Chwee Kueh (水粿; Steamed Rice Cakes)

There're several types of steamed cakes made with rice flour. If you want to learn how to make these traditional delicacies, chwee kueh would be a good start. It doesn't take long and the ingredients are cheap, so you don't waste much time or money if you fail.

The first step in making chwee kueh is mixing the batter. The main ingredient is rice flour but that alone would make a rather hard kueh. To soften it, you need to add some starch. Some people use tapioca flour; I prefer a mix of cornflour and wheat starch. Of course, the amount of water in the batter is crucial to the success of the steamed kueh. If the ratio of water to flour/starch is wrong, the steamed cake will be too hard or too soft.

If you have a good recipe, the only tricky part in making chwee kueh is the second step, when you thicken the batter. If the consistency is too thick, the steamed cake will be hard, and mushy if it's too thin.

You need to judge when to take the pot off the heat. How do you do that? By observing the batter. Once it's thick enough to coat the sides of the pot thinly, put the pot in a water-bath to stop the cooking.

Chwee kueh should have a slight depression in the middle after it's steamed. That's the classic hallmark of chwee kueh. In fact, it's the water collected in the depression that gives chwee kueh its name, which means "water cake".

Where does the water come from? The batter which, if it's thin, releases water when it's heated, creating a depression in the process. Thick batter doesn't do that because the water can't break away from the starch.

If the steamed cake doesn't have a depression and is level, that means it isn't as soft as it should be. Mind you, that's not always a bad thing. A cake that's a bit harder than it should be may be ready to eat straightaway after it's steamed. A soft cake, OTOH, needs to cool down and set before you can eat it. If you like your chwee kueh piping hot, you'd have to re-steam it.

To make a good topping, you must avoid overcooking the chai poh. It becomes chewy and tough if it's heated for too long, and it'll stick to your teeth. How do you tell when the chai poh is done? Just mix it with a wee bit of dark soya sauce for colour, then fry it with some minced garlic. It's done when the garlic is nicely golden brown.

What sort of chai poh should you use? Salted, not sweet. The latter isn't really sweet but is just kind of tasteless because it's been washed, excessively, to get rid of the salt. Of course, not all of the salted variety is good. The bad ones (like Pagoda brand) are mushy, have none of the fragrance of chai poh, and taste only of salt. Chwee kueh is nice only when the topping is crunchy and fragrant.

Between orh kueh, chai tow kway, lor bak gou and chwee kueh, orh kueh is the easiest because it's quite forgiving. Orh kueh is nice whether it's a bit harder or softer.  

Chwee kueh is OK too. If you get it right, you eat it as chwee kueh. If it's hard, you can make it into char kway, i.e. chai tow kway sans chai tow, fried.

Chai tow kway is the most difficult. If it's too soft, it'll turn to mush when you fry it, and it's not nice if it's too hard. You have to get it just right.

Lor bak gou isn't too bad. Like orh kueh, it's got a lot of tasty ingredients which help make the job easier. I'll be doing a post on lor bak gou soon . . . ish. Meanwhile, here's the video for chwee kueh:

CHWEE KUEH (水粿) Source: adapted from honeybeesweets88 (Recipe for 20 pieces) Kueh 150 g rice flour 12 g wheat starch 12 g cornflour ½ tsp salt 2 tsp oil 300 ml room temperature water 400 ml boiling water Topping 150 g chopped chai poh (菜脯; salted turnip), Twin Rabbit brand 30 g garlic, peel and chop roughly ¼ tsp dark soya sauce 120 ml vegetable oil 2 tbsp sugar To make kueh, thoroughly whisk rice flour, wheat starch, cornflour, salt, oil and 300 ml room temperature water. Add 400 ml boiling water. Whisk again. Cook over medium-low heat till just thick enough to coat sides of pot thinly, stirring constantly. Place pot in water-bath. Stir till half-cool. Bring steamer to a boil. Place perforated tray in steamer. Arrange moulds, measuring 6 x 2 cm, slightly apart on tray. Fill moulds with batter to 3 mm from edge. Cover and bring steamer back to a boil. Steam 20 minutes over rapidly boiling water. Uncover. Cakes should have some water on top. If there is, steam uncovered till water evaporates, 1-2 minutes. Remove cakes from steamer. Cakes should be mushy just after steaming. Leave to cool down and set. Resteam just before serving if you prefer hot/warm chwee kueh. If batter is overthickened before steaming, cakes may be set or half-set whilst piping hot. To make topping, rinse chai poh twice. Drain in sieve, pressing to remove excess water. Transfer to mixing bowl. Add garlic and dark soya sauce. Mix thoroughly. Heat wok till hot. Place chai poh mixture in wok. Add enough oil to almost cover mixture, about 120 ml. Fry over medium-high heat till garlic is golden brown. Reduce heat to low. Add sugar and stir till dissolved. Turn off heat. Taste and if necessary adjust seasoning. To serve, unmould chwee kueh and top with fried chai poh, along with some oil. Add sambal on the side if you like your chwee kueh spicy.

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.

Soon Kueh/Turnip Dumplings (II)

Making 笋粿 is a hell of a lot of work! There, I've said it before anyone moans about soon kueh being a hell of a lot of work. Even if you have a food processor, which I don't, and you're not making a video of the whole process, which I was, all that stir-frying and rolling is still a lot of work. Are you counting? I just said "a lot of work" three times . . . make that four times.

Nobody makes soon kueh because he's hungry, even if he's hungry for soon kueh. It's far easier to just buy some or eat something else. You make soon kueh because you want to MAKE it, not because you want to eat it.

Some people go mountaineering or scuba-diving, others knit, play golf, whatever. Me, I make soon kueh. It's a hell of a lot of fun. I'm sure you think so too because why else would you be reading this post, right? (If you say it's because of my wit and wicked sense of humour, I WILL blush.)

Making soon kueh is time-consuming. But it's not difficult because one, I have a good recipe and two, I have a video to show you how step-by-step.

 Wanna learn how to roll dough into perfect, thin circles? You have come to the right place.



The recipe is here. Good luck, and have fun.

Teochew Fish Porridge (潮州鱼粥)

How do you tell if the fish you wanna buy is fresh? (a) It doesn't smell fishy. (b) The eyes are bright. (c) The gills are red. (d) It feels firm. (e) The skin is shiny. (f) All of the above. If you choose 'f', then sorry, you're wrong . . . mostly.

20 years ago, 'all of the above' would have been the correct answer. These days, the fish may feel and look fresh because it's preserved with formaldehyde, the stuff used by embalmers. Nice, eh?

So how do you tell if the fish is fresh or embalmed?

If the fish is cheap, such as ikan kuning, ikan selar or some farmed fish, it's probably safe from chemicals added postmortem. The more expensive stuff, like large white pomfret and large sea prawns, are more likely to be preserved. Without a lab test, you can tell if it's fresh only by eating it. If it looks and smells fresh but it's tasteless even though it's wild, not farmed, then you've been had.

When you've NOT been had, fish porridge is an absolute delight. It's full of the sweetness of fresh fish and, the way my mother did it, dried prawns, dried squid and 冬菜. It is light, with no fat at all other than a few drops of garlic or shallot oil, but it's totally delicious.

The special ingredient in my mother's fish porridge is dried squid which must be: (1) cut lengthwise into very thin strips; (2) soaked till it's completely soft; and (3) very lightly blanched in the porridge, just enough to make the squid curl. The dried squid lifts the umaminess of the porridge to a higher level but if you don't follow the three steps, you'll think there're rubber bands in the porridge. You have been warned.

I wouldn't say I'd eat fish porridge every day because there isn't anything I could eat every day. But I'd eat Teochew fish porridge maybe once a week. That's the biggest compliment possible from me.

TEOCHEW FISH PORRIDGE (潮州鱼粥) (Recipe for 2 persons) 20 g dried prawns rinse and soak 10 minutes or longer in just enough water to cover 10 g dried squid body, quill discarded, at room temperature with scissors, cut crosswise about 3 cm long; cut 10 g lengthwise into thin strips about 1 mm thick; rinse and soak in just enough water to cover till soft, about 20 minutes 200 g white fish fillet rinse and slice bite size 3-4 mm thick; mix evenly with 1 tsp light soya sauce; sprinkle with ½ tsp cornflour or tapioca starch and mix again 120 g long-grain jasmine rice 800-900 ml boiling water 1 tsp light soya sauce 1 tsp 天津冬菜 (Tianjin/Tientsin pickled cabbage) 1 tbsp fried garlic or fried shallots 1 tbsp spring onions cut 3-4 mm thick ground white pepper to taste Fish porridge should be made with a mild tasting white fish that has a fine, smooth texture, such as ikan tenggiri papan (spotted Spanish mackerel), ikan tenggiri batang (barred Spanish mackerel), white pomfret, or ikan kurau (threadfin). Prepare dried prawns, dried squid and fish as detailed above. Put kettle on. Wash rice till water runs clear. Add dried prawns, along with soaking liquid, and 750 ml boiling water. Bring to a boil. Stir thoroughly to prevent rice from sticking. Keep rice boiling rapidly for 10 minutes, checking and stirring from time to time to make sure rice doesn't boil over. Top up with boiling water if necessary, depending on how thick or thin you like your porridge. Continue boiling rapidly till rice is just soft but surface is still smooth without any sign of turning mushy, another 5 minutes or so. Season porridge with 1 tsp light soya sauce and 天津冬菜. Add fish and stir through gently. Turn off heat once porridge returns to a gentle simmer. Add dried squid, along with soaking liquid, and stir through. Remove pot from stove. Quickly taste and adjust seasoning if necessary. Immediately transfer porridge to serving bowls to prevent fish from overcooking. Sprinkle with spring onions, fried garlic and ground white pepper. Serve immediately with light soya sauce or light brown taucheo (fermented soya beans) as a dip, with lime juice and/or thinly sliced bird's eye chillies added if you like, to bring out the sweetness of the fish. Fish porridge is best eaten steaming hot. If your mother-in-law is Teochew and you want to impress her, add a pinch of very finely julienned young ginger next to the spring onions. If you want to knock her off her chair, add a piece of toasted Chinese seaweed (in addition to the young ginger), and make your porridge with white pomfret.

Bak Chang (肉粽; Meat Dumplings)

My mother made two types of 粽子 every year, kee chang and bak chang. The former is quite straightforward; it's just glutinous rice and lye water wrapped in bamboo leaves. Bak chang, however, is extremely varied in ingredients, seasoning, cooking method, and shape depending on which part of China your family is from. For us – we're Teochews – there're two types indigenous to our culture. The more elaborate type, called 双烹, has a small ball of sweet red bean paste wrapped in leaf lard. My mother always did the simpler type without the sweet red bean paste. The filling is 100% savory with fatty pork belly, chestnuts, mushrooms, dried prawns and fried shallots.

Our annual dumpling do always started a couple of weeks before the dumpling festival on the 5th day of the 5th lunar month. In the evening after we all got our housework or homework out of the way, adults and kids alike would sit at the dining table and pick out the non-glutinous grains in the glutinous rice. Say what? Say my mother bought glutinous rice which had a little bit of non-glutinous rice mixed in it. For bak chang, that didn't matter. For kee chang, however, the non-glutinous grains wouldn't cook in the alkaline lye water. Hence, these had to be picked out one by one. Amazing, eh? The amount of rice we managed to sieve through would determine how many kee chang were made. You can still buy impure glutinous rice nowadays but I presume no one uses it for kee chang anymore.

The actual process of making the dumplings was spread over two days. On the first day, the bamboo leaves and dumpling strings were sorted, soaked and washed. The rice would be soaked too, as were the mushrooms, dried prawns and dried chestnuts. On the second day, the filling and rice for bak chang were stir-fried and wrapped, then boiled 3-4 hours. Whilst the savory meat dumplings were being cooked – over a wood fire so as to save on gas! – Mum did the kee chang. These were much easier than bak chang since there wasn't any filling, and the rice wasn't stir-fried.

Mum was quite proud of her bak chang. Every year, she gave some to a few relatives and they gave her theirs in return. She'd taste each and everyone's dumplings versus her own, and then she'd quietly declare herself the winner of the dumpling making contest. It was a weird contest that the contestants, other than my mother, didn't even know existed. And there was only one judge, who was the only contestant who knew about the contest.

One year, the day after making dumplings, I found my mother looking like a panda with dark circles around her eyes. She hadn't slept well the night before, she said. What happened? Mum's bak chang wasn't as good as in previous years. Why not? Because she didn't stir-fry the glutinous rice. She was getting on in years and wasn't as sprightly as before. So she simplified things a bit, skipping what she'd thought wasn't a crucial step, and made the bak chang without stir-frying the rice. Hence, the sleepless night. And hence – despite everyone going 'NOOOOO! NO WAY!' – she made a second batch of bak chang, this time with the rice properly stir-fried. It was the only time she did two batches in one year. And that's why it's been burnt into my brain: fry the friggin' rice!

Here's how I enjoyed last weekend, frying rice and other stuff:

BAK CHANG (肉粽; MEAT DUMPLINGS) (Recipe for 25 dumplings) 25 large and 25 small bamboo leaves check that leaves aren't broken or have holes; soak overnight in enough water to cover, weighed down with something heavy; wipe clean and rinse thoroughly 25 dumpling strings or plastic raffia, each about 90 cm long if using dumpling strings, soak overnight with bamboo leaves; rinse till water runs clear and wring dry; tie to a pole with a slip knot; rest pole between back of two chairs or maybe kitchen cabinets and a table 120 ml vegetable oil 200 g shallots peel, rinse and slice thinly Filling 70 g dried prawns rinse and soak overnight in 4 tbsp water; squeeze dry, reserving liquid 70 g Chinese dried mushrooms rinse and soak overnight in 2/3 cup water; squeeze dry, reserving liquid; cut bite-sized into 50 pieces, reserving stems for other dishes 50 dried chestnuts (about 200 g) soak overnight in enough water to cover by 5 cm; remove peel with toothpick; trim black spots if any; rinse and drain 550 g pork belly rinse and cut bite-sized into 50 pieces 3 tbsp light soya sauce 1 tsp salt ¼ tsp sugar ½ tsp dark soya sauce Rice 1 kg long-grain glutinous rice rinse till water runs clear; soak overnight in enough water to cover by 5 cm; drain thoroughly 3 tbsp light soya sauce 1 tsp salt ½ tsp ground white pepper ¼ tsp sugar ½ tsp chicken powder Fry shallots in vegetable oil over medium till lightly golden. Turn off heat. Continue stirring till residual heat dissipates. Remove shallots to a colander. Remove half of the oil to a bowl. Turn on heat to maximum possible. Fry dried prawns till lightly golden. Add mushrooms and stir till heated through. Add chestnuts and stir till heated through. Add pork and stir-fry till slightly brown. Season with light soya sauce, salt and sugar. Stir till absorbed. Drizzle with water drained from dried prawns. Stir till dry. Drizzle with half of water drained dried mushrooms. Stir till dry. Drizzle with remaining mushroom water. Again, stir till dry. Add dark soya sauce and ground white pepper. Stir through. Taste a small piece of pork that should be cooked through. It should taste slightly more salty than how you'd like it. Adjust seasoning if necessary. Transfer to a bowl. Drizzle 2 tbsp water around wok. Stir to deglaze. Turn off heat. Add the water to the pork mixture. Sit till absorbed. Add half of fried shallots. Stir till evenly mixed. Wash wok and heat till dry. Place remaining shallot oil in the wok and heat till just smoking. Add glutinous rice, then remaining fried shallots. Stir till thoroughly heated. Season with light soya sauce, salt, sugar, chicken powder and ground white pepper. Stir till well mixed. Taste (but do not eat because rice is still raw) and adjust seasoning if necessary. Rice should be a bit saltier than usual because seasoning will be diluted by boiling water. Transfer to a bowl. Wrap and tie dumplings as shown in video (4:04 - 5:02). Boil 3 hours in enough water to cover. Unwrap one and see if the rice is soft. If it isn't, boil another 15-3o minutes. Remove dumplings from water. May be eaten immediately if you like. Or leave to drain and cool down, then serve warm or at room temperature. Refrigerate leftovers and steam to heat through before eating. The bak chang would be a bit smaller than the ones you buy. If you make them regular size, you may get only about 20 pieces instead of 25.

Orh Kueh/Steamed Yam Cake (I)

Making good orh kueh starts with choosing yam that's light for its size. Lighter ones have less water, and less watery ones are nicer because they're more fluffy, powdery and fragrant.

Next, be generous when trimming the yam. The outer parts are usually waxy and tasteless, especially when the yam is a dud. I usually cut 2-3 cm off the top and bottom, and 1-2 cm off the sides.

To enhance its fragrance, the yam should be fried and then seasoned lightly with salt and five-spice powder. Don't let the yam brown or it'd be leathery.

Orh kueh would be too monotonous if it tastes of only yam. Dried prawns, dried mushrooms and deep-fried shallots add a variety of flavours, textures and aromas. They are the indispensable supporting cast, without which yam would be a rather dull one-man show.

To make outstanding orh kueh, forget about water. That's what orh kueh that sells for $1 uses. The homemade type wouldn't taste homemade without pork or chicken stock. A good quality stock is the foundation of great orh kueh (. . . as well as, I kid you not, family ties and nationhood).

Readymade deep-fried shallots can't possibly compare to the one made at home. Likewise, a good stock doesn't come out of a can or bottle, or fall out of the sky. And there's a whole lot of mushrooms and dried prawns that have to be soaked, sliced and chopped. If making good orh kueh sounds like a lot of work and a lot of ingredients, that's because it is.

On the other hand, if you want some rice flour mixed with water and then steamed, that's real quick, easy and cheap. That's the type of orh kueh that sells for $1, which is actually quite expensive considering it's just rice flour and water. If you want to find yam in the $1 orh kueh, you'd have to send it for lab tests or at least use a microscope. Of course, the tasteless kueh comes with the obligatory chilli sauce because it wouldn't be edible otherwise.

Once, the chilli sauce on the orhless orh kueh I bought tasted of mould because it was made with mouldy dried prawns. I ate one mouthful and stopped. Since I wasn't the first and last person to buy the kueh, I guess there were lots of people who didn't mind the mouldy dried prawns. Amazing, isn't it?

Truth be told, I'm quite happy eating steamed yam seasoned with a bit of sea salt. But homemade orh kueh is nice once in a while when I feel up to it. "It" being the making, of course; the eating part is never a problem.

29 May 2012 Update
Here's how I make orh kueh:

STEAMED YAM CAKE (ORH KUEH; 芋粿/芋头糕) Source: Majorly adapted from Cooking for the President (Recipe for 24 pieces) 40 g dried prawns rinse and soak in 60 ml water till soft, about 15 minutes; squeeze dry, reserving the water; chop roughly 30 g Chinese dried mushrooms rinse and soak in 180 ml water till soft, about 30 minutes; squeeze dry, reserving the water; slice thinly, then cut 1 cm long 500-600 g yam (aka taro)* peel and trim to yield about 300 g; rinse; cut corn kernel-sized 100 g shallots peel, rinse and slice thinly 80 ml vegetable oil ½ tsp salt ¼ tsp five-spice powder 1½ tbsp light soya sauce ½ tsp ground white pepper 200 g rice flour 240 ml water top up water drained from dried prawns and mushrooms to make 240 ml 600 ml pork or chicken stock, boiling Garnish 2 tbsp spring onions, roughly chopped 2 tbsp coriander, roughly chopped ½ red chilli, julienned; or 1 tsp toasted white sesame seeds * How much you trim from the yam depends on how good it is. You should discard the white part, under the peel, that doesn't have much red veins. Click here for more tips on making orh kueh. Prepare dried prawns, dried mushrooms, yam and shallots as detailed above. In a wok, stir-fry shallots in hot vegetable oil over medium heat till lightly golden. Turn off heat. Continue stirring till nicely golden brown. Remove shallots with a skimmer and set aside. You should have about ⅓ cup. Reheat wok and oil till warm. Over medium heat, fry yam till just soft (but not brown), 2-3 minutes. Turn off heat. Remove yam to a big bowl. Immediately sprinkle with ½ tsp salt and ¼ tsp five-spice powder. Toss till evenly mixed. Set aside. Remove all but 2 tbsp oil from the wok. Reheat till very hot. Over medium-high heat, stir-fry dried prawns till lightly golden. Add mushrooms and stir-fry till fragrant and lightly golden. Add light soya sauce and ground white pepper. Stir till evenly mixed. Turn off heat. Add mixture to yam along with all of fried shallots except 2 tbsp. Stir till evenly mixed. Line bottom of 20 x 20 x 5 cm cake pan with parchment paper, leaving some overhang. Top up water from soaking dried prawns and mushrooms to make 240 ml (1 cup). Pour liquid into wok and stir to deglaze. Add rice flour. Stir till smooth. Add boiling chicken or pork stock. Stir till evenly mixed. Turn on heat to low. Stir continuously, scraping sides and bottom of wok. Reduce heat to very low as batter gets hot. If lumps appear, turn off heat immediately, stir vigorously till smooth, then turn on heat again. When batter starts to thicken, add fried ingredients (except the 2 tbsp shallots set aside). Stir till batter is thick enough to coat a spoon/spatula thinly. Go for a thinner consistency if you like your orh kueh softer, and vice versa. Turn off heat. Transfer batter into pan. Smooth and level batter. Steam over rapidly boiling water till inserted skewer comes out clean or almost clean, depending on consistency of batter before steaming. This should take about 40 minutes. Remove kueh to a wire rack to cool down, an hour or so. Unmould by running skewer around edge of pan, then lifting kueh onto a plate. Discard parchment paper. Cut into 24 pieces. Serve garnished with spring onions, coriander, red chilli or sesame seeds, and remaining shallots.

Teochew Ngoh Hiang

I can never get enough of ngoh hiang, the deep-fried meat rolls that are full of the fragrance of five-spice powder and yam, the sweetness of prawns and pork, and the crunch of water chestnuts. The salty beancurd skin wrapped around the filling adds to the aroma and, more importantly, it stops moisture from escaping, keeping the meat roll moist and juicy. Mmmmm . . . .

What makes Teochew ngoh hiang Teochew? It's the yam, which Hokkien ngoh hiang doesn't have. Of course, the Teochew version is far superior, in my totally unbiased, impartial opinion.

Seetoh is right about Teochew ngoh hiang having yam (0:25 in the video). But the yam isn't used as a thickener. Instead, it's added because it complements the five-spice powder, 五香粉, which gives the meat roll its name, 五香.

Does Teochew 五香 have a lot of flour, as Seetoh says? Only when cost is more important than quality, and flour is used as a cheap filler! That goes for anything made with minced meat, not just ngoh hiang, and certainly not just ngoh hiang that's Teochew.

I guess Seetoh doesn't know much about Teochew ngoh hiang, and he's eaten only bad ones. But he is right about one thing though. Good ngoh hiang, be it Hokkien or Teochew, must have lard. Please repeat after me: Good ngoh hiang must have lard! All together now: Good ngoh hiang must have LOTS of lard! Praise the lard! Hallelujah . . . . HalleluLARD!

People stopped eating lard in the 1980s, fearing for their life. But 30 years of abstaining from delicious pork fat hasn't delivered any of the benefits promised. The number of people suffering from high blood pressure, obesity, high cholesterol, strokes and heart diseases have increased relentlessly over the past three decades. So why is everyone still afraid of lard? And even eggs, which doctors have given the ok for donkey's years? Because abstaining from something enjoyable harks back to their childhood. It reminds them of how they were praised when, as kids, they did as they were told. It gives them a reason to say, as their parents did when they didn't misbehave, 'Good girl/boy!'

Do you want to be naughty for a change? If you do, scroll down for the recipe.

TEOCHEW NGOH HIANG (五香, FIVE-SPICE MEAT ROLLS) (Recipe for 16 small rolls) 60 x 40 cm salted beancurd skin (½ sheet) wipe both sides with damp cloth, and cut into 16 pieces each measuring 10 x 15 cm Filling ¾ cup yam (aka taro) diced 5 mm deep-fry over high heat till just cooked, 1-2 minutes ½ cup water chestnuts diced 5 mm 150 g prawns shell, devein, rinse, dry thoroughly with paper towels, and cut pea size 350 g fatty pork mince (mix 250 g lean meat with 100 g lard) 1 tbsp oyster sauce 1 tbsp Shao Xing wine ½ tbsp white sesame oil ¼ tsp ground white pepper 2 tbsp water ½ tsp cornflour ⅔ tsp five-spice powder vegetable oil for deep-frying Instead of small rolls, you can make big ones 4 cm thick and 15 cm long. These would have to be steamed, then deep-fried and cut bite size. Cooked twice, biggies wouldn't be as juicy as small ngoh hiang deep-fried without steaming. Prepare beancurd sheet as detailed above. Set aside. Prepare yam, water chestnuts and prawns as detailed above. Thoroughly mix all ingredients for filling except prawns. Stir, in one direction only, till mixture is sticky, about 5 minutes. Add prawns and mix through. Place 1 beancurd sheet vertically on a plate. Spread bottom end with 30 g (1½ tbsp) filling, up to 1 cm from edges. Roll upward tightly without folding in the sides. Set aside, seam side down. Repeat . . . . With a non-stick pot, deep-fry meat rolls in moderately hot oil over medium to medium-low heat till golden brown and just cooked. Best served hot as finger food, as it is. Only bad ngoh hiang need to be dunked and smothered in sweet dark soya sauce or sweet chilli sauce, to hide the fact that it's bad.