Ayam Panggang (Grilled Chicken)

The hallmark of a good roast chicken is crispy skin, right? Nah, not necessarily. Crispy skin requires hours of air-drying and I can't be bothered most of the time. It's good enough for me if the skin is nicely browned so that there's a 'roasty' aroma.

What? That's good but not very sexy? Ok, let's sex it up a bit.

Lather the tanned chook with lots of sambal that's full of spices and enriched with coconut milk, then stick it back in the oven. As the spicy paste bubbles away merrily in the heat, it caramelizes and forms a crust, transforming the ordinary roast chicken into – tadaa! – Ayam Panggang. How's that?

What? 'Flavour' is only skin deep? Banish the thought! The chicken is marinated with the sambal for a whole day before it's roasted. The meat is infused, right down to the bone, with the fragrance of lemon grass, kaffir lime leaves, galangal, coriander seeds, shallots, belachan, white pepper . . . . Happy now?

Whilst I don't air-dry the chicken for Ayam Panggang, I do dry it in the oven. I roast the bird at a low temperature – 130°C or so – for about 25 minutes. The heat is too low to cook the bird much but it dries out the skin quite well. I then crank up the temperature to 230°C and the skin, already dry, browns nicely in about 15 minutes. Meanwhile, the meat is just cooked and the breast still moist.

To get the ideal combination of brown skin and juicy meat, the roasting time, temperature and size of the chicken are crucial considerations. The type of bird chosen is also important. For Ayam Panggang, I prefer to use a regular chook that's tender and juicy as it is, and doesn't require brining to tenderize and moisturize the meat. A brine would make non-organic chicken too soft, and is better suited for organic birds with drier, firmer meat.

Let's give the chicken a good grilling, shall we?

AYAM PANGGANG Source: Adapted from Mrs Leong Yee Soo's The Best of Singapore Cooking (Recipe for 6 persons) Sambal 10 dried chillies, soaked in warm water till soft, about 1 hour 1 tsp belachan, toasted till fragrant 2 red chillies, seeded ⅓ cup shallots 1½ tbsp galangal 1½ tbsp lemon grass, white part only 4 kaffir lime leaves 2 tsp salt 2 tbsp sugar ¼ tsp ground white pepper ½ tsp dark soya sauce 1 tsp coriander powder 1 tsp lime juice 1 tbsp vegetable oil ⅓ cup coconut milk 1 small chicken, 850 g trimmed and spatchcocked Rinse and trim all ingredients as necessary. Blend everything except chicken and 1 tsp salt till smooth. Pour mixture into a plastic bag. Place chicken in the bag. Move mixture around so that it covers chicken (kind of) evenly. Leave to marinate for 12-24 hours, refrigerated. Remove chicken from the fridge. Scrape marinade into a pot. Place chicken on a rack for about 1 hour to come to room temperature. Whilst chicken is warming up, cook marinade over medium heat, stirring all the time, till thick, fragrant, and colour darkens. Add remaining 1 tsp salt. Taste and adjust seasoning if necessary. Remove from heat to cool down. Preheat oven to 130°C (270°F). Line roasting pan with aluminium foil. Place rack in the pan. Place chicken on the rack, skin side up, legs on the outside. Roast till skin is dry, about 25 minutes. Increase heat to 230°C (450°F). Roast till chicken feels firm, skin is brown, and juices run clear, about 15 minutes. Spread evenly with half of sambal. Turn off bottom heat in the oven. Continue roasting, this time with the chicken breast on the outside, till sambal is bubbling and brown, about 7 minutes. Remove chicken from the oven. When cool enough to handle, chop/carve and serve with remaining sambal as a dip, adding a squeeze of lime juice if you like.

Sambal Stingray (I)

I was in a restaurant somewhere in India. When the waiter came to set my place, a diner sitting nearby said something to him. It was all gibberish to me but I could tell that the tone wasn't too friendly. Next, the waiter trotted off with the banana leaf he had just laid on the table. And then he came trotting back with a stainless steel plate.

What the . . . ? Oi! Gimme back my banana leaf!

But the busybody diner was beaming and looking mighty pleased with himself. What could I say? I guess he meant well, and thought the 'Japanese' woman would prefer a 'proper plate'. I so would not!

I love banana leaves. To me, rice and curry tastes so much better when it's on a banana leaf rather than a steel (yuks!) or even ceramic plate. It's lots more fun, and I feel good using something that's disposable yet traditional and natural. Who says only modern people are lazy? Whoever first thought of using banana leaves as plates must have hated washing up, just like me!

The banana leaf in sambal stingray is the unsung hero. The sambal – always the sambal! – takes all the glory but even a good one would be even better with the banana leaf's subtle smokiness. Isn't the nicely charred leaf a perfect frame for the gleaming, red sambal? Sambal stingray without banana leaf just wouldn't be the same (though it's still better than no sambal stingray at all).



17 September 2012 Update

Here's my video guide for making sambal stingray:

SAMBAL STINGRAY (Recipe for 3-4 persons) Sambal (makes about 1 cup) 150 g shallots 75 g garlic 15 g ginger 40 g lemongrass, tender, non-bitter part only 50 g red chillies 15 g dried chillies trim stems, cut 2 cm long, soak in warm water till soft, about 30 minutes; squeeze dry and discard water 15 g belacan (fermented shrimp paste) roast at 150°C or dry-fry over medium-low heat till dry and crumbly 20 g tamarind paste mash with 2 tbsp hot water, drain and discard seeds and pulp ½ cup vegetable oil 30 g palm sugar, roughly chopped ¼ tsp salt 1 piece stingray wing, 400-500 g rinse and drain; cut a 2-3 slits in thicker end along the grain 1/3 tsp salt 1 piece frozen banana leaf thaw and rinse; trim to fit baking tray Garnish calamansi limes, halved red onion, thinly sliced tomato or pineapple wedges cucumber slices Wash, trim, peel and roughly chop shallots, garlic, ginger, lemongrass and red chillies as appropriate. Grind or pound with dried chillies and belachan till smooth. Stir-fry sambal paste with vegetable oil over medium heat till fragrant and colour darkens, about 15 minutes. Add palm sugar. Stir-fry till dissolved. Add tamarind water and salt. Stir-fry till oil separates. Taste and adjust seasoning if necessary. Remove from heat. Leave till cool. You should have about 1 cup. Use about 1/2 cup for 400-500 g stingray. Remaining 1/2 cup may be stored for a few weeks refrigerated. Preheat grill to 230°C (450°F). Line baking tray with aluminium foil. Lightly brush with vegetable oil. Place stingray on baking tray, white side up. Season lightly with salt, including slits. Grill till 70-80% cooked, about 5 minutes depending on thickness of fish. Spread with sambal, thinly. Grill till top of stingray feels firm when pressed chopsticks, about 5 minutes. Lift stingray from baking tray with a spatula. Place banana leaf in tray. Flip stingray onto banana leaf. Season lightly with salt. Grill till 70-80% cooked, about 7 minutes depending on thickness. Spread with sambal, thickly. Grill till fully cooked and sambal is sizzling and slightly charred, 5 minutes or so. Slide foil, leaf and fish onto serving plate. Pull foil from underneath banana leaf and discard. Garnish and serve immediately.

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.

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.

Salt-Grilled Salmon Head

I have a great solution for people who don't eat fish heads because they don't like the eyes staring at them. Eat the eyes first, then there's nothing to stare with!

When I made my very helpful suggestion to an ang moh friend who didn't like ocular animal parts, he thought I was kidding. So I promptly dug out one of the eyes that was causing him distress, and popped it in my mouth. It was so smooth and soft, it just glided down my throat.

"Mmmmm . . . oishi! Delicious! Do you want the other one?"

"Er . . . no, thanks!"

So I ate the left eye as well. He had no idea what he was missing! And he still looked horrified, shrinking back in his chair, even though there were no more fish eyes staring at him. God knows why!

In case you don't know, the soft stuff much coveted by eye connoisseurs like myself are the muscles that attach the eye to the socket. I eat the entire eyeball except for the white round thingy and sac. Which are, I think, the lens and lens sac but I'm not 100% sure.

There isn't much meat on a salmon head but the little there is comprises the choicest parts of the entire fish. The 'collar' – or front part of the neck if the fish had a neck – is full of fat that melts in the mouth. The cheeks just beneath the eyes are moist and smooth as silk. Then there're the fish lips – stand aside, Angelina Jolie! – charred to perfection.

'Meow meeoow miaaw miiaao . . . .'

See? The fish experts agree with me!

SALT-GRILLED SALMON HEAD (SAKE KABUTO SHIOYAKI) (Recipe for 1 person) ½ salmon head, cleaned and rinsed ½ tsp salt 1 wedge lemon Dry fish head thoroughly with paper towels. If possible, refrigerate for a few hours, uncovered and placed on a rack, to help the fish head dry out. Or you could use a hair dryer! Preheat grill. Line grill tray with aluminium foil. Place grill rack in the tray. Sprinkle ¼ tsp salt on cut side of fish head. Grill till slightly charred with oven door ajar, 7-8 minutes. Fish fat should start bubbling and spitting after 5 minutes. Turn fish over. Sprinkle skin side with remaining ¼ tsp salt. Again, grill till slightly charred, 7-8 minutes. Serve immediately with wedge of lemon on the side.