Sambal Ikan Bilis (II)

Ini ikan bilis; ini kacang.

"Beep beep beep! KT has reached maximum capacity of her Behasa Melayu."

What?! That is so not true. I know lots more Malay words . . . like, um, nasi lemak, mee rebus, ayam, ikan, babi, pulut, pisang goreng . . . .

No, it's not just food words I know. I can count up to 10 in Malay, and I know colour words like hitam, hijau, merah, puteh and biru. I have to confess though it's food, like kacang puteh and nasi kuning, that helps me remember the colour words.

I also know "majulah Singapura" means forward Singapore. Believe it or not, that's the only part of Little Red Dot's national anthem I understand. The rest is just gibberish to me, most of which I don't even pronounce correctly.

If it's any consolation, I'm not alone in my ignorance. Wiki says (link):

 The majority of Singaporeans are clueless about the meaning of their national anthem. Only 1 in 7 know the meaning of each word.

Only 1 in 5 are able to sing the anthem perfectly. Singer Taufik Batisah, who is Malay, isn't one of them. Instead of bersatu, he once sang berseru.

 About 1 in 10 can recite only the first line, or not even that.

One-time Deputy PM Rajaratnam once said, "Anyone over the age of five, unless mentally retarded, has no difficulty singing the anthem."

Ha . . . ha . . . ha . . . oh dear . . . .

Well, better late than never. Time to find out, I guess.

*google . . . click click click*

What the . . . !

I'd always thought "forward Singapore" meant forward in terms of economic growth. Hell no, it's actually happiness. Sama-sama menuju bahagia means: let us progress towards happiness together. Happiness? Gee, what's that? According to the Happy Planet Index, Singapore is the second unhappiest nation in Asia.

After looking up the meaning of each word in the anthem, I can now compose two Malay sentences: Marilah kita masak! Marilah kita makan! Come, let us cook! Come, let us eat!

Marilah kita click sini for the resipi. Please click here for the recipe.

Sambal Ikan Bilis (I)

The good news is, anchovy stocks have doubled because their predators – the type that doesn't have legs – have declined sharply in numbers. This is where we, the two-legged predators, need to step up our efforts. Eat more anchovies, people!

I don't know about you but I don't need much persuasion to eat sambal ikan bilis. The salty little fishies and deep-fried peanuts make a perfect ménage à trois with the sweet and spicy sambal.

Nasi lemak simply woudn't be complete without some sambal ikan bilis. No coconut rice? Never mind, it also goes well with Teochew porridge and steamed rice. Or just eat it on its own, but be warned that once you start nibbling, you won't stop till you eat everything. Which is fine if it's everything on the plate. Just don't go eating every anchovy in the oceans.

9 July 2012 Update

SAMBAL IKAN BILIS (ANCHOVIES WITH CHILLI PASTE) (Recipe for 6 cups) Sambal (makes 1 cup) 40 g lemongrass, white part only 150 g shallots 75 g garlic 20 g ginger 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 belachan roast at 150°C or dry-fry over medium-low heat till dry and crumbly 80 ml vegetable oil 20 g tamarind paste mash with 2 tbsp hot water, drain and discard seeds 30 g palm sugar, roughly chopped vegetable oil for deep-frying 150 g peanut ½ tsp salt 250 g ikan bilis, gutted and split 4 tbsp sugar Rempah (spice paste): Wash, trim, peel and roughly chop lemongrass, shallots, garlic, ginger and red chillies as appropriate. Grind or pound with dried chillies and belachan till smooth. Set aside. Peanuts: Deep-fry in warm vegetable oil over medium-low heat, stirring, till light brown. This should take 4 minutes or so. Turn off heat. Remove peanuts from oil. Immediately season with salt. Set aside. Anchovies: Rinse briefly and immediately dry with paper towels. Heat oil till just smoking. Add anchovies and deep-fry over high heat, stirring, till lightly golden. Push anchovies to side of wok. Let oil reheat to just smoking. Stir anchovies into oil and fry till almost golden brown. Turn off heat. Continue stirring till residual heat dissipates. Place anchovies with peanuts. Sambal: Remove excess oil from wok, leaving about 80 ml. Stir-fry spice paste over medium-low heat till fragrant, colour darkens and oil separates. Add palm sugar. Stir till melted. Add tamarind water. Stir till evaporated. Turn off heat. Remove to a bowl. Mix: Remove oil from the wok. Over medium heat, stir sugar till melted. Reduce heat to very low. Add peanuts and anchovies. Toss till evenly coated. Add sambal. Toss thoroughly. Taste and add more sugar if necessary. Turn off heat. Remove to a plate to cool down completely. Serve: sambal ikan bilis is excellent with steamed rice, nasi lemak, or Teochew porridge. Also makes a great nibble. Store leftovers in the fridge, tightly covered unless you like your fridge smelling of fish.

Pickled Green Papaya

The world is divided into two parts: those who love pickles, and those who hate pickles. ....... . . . .. ... . . ... . . .... . .. . . . . . .

If you're a pickle lover, you'd be drooling over this crunchy, sour and spicy pickled green papaya. If you're pickle hater, no amount of persuasion would make you make crunchy, sour and spicy pickled green papaya. Hence, no persuasion is necessary. .......  . . . .. ... . . ... . . .... . .. . . . . . .

PICKLED GREEN PAPAYA (Recipe for 1 kg) 300 g sugar (1½ cups) 300 g white vinegar (1¼ cups) 1.15 kg firm, unripe papaya, with green skin that has a hint of yellow peel, halve, remove seeds and trim head to yield 1 kg 2 tbsp salt 3 bird's eye chillies, rinse and slice thinly After cutting the papaya, you may find that it's too ripe for pickling, and too green for eating. In which case, please proceed to plan B: Buah Paya Masak Titek. Please note that pots, bowls and jars used should be non-reactive. Heat and stir sugar with vinegar until dissolved. Leave till cool. Rinse papaya thoroughly. Slice crosswise as thinly as possible, with a mandolin if available. Sprinkle with salt and mix thoroughly. Leave till limb and soft, about 10 minutes depending on the thickness. Rinse and drain. Mix with vinegar mixture and chillies. Cover and refrigerate. Papaya may be served after turning translucent. This may take 12 hours if papaya is paper thin and not too green. If totally green and not-so-thin, you'll have to wait 1-2 days. Adjust seasoning after papaya is ready for eating, if necessary, then wait at least 3-4 hours before serving.

Fried Wontons

Fried wontons are different from wontons in soup, apart from the fact that they're fried.

The filling for boiled wontons should have dried sole (大地鱼, aka 铁脯). The fish is toasted till brown, crisp and fragrant, then chopped into little bits. If it's not available, deep-fried shallots are a good substitute. With either of these ingredients in the filling, wontons cooked in soup would have a rich, intense aroma they wouldn't have otherwise. In Hong Kong, the motherland of Wonton Soup, the stock used is made with dried sole, amongst other things.

Fried wontons, on the the hand, don't need any dried sole or deep-fried shallots because the fragrance from the golden brown wrappers is sufficient.

Boiled wontons may be any size so long as the seams don't burst. Fried wontons, however, have to be quite small. If there's too much filling, the wontons would be brown before the inside is cooked. How much is too much? It depends on the mix of meat – use less if there's more pork, more if there's more prawns, and chicken would be somewhere inbetween. If you like your fried wontons big and meaty, 100% prawns would be the way to go.
 If you hate deep-frying because of the mess it may make, fried wontons would be good news. The wrappers are dry, so the oil doesn't splatter at all. Having your deep-fry and no cleaning is better than having your cake and eating it too!

FRIED WONTONS (炸云吞) (Makes 50 pieces) Filling 150 fatty coarsely minced pork 250 g prawns peel, devein, wash and dice 5 mm 3 water chestnuts peel, wash and dice 3 mm 2 tbsp thinly sliced spring onion 1 tbsp finely minced ginger 1 tbsp oyster sauce 2 tsp Shaoxing wine 2 tsp white sesame oil ½ tsp salt ¼ tsp sugar ¼ tsp ground white pepper 50 wonton wrappers water for sealing wrappers oil for deep-frying To make filling, place all ingredients in a bowl and mix thoroughly. Gather mixture in one hand and throw back into the bowl, hard. Repeat till mixture is sticky, 3-4 minutes. To wrap, please refer to video below but use only 1 rounded tsp filling per wonton. Wrappers may be sealed with beaten egg as in the video, or water. Alternatively, you could put some filling in the middle of the wrapper, dab some egg/water on the edges, fold to form a triangle/rectangle/semi-circle, then press edges to seal. (Click here if you need 12 photos (!) to show you how to make triangular wontons. But I'm assuming you are quite intelligent . . . .) Wonton wrappers brown very easily. Do not use too much filling, oil that's too hot, or fry the wontons when they're chilled. Otherwise, the inside may still be raw when the wrappers are brown. To fry, use moderately hot oil. Test by dipping wonton (or an uncoated wooden chopstick) into the oil. Temperature is just right when oil bubbles softly. If there's rapid bubbling, let oil cool down slightly before testing again. If there's no reaction from the oil, continue heating till bubbling softly. When oil is at right temperature, fry wontons over medium heat till golden brown, about 90 seconds. Drain and serve immediately with garlic or sweet chilli sauce on the side.

Sayur Lodeh

It was Cook a Pot of Curry Day yesterday because, to cut a long story short, some mainland Chinese with a delicate nose had asked his Singaporean Indian to stop cooking curry. Indignant Singaporeans protested in unison when they heard the story. How dare they tell us not to cook curry! It was a wonderful excuse to tell the mainland Chinese where to shove it, all in the name of protecting the national identity. Before long, Curry Day was organized via Facebook.

There are curries, and there are curries. If it had been a Malay, Nyonya or local Chinese cooking curry next to the mainland Chinese, there probably would have been no dispute. But Indian curries are different when they're not adapted to suit the tastes of the Singaporean Chinese. They have a pungence that's far more powerful than Malay, Nyonya or Chinese-style curries. Chinese Singaporeans call it 'the Indian smell'. For those who don't mince their words, 'smell' may be replaced with 'stink' or 'pong'

I don't know for sure but I suspect the Indian neighbour in the dispute was cooking the original, unaltered version of Indian curry that smelt really good or bad, depending on the race of the nose.

Singaporeans love their curries. But, for those who aren't Indians, most of them simply do not eat true blue Indian curries which have 'the Indian smell' – the kind of curry that Indians cook at home. How much do the local Chinese hate the smell? So much that they wouldn't rent their properties to Indians for fear that the curry pong would not only linger on sofas and curtains, but even penetrate deep inside concrete walls! Gross exaggeration, you think? Hey, the Indian neighbour in the story cooked with his windows closed, but that didn't stop his curries from being offensive!

Would everyone have jumped to the Indian neighbour's defence if he had been a foreigner? Or if the Chinese involved were from Singapore, not China? I doubt it, at least not in such great numbers.

Singaporeans may proudly declare their love for curries and chide the mainland Chinese for not adapting to Singaporean ways. But the unspoken truth is that the bulk of the population, the Chinese Singaporeans, dislike authentic Indian curries as much as the mainland Chinese. The 'Indian' curry fish head they love is actually not very Indian. They might be busy cooking and sharing curries on Curry Day, but chances are very few cooked the type of curry that had upset the mainland Chinese. Hypocrisy, much?

What was my Sayur Lodeh like? Mild and totally harmless, 'cause I followed my mother's Chinese style recipe. There was absolutely nothing Indian about it.

SAYUR LODEH (VEGETABLE CURRY) Source: My mother (Recipe for 6-8 persons) Curry paste 10 dried chillies (10 g), cut into small pieces with scissors, soak in warm water till soft, about . . . 30 minutes, squeeze dry, and discard water 120 g shallots (20 pieces) 50 g garlic (8 cloves) 10 g tumeric (½ thumb size) 20 g ginger (thumb size) 15 g galangal (¾ thumb size) 60 g red chillies (3 pieces) 10 g candlenuts (4 pieces) 4 kaffir lime leaves, remove veins 15 g belachan (1 tbsp), toast till your neighbours smell it 4 tbsp vegetable oil 1 large lemongrass, soft part only, wash and crush 25 g dried prawns (3 tbsp) 550 g cabbage (from Malaysia, not China), trim, cut chunky, slicing thick veins in the middle, . . . wash, and drain 150 g long beans, wash, trim, devein, and cut 7 cm long 2 tbsp light soya sauce 6 pieces tau pok (beancurd puffs), cut each piece into 2 1 medium size carrot (150 g), peel, wash, and roll-cut chunky 4 sprigs curry leaves, rinse 330 ml undiluted coconut milk 1 medium size eggplant (250 g), wash, trim and roll-cut chunky salt to taste, about ½ tsp The mix of main ingredients may be changed to suit your preference. Besides those listed above, other popular choices include fried beancurd, beancurd skin (deep-fried or soaked in hot water till soft), and mang kuang (yam bean). Wash, peel and chop ingredients for curry paste as appropriate. Grind or pound till fine. In a just smoking wok, heat vegetable oil till just smoking. Stir-fry lemongrass and dried prawns over medium heat till fragrant. Add curry paste and stir-fry till fragrant, drizzling with 1 tbsp water at a time when it scorches. (The oil doesn't separate because there isn't much.) When curry paste smells good, add cabbage and long beans. Stir-fry till heated through and wok is hot again. Drizzle with light soya and stir till absorbed. Add enough water to cover half of vegetables. Scrape wok to deglaze. Push cabbage and long beans aside and place tau pok in the middle. Tuck carrots and curry leaves here and there, then add ⅔ of coconut milk. Top up with more water to just cover everything. Cover, bring to a boil, and reduce heat to low. Simmer gently till cabbage is half tender, about 20 minutes. Push veggies aside and place eggplant in the middle. Add more water if necessary so that there's just enough liquid for veggies and tau pok to sit in. Repeat simmering as before till eggplant and cabbage are tender, 15-20 minutes. Liquid should now cover about 80% of veggies. Adjust if necessary by adding more water or increasing heat to boil rapidly, uncovered. Add salt to taste, about ½ tsp. Drizzle with remaining coconut milk. Stir gently to mix in. Bring to a gentle simmer and turn off heat. Sayur Lodeh may be served immediately. Alternatively, let flavours develop for 45-60 minutes, then serve at room temperature or reheated.

Sambal Timun

I like Mrs Wee Kim's sambal timun recipe in Cooking for the President. The magic of the Spicy Pork Cucumber Salad is in the dressing – isn't it always, with salads?

Opposites attract, so bland, tasteless timun (cucumber) and spicy, hot sambal (chilli paste) are the proverbial match made in Nyonya heaven. And when the matchmaker is Mrs Wee, you can be assured it's a particularly blissful match.

Besides the usual red chillies and belachan, the ex-First Lady also uses pounded kaffir lime leaves, thinly sliced bungah kantan (torch ginger bud) and julienned calamansi lime peel. That's a lot of intense flavours already but there's more.

There's a special touch in Mrs Wee's sambal timun: dried prawns which are dry-fried and then ground. The toasting gives the prawns a wonderful fragrance not found in other recipes that don't have this step. It also dries up the prawns which then soak up the calamansi lime juice, along with the delicious mix of flavours from belachan, chillies, lime leaves, lime peel and bungah kantan.

The dressing is looking good already but it's not done yet. Sliced shallots and blanched Chinese celery are tossed into the spicy paste, along with some salt and sugar. Mix, mix, mix . . . . Ok, now it's done. There're 12 ingredients in the Nyonya dressing, and each one plays a crucial role. It is, I tell ya, one awesome sambal that makes timun taste good. Who says cucumber is boring?

Sambal timun can be made without meat but if you have a carnivorous streak, Mrs Wee's recipe would make you very happy 'cause it has lots of soft, tender pork belly. Which, if you like, can be replaced with chicken and if you make it skinless, you'd have a tasty, fat-free salad. Hey, eat but don't forget about looking sexy in a see-through kebaya!

SAMBAL TIMUN (SPICY PORK CUCUMBER SALAD) Source: Adapted from Cooking for the President (Recipe for 8 persons) 300 g pork belly, cut 2 cm thick 500 g cucumber 30 g Chinese celery, cut 3 cm long, blanch in warm water and drain 50 g shallots, peel, rinse and slice thinly 45 g dried prawns, rinse, dry-fry or toast till semi-dry and grind till fine ½ cup calamansi lime juice (20-25 limes!), or 4 tbsp Chinese white vinegar 15 g calamansi peel (2 limes), rinse and julienne 2 bungah kantan (torch ginger buds), tender part only, rinse and slice thinly 40 g large red chillies (2 pieces), rinse red cili padi (bird's eye chillies) to taste, 6-10 pieces, rinse 2 kaffir lime leaves, medium size, rinse, tear and discard veins 15 g belachan (2 tbsp), toast till fragrant ½ tsp salt 2 tsp sugar Simmer pork belly in salted water till just tender, about 30 minutes. When cool enough to handle, cut crosswise 3 mm thick. Rinse and halve cucumber lengthwise. Deseed and cut diagonally 5 mm thick. Soak in water for 10 minutes. Drain. Prepare dried prawns, Chinese celery, lime juice, lime peel, shallots and bungah kantan as indicated above. Cut chillies and kaffir lime leaves into small pieces. Pound or grind with belachan into a fine paste. Place all ingredients in a big bowl. Mix thoroughly. Taste and adjust seasoning if necessary. Refrigerate if not serving immediately.

Sambal Kangkong

Do you know that there's a connection between kangkong and the God of Fortune, aka 财神爷?

I'm guessing you don't, so here's the story:

3,000 years ago, China was ruled by an emperor who knew diddly squat about everything. As with all useless emperors, he had a wicked concubine, and his was called 妲己.

One day, 妲己 pretended to be ill and said she needed to eat 比干's heart to be cured. 比干 was the good guy who was trying to set the useless emperor on the right path, so the concubine – actually a 'fox spirit' in human form – wanted to get rid of him.

Fortunately for 比干, one of his colleagues cast a spell on him so that he could live after his heart was dug out. There were, however, conditions: Upon losing his heart, 比干 had to leave the city on a galloping horse till he was at least 2,000 miles away, without looking back.

The bad news was, the evil concubine/fox heard about the spell, and transformed herself into an old woman selling kangkong. 'Kangkong! Kangkong!' she shouted . . . . Oops, sorry, she didn't speak Malay. It should be '空心菜! 空心菜!'

Upon hearing her cries, 比干 turned around to ask her what 空心菜 was. As he did, he fell from his horse and died 'cause the spell was broken.

What's all this got to do with the God of (Good) Fortune? Well, the stupid guy who couldn't follow simple instructions was deified as said god after he died. Why? Because he was heartless, so he couldn't favour anyone and would always be fair. That, I suppose, outweighed his inability to focus and not get distracted!

I guess 比干 didn't learn from Lot's wife, who looked back and turned into a pillar of salt. Or Orpheus, who looked back and his wife disappeared into thin air – poof! Good thing he didn't or he wouldn't have the dream job he has now, working only 15 days each year during the CNY period – very cushy!

SAMBAL KANGKONG (WATER SPINACH IN CHILLI PASTE) (Recipe for 2 persons) 250 g kangkong (water spinach) Sambal 3 dried chillies, soaked in warm water till soft, about 1 hour, drain and discard water 1 tbsp dried prawns, soaked in 1 tbsp water till soft, about ½ hour 1 red chilli 2 cili padi (bird's eye chilli) 3 shallots 1 clove garlic ½ tsp belachan, toasted till fragrant 2 tbsp vegetable oil ½ tsp salt ¼ tsp sugar The key to good stir-fried kangkong is a stonking hot wok. If too much is cooked in one go, the wok won't be hot enough. Hence, the recipe is for 250 g kangkong, which is only 150 g or so after trimming off the roots. That's enough for 2 portions, I think. If you need to make a lot, I'd suggest stir-frying the sambal in one go, then the kangkong in batches. Trim and discard roots of kangkong. Wash, then break thicker stems by pressing with fingers. Chop into 8-cm (3-inch) pieces. Set aside to drain. Wash, peel and roughly chop sambal ingredients as appropriate. Drain dried prawns, setting aside the water. Blend or pound everything into a fine paste. Have a taste and add more cili padi if you like. In a stonking hot wok, stir-fry sambal in vegetable oil over high heat till fragrant. Add salt and sugar. Stir through. Taste and adjust seasoning if necessary. Add kangkong and stir-fry till just wilted, 30 seconds or so, drizzling with the water for soaking dried prawns towards the end. Taste again and adjust seasoning if necessary. Plate and serve immediately.

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.

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.

Dry-Fried Bitter Gourd

There're two types of bitter gourd in my neck of the woods: big and small. I think some health freaks enthusiasts buy the small ones to make juice? Ewww . . . . They look really bitter – the gourds, not the fr . . . sorry, health enthusiasts.

Bitter gourds that are really bitter have hard, narrow ridges and are darker green. The less bitter ones are relatively softer, less green, more yellow, and have wide ridges. The bitter gourds I cook are the big ones that, over the years, have become less bitter. I used to sweat them before cooking but that's not necessary now.

I love frying the living daylights out of thinly sliced bitter gourd. The wok must be stonking hot and no water is added so that everything is dry and nicely charred. That includes an egg which, because there's too little oil, sticks to the wok and burns. I then scrape it up with a spatula, making sure I get everything off. These little bits of slightly burnt eggs, along with the garlic and caramelized light soya sauce, add to the fragrance from the charred bitter gourd.

Dry-fried bitter gourd may look quite unattractive compared to a green and moist stir-fry that has water added. But the strong aroma more than makes up for the lack of looks. I'd rather enjoy bitter gourd with my mouth and nose than eyes. The proof of the pudding is in the eating!

DRY-FRIED BITTER GOURD (干扁苦瓜) (Recipe for 4 persons) 250 g bitter gourd (aka bitter melon), rinsed, trimmed and thinly sliced crosswise 1 tbsp vegetable oil 1 big clove garlic, thinly sliced 1 tbsp light soya sauce pinch of sugar 1 egg, beaten with ½ tsp light soya sauce Spread out bitter gourd on a plate for 10-15 minutes so that it dries out a bit. Heat wok (preferably not non-stick) till stonking hot. Add oil and heat till just smoking. Add garlic and stir to coat with oil. Do not brown. Add bitter gourd. Stir briefly, then spread out bitter gourd in the wok and let it fry, without stirring, till lightly brown. Turn over and fry till second side is also lightly brown. Drizzle with 1 tbsp light soya sauce and add pinch of sugar. Stir till soya sauce is absorbed. Drizzle with beaten egg. Wait a few seconds for the egg to turn slightly brown. Mix gently, scraping any egg that may be stuck to the wok. Taste and adjust seasoning if necessary. Plate and serve.

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.