Minced Pork Stir-Fry with Ketchup & Fermented Black Beans

Minced pork stir-fried with fermented black beans is one of the standard items served at places that sell Teochew porridge. It's different from other fbb-based recipes because it's got a good amount of tomato ketchup, a decidedly non-Teochew ingredient which, I suspect, my cousins in China don't use. But ketchup actually goes well with fbb's salty fragrance, adding a distinct dimension not found in fbb dishes that are more traditional.

The stir-fried minced pork sold at Teochew muay places usually has a layer of oil coloured red by tomato ketchup, and meat that has a generous amount of fat. The one I make avoids the excessive oil because I don't think it makes the pork taste better. However, I do use pork belly that's quite fatty. I find that pork that's too lean dries out after it's minced and stir-fried. Ideally, the fatty pork belly is minced very roughly, with a cleaver (or two), into tiny pieces the size of rice grains. You can't really see it but each small little piece of lean meat has a bit of fat attached, so it stays succulent and smooth after it's cooked. And it has bite, unlike mushy machine-ground meat.

You might think if you use a lean cut, stir-frying it with lots of oil would make it moist. But it doesn't work that way because the oil stays on the surface of the little lumps of meat. It doesn't get inside, so the lean meat stays dry.

At this point, you might be thinking, I don't eat fatty meat, period. And this is where I could give you a blurb about fats being an essential nutrient for the body (and brain), how fats don't always make you fat, how dietary cholesterol doesn't clog up your arteries, blah blah blah. *yawn* But I'm not gonna do that. Instead, I'd ask you to imagine what your tombstone will say. (What a cheerful thought!) Will it be 'She Did Not Eat Fatty Pork Belly'?

My guiding principle is, if it's not important enough to be on my tombstone, then it's not terribly important. That's why I eat pork belly, fat and all, without blinking an eye. And I don't wash intimate apparel by hand. But I always give my cats a head rub when they ask for one because their tombstones will say, 'She Had All the Head Rubs She Wanted'.

MINCED PORK STIR-FRY WITH KETCHUP & FERMENTED BLACK BEANS Source: My mother (Recipe for 4 persons) 2 tbsp fermented black beans 6 tbsp tomato ketchup 1½ tbsp vegetable oil 1 tbsp minced ginger 1 tbsp minced garlic 1 tsp thinly sliced spring onions (white part) 2 bird's eye chillies, or to taste, wash, trim and chop roughly 300 g fatty pork belly, mince roughly, by hand if possible 1 tbsp Shaoxing wine 1 tsp sugar 2 tsp diced spring onions (green part) Soak fermented black beans in 2 tbsp water for 5 minutes. Drain, mix the liquid with ketchup, and chop beans roughly. In a just smoking wok, heat vegetable oil till very hot. Add ginger and stir-fry over high heat till lightly golden. Add fermented black beans, garlic, chillies and spring onions (white part). Stir-fry till fragrant. Add minced pork and stir-fry till wok is hot again, jabbing to break up meat into small pieces. Drizzle with wine and stir through. Drizzle with ketchup mixture. Stir till absorbed. Drizzle with 2 tbsp water. Stir through. Add sugar and another 2 tbsp water. Stir a few minutes till sauce is reduced. There should be just enough to keep the meat nicely moist. If not eating within 10 minutes, leave sauce a bit thin because it thickens slightly as it sits. Taste and adjust seasoning if necessary. Turn off heat. Sprinkle with spring onions (green part). Plate and serve with steamed rice or plain Teochew porridge.

Kueh Bengka Ubi (I)

I was going to say it takes five minutes to put together a kueh bengka ubi (baked tapioca cake). But, thinking about it as I write, I'd say it takes only 90 seconds if, unlike me, you're not reading the instructions at the same time, and chasing cats out of the kitchen.

Yup, one and a half minutes is all kueh bengka ubi takes, or I'll eat my hat. Baking time is not included, btw, so please don't say it takes you an hour, and then tell me to eat my hat with sambal. Neither is shopping time or washing up. And I reserve the right to change this agreement any time I like, in whatever way I like. I assume your arms and legs are fully functional and . . . .

Hey, I almost forgot I don't have any hats!

To bake prep a tapioca cake in 90 seconds, forget about squeezing coconut milk. This is the 21st century. Who on earth squeezes milk from coconuts by hand? If you can find a place that sells grated coconut, that place would also sell fresh coconut milk lovingly squeezed by a machine. If you can't, then you've got nothing to squeeze, right? (I'm assuming you're not going to pluck, husk, and grate a coconut yourself. If you prove me wrong, I'll go buy a hat and eat it!)

The same place that sells freshly squeezed coconut milk and grated coconut would also sell freshly grated tapioca. Just grab a pack, along with the coconut milk. Remember to buy the exact amount for the recipe, so you don't have to waste precious seconds measuring after you get home.

When you're ready to bake, pour the coconut milk and grated tapioca into a mixing bowl, crack the eggs, measure the sugar and water, then mix everything up. How long would that take? 45 seconds? You now have 45 seconds left to line a cake tin, pour the batter, scrape the bowl, smooth the top, put the tin in the oven, and shut the door – bang! Job done in 90 seconds like I told ya!

If you have a few more minutes, you may want to squash a few pandan leaves in the batter to give it a nice fragrance. (Cakes, like cars and computers, have 'optional accessories'.) Mind you, the cake smells and tastes wonderful even without pandan, because of the coconut milk.

If you don't have freshly squeezed coconut milk, you could use the 'undead' variety that comes in a can or box. (Long-life coconut milk is dead coconut milk brought back from the nether world, isn't it?) What about pasteurized milk, the type that's sold refrigerated? Sorry, that's absolutely nothing like the fresh, unadulterated form. It is, however, better than the canned or boxed zombies (generally speaking).

If you don't have fresh and ready-grated tapioca, frozen may be available, like in the US. Or you may have fresh or frozen tapioca but it's not grated, in which case get your grater out and put the stopwatch away.

Kueh bengka ubi is one of the easiest Nyonya kueh-kueh. Want to give it a go, and you need a good recipe? No problem, I've done the leg work for you. I've compared four recipes, two from Lilywaisekhong, and one each from Mrs Leong Yee Soo (The Best of Singapore Cooking) and Mrs Wee Kim Wee (Cooking for the President):

I've rejected Lily's original recipe because it has a crazy amount of butter, sugar, eggs and coconut milk. Maybe it's an Americanized version since she lives in Denver? I don't know, but I do know even her skinny recipe is decidedly plus-size. And steamed mung beans (!) in kueh bengka ubi? That's news to me! Verdict: out.

Mrs Leong and Mrs Wee use similar ingredients, but Mrs Leong's method is less straightforward. Her recipe has grated tapioca mixed with water, squeezed dry, and then the water is left to settle. After the starch sinks to the bottom, it's drained and mixed with the grated tapioca. Next, the other ingredients for the cake – eggs, sugar, coconut milk, etc – are cooked on the stove, then added to the tapioca mixture. Finally, the cake is baked till golden brown. Mrs Wee's recipe is much easier since the ingredients are just stirred together, more or less, then into the oven they go.

The recipe I've tried is Mrs Wee's. I'm munching a piece of tapioca cake as I write this post, and it's very, very fragrant, especially the caramelized top. It's a bit on the sweet side, but still within my acceptable range. The chewiness is just right, not too soft nor too hard (which Mrs Leong's may be, I think, because it has less liquid).

What's my rating for Mrs Wee's kueh ubi? Uber good! It's another great recipe from Cooking for the President that I'd thoroughly recommend (unless you don't eat ubi).

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go steam some fish, then pick out all the bones. "Ikan will be ready in a few minutes, Your Feline Highness."

7 June 2012 Update



Click here for tips on making kueh bengka ubi.

KUEH BENGKA UBI (BAKED TAPIOCA CAKE) Source: Adapted from Cooking for the President (Recipe for one 23 cm cake) banana leaf or parchment paper if using banana leaf, wash, wipe dry and lightly oil shiny side 2 eggs 300 g sugar ⅙ tsp salt 1 kg grated tapioca, at room temperature 4 pandan leaves, rinse and drain 375 ml freshly squeezed coconut milk, at room temperature, undiluted 125 ml water Line 23 x 5 cm square cake tin with banana leaf or parchment paper. Preheat oven to 170°C. Stir eggs, sugar, salt and tapioca till evenly mixed. Knead and wring pandan leaves in mixture till completely crushed. Add coconut milk and water. Mix thoroughly. Discard pandan leaves. Pour batter into cake tin, moving stream of batter around tin as you pour. Smooth the top, stirring liquid that may accumulate around edges so that batter is evenly mixed. Bake till top is golden brown, edges are crusty and slightly caramelized, and inserted skewer comes out almost clean. This should take about 1¼ hours. Cover edges with foil during last 30 minutes if top doesn't brown evenly. Do not over-bake or cake would be dry. Remove cake from oven. Leave on wire rack till slightly firm, 30-45 minutes. Unmould and leave cake on wire rack till cold, another hour or so. Cut into 4 x 2.5 cm pieces with an oiled knife. Serve at room temperature with Chinese tea as a snack, dessert or during tea. Chilled icewine or late-harvest Riesling would be good too. Leftovers should be wrapped and refrigerated. Cut and rebake till thoroughly heated and soft, then serve hot or at room temperature. Kueh bengka ubi is: "semi-soft and moist with some elasticity and bite, and has an inviting fragrance from the pandan, eggs and coconut milk. Slightly brown and burnt edges give it a special sensuous dimension." Cooking for the President, Wee Eng Hwa

Diced Chicken in Spicy Fermented Tofu Sauce

One day, whilst shooting the breeze with me somewhere, an ang moh acquaintance said he had a tattoo. Without any encouragement on my part, he rolled up his sleeve to show me the Chinese word on his arm. He seemed quite proud of it, and I was all prepared to 'Oooh!' appropriately (whilst running my fingers gently over his bulging biceps *wink wink*). Instead, when I saw the word he had chosen, the beer I was drinking took a detour into my lungs and up my nose. My face turned red; I thumped my chest; he thumped my back; it was a while before I could stop coughing. By then, Acquaintance probably suspected there was something wrong with his tattoo 'cause I was laughing and gesturing at it even as I choked on my drink. Indeed, there was, for the word on his arm was "腐".

"腐", for those who don't know, means decay, rot, spoil, or corrupt. Why the hell did he tattoo himself with such a word? Ah . . . . Because Acquaintance had been told the word meant eagle. Or rather, the catalogue that he'd picked the word from said so. But 'eagle' is "鹰", not "腐"! They may look similar, but the two words are worlds apart in meaning. Unfortunately, nobody at the tattoo parlour in London understood Chinese.

Grinning from ear to ear despite my watering eyes, I said, 'You know tofu? This word is the 'fu' part of "tofu".'

'I've got "tofu" tattooed on my arm?!'

'Er, no, it's just "fu", not "tofu".'

'What does "fu" mean?' It was cruel but I had to tell him. 'It doesn't make sense if "fu" means rot, because there's nothing rotten about tofu,' he said.

He had a point. Why is tofu called tofu when the 'to' (beans) aren't "fu" (rotten)?

The question bothered me for years but not anymore. I've just googled and found a plausible explanation, which is this: A long, long time ago, the Chinese called Mongolian cheese furu (腐乳), which meant spoiled milk. And then they started making curd, which resembled cheese, with soya bean milk. Hence, the curd was called tofu (豆腐), meaning spoiled beans. And then they started fermenting tofu, which turned creamy/milky as mould grew on it. So they called the fermented tofu furu, the same name which had been given to Mongolian cheese. This time, the preserved tofu did full justice to the word "腐".

Were Mongolians really making cheese even before Chinese started making beancurd, which was an awfully long time ago in 200-something BC (Han dynasty)? I don't know, but at least I have an answer next time someone asks me to explain the 'fu' part of "tofu".

I never found out whether Mr "腐" removed his tattoo, but I would if I were him. Or maybe put "豆" on the other arm, and tell everyone he loves tofu. If I see him again, I'll invite him to my place and make him some nice tofu dishes, like Spicy Diced Chicken with Fermented Tofu. I'm sure he'd love that. *wink wink*

DICED CHICKEN IN SPICY FERMENTED TOFU SAUCE (香辣腐乳鸡丁) (Recipe for 4 persons) 400 g boneless chicken leg, wash and dice 2 cm Marinade 1½ tbsp white fermented beancurd's pickling liquid ⅓ tsp salt ½ tbsp sugar 1 tbsp Shaoxing wine 1½ tbsp water Stir-fry 1 tbsp white sesame oil 1 piece ginger, half thumb size, peel, wash and slice thinly 3 cloves garlic, peel, wash and slice thinly 3 bird's eye chillies, or adjust to taste, wash, trim and slice diagonally 3 mm thick ½ tbsp spring onions (white part) cut 1 cm long 30 g white fermented beancurd, mash 1 tbsp Shaoxing wine Finishing touch 2 tbsp spring onions (green part) cut 1 cm long ¼ tsp white sesame oil Mix chicken with marinade ingredients till all liquid is absorbed. Marinate for 15 minutes or longer. In a just smoking wok, heat 1 tbsp white sesame oil till very hot. Add ginger and stir-fry over high heat till lightly golden. Add garlic, chillies and spring onions (white part). Stir-fry till garlic is also lightly golden. Add fermented beancurd and stir-fry till fragrant. Add chicken and stir-fry till wok is very hot. Drizzle with wine and stir through. Drizzle with 1 tbsp water and stir through again. Add 2 tbsp water and continue stirring – a few minutes would do – till chicken is just cooked (totally opaque and firm), and sauce is reduced and slightly thickened. Or leave sauce a bit watery if not eating within 10 minutes, because it thickens as it sits. Taste and adjust seasoning if necessary. Turn off heat. Sprinkle with spring onions (green part). Stir through. Sprinkle with ¼ tsp sesame oil. Plate and serve immediately.

Pork Stir-Fry with Sesame Oil

I stir-fry pork with sesame oil; so did my mother, my mother's mother, my mother's mother's mother . . . . I'm guessing that since sesame oil was invented discovered in China, which was supposedly some 2,300 years ago during the Three Kingdoms period, Chinese have been cooking pork in it one way or another. 

The version I make is with garlic, ginger, light soya sauce, oyster sauce, Shaoxing wine and salt. I've done it so many times I can practically do it with my eyes closed.

At various points in my life when I lived on instant noodles, the classic stir-fry was a long-term resident in my fridge. When I was hungry, all I had to do was boil some noodles, chuck some of the pork in the pot, add a few green leaves, and lunch/dinner/midnight snack/morning-after-pick-me-up was ready, and served in the pot). I ate enough to last a lifetime, which is why I don't stir-fry pork with sesame oil nowadays . . . except once in a blue, blue moon. It may be a bit same old same old, but I still treasure an occasional visit from the familiar friend – for old times' sake, you know?

A classic is a classic for good reason . . . . Oh look, there's a queue for my pork stir-fry! That must mean it's good!

"Ok, ok, don't rush; there's plenty for everyone. Hey, Baldie, don't you dare jump the queue!"

PORK STIR-FRY WITH SESAME OIL (Recipe for 4 persons) 300 g pork (shoulder butt, or tenderloin if you're a tenderloin person) . . . wash, drain and cut bite size across the grain about 2 mm thick Marinade 1 tbsp light soya sauce ½ tsp dark soya sauce 1 tbsp oyster sauce ½ tbsp Shaoxing wine ¼ tsp salt 2 tbsp water 1 tsp white sesame oil ½ tbsp cornflour 1 tbsp white sesame oil ⅓ cup julienned ginger 3 cloves garlic, peel and mince roughly 1 tbsp Shaoxing wine 3 tbsp water ¼ tsp black sesame oil, or white if not available Mix pork with light and dark soya sauce, oyster sauce, wine, salt and 2 tbsp water till absorbed. Drizzle with 1 tsp white sesame oil and mix through. Leave to marinate 15 minutes or longer. Sprinkle with cornflour and mix through. In a just smoking wok, heat 1 tbsp white sesame oil till very hot. Add ginger and stir-fry over high heat till lightly golden. Add garlic and stir-fry, also till lightly golden. Add pork, minus marinade if any. Stir fry till pork is almost cooked. Drizzle with 1 tbsp wine and remaining marinade if any. Stir through. Drizzle with 2 tbsp water. Stir to deglaze wok. Drizzle with another 2 tbsp water. Bring to a gentle simmer. Pork should now be just cooked. There should be just enough sauce for the pork to sit in and stay nicely moist. Add a bit more water or simmer gently to reduce as necessary. Do not overcook or pork would be tough. Taste and quickly adjust seasoning if necessary. Turn off heat. Drizzle with sesame oil. Plate and serve hot or at room temperature with steamed rice or plain Teochew porridge. Also good as topping for noodles in soup.

Fried Glutinous Rice

I've been eating glutinous rice for about a year now, in place of the non-sticky variety. I steamed some one day 'cause I was out of regular rice, and I haven't looked back since. It's more fragrant than regular rice though the quality does vary from brand to brand. I've tried three so far, and my favourite is Golden Pineapple; the other two being New Moon and Golden Phoenix. I can't say if Golden Pineapple is the best brand in the market, but it's good enough to stop me from looking for something better.

Non-sticky rice can be steamed or boiled but the sticky one can only be steamed. If steamed without the rice sitting in water, it should be soaked for several hours, which was what I did when I was a sticky rice novice. Of course, I didn't always have several hours' foresight into when I wanted to tuck into a bowl of piping hot rice, and hunger made my brain tick.

Hmm . . . instead of making the rice absorb water before cooking it, why not make it absorb water whilst it's being cooked? Hey, we all have to multi-task, even rice!

I added water to unsoaked rice in the steamer and – tadaaa! – I had perfectly cooked sticky rice in 20 minutes. Which I have since cut down to 15 minutes by using a wider, more shallow bowl. So that's all I need now, a quarter of an hour, for sticky rice steamed to perfection. Soaking is not necessary, neither is the special bamboo thingy used by the Thais.

Too much water makes sticky rice less fragrant, less chewy/'Q', and more sticky. The optimal amount is just enough water to cover the rice by about 0.5 cm. And if I have some pandan leaves handy, I cut a few small pieces and tuck 'em around the rice, which should be fluffed five minutes before it's done. And when it is, I have 'Q', fragrant sticky rice that's not very sticky at all. It is, for me, better than even Royal Umbrella's regular rice.

Isn't sticky rice very filling? Nope, not at all when it's au naturel. I cook the same amount whether the rice is sticky or not. But once sticky rice is turned into, say, bak chang, then it's a different story. It's the excessive oil in bak chang that makes you feel stuffed, not the rice. Don't believe me? Try some homemade Fried Glutinous Rice, with just 1⅛ teaspoonfuls of oil per portion. I promise it eats like regular fried rice, but better. Can you see that the rice grains are separate, not clumped together? That's because the rice isn't steamed at all but stir-fried till it's cooked. If you like your rice chewy, Fried Glutinous Rice would be your kind of paradise. Eat and go to heaven! Sorry, that didn't come out right . . . . Um, heavenly fried rice?

FRIED GLUTINOUS RICE (生炒糯米飯) (Recipe for 4 persons) 1½ cups glutinous rice (320 g) soak 3 hours and drain 8 medium size Chinese dried mushrooms (35 g) wash and soak in 120 ml water till soft, 30 minutes or longer; squeeze dry, reserving water; cut into 1-cm dice, reserving stalks for other dishes 3 tbsp dried prawns (20 g) wash and soak in 2 tbsp water till soft, 30 minutes or longer; squeeze dry, reserving water 100 g pork (shoulder butt) wash and cut into 1-cm dice; marinate 15 minutes or longer with 1 tsp each of light soya sauce, Shaoxing wine and egg 2 eggs (use 1 tsp for marinating pork) beat with dash of ground white pepper, pinch of sugar, 1 tsp light soya sauce and 1 tsp Shaoxing wine 1½ tbsp oil from deep-frying shallots, or white sesame oil 2 tbsp Shaoxing wine ¼ tsp salt ½ cup water 1½ tbsp oyster sauce 3 tbsp deep-fried shallots 3 tbsp roughly chopped spring onions ground white pepper to taste ½ tsp toasted white sesame seeds The pork may be replaced with some diced lap cheong. If you're doing that, remember to go easy on the oil, salt and oyster sauce. Prepare glutinous rice, dried mushrooms, dried prawns and pork as detailed above. In a well-seasoned or non-stick wok, make a thin omelette with eggs using ½ tbsp oil. Chop roughly (just jab violently with your spatula when omelette is almost done, as if it's your boss/mother-in-law). Set aside. Add remaining 1 tbsp oil to the wok. Stir-fry dried prawns over high heat till lightly golden. Add mushrooms and stir-fry till fragrant. Add pork and marinade. Stir-fry till wok is very hot. Drizzle with 2 tbsp Shaoxing wine. Stir till absorbed. Sprinkle with salt and stir through. Add rice and stir through again. Drizzle with water used for soaking mushrooms. Stir till absorbed. Drizzle with water used for soaking dried prawns. Repeat stirring as before. Add water 2 tbsp at a time, stir-frying till absorbed after each addition. Rice should be cooked after adding ½ cup water, which should take about 10 minutes. Taste to see if it is. If it isn't or if it's too hard, add more water and stir-fry a few more minutes. Next, add oyster sauce and mix thoroughly. Taste and adjust seasoning if necessary. Turn off heat. Sprinkle with half of omelette, deep-fried shallots, and spring onions. Add a few generous dashes of ground white pepper. Mix through. Plate and sprinkle with sesame seeds, and remaining omelette, shallots and spring onions as garnish. 生炒糯米飯 may be eaten hot or at room temperature. Chew slowly and chew well to appreciate the fragrance!

Lemon Curd Marbled Cheese Cake

I love the lemon tree in my garden, especially when it's full of lemons. She (yes, she!) was planted by my grandfather in 1931, so the grand old dame is celebrating her 80th birthday this year. Her trunk is gnarled with age but Mrs Taango – that's what we call her because: lemon → tang → Taango – still produces a load of fruits every year.

Mrs Taango is so pretty I never get tired of looking at her. I love the bunches of yellow lemons hanging against the white-washed stone walls, and the kitchen door which is bright blue – the exact same shade of blue as the cloudless Mediterranean sky . . . .

'Hello? Hello? Earth to KT! Earth calling . . . KT!'

THUD! (Sound of KT landing back on earth.)

Huh? What? Oh shucks! I'm not in the Mediterranean! I don't have a garden. I don't have any 80-year-old lemon tree. I get my lemons from a crummy supermarket.
Oh no! N₀oOo₀oO . . . !

But there is hope yet. Maybe the Greek or Italian economy will fall into a big, black hole, bigger and blacker than the one they're in now, and someone out there will sell his lemon orchard cheap . . . with a nice house thrown in . . . blue door optional!

*sigh*

Vewy depwessed . . . . I need something to cheer me up. Let me eat cake or, better still, let me eat cheesecake. And it has to be lemon, my favourite flavour for cheesecake because it's the perfect foil for cream cheese. One's tart; the other's rich – a great combination for food (and sometimes people too).

*munch munch munch, chomp chomp*

Rrrrr . . . . Whoa, my brain is whirring away with the cheesecake as fuel. You know what? If the earth opened up and swallowed the euro, that'd work too. Everything in ex-Euroland will go for a song, and I'll get all the lemon trees I want, plus a few olive orchards, and a house mansion with an infinity pool overlooking the Mediterranean Sea . . . .

*sigh*

More cheesecake, please!

LEMON CURD MARBLED CHEESECAKE Source: Maggie Ruggiero, Gourmet, July 2006 (Recipe for one 9- to 9½-inch cake; serves 10) Click here for the recipe. The cake should be baked for about 60 minutes instead of the recipe's guide for 45 minutes. A water-bath and cooling the cake in the oven would help prevent cracks. The original recipe is rather rich for my Chinese palate, so I make a lighter (but still rich) version. Here's what I do: Reduce the lemon curd recipe by 1 egg and 1 tbsp butter, and add ½ tsp cornflour so that the curd still thickens well with less eggs and butter. Replace the sour cream (35% fat) in the filling with thick set natural yogurt (3% fat), drained to make it thicker and less sour.

Udang Masak Nanas

It's another Mrs Wee Kim Wee recipe today: udang masak nanas. This is the fourth recipe I've tried from Cooking for the President. It's a classic Nyonya soup made with, as its name says, udang and nanas – or prawns and pineapple for those who don't speak Malay. It's great for whetting the appetite 'cause it's slightly tangy and a wee bit spicy. And prawns are, for me, always a treat.

Udang masak nanas is an easy soup whether you masak as in cook for real, or masak-masak as in play at cooking. Just gather all the ingredients in a pot and simmer away – kid stuff!

My mother made a dish very similar to Udang Masak Nanas but, instead of prawns, she used a small fish called kekek (ponyfish). The president's wife sometimes used the wonderfully tasty fish too. That's not surprising since the basic recipe is quite common and adaptable. You know what's surprising? Mrs Wee made omelettes with pig brains on Sundays as a treat, just like my mother! Her daughter, like me, had to clean the brains with toothpicks. And the two cooks' recipes were practically the same, not that one could vary a Chinese style omelette much.

It's a pity my mother has passed away. Otherwise, she'd be really tickled to see that she and the ex-first lady share a recipe as esoteric as pig brain omelette.

UDANG MASAK NANAS (PRAWNS IN SPICY PINEAPPLE SOUP) Source: Cooking for the President, Wee Eng Hwa (Recipe for 8 persons) 2 kg underripe pineapple, tart and not too juicy Rempah kuning 30 g candlenuts 80 g galangal, wash, peel and grate 8 g turmeric, scrape off skin and wash 2 dried chillies, soak in warm water till soft, about 30 minutes 30 g large red chillies, wash and trim 100 g shallots, peel and wash 20 g belachan, toast and grind/pound . . . or 8 tsp belachan powder 2 stalks lemongrass, lower part only, wash and crush 2 large turmeric leaves . . . wash, tear from main vein 2.5 cm wide, and snip off fibrous ends 4 pieces tamarind skin sugar to taste, about 8 tbsp salt to taste, about 4 tsp salt 4 litres water (I used only 2 litres) 1 kg large or medium prawns, 16-32 pieces, trim, devein and wash 50 lemon basil leaves Dip 4 red bird's eye chillies, rinse and crush 2 tsp dark soya sauce 4 tbsp light soya sauce 2 calamansi limes rinse, halve and combine juice and peel with all other ingredient Peel, core and rinse pineapple. Cut into chunky, bite size slices. Reserve core for making soup. Pound or grind ingredients for rempah kuning till very fine. Put all ingredients (including pineapple core) except sliced pineapple, prawns and lemon basil in a pot. Bring to a boil and simmer gently for 10 minutes, covered. Add sliced pineapple and top up with water if necessary to cover by about 1 cm. Simmer gently till soft, 10-15 minutes depending on how ripe the pineapples are. Discard pineapple core and tamarind skin. Taste and adjust seasoning if necessary. If soup lacks 'oomph', increase heat and reduce by boiling rapidly. Set aside till ready to serve. 'This is a classic Nonya soup with well-balanced sweetness, sourness and saltiness. The sugar sweetness is just enough to counter the tartness of the pineapple, but is not dominating . . . . The soup has character and substance, yet is not thick. It should be easy to drink.' Wee Eng Hwa When you're ready to eat, bring soup to a boil. Add prawns and poach till just cooked, stirring and turning as necessary to ensure even cooking. Transfer everything to a serving bowl immediately, arranging prawns on top. (Don't hide prawns underneath pineapple or leave them in the pot. Otherwise, they would overcook in the residual heat.) Sprinkle with lemon basil. Serve with chillies, dark and light soya sauce, and lime juice and peel combined as a dip.