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.

Braised Chicken with Chestnuts

My mother always used dried chestnuts, so I'm clueless about prepping fresh ones. Using my common sense, I figure boiling should be the right method for tackling fresh chestnuts' shell and peel. It seems like the obvious thing to do, right?

Boiling 5 minutes or so works for the outer shell, which softens and becomes easy to cut through and tear off. The fuzzy membrane underneath, however, is a different story. It's stubborn as hell! It sticks resolutely to the nutmeat, so I continue boiling . . . and then boil some more . . . . I try peeling off the reddish skin whilst the nuts are hot; I try again when they're cold. Nothing works. As I fiddle in vain, the pot of chestnuts is bubbling away merrily on the stove. Eventually, after 30 minutes, I have to turn off the heat. Why? Because the chestnuts are cooked!

If boiling doesn't work, what about roasting? Roasted chestnuts are quite easy to peel, right? I buy more chestnuts, cut a slit in each one, and chuck the lot in a hot oven. I then wait for the outer shell and inner pellicle to curl and pull back, revealing delicious naked meat underneath. Or rather, that's how it is with chestnuts that are sold roasted. The ones I roast in the oven are hellbent on defying my efforts. The fuzzy skin sticks to the nutmeat as steadfastly as ever.

*google . . . google . . . .*

How do other people peel chestnuts? By boiling or roasting, they say. Some websites leave it at that; the more honest ones add that the peeling is a pain in the butt. A professional chef, in a video called How to Cook The Perfect Chestnuts, takes five minutes to peel ONE chestnut. If his livelihood depends on how many chestnuts he peels in a day, he'll surely starve to death!

People who cook are clueless but surely chestnut FARMERS should be more helpful? Steve and Patty over at Chestnuts USA, a chestnut farm in Washington, say I should make a cross in the nuts, and then roast or boil them. Well, I've already tried cutting a slit in the shell. Can chestnuts tell the difference between '—' and 'X'? Probably not, but I've tried only the roasting method with the shell cut. Oh well, might as well try the boiling method also, just to be sure. I cut an 'X' in some chestnuts, then pop them in a pot of boiling water. After 30 minutes, I realize farmers are just as bad as cooks.

How about shocking boiled chestnuts in ice water? That works for tomatoes, so it may work for chestnuts too? Nope, it doesn't.
Ok, how about leaving the chestnuts in the fridge for a few days, before boiling them, so that the fuzzy skin dries out? Makes no difference; boiling doesn't work, period.

How many packs of chestnuts have I thrown away? Grrrrr . . . . Maybe the chestnuts other people have are American or Italian but the ones I have are, I presume, from China? Maybe Chinese chestnuts, for whatever reason, just can't be peeled?

*wave white flag*

One day, one of the blogs I follow has a new post. 輕鬆的幫栗子脫衣服, the title says. Hmm, 'undressing' chestnuts easily, eh? I'm skeptical because that's what the others say too (minus the erotic connotation), but I take a look anyway. 小米桶 uses a very quick method: just soak shelled chestnuts in boiling water for 60 seconds. Yup, not 10, 15 or 20 minutes but just 1 minute. And it's soaking, not boiling. After the brief soak, remove 3-4 nuts at a time from the hot water, and rub off the peel with a piece of cloth. That is ALL there is to it?!

Is it really as easy and as quick as 小米桶 says it is? I've tried her method and, yes, it is. The technique works like a charm because the peel expands after it's soaked in boiling water but the nutmeat underneath doesn't. This allows the peel to be rubbed off easily. It's so obvious once she explains it!

Why doesn't boiling work? Because the strong heat causes both the peel and meat to expand at the same time. When that happens, the only way to separate the two parts is by surgery with a kitchen knife.

Living where I live – which is south of West Malaysia, west of East Malaysia and east of West Sumatra – I can buy fresh chestnuts already shelled. And now, with just a towel and some boiling water, I can remove the pesky pellicle in a couple of minutes. With the right technique, it's drop-dead easy. Never stop learning, my mother always said.

As a reward for my Herculean research efforts, I'm giving myself an extra helping of full monty nuts (!) braised with chicken, mushrooms and oyster sauce.

28 March 2012 Update

If chestnuts are still in their shell, cut them in half, then parboil 90 seconds before peeling as show in this video:



Badgersett Farms' method seems to work, and it's quick, easy and safe. I'll try it next time I cook chestnuts.

BRAISED CHESTNUT CHICKEN (栗子焖鸡) (Recipe for 4 persons) 4 medium size Chinese dried mushrooms 300 g kampong (organic) chicken Marinade 1 tbsp Shaoxing wine 50 g good quality oyster sauce* (2 tbsp rounded) (I use LKK premium grade) 1 tsp fermented soya beans, mashed 1 tsp sugar 16 chestnuts, shelled 2 tsp white sesame oil, or vegetable oil 4 cloves garlic, peeled and halved 10 g ginger (half thumb size), sliced thinly 40 g mild leek (from Malaysia), or 20 g if very garlicky (from China) halved lengthwise and cut crosswise 7-8 cm (3 inches) long 10 g spring onions, cut 7-8 cm (3 inches) long 1 tbsp Shaoxing wine 10 g coriander, cut 7-8 cm (3 inches) long 1 bird's eye chilli, halved lengthwise * Standard oyster sauce is a bit fishy. If that's what you have, then I suggest you use only 1 rounded tbsp in the marinade; increase mashed fermented soya beans to 2 tsp, and sugar to 1 tbsp; add 1 tsp light soya sauce, and ¼ tsp salt. Rinse mushrooms and snip off stems with scissors. Soak, including stems, in 1¼ cup warm water. Cook stems with chestnuts, as detailed below. When ready to stir-fry, squeeze dry mushroom caps, reserving liquid. Cut each piece into 2. Rinse chicken and chop bite size. Mix with marinade and set aside. Add boiling water to chestnuts, enough to cover by 2-3 cm (1 inch). Steep 1 minute. Remove 3-4 chestnuts at a time; place between clean towel or 2 paper towels; rub to remove peel; soak in water to prevent discolouring. Cut each chestnut into 2 pieces, trimming parts that are bad. Rinse thoroughly. Place in a small pot. Add mushroom stems (which are still hard), and enough water to cover by 2-3 cm (1 inch). Bring to a boil. Simmer gently for 30 minutes. Chestnuts should now be cooked but not yet soft. In a very hot wok, heat oil till just smoking. Add sliced ginger and stir-fry over high heat till lightly golden. Add garlic, mushrooms, leek and white part of spring onions. Stir-fry till garlic and mushrooms are lightly golden. Add chicken, minus marinade. Stir-fry till heated through and wok is screaming hot. Drizzle with 1 tbsp Shaoxing wine. Continue stirring. When wok is very hot again, drizzle with marinade. Stir-fry till absorbed. Add mushroom water. Stir to deglaze wok. Add chestnuts plus liquid. Top up with water to almost cover everything in the wok. Tuck green part of green onions, coriander and chilli around wok. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat to low. Cover and simmer gently till chicken and chestnuts are tender. This should take about 30 minutes, stirring once midway. Sauce should now be just thick enough to stick to chicken. If too watery, increase heat to high and reduce sauce. If too thick, drizzle with 1-2 tbsp water, then stir and heat through. Discard mushroom stems if you can find them! Taste and adjust seasoning. Chestnuts should be slightly sweet. Add a bit more sugar if necessary. Turn off heat. Cover and wait 5-10 minutes. This allows flavours to develop and the meat to absorb some liquid. Plate and serve with steamed rice.

Jamie Oliver Cooks Hainanese Chicken Rice!

This is how the Naked Chef makes Singapore's iconic dish, Hainanese Chicken Rice:

The recipe is from Jamie Oliver's column in the Daily Mail, 2 March 2012. The headline reads, 'Cook with Jamie: East is best! These Far Eastern broths are (blah blah blah) good for you'.

Hmm, broths? I have no idea why chicken rice is in an article about broths but I'm sure the recipe is, as Jamie Oliver says, good for you. It has to be with 305 g of ginger! If you're suffering from excessive wind, the humongous amount of spicy ginger will cure you in a jiffy. (Not that I'm speaking from personal experience, of course; I'm just telling you what my mother told me.) Or maybe you just gave birth and your mother, if she's Chinese, has told you to eat truckloads of ginger – every day, every single meal, for a whole month. What could be better than ginger rice with ginger chicken, ginger soup and ginger sauce?

You'll love the Naked Chef's Hainanese Chicken Rice because . . . . Oh hang on, it's not rice. You don't get rice when you cook 450 g with 2 litres of chicken stock, as specified in the ingredient list. Or is it 1.2 litres as per the instructions? Whichever it is, you'll have a pot of porridge, not rice. Maybe Mr Oliver thinks porridge is more in keeping with the broth theme?

There may not be any rice in JO's chicken rice but at least there's chicken. Here's how the celebrity chef poaches it: boil 4 chicken breasts for 5 minutes in 4 litres of water flavoured with ginger, garlic, shallots and lemongrass; turn off the heat; let the chicken steep 40 minutes; then place the chicken in ice water for 30 minutes. If you follow his method, I promise you'll have chicken that's way overcooked and dry as dust. But at least it IS chicken. It'd a disaster if there's neither chicken nor rice in chicken rice, wouldn't it?

Instead of a thick mound of grated ginger, Mr Oliver's ginger sauce is ginger JUICE, diluted with a lot of chicken stock. This watery thing, he says, has 'a flavour wallop'. Well, I guess folks in Singapore prefer a flavour nuclear bomb!

I can see that the Brits may prefer to be walloped rather than bombed but why is there GARLIC JUICE in the chickeny ginger juice? Perhaps because there isn't any garlic chilli sauce although there is chilli sauce, of unspecified nature. I suspect Mr Oliver has no idea how important the garlicky chilli sauce is. If you ask a Singaporean 'How's the chicken rice?', he'll probably say 'Walau, de chilli sauce damn shiok ah!' (which means the chilli sauce is pucker). A chicken rice recipe that doesn't say how the garlic chilli sauce is made would be useless in the motherland of chicken rice.

Singapore's iconic dish wouldn't be complete without thick, dark soya sauce. But the recipe doesn't specify what type of soya sauce it should be, so people who aren't familiar with Hainanese chicken rice may use light soya sauce instead. In fact, the sauce in the photo looks brown, not black, so it is light soya sauce. Fail!

Finally, we come to the soup. There's a lot of it, and it's tasteless because there's way too much water used to cook the chicken. 2 litres would have been ample, not 4 litres. You notice there's a lot of water/stock in everything, from the broth to the rice and ginger sauce? Fortunately, the soup doesn't make or break the chicken rice. It's as incidental as the slices of cucumber that sit beside the chicken, and that's why it's odd to put chicken rice in an article about broths. Hmm, I think Jamie Oliver seriously needs a better ghostwriter.

I have only two words for the soggy gingery porridge and dry gingery chicken served with watery ginger juice, light soya sauce and god-knows-what chilli sauce: NOT PUCKER! It's good for a laugh though. I think the watered and dumbed down ginger juice is especially funny!

How to Make GOOD Fried Rice

When I was nine years old, I went to primary school in the afternoon. I was the only person at home at lunchtime, so I cooked for myself and ate before heading off to school. Fried rice was what I rustled up most often, plus an egg flower soup to wash it down.

Hmm, now that I think about it, a nine-year-old doing a two-course lunch wasn't too shabby. *immodestly and belatedly pat self on the back*

As I got older, I made fried rice only as a last resort, when I didn't have ingredients for something else or when I had leftover rice to finish up. Why? Because, try as I might, my fried rice wasn't terribly impressive even though I'd been frying rice since I was nine. Eminently edible, yes, but nothing more.

One day, I had some extremely good fried rice at Imperial Treasure, a Chinese restaurant at Marina Square. It was so good that I was inspired to work on my version. I used overnight rice; got the wok as hot as possible; didn't stinge on the oil; minced lots of garlic; threw in salted fish, prawns and even crabmeat; tried various ways of adding eggs; compared light soya sauce vs oyster sauce vs fish sauce vs salt, singly and in various combinations; spiked the rice with bird's eye chilli, then dried chilli flakes . . . . It all came to nought. I made many attempts but my fried rice sadly remained as blah as ever. I concluded that a home cook, without the powerful stove, cast iron wok and years of training of a professional chef, simply couldn't make outstanding fried rice.

My interest in fried rice lay dead and buried until last year when I came across the Nyonya way of frying rice with belachan, prawns, cucumber, and finely pounded dried prawns, dried chillies, fresh chillies, shallots, garlic and candlenuts. The first time I made Nyonya fried rice with a recipe from Cooking for the President, I was like, 'WOW! I made that?!' I couldn't believe I'd made such a delicious fried rice. Every grain of rice was fragrant and chewy, absolutely nothing like my Chinese fried rice. It was PHENOMENAL!

I made the Nyonya fried rice several times and had it cold once, which made me go 'Omm . . . mmppfff . . . gaaahh!' (That's OMG with my mouth full.) It was even nicer cold than hot. How is it possible?!

Another time, I added two eggs to the fried rice. Everything was the same as before except for those two eggs. Result: the fried rice was ruined. It wasn't fragrant and the chewy texture was lost. It was like my blah Chinese fried rice! Why do the eggs make the fried rice go from extraordinary to ordinary? I started thinking about why the Nyonya fried rice was so delicious, why adding eggs totally ruined it, why it was more delicious when it was cold, and how I could improve my Chinese fried rice.

The most common tip for making fried rice is: use day-old rice because it's fluffy and no longer sticky. Unfortunately, fluffy rice alone doesn't make good fried rice. The chewiness of the rice is equally important, and that doesn't change much once the rice is cooked.

How do you cook rice that's chewy and 'Q'? By steaming instead of boiling/simmering.

When rice is cooked in boiling water, the cell walls break down, allowing the starch inside to leak out, absorb too much water and turn soft. The change in texture is irreversible, so the rice isn't chewy even if you let it rest overnight. Hence, rice cooked by boiling, in a rice cooker or on the stove, is destined to make fried rice that's at best mediocre even if it's day-old rice.

In contrast, rice that's steamed has no direct contact with boiling water. Cooked at a lower temperature, the cell walls don't break down much, so very little starch escapes. Hence, all the grains are chewy and they don't stick together. The overnight rest, a must for boiled rice, isn't necessary for steamed rice. This fried rice, made with 15-minute-old steamed rice, is as fluffy as can be:

Temperature isn't the only important factor. The amount of water absorbed by the rice is equally crucial. If there's too much water, the rice loses its chewiness even if it's steamed. How much is too much? It depends on the type of starch found in the rice.

There're two types of rice starch: amylopectin and amylose. The latter makes rice fluffy and not sticky because it's insoluble. Basmati rice, for instance, is very fluffy because it has a high percentage of amylose. Amylopectin, on the other hand, makes rice chewy by absorbing water to form a gel. Glutinous rice is extremely chewy because it contains mostly amylopectin.

You might have come across the tip that aged, old rice is necessary for making good fried rice because it has more amylose than newly harvested rice. The tip isn't entirely correct. Rice that's too old has too much amylose and not enough amylopectin to make it chewy. It's fluffy alright but it's not 'Q', and the texture gets worse when the rice cools down because amylose hardens when it's cold. New rice, on the other hand, runs a risk of turning mushy because it has a lot of amylopectin, which becomes soft if it absorbs too much water.

The best rice – that's easy to work with, fluffy, chewy, and doesn't harden when it's cold – should have a good balance of the two types of starch. I'd call it middle-aged. (Click here to learn more about old vs new rice from Harold McGee.)

Are you still with me? And do you see why it's too simplistic to say that day-old rice is the key to good fried rice?

So, the rice is steamed to fluffy and chewy perfection, and half the battle is won. Ready to stir and fry?

To win the second half of the battle without wok hei – the smoky, charred aroma created with a professional-grade stove – ingredients are the home cook's only weaponry. Forget about mincing a few cloves of garlic. You need a heap of ingredients – an atomic bomb, in other words, not a few hand grenades – or the rice would be tasteless. But not too much either or the rice would be overwhelmed. (You want to bomb a city, not destroy the entire planet.)

The mix of ingredients must be chosen carefully so that the rice is infused with both fragrance and umaminess. Shallots, dried prawns and salted fish make a great combination. The Chinese would mince these ingredients finely but I think the Nyonya method is far superior. Pounding with a mortar and pestle achieves a very fine grind which a knife can't possibly create. Imagine each and every grain of rice coated with countless specks of shallots, dried prawns and salted fish which have been fried till brown and fragrant. The aroma and umaminess pop in your mouth even before you start chewing.

Adding chunks of meat or seafood to fried rice would be to miss the point completely. It's fried rice, not stir-fried chicken or whatever. A modest amount, cut pea-sized or flaked if it's crab, adds variety but doesn't overwhelm. Each little piece is eaten with some rice in one mouthful, which wouldn't be possible if it's cut too big.

Most people expect eggs in Chinese fried rice so into the wok they go, fried rather than raw so that the rice doesn't sit in liquid eggs and lose its chewiness. Don't forget that eggs would absorb some aroma and umaminess, so there must be sufficient dried prawns, salted fish and shallots – or whatever you fancy – to flavour not just the rice but also the eggs.

Lastly, salt and ground white pepper to taste, and lots of spring onion or maybe iceberg lettuce, and the job's done. This is a rollicking good fried rice which would score, I think, 7-8 out of 10. If there were good wok hei, it would be a perfect 10 – fried rice fit for the gods.

What you put in your fried rice is a personal choice but, please, no char siu no matter what. Cutting char siu into little bits and then stir-frying it is tantamount to abuse. The poor char siu becomes dry and tasteless, and all the work done roasting the pork is undone. Good char siu should be treated with respect and appreciated as it is. Bad char siu should be given to your dog after washing it (char siu, not dog) in lots of hot water.

But restaurants serve char siu fried rice, you might say. Yes, they do. But that's because they have dry, overnight char siu to get rid of. They can't sell stale char siu as char siu, so they chuck it in fried rice (and noodles). Some people eat char siu fried rice in restaurants, and then they think they should put char siu in their homemade fried rice. *sigh, shake head, roll eyes, all at the same time*

Let's see, have I forgotten anything? Oh yes, why is Nyonya fried rice nice even when it's cold? Because it has lots of dried prawns which become more umami after cooling down. Other seafood such as crab and fresh prawns would also have the same effect. More importantly, the fried rice doesn't harden when it's cold but that's due to the type of rice chosen rather than the Nyonya recipe.

I've made major improvements to my fried rice in the past few months. It's not too shabby now even though I can't toss rice like the fellow in the video (0:55-1:05). Fried rice isn't my culinary last resort anymore, and I enjoy eating it. About time too 'cause I've been frying rice since I was nine.

DRIED PRAWN, SALTED FISH & CHICKEN FRIED RICE (虾米咸鱼鸡丁炒饭) (Recipe for 4 persons) 360 g long grain Jasmine white rice (I use Songhe brand) wash and drain thoroughly; place in 18-cm round cake tin; add 320 ml water (weight of rice plus water is 720 g); let rice soak 10 minutes 50 g dried prawns 50 g salted ikan kurau (threadfin), bones and scales removed if any 100 g shallots, peel 5½ tbsp vegetable oil 2 eggs (use 1 tsp to marinate chicken) beat with 2 tbsp milk, big dash of ground white pepper, and 1 tsp each of light soya sauce, white sesame oil and Shaoxing wine 200 g deboned chicken thigh or drumstick wash, drain and dice 1½ cm; marinate with dash of ground white pepper, and 1 tsp each of light soya sauce, Shaoxing wine, egg and white sesame oil for 15 minutes or longer salt to taste, about ¼ tsp ground white pepper to taste, about ½ tsp 60 g spring onions trim and wash; dice to yield 1 cup (sounds like a lot!) Steam rice over rapidly boiling water for 15 minutes, then check whether rice needs more water. If surface layer is cooked but a bit hard, rice is ideal. Steam another 5 minutes – surface layer should now be soft but chewy – then remove rice from steamer. If surface layer is not cooked, sprinkle with 1-2 tbsp water and continue steaming for another 5 minutes. Repeat if necessary, till rice is just soft. Remove rice from steamer. If surface layer is cooked and soft, remove rice immediately (and use less water next time you steam rice). After rice is cooked, fluff and set aside to firm up, about 20 minutes. Cover if not frying immediately. If the rice is fried just after steaming, it's still fluffy and 'Q' but the soft grains would break into small pieces when stirred. You may skip the cooldown when hunger is more important than presentation, or if you can toss rice like a pro. Whilst rice is cooking, rinse dried prawns, salted fish and shallots. Cut into small pieces, then blitz in mini chopper or pound till very fine. If pounding, start with salted fish, then dried prawns and finally shallots. In a well-seasoned wok, make a thin omelette with eggs using ½ tbsp vegetable oil. When omelette is almost done, chop into small pieces with spatula. Transfer to a plate and set aside. In the same wok, heat remaining 5 tbsp vegetable oil till almost smoking. Add salted fish, dried prawns and shallots. Fry over medium heat till brown and fragrant. Increase heat to high. Add chicken and stir through. Add rice and eggs. Stir-fry till chicken is just cooked. Taste and add salt if necessary. Stir through. Turn off heat. Sprinkle with ground white pepper and spring onions. Stir through. Plate and serve.

15-Minute Flower Crab Dry Curry

If you like crab but can't stomach the idea of being a crab killer, flower crab would be right up your alley. The blue crustaceans are mostly sold dead; live ones caught by local kelongs are available only once in a blue, blue moon, when you're extremely lucky. Or maybe unlucky if you're not into buying food that's still moving.

The taste of flower crab is quite different from that of the ubiquitous mud crab. Because flower crabs live in the sea, the meat tastes cleaner and sweeter than their muddy cousins which live in river estuaries. There's also a difference in texture. Flower crab is smooth, delicate and moist whereas mud crab, if it's big, can be quite coarse, overly firm and a bit dry. Both types of crab are the same though when they're not fresh – mushy and gross!

Do I prefer mud or flower crab? Hmm . . . they're different, as different as, say, mud crab and prawns. I like 'em both but if I really had to choose, I'd say fresh, good quality flower crab is actually nicer than live mud crab.

Most flower and mud crab recipes are interchangeable, but there're a few that aren't if you're a fusspot like me. Chilli Crab, for instance, should be made with mud crab. Curry powder, on the other hand, goes with flower crab. If flower crab isn't available, I think prawns would make a better substitute than mud crab. Mind you, if you put a plate of mud crab curry in front of me, I'd still eat it and enjoy it. I never say no to crab, and I've never met any crab I don't like so long as it's fresh.

With the help of a pack of readymade curry powder, making Flower Crab Dry Curry takes no more than 15 minutes from start to finish: four minutes to clean and chop four crabs, and three minutes to peel and chop some shallots and garlic, leaving eight minutes to stir-fry. Do you have 15 minutes to make a delicious crab dish? Of course you do! Do you have time to eat it though? Of course you do! What could be better than picking out the meat bit by bit from the nooks and crannies?

Some people like to stop and smell the roses but me, I prefer to stop and eat crab.

FLOWER CRAB DRY CURRY (Recipe for 4 persons) 2½ tbsp vegetable oil 60 g shallots peel, rinse and mince finely 40 g garlic peel and mince roughly 30 g curry powder for chicken (I use Nonya brand) add 3 tbsp water and stir to make a thick paste 4 flower crabs (aka blue crabs) weighing about 1 kg discard abdominal flap; separate shell from body; discard gills, and stomach in shell; rinse thoroughly and drain; twist off pincers and crack slightly with side or back of cleaver; chop and discard last joint of small claws; chop each crab into 4 quarters 40 ml light soya sauce 2 eggs, beaten Heat well-seasoned wok till just smoking. Add vegetable oil and heat till very hot. Add shallots and stir-fry over high heat till translucent. Add garlic and stir-fry till slightly golden. Reduce heat to medium-low. Add curry paste and stir-fry till fragrant, drizzling with 2-3 tsp water at a time if spices stick to wok. Do not add too much water in one go or you'd be simmering instead of frying. If you like, you could fry with more oil instead so that curry paste doesn't stick. Increase heat to high. Add crab. Stir-fry till thoroughly mixed and heated through, again drizzling with 2-3 tsp water at a time to deglaze spices that stick to wok. Drizzle with light soya sauce. Stir till absorbed. Add enough water to cover half of crab, about ⅓ cup. Bring to a boil, stirring to mix well. Reduce heat to low. Cover and simmer 3 minutes. Stir, then cover and simmer another 3 minutes. Crab should be cooked now. To check, pick a piece which has a pinky and ring claw and snip between the two claws with a pair of scissors. Meat is cooked if firm and opaque. Increase heat to medium-high. Stir to mix crab and curry sauce thoroughly. Turn shells upside down, i.e. cavity facing up. Drizzle a bit of curry sauce into shells, and then a bit of egg. Drizzle remaining egg on crab. Let egg set slightly, about 5 seconds. Stir to mix through. Sauce should now be just thick enough to coat crab. Adjust if necessary by adding a bit of water if too dry, or cooking a bit longer if too watery. Taste sauce and adjust seasoning if necessary. Plate and serve. Pssst! I'll let you in on a little secret. The eggy curry sauce is more yummy than the crab!

Kuih Seri Muka/Kueh Salat (I)

The custard layer of my kueh salat (aka kuih seri muka) is a pale avocado green. That's because it's made with (a lot of) pandan leaves. Do you know how the bibiks of yesteryears get a brighter green, naturally? They used dark green leaves called daun pandan serani/suji, which look like pandan leaves but are smaller and darker.

Somewhere along the way, pandan serani got edited out of most recipes and was replaced with artificial green food colouring. It's so rarely mentioned nowadays that a lot of modern cooks don't even know about these leaves.

Some cooks then edit out artificial green food colouring in their recipes, but not in the kueh or cake they make for their photos. Yup, they cheat (shock! horror!). Prime example: Rasa Malaysia's kueh dadar, which you can see here. There's absolutely no way she can get that radioactive shade of green with five precious pandan leaves for 300 ml of coconut milk and 120 g of flour.

Indeed, one of Rasa Malaysia's readers asks why he can't get the green colour in her photos although he follows her instructions. You should have used fresh leaves, she says. *snort; roll eyes* Never mind five. If she can get the radioactive green with 50 FRESH pandan leaves, I'll go scrub her kitchen floor for free. In fact, if she can get even a tiny hint of green of whatever shade with just five pandan leaves, I'll kneel and scrub away.

Isn't it sad that a lot of people have never heard of pandan serani, much less use it? And they wonder why their pandan chiffon cake, ondeh-ondeh, kueh dadar or kueh salat isn't bright green even though they've squeezed – and squeezed, and squeezed some more – the four, five or even 10 pandan leaves as instructed.

Which brings me to the splotches of blue, made with blue pea flowers, in the rice layer of the kueh salat. It's another thing that's been edited out of most recipes because, you know, we are all 'time-poor'. But if we keep changing recipes, for no reason other than to save time, adopt the latest food fad, or dumb-down for the benefit of those living in foreign land, mistakes sometimes creep in and we don't even realize it. Isn't it nice to make something the way it used to be made? At least once in a while so that we don't become too 'food-culture-poor'?
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20 August 2012 Update

KUEH SALAT (COCONUT CUSTARD ON GLUTINOUS RICE CAKE) Source: Modified from Cooking for the President (Recipe for 16 pieces) Rice layer 5 young pandan leaves, rinsed 250 g glutinous rice wash and drain in a sieve 125 ml water 1/2 tsp salt 125 ml freshly squeezed coconut milk, undiluted 50 bunga telang (blue pea flowers) pound finely and strain; discard pulp Custard layer 5 eggs stir thoroughly and sieve 100 g young pandan leaves wash and cut ½ cm long; blend with coconut milk; strain to yield 150 ml; add flour, salt, sugar and water to coconut milk; discard pandan pulp 150 ml undiluted fresh coconut milk 2 tbsp plain flour 1/8 tsp salt 115 g sugar 90 ml water To make rice layer, line bottom of 18 x 18 x 5 cm cake pan with parchment paper, leaving some overhang. Spread half of rice in pan evenly. Top with pandan leaves, then remaining rice. Add water and sprinkle with salt. Steam 10 minutes over rapidly boiling water. Drizzle with coconut milk. Mix thoroughly. Steam 20 minutes. Discard pandan leaves. Drizzle with bunga telang juice, unevenly. Steam 5 more minutes. Check that rice is cooked. If it isn't, drizzle with 1 tbsp water and steam a few minutes. Toss to mix the colours slightly. Press into an even, compact layer with a wet spatula or spoon. Cover and steam another 5 minutes. Proceed to steam custard as detailed below. If custard isn't ready yet, reduce heat to lowest possible and continue steaming. Rice must be hot and moist when custard is added or the 2 layers won't stick together. To make custard layer, cook coconut milk mixture over medium heat till gently simmering, stirring to dissolve the sugar. Remove from heat. Pour half slowly into eggs, stirring to mix eggs and coconut milk evenly. Next, add eggs to remaining coconut milk. Cook combined mixture over low heat, scraping bottom and sides of pot to prevent lumps, till slightly thickened. When rice is cooked, pour custard onto rice. Reduce heat to lowest possible. Keep steaming water just below boiling point, with the steamer's cover slightly ajar if necessary. Steam till custard is just set in the middle, 35-45 minutes depending on steaming temperature and thickness of custard before steaming. Test by inserting skewer in the middle and wriggling slightly (the skewer, not you). If skewer comes out clean, kueh is done. Final steps: Remove kueh to a wire rack. Allow to cool completely and set, 3 hours or so. Unmould by lifting parchment paper, onto a chopping board. Cut kueh with an oiled knife, scraping knife after each cut. Discard parchment paper. Serve as dessert, snack or for tea. Rice should be firm, not mushy; custard should be soft, smooth and rich. Refrigerate leftovers for up to 2-3 days, then bring to room temperature. Steam over rapidly bubbling water to reheat, about 4 minutes if cut serving size. Don't steam longer than necessary or colours would fade. Cool to room temperature before eating. 22 August 2012 update: Just thawed a piece of frozen kueh salat and steamed it. Guess what? It eats like it's freshly made.

XO Cognac Fried Chicken Wings

I have a friend who knows a thing or two about food. He doesn't cook but he's a discerning eater. If he says a restaurant is good, then it's either very good or at least above average. His restaurant recommendations never disappoint me, and I have total trust in his opinion.

One day, this friend of mine asked me to bring him some bak chang made by his mother. He was living in New York at the time, and I was going to visit him for a couple of days.

Smuggle some comfort food to the other side of the planet for a dear old friend? No problemo.

I hopped along to his mother's place, and Aunty gave me six bak chang to hand-carry to her son, plus another six as reward for the bak chang mule.

When I got home, I immediately steamed one of the little pyramids of glutinous rice, pork, mushroom, chestnuts, etc wrapped in bamboo leaves. I eagerly unwrapped the piping hot dumpling and took a mouthful, making sure there was a bit of each ingredient balanced on my chopsticks.

Chomp, chomp, chomp . . . chomp . . . ch . . . .

But . . . but . . . this is very ordinary what!

The dumpling wasn't bad, but it wasn't very good either. I was expecting something extraordinary because my friend had said his mother's bak chang was the best in this and the next galaxy, or something to that effect. But what I got instead was a very mediocre, average bak chang that was nothing compared to those made by my mother.

The next day, I and 11 bak chang flew off to New York, and promptly got thrown into jail for smuggling . . . . Just kidding. With my innocent look, I sailed through customs, like always (unlike those guys here.)

I stayed with my friend for two days and we had bak chang for breakfast on both days. Watching my friend's rapturous enjoyment of the unremarkable dumplings, I realized he wasn't at all objective in judging his mother's cooking. His mum's dumplings may be ordinary but, to him, they were so precious that he froze the seven he had remaining because he couldn't bear to finish them too quickly. Guess what? I couldn't either if I were he, which was why I nodded enthusiastically when he asked me if the bak chang was the best in this and the next galaxy.

I'd like to say the fried chicken wings my mother made were the best ever bar none. But I'm mindful that I'm not the best judge of my mother's cooking. You should take what I say with a pinch of salt, as I do when other people rave about their mother's cooking.

Oh look, here's another one who thinks his mother's cooking is the bee's knees:

'My mother loved good food and liked to cook for her children. When I went to college and had to eat institutional food in the hall, I was miserable. After I married and set up home, we had Cantonese maids. They were good cooks, but they could not quite reproduce the Peranakan dishes my mother cooked. So we got used to different standards. A year ago, my niece, Shermay Lee, updated my mother's cookbook and called it The New Mrs Lee's Cookbook Vol. 1: Nonya Cuisine. It won an international award. She had invited me to dinner at her cooking school in Chip Bee Gardens. Her dishes evoked memories of my mother's food. But either because of my age my palate has become dulled and jaded, or the ingredients are no longer the same; in my memory, my mother's dishes were better. However, for those who have never tasted my mother's cooking, Shermay's will be the next best available.' Lee Kuan Yew, 3 August 2004 Foreword to The New Mrs Lee's Cookbook Vol. 2

What was LKY's mother's cooking really like? Click here to find out.

Whenever my mother made fried chicken wings, she'd nick my father's XO Cognac and add a good splosh of the expensive brandy to the marinade. That, along with ginger juice, was what made her fried chicken wings special, she said.

In a time when meat was scarce, it was strictly one chicken wing per person. As a kid, I ate only half of my entitlement at the dinner table. The remaining half – the tip and the 'mid-joint' – I would savour it sitting on the swing in the backyard. I chewed off the skin very slowly, nibbled on the meat, then sucked on the bones. I could, I swear, make half a chicken wing last 30 minutes. That's the fondest memory I have of food in my childhood, and it explains why I think KFC is verging on inedible.

Is my mother's recipe for fried chicken wings the bee's knees? I think so but then I'm totally biased. You'd have to try it and see for yourself.

XO COGNAC FRIED CHICKEN WINGS (Recipe for 12 wings) 12 chicken wings weighing 1 kg wash and drain; chop each wing along main joint into 2 pieces; chop and discard tips if not eating Marinade 2 tbsp light soya sauce 3 tbsp oyster sauce 1 clove garlic, peel and pound finely 3 shallots, peel, wash and pound finely 70 g ginger, peel, pound finely and squeeze to yield 2 tbsp juice 1 tbsp Cognac ¾ tsp salt ¼ tsp ground white pepper ⅓ cup tapioca flour vegetable oil for deep-frying Marinate chicken for 24 hours, refrigerated, covered, and placed in a single layer if possible, in maybe a roasting pan or large Ziploc bag. Turn over once midway, or once every few hours if not in a single layer. 20-30 minutes before cooking, remove chicken from fridge to come to room temperature. When you're ready to deep-fry, drain and discard marinade. Dredge chicken in tapioca flour, patting gently to remove excess. Deep-fry wings in hot oil over medium-high heat till golden brown and cooked (meat feels firm when pressed). Remove from oil. Increase heat to high. Reheat oil to just smoking. Deep-fry wings again, this time till just golden brown. Drain using rack or sieve lined with paper towels. Serve immediately with sweet or garlic chilli sauce. Meat should be juicy, fragrant and nicely seasoned; batter should be crisp and not oily. To make fried chicken wings that are juicy, crispy and not oily, you need to do 5 things: [1] Deep-fry right after dredging the wings in tapioca flour. If you wait, the flour will turn soggy, and soggy tapioca flour absorbs a lot of oil when it's deep-fried. [2] The oil for the first round of deep-frying should be hot enough to bubble rapidly around the chicken. [3] The oil for the second round should be hot enough to bubble furiously. [4] Use a rack/sieve (to prevent condensation) lined with paper towels (to absorb excess oil) for draining the fried chicken. [5] Serve immediately once the chicken is drained.