because it's faster but you mustn't discard the cooking liquid which has heaps of flavour. Instead, let the beans boil dry. That allows the flavour released into the water to be absorbed back into the beans. The same argument applies to the sweet potato used for the dough.

How good the mung bean filling is depends on, besides the quality of the beans, how much sugar and fat there is. If there's too little, that means it has more water to get the right consistency. Water doesn't taste of anything and it dilutes the flavour of the beans. Sugar and fat, OTOH, enhance the flavour.

How long does it take to steam 紅龟粿? No time at all because the filling is cooked and the dough is very thin and partly cooked. The ones I make, which are pretty small, take about six minutes over low heat.

How do you know when the ang ku kueh is done? When it expands a little. If you continue steaming beyond that point, the dough becomes too soft, resulting in a flat, collapsed kueh without any distinct motif. To lower the risk of overcooking, 紅龟粿 should be steamed over barely simmering water.

The shell of a real tortoise is hard but the make-believe tortoise's shell needs to be propped up. The "supporting role" is played by the filling which must be able to hold its shape when it's hot. If it's too soft, the "tortoise cake" would flatten into a pancake once it's heated.

The ideal filling to dough ratio is 1:1. The capacity of my mould is 40 g, so I wrap 20 g of filling in 20 g of dough. C4P actually uses 27 g of dough for 20 g of filling. That would make the "skin" a bit too thick, methinks.

How do you find the mould's capacity? Put it on your kitchen scale, tare, then fill it with water. The weight of the water multiplied by 1.33 is the mould's capacity.

To reheat chilled ang ku kueh, bring some water in a rice cooker to a boil. Put the kueh in the pot, on the steaming tray. Cover and switch the cooker to warm mode. Ten minutes would be just right.

I thoroughly enjoyed myself using my new wooden mould. I felt very authoritative (!) whacking it against the chopping board – TWACK! and out came a perfectly formed ang ku kueh, like magic. I'll definitely make AKK again but it won't be anytime soon 'cause it's a hell of a lot of work . . . . Oh hang on, what am I saying? It's a hell of a lot of FUN, not work! I'm making AKK again this weekend . . . I think . . . .

ANG KU KUEH (KUIH ANGKOO; 紅龟粿) Source: Adapted from Cooking for the President (Recipe for 21 pieces) Filling 160 g skinless split mung beans 115 g sugar 80 ml peanut oil Dough 60 g young, light green pandan leaves wash and chop roughly 60 g undiluted fresh coconut milk 2¼ tsp rice flour 1 tbsp peanut oil 2 tsp castor sugar 1 medium-sized yellow sweet potato (aka yam in the US, I  think) wash and peel; slice 110 g ½ cm thick 150 g glutinous rice flour mix evenly with 125 ml water; refrigerate overnight, covered banana leaf scald in hot water; drain and blot totally dry; cut into 21 pieces each slightly bigger than your AKK rice flour, for dusting peanut oil, for glazing If you prefer red AKK, you should: (1) use an orange instead of yellow sweet potato; (2) omit the pandan leaves for the dough; (3) add red food colouring instead, enough to get a shade of red that's significantly darker than what the AKK looks like when it's cooked (the colour fades a fair bit when heated); and (4) cook the mung beans with a few pandan leaves. To make filling, soak mung beans in 480 ml water till expanded, about 1 hour (in tropical weather). Drain, rinse and drain again. Cook in 180 ml water, uncovered, till soft and dry, about 20 minutes. Mash beans roughly with spatula. Add sugar. Mash till dissolved and evenly mixed. Add oil. Mix till combined. Blend mixture till silky smooth. Fry in a wok over maximum heat possible, stirring constantly, till thick enough to hold its shape. Leave till cool. Divide and roll into balls weighing 20 g each (adjust to suit size of your mould if necessary; mine is 6 x 5 x 2 cm). To make dough, blend pandan leaves with coconut milk till finely minced. Squeeze to yield 60 g green milk. Place milk in a small pot. Add rice flour, oil and sugar. Mix till smooth. Cook over low heat, stirring, to make a smooth paste. Leave till cool. Cook 110 g sliced sweet potato in 120 ml water till soft and dry, about 15 minutes, to yield 100 g. Mash roughly. Add green coconut paste. Continue mashing till paste is smooth. Add wet glutinous rice flour made earlier. Knead thoroughly till evenly mixed. Divide and roll into balls weighing 20 g each (adjust if necessary to equal weight of filling). To assemble, lightly dust AKK mould with rice flour. Flatten ball  of dough, to about 6 cm wide. Place 1 piece of filling in the middle. Cupping top of kueh with corner of right thumb and forefinger (for right-handers), nudge and press dough to seal filling. Roll gently between palms till round, dusting lightly with rice flour if too damp. Place in mould. Press to flatten and level top. Turn over mould and whack hard against worktop so that kueh falls out, onto shiny side of banana leaf. To steam, bring steamer to a rolling boil. Place kueh in steamer, on a perforated tray. Cover and reduce heat to very low so that water barely simmers. Steam till kueh is slightly expanded, about 6 minutes. Remove kueh to a plate. Brush lightly with oil. Leave till cool. Trim excess leaf around kueh. To serve, wait till there's a birthday celebration . . . . Just kidding. AKK is good any day of the year but if you have a red one on your birthday, you'll live as long as a tortoise. And when your baby is one month old, you absolutely must give your friends and relatives some "red tortoise cakes" as a celebration. The red colour brings good luck and the tortoise shape symbolizes longevity.

Sui Gaw (水餃)

Dried sole is a crucial ingredient in sui gaw. It's grilled or roasted till dry and crisp, then pounded so that it's not too small (you wouldn't be able to taste it) nor too big (would be gritty). Added to the filling, dried sole gives sui gaw a unique toasty flavour. And if the stock is simmered with a few chunks of the dried fish, that's even better.

To make good "water dumplings", the prawns in the filling must be fresh. Ok, I know you know that. Here's a more useful tip: blot the prawns with plenty of paper towels after rinsing. If there's time, leave 'em in the fridge for a few hours, uncovered, so that they dry out a bit more. The drier the prawns are, the firmer they'll be after they're cooked.

Sui gaw filling must have lard or it'd be dry. Again, everyone knows that. What most people don't know is, we're NOT gonna keel over with a heart attack or stroke just because we eat lard every day. Don't believe me? Fine, go google for scientific studies that show there's a correlation between eating saturated fats and heart diseases, strokes, whatever. There should be heaps, right? Well, if you can find one, just one, I'll . . . bake you a LARDY CAKE!

When you cook a lump of minced meat, the proteins join together to form a tight, hard ball which is not very nice. The Italians overcome this problem by adding bread soaked in milk to their meatballs. The Chinese add other stuff like water, cornflour, tapioca starch, eggs, dried mushrooms and Chinese chives. Did you think water chestnuts are added only for their crunch? Well, now you know the coarsely chopped bits also help soften the meat filling.

Making good dumplings is only half the story. The stock can make or break sui gaw soup, so you need a good one. Before cooking the dumplings in the stock, blanch them in boiling water to wash away excess flour on the wrappers and also some of the lye. Lastly, add some veggies to the sui gaw soup. A bit of green on food is like a slick of lipstick on women.

Okey dokes, enough with the theory; here's the step-by-step how-to practical to help you make good sui gaw:

SUI GAW (水餃; WATER DUMPLINGS) (Recipe for 28 pieces, or 34 smaller ones pleated) 250 g minced pork 100 g minced lard 200 g prawns shell, keeping the shells and heads for making stock; devein, rinse and dry thoroughly with paper towels; cut pea-sized ½ tsp salt 30 g dried mushrooms break off stalks; soak caps in 3 tbsp water till soft, about 30 minutes; squeeze dry, reserving the liquid; chop roughly; stalks and liquid may be used for making stock 20 g dried sole, boneless tear into small pieces; roast at 180°C till brown, crisp and fragrant, about 20 minutes depending on the thickness; pound into 3-4 mm bits 120 g water chestnuts (6 pieces) peel, rinse and chop roughly into 3-4 mm bits 1 tbsp egg 1 tbsp light soya sauce 1 tbsp oyster sauce ½ tbsp Shaoxing wine ½ tbsp white sesame oil 28 or 34 sui gaw wrappers 1 beaten egg (add 1 tbsp to filling) if making crescent-shaped dumplings 1 litre chicken or pork stock, seasoned to taste 250 g green leafy veg, such as nai bai (奶白) or choy sum (菜心) rinse thoroughly; cut bite-sized 3 tbsp fried shallots ground white pepper Thoroughly mix minced pork, lard, prawns and salt. Gather mixture into a ball. Throw mixture back into the bowl, hard. Repeat 3-4 minutes. Add water chestnuts, mushrooms, sole, egg, light soya sauce, oyster sauce, wine and oil. Mix evenly. For unpleated dumplings, place 25 g filling on a wrapper. Smear some egg on edges of wrapper and fold to form crescent shape. Press edges to seal. For pleated dumplings, use 20 g filling per wrapper. Pleat as show in the video (2:21-2:37), then use water instead of egg to seal edges. To cook dumplings, bring pot of water and chicken stock to a boil. Keep stock simmering gently. Over high heat, blanch dumplings in the water till half cooked. Increase heat for stock to high. Transfer dumplings to the stock with a slotted spoon. Boil gently till cooked through. To test, place a dumpling in a spoon or ladle and press with chopsticks. Dumplings are done if hard. Transfer to serving bowls with a slotted spoon. Add vegetables to stock. Bring to a gentle simmer. Turn off the heat. Divide vegetables and stock between serving bowls. Top with fried shallots. Serve immediately, adding ground white pepper to taste before eating.

Har Cheong Gai (Prawn Paste Chicken)

How many ways are there to fry chicken?

More ways than there are to skin a . . . c-a-t. (Shhhh! Don't let the kitties hear us.)

Every culture has its own version of fried chicken. That is the chicken's destiny. That is why it crosses the road.


The recipe I use for har cheong gai is from All About Ci Char Cuisine. There're only four ingredients in the marinade: prawns fermented to a grey goo, oysters fermented to a brown goo, sugar and water. It's simple but that's how it should be. Are you tempted to add some ginger juice and good ol' Shaoxing wine to the simple marinade? Well, don't.

You might think wine and ginger would reduce 虾酱's fishy, pungent smell but they don't. I know 'cause I've tried. Without wine and ginger juice, 虾酱 undergoes a transformation when it's fried. Instead of the smell of dead rats – there's no better way to describe it – there's a distinct aroma and umaminess that's very similar to grilled dried squid. With wine and ginger juice added, the fried chicken would taste of raw 虾酱. The pungency is muted compared to uncooked 虾酱 but it's still pretty nasty. The chicken would taste nothing like dried squid that's been grilled. Sometimes, less is more.

The recipe is here. Give it a try if you like har cheong gai. Bye-bye.