Rain Rain go AWAY
Get out the tool box, it's time to build an ark. It's been raining for ages. March went out like a lion instead of a lamb. April's showers are early. The sky is dark. It's damp and windy. I am g-r-o-u-c-h-y.
On the way to the metro I got completely drenched. It happened in slo-mo. And a few seconds before it happened - I knew it would. It was like what they do on sit-coms where they show the actor looking both ways to set-up the action. As the bus came pounding down the road at great speed I noticed 3 things at once: a) a huge pool of standing water right in the bus wheel's path, b) that there were no parked cars to shield me in this spot c) there was no room to move away because there's a hedge along the garden for a few meters in each direction. Done for. 10 seconds later, I turned around on the way home to change. My work shoes and dress socks squeaky wet. My trousers covered in a soggy, scrabbly, dirty scumble. Nice.
Brussels seems to get water-logged easily. Every drain seems to be overflowing; the ones by the curbs, in front of buildings, in gardens. The excellent city tunnels routinely close after a downpour because they get flooded within minutes - totally paralyzing the city because even more polluting cars are forced on to the maze of crazy roads. When the tunnels are clear, you can effortlessly get from Montgomery to Avenue Louise or Downtown within minutes. With a day or two of rain - forget it. There's mini ponds in those tunnels. The ground is a splodgy, spongy consistency. Like there's never going to be enough sun to dry the stuff out. A real possibility in Brussels.
There's a super-useless, extra door on the ground floor of my house. Not only is it only 2 meters from my front door, but it's also got a locked iron gate in front of it and no one's ever had the key to unlock it. The super-fun part about having this extra door, (which would so helpfully provide access from my patio to my kitchen were you to be able to open it) is that it's no longer watertight. Since our latest barrage of rain, the bottom seal has been breached and water now sloshes in when there's a major downpour. Nice, nice. I cannot seal it properly again until it is completely dry. A very attractive addition to my decor, I have soggy bath towels folded inside the super-useless extra door as a first line of defense.
I won't talk about the mud pit that is my garden. No one needs to hear me moan about that again. My Wellies are stationed by my front door next to the mop - ready for action.
Tonight I will have a friend over and we will order from Tom Yam - a great Thai restaurant and they deliver! - A rarity in Brussels. I love their spicy seafood salad: a very piquant dressing made of fish sauce, white vinegar, lemongrass, ginger, a bit of cane sugar, fresh scotch bonnet peppers and birdseye chilies over huge, curly, tender rolls of calamari and big, juicy shrimp, tons of cooling cucumber, mild red onions. All the senses - sweet, sour, hot, mild. I also crave their duck with Thai basil: The duck breast slices are tender and the sauce, slow-cooked, is layered with thai flavors - tamarind, Kecap manis, dark soy, fish sauce - and at the last minute, tons of fresh Thai basil, just wilted in the sauce - fragrant, spicy, warming.
Well, that's cheered me right up! :-))
Office Bla Bla
I deal with a lot of different companies and I am exposed to their company office lingo. To me the over-use of bla bla business language only makes people sound as if they don't have a clue. Office bla bla-itis is not limited to IT geeks (who have an inter-galactic language anyway) but is the distinguishing feature of those business professionals who want to sound more intelligent and more important than they actually are.
When did the political(head in the sand)comment 'cautiously optimistic' (used by politicians, warmongers, diplomats and presidents) come in to the professional business arena? Who used it first in a board meeting? Who thought, it will be clever to actually respond to a business review or progress on an action plan by saying 'I am cautiously optimistic that this will work'? Grr. I hate pansies! Lay it on the line dude (dudette)! What does cautiously optimistic actually mean? Are you trying to:
1. Hint to everyone that you know we will screw up, but since you're a nice guy, you'll give us the benefit of the doubt?
2. Prove what everyone at the table thinks already - That you weren't paying attention?
3. Prove that you are Master of the Universe? (You know who you are, Shlomo)
4. Begrudgingly admit that we did a good job, but you're not actually enough of a man or woman to acknowledge that so you throw in the 'cautiously' bit?
OR
5. Show-off your new-fangled, 'ripped from the headlines' office lingo?
Personally, I think it's all of the above. And what's the opposite of cautiously optimistic? Dangerously pessimistic? Can't wait to hear that one... I will laugh out loud.
'Alignment' seems to be a hot word lately. One customer I work with can't finish a sentence without using the word. 'We need to get alignment on this'. We should align on the points for the meeting'. 'Did you get alignment with the Manager about this schedule?'. Sadly, what 'alignment' means to this customer is in no way related to 'agreement' but rather a one word translation for - doing ONLY what the customer wants - no discussion, no exception.
'Word tracks' - when someone said this I almost fell off my chair. I am sure it's old stuff, but I first heard it a couple months ago. She used it like this. 'You should provide some word tracks to support your team when they interface publicly.' What she meant was: 'Tell your employees what to say when they answer the phone'. Otay Buckwheat.... Thanks. So glad you explained it in a professional, I wanna be 'The Apprentice' way. Geez. Save your energy for thinking of something important to do...
I do have one customer who actually says things like 'We need to interface vis-a-vis the projected spend allocations and streamline the bottom line - stat' He's a hunk, so I imagine being cornered by him in the copy room and he's whispering these saucy things in my ear. Then I snap out of it and realise he's seriously saying those exact words but actually trying to tell me they can't pay their bill and want to work something out.
I've gotta go...I have to prepare some word tracks for a conference call to align with a manager on a project that I'm cautiously optimistic about completing on-time. Bla bla bla
Spring weekend
Saturday night Bunny Dog and I had plans to meet up with an Irish friend and her boyfriend. She had been put out of work last October when the establishment she worked for closed - She passed along her CV to me. I was able to share it with some colleagues and they found her a great job - she has been gainfully employed since then. First Bunny Dog and I met with Lara to hear about her 4-day whirlwind trip to LA for the Premier of Ice Age II. Then we hopped over to the Pub to meet my Irish friends. Bunny Dog was the toast of the evening as usual. He was cute and sweet and everyone was playing with him. We got home by midnight and slept heavily.
Sunday I decided it was time to work on the garden. All of my planters are ready for spring flowers. The daffodils are just starting to bloom on the side bed by the trees. I spent an hour turning the soil and aerating it. I sprinkled a whole large box of grass seed on the soil, mixed it up lightly and then tamped it down. The whole time, Bunny Dog was chasing the hoe, the rake, and me. He was flying all around the garden in pure glee. I then soaked the soil because it looked like it wasn't going to rain. Bunny Dog hiding at the far reaches of the garden so as not to get wet. He acts like an angel when the hose is turned on.
After the garden was finished I basically chased the dog with the mop because he insists on tracking mud all through the house. Whew.
A nice surprise, two very good friends came to town to walk through my local fete and watch the parade. She is Bunny Dog's groomer. (Tuesday, he will have his yearly hair cut). The parade was a bit disappointing because I think several usual contingents opted out on the threat of rain. The clowns on crazy bikes were missing - one of my favourites - they usually coax people in the crowd on to the bikes. However, it didn't rain - the parade was a bit paltry with 7 or 8 groups - old Belgian militia men, the pre-requisite Caribbean carnival-themed dancers and stilt walkers, a Peruvian troop, Belgian jesters throwing blood oranges to the crowd - a springtime Belgian tradition.
There were at least 7 vendors selling smoked, dried cured hams from the Ardennes. Traditional artisanal butchers. I bought some smoked wild boar - it is amazing - and nicely flavoured, reminds me of soft biltong. We shared a sausage off the grill which had anise seeds in the mix - so good. We had tiny fried fish with paprika, fresh grapes and Spanish strawberries.
We went back to my house for a bit. Bunny Dog was so happy to hang out with his dog groomer and she kept reminding him that he won't feel the same way after Tuesday - when she yanks his hair out in what is a relatively painful process for a terrier. it can be a bit traumatic - I think she will get bitten. Two other friends came over - it was so great to see them. They are getting married in June and had just come from a wine tasting to chose wines for their reception. I served what I had on-hand - hoummous and spiced olives, some sliced cured ham and wild boar. Was really nice.
Now, today...
Monday, mundane. Grey, stuffy, 'close' as the Brits would say.
Post Aggression
You could have knocked me over with a feather. The stupid 'judges' at
MasterChef Goes Large chose Peter the 59 year old, upper-crusty snot who couldn't pull off a good sauce throughout the entire contest! I was traveling last week when the final decision was made. I have been too dumbfounded to mention anything since. Hottie Dean must have burned something or Girly Gujarati must have had another hissy fit. For the judges to pick Peter, something drastic must have happened. Move over Gordon Ramsay, there's a newcomer to your industry who is more pretentious than you. (If 3 of the top food critics in London feel Peter was pretentious, then don't argue - they know pretentious- they invented pretentious). Hey, Keith Floyd - get out that bottle of 1978 Montrachet hidden in your cave - a toast is in order - there's a new toffee-coated snob on the block. Heaven help us - Peter's head is likely to explode from all the adulation heaped upon him for winning MasterChef 2006 - nice job.
Last night, while I was walking Bunny Dog before bed, my hideous neighbor came out with her new puppy. She was with a friend and of course, screaming at her precious puppy at top volume, yanking on his lead viciously and kicking him every once in a while. This woman - this creature - regularly has violent freak-outs, screams and yells and throws things at her partner. They live in the maison arrier behind the building next to mine and this means we share a wall. It is not unusual for her to be screaming at 4 am in their garden. I have no idea why the people in her building put up with it. I guess no one wants to get involved. Sadly. However, when the dog is abused, that's where I get involved. Bunny Dog and I passed this freak imp last night and I asked her - very politely not to hit, yell at or treat the dog badly. Well, after a good 2 minutes of horrendous verbal abuse and violet flailing arms and legs, she ended up landing a couple jabs on my chin. She had mittens on - so it didn't hurt, but unleashed she could do some damage. As suspected - she was on something pretty strong - her eyes glazed over and pupils dilated to the point where you couldn't actually tell what colour her eyes were.
I calmly walked home and called the police. Yeah. I could have walked on by and not said anything but you know, I will get rid of that putrid pile of human waste if I do nothing else. The police went over there and gave her a warning or something - which unleashed a barrage of violent verbal abuse - she must have sat in her closet to make sure I could hear through the wall. Her partner was trying in vain to calm her down. The police waited and listened and made a note of the verbal barrage. So I guess I've made an enemy of an unstable drug addict who lives next to me - safe hey? The next time she makes serious noise, I will call the police again. I will call the landlord today to make a formal complaint and do everything I can to get this freak animal off my street and far away. I will call the police each and every time she screams and yells. I will get the local authorities to take away her puppy. Imagine that poor little puppy in a house like that. The best thing about Belgium is that they consider poor treatment of dogs paramount to murder. Should be that way everywhere.
The Commonwealth games. What a bunch of crap. Sorry guys, but come on. The Nations and territories of the Commonwealth - translation: British Colonies past and present come together for this 'feel good', 'pretend it's as important as the Olympics' spectacle. In a throwback to empirical grandeur, the Queen herself shows up to start the ceremony. It's in Melbourne Australia this time - and Australia's got a lot of medals - they always do in any sporting event. Australia spends a disproportionate amount of money and time developing sport in their educational system - noticeably more than education itself I might add. But it's medals that count and they are good at pretty much everything non-snow related. But look at the rest of the bunch. Come on - Scottish men's gymnastics team. Yes, I said the Scottish men's gymnastics team... Those guys look like a bunch of monkeys on caffeine. Hilarious watching the women's gymnastics - how many times can one fall off the balance beam and still medal? 3 times as it turns out. The quality of skill and expertise in the commonwealth games is no where in the league as the Olympics - so excuse me if I don't look for the Malaysian guy who won the 3-meter springboard diving event when the next summer Olympics happen. Of course, I am the consummate armchair sporting event commentator and couldn't even do a lap in an Olympic sized-pool in the time it takes any of these guppies to do 5 laps. But I can still critique can't I?
One last moan. Am I wrong to feel that we have a moral responsibility to give work to Iraqis when possible? I mean, if there's an Iraqi person who is qualified, willing and able to do something, shouldn't we be making it possible for that person to do the job and get paid for it? Am I wrong to think it's morally reprehensible that the US government (And others) send contractors to Iraq by the airbus-load - squandering millions of dollars on fat-arsed, pale-skinned civil engineers and communications experts who not only get 10 times what they are worth but also get 'danger pay'? As my friend Charles reminded me the other day - Winston Churchill said 'You can always count on Americans to do the right thing - after they've tried everything else'.
Tagged
I've been 'tagged' - meaning it's my turn to fill out the questionnaire sent around the block and back - like those chain e-mails. Ah, this is a step above - it doesn't say that you will have good luck the moment you send it to 25 people and it doesn't say you will have bad luck if you don't. So why not?
Three things you wish for (just for you):That I had my own house on the beach in Normandy and could spend every weekend there
That I could travel the world as a food investigator with my dog
That I had a bear-like, rugby-playing boyfriend who was a lot of fun and was passionate about his career
Three things you would do to/for yourself if there was no one to judge you (or if you had the guts to do it!):guts: slight reduction in the breast area - no arguments please
judgment: wear a halter top in summer
judgment(as in not having any): eat and drink as much as I wanted all the time
Three bad habits you have: over-spending on books and magazines -
People is €8 a copy here....
Possibly, spoiling my dog to the point he's a bit of a baby
Impatience
Three insecurities you feel: Being 41
Don't feel great when men speak to my chest
The 'Good thing you're pretty' line - Why? Am I not smart enough????(They're just jealous)
Three talents/skills you wish you had:The Ability to sing - even 1/100th as well as Sio - dream on ...
The ability to speak several languages fluently
To be as gracious and welcoming as my Mom and Dad
Three things that you would do if you had more timeTrain Bunny Dog to do agility courses - he would love them
Take a cooking class on French cuisine - especially sauces
Learn to fish
Three things that bring you peace/relaxation:My dog when he's on my lap or sitting next to me with his paws in the air, his eyes closed and his ears flopping back
Lying in the sun, listening to NPR and reading the Sunday (London)Times
When someone brushes my hair
Three things that spark your creativity:Zeldafitz
A really stupid recipe or cooking show
A bunch of good-looking EU guys in suits at Ralph's or The Hairy Canary
I pass the tag to CZB
Pop-Tart
I pretend I don't miss home anymore - but I really do. I miss my family and friends of course. And I miss the things I took for granted. Like 7-11's, Target, Wal-Mart and HUGE grocery stores in basically every neighborhood.
Over here we expats all have our cravings. Saffas (South Africans) miss their Biltong and NuttyCrust biscuits, Irish miss their colcannon, bacon and proper soda bread. English miss their breakfasts with fries and beans and good tea. I had an Oz(Aussie) boyfriend here once. He was a vegan and all serious about it. But when I went to England for work, he used to beg me to get some WagonWheels for him - they're large, soft oatmeal-cookie sandwiches with marshmallow cream in between. Delightful crap.
When I was home for Christmas last, I bought Pop Tarts to take back to Belgium with me. I thought my friends here would get a huge kick out of them. They're so gross and delicious. However, I hit a snag. Literally. My suitcase zipper split and I had to take one of my parent's extra cases. It was smaller than my own case and I had to jettison non-essential stuff. I had an agonizing decision. Was it worth it to stuff them in to the case and have them smashed to bits? Or not have them at all? (Forget the Listerine too - that just takes way too much room - it's more expensive than petrol gallon for gallon in Belgium - so I got a couple huge bottles from Santa). I had to leave some treasured clothes behind as well - definitely not a spare inch for Pop-Tarts.
My best friend hopped a last minute flight from Brussels to LA on Saturday. Her sister won a radio contest and the prize was two tickets to LA for the premier of Ice Age 2, Hotel on Hollywood Blvd, dinners, tours of the star's homes etc.
So, some good things DO happen. ( After losing a €40 million account last week I wasn't so sure)
She asked me that question. 'Do you want me to get anything for you from the states?'
Well, I sho do!
Where do I begin? Any or all of the below....
Twizzlers - red only
Nutter Butter Peanut Butter Sandwich cookies
just warming-up......
Cap'n Crunch
See above - with Crunch Berries
Fiddle Faddle
Turtles - caramel, nuts
Entenmann's cake donuts
Hostess Apple Pies with the shellac of glazed sugar
While visiting the Hostess rack, why not pick up some Choc Cup Cakes and Ho-Ho's?
And on to the Pop-Tarts
Frosted Cherry and Frosted Strawberry - do not return with the UN-Frosted - what would be the point in that?
:-))
Warm Spring Salad
1/2 cup fresh garden peas - boiled until al dente and plunged in cold water, drained
2 scallions sliced on diagonal
Goat's cheese - as much or little as you like, cut or torn in to small pieces
Pine nuts - toasted until golden brown
12 tiny plum tomatoes halved or quartered depending on size
1 Bunch asparagus - medium thickness
Regular Olive oil
Sea Salt
Black pepper
Balsamic Vinegar
Lime
Sea Salt
Freshly ground pepper
Extra virgin olive oil
Squeeze the juice of 1/2 lime in to a small bowl. Add Balsamic Vinegar until there is about 2-3 tablespoons of liquid. Sprinkle some sea salt in and black pepper to taste and mix. Pour in extra virgin olive oil until the vinegar mix is covered and stir with a fork until emulsified.
In large bowl put peas, sliced scallions, goat's cheese and tomatoes.
Cut the asparagus in 1-inch pieces on the diagonal. Place on a baking sheet and drizzle with olive oil, sea salt and cracked black pepper. Broil until the asparagus is sizzling and slightly tender to the touch. Shake them around a bit midway to get them evenly cooked. 4-5 Minutes depending on the size.
Immediately remove and place the asparagus in the bowl with the other ingredients. Pour vinaigrette around the sides of the bowl and mix the salad until all pieces are very lightly covered. Mound on a plate and sprinkle each portion with toasted pine nuts.
Variations
Add fresh mint - no goat's cheese
Use generous Parmesan shavings rather than goat's cheese
Add strips of friend panchetta or lardons
The sky's the limit with fresh spring veg. Its still so cold here in Belgium. The ground s absolutely frozen solid - but it is sunny and the sky is a crisp blue. I want the freshness of spring and the warmth of a little heat in the salad.
Belgium celebrates Asparagus in springtime. The big thing is white asparagus - which I don't fancy. I don't think it tastes of very much and there's a the work involved to peel the stalks and cook longer - it always seems mushy to me.
However, Asperge a la Flamande will be on every menu. Works nicely with regular asparagus. Broil or steam asparagus, lay on a platter, top with a savory mixture of finely chopped hard-cooked eggs sauteed in melted butter. Gorgeous.
Off to the market....
Apologies and menu for dinner
I have apologies to make.
Daksha - the Gujarat woman - is doing surprisingly well on MasterChef Goes Large. She was thrown in to the high pressure world of refined French food and she did quite nicely ( I also think the Head Chef in the restaurant was overly patient and nice....) - But, I will give her kudos for pulling it off so smoothly. I apologize for ranting and raving about the Indian woman who cooked nothing but Indian food (safe, easy, home-cooked) being chosen for the final. I apologize that I thought this was about people who would take food 'up a notch' - rather than learn to climb the first few pegs of the ladder...
Hottie Dean has done really well in general. When they had to cook for 200 Royal Marines on maneuvers in the Arctic Circle, the Marines voted him the best chef - and a great soldier. My my - he was popular with that group of lonely men in the cold, dark, arctic. Perhaps his pecs, cheeky grin and teasing eyelashes caught their attentions. Unfortunately, he messed-up on his steamed fish last night. The judges did admit it was a very rare mistake for him - ...if only we could drop Miss. India Supahwoman in a vat of curry and make her disappear......
Sorry. I didn't mean that - really I didn't.
Now, see what I have done? I will feel terrible if she really does have some sort of Curry/tandoori/naan-related accident before announcing the final three. See, I should just be quiet. Sorry.
:-))
Dean had better win
grilled asparagus with fresh peas, mint, roasted pine nuts and goat's cheese
rosemary lamb chops and baby carrots with an herbed potato stack
chocolate fondant
The Final 4 on MasterChef
Last night I was flipping through channels looking for a cooking programme and I stopped on
University Challenge for a few seconds - Hosted by the arrogant and extremely intelligent Jeremy Paxman. The show is like
It's Academic, but on a University level - pocket protectors, horn-rimmed glasses and all.
As I clicked over to the show, it was clear that one of the teams had just won a 'starter' question against the other school - having done so they got their own set of bonus questions to answer without competition. 'Please name the Celebrity Chefs who give their names to the following establishments:' Then, a selection of photos appear of buildings - actually - restaurant establishments.
I thought Jeremy Paxman was going to fall off of his throne. They got them all correct. The first one - Gordon Ramsey's place - The second one - one of Rick Stein's restos in Cornwall, and the third one Raymond Blanc's castle somewhere. All extremely expensive and hard-to-get-in-to eating establshments. After their answers, Jeremy Paxman mumbled something resembling - ' bloody hell' and then - 'how on earth did you know those? What type of students ARE you? Going to these expensive restaurants..what is the world coming to?' - mumble mumble mumble - etc etc - 'I never...it's unbelievable!'.
Come on Jeremy Paxman - even someone with a little knowledge of famous chefs can make educated guesses - there are a finite number of celebrity chefs to choose from. Not too hard. It's not unbelievable.
What is unbelievable is the group that John Torode and Gregg Wallace (
MasterChef Judges) chose as the 'final 4' on
MasterChef Goes Large. Why not change the title to -
'MasterChef Goes Crazy'? OK - they chose one hot-looking guy who can cook really well and should win and will win. He's a babe and the judges are clearly hot for him. He will win. But, just for the fun of it why not pick some other finalists who can actually compete in the, uh, competition...?
Judges:
I know you couldn't risist Dean - he's sexy and a great cook. Our dream come true! But please - keep your hands off the eye candy! At least make it seem as if you are really running a contest. Jeez - keep your eye on the doughnut and not on the hole -know what I mean?
The Indian woman from Gujarat... Hey, you know, I can see on TV that she can cook Gujarati food well - because she has done so on every round of the contest - yeah, she's good - she's made everything in her family banquets repetoire. And she's good at it. She should be - she's been making the same dishes since she was 2. When John said her rice dish was greasy (in her semi-final round) - she said 'That's how I make rice at home - greasy - that's how I eat rice at home. Greasy.' Yeah - okaaay. Wow - let's make her a finalist in a
MasterChef contest - why not?
The expensive ingredients guy - the one who wants to be a food writer.. why did you let him go? He cooked better than Gupta Gujarati. So what if he likes to 'push the boat out' as he said in an ever so English way. Truffles, fois gras, caviar - let the man cook! His plates looked professional, he had a lot of interesting and varied regional cuisines represented (not Central Indian tho - that was covered by someone else). He's mastered several difficult techniques and he clearly loves food and loves to cook. Don't penalize a man just because he wants to cook with salsify root and Caciocavallo Podolico cheese. That doesn't make him a bad man. Shame on you Gregg and John.
Another great cook you skipped over for Dal Dhokla, Dal Kaddhi and Khandvi was the pub grub Gourmet. She made home-cooked food from the heart with a flair. She made pot-roast chicken with onions, carrots and the smoothest mash on the side - you ate everything on your plates even though you had to taste many more dishes. You asked yourselves 'Whose food do you want to eat?' And the answer was always - 'Hers'. Be honest. You know you messed up guys.
You left us with a 60 year-old George Segal look-alike - I wouldn't kick him out of my kitchen to be honest, he's kinda cute and pretty good with French food. You left us with a so so - housewife with solid skills who could surprise us - you never know. You left us with Ghengista Gujarati who will not win because she only knows how to make Indian food with 65 spices in each dish fried in red oil - Can't wait to see her on French Pastries in the finals week.
John and Gregg - even though you missed out on a few great cooks which would give us a competition worth watching every night - I will still watch every second and you know it.
Thanks for choosing Dean as a finalist - the hottie, digger-driver with Bambi eyes and a 'ripped' 6-pack chest - that's what I call yummy.
Wai U So Dim?
On the way home from work, I found myself in Brussels 'China Town' - or rather on 'China Street'. I had to go to the Asian supermarket to stock up on Mirin (rice wine), good Japanese soy sauce (The Chinese brands seem too strong to me) and other basic ingredients.
I can't be in an Asian shop without getting a craving for dim sum. I am so addicted to the staple dim sum like shu mai, (pork dumplings), har gow (crystal shrimp dumplings, and baby bao (small steamed rice flour buns with filling) that I go sort of nuts when in the shop. If only I had a freezer, I would have dim sum all the time - (we will discuss the freezer issue another time).
I used to live on chausee de Boondael in Ixelles - there's a small shop run by a couple - she's from China, he's from Vietnam. They make some of the best dim sum in the city. They make fresh batches all week and load them in to their freezer. Their shrimp balls are so good - you can taste the pieces of shrimp held together with a mousse-like consistency. They make those delicious stuffed chicken wings (I do love anything chicken) but these are so scrumptious. Cellophane noodles, minced pork, veg all tightly tucked in - just heat them in the oven for 20 minutes and they are to die for. They even have rice crepes - shrimp, pork and vegetable.
Anyway, since I was being teased by the dim sum in the shop on Friday, I decided to call Lara and see if she would come over for dinner. I scooped up several varieties of the standard frozen packages of dim sum - not the best, but definitely acceptable. I found a 5-pack of crisp, green, fresh, baby Pak Choi, fresh bean sprouts, Chinese broccoli, and thin, long, green onions.
That night I set up my steamer with the broccoli, pak choi, green onions and fresh ginger on one layer, and a large selection of har gow, shu mai, pot sticker-shaped dumplings with pork and ginger, chicken bao and rice crepes on another layer. I made a few dipping sauces: Soy sauce and sambal with a couple shakes of sesame oil; loempia sauce (better known as won-ton dipping sauce)with some hot sauce mixed in, and a light sauce with rice wine vinegar, sugar, scallions and grated ginger. I steamed the vegetables and sprinkled sesame oil over them.
What a meal. As much as I love dim sum, the vegetables were fantastic too! Luckily, I had enough of the vegetables to have several helping of them over the weekend. I just steamed them in the Microwave - (yes, I now have a microwave - I know, I know. But my lovely Russsian housekeeper and her sweet husband gave it to me for Christmas). It's perfect for steaming - in fact, this weekend is the only time I've ever used it. I think I will do more of that.
Another great place to get a nice variety of freshly made dim sum in Brussels- is at Woluwe Shopping centre. Their dim sum has to be steamed right away as it's not frozen - or it must be re-heated within a reasonable time-frame. It's on the bottom floor, there's a shop where you may sit and eat in - or carry out. It's really good and fresh.
Dim Sum reminds me of Sunday brunch with my Mom. When I am home in DC, we drive across the Key Bridge to a great dim sum place on the bottom floor of a huge office building. There's loads to choose from. Hot steam carts are pushed around the room in droves. The place is packed with Chinese, young couples, families, and groups of friends. It can be tricky to catch the waiter's attention and get him/her to wheel the cart over to your table before they run out and have to go back to the kitchen for re-stocking. Well respected family members at round tables just lift their heads and the waiters stream over to them as if called by their masters. My Mom is pretty darn good at getting their attention.
Dim Sum traditionally comes in portions of two to three pieces. So if Mom and I go by ourselves, there's usually one piece of each variety left. We save these to take home for Dad to munch on after he gets back from Church and his lay ministry work at the nursing home. He microwaves them!
I have to say that dim sum is probably one of the most important comfort foods to me. I always picture my Mom's face when the cart with Chinese custard pies goes by. It's her favourite and the person walking that cart doesn't get past my Mom easily.
It reminds me that my Mom is a really strong force not just in my life, but in nature. Lucky for me - I get all that and really good dumplings too.
Chicken Livery
When I was a kid, I remember watching Julia Child on black and white TV. I remember when her show changed to colour and her shirt was a robin's egg blue. Suddenly she became animated and became a person to me.
I also watched The Galloping Gourmet - Graham Kerr. At the time, I really had no idea the Galloping Gourmet was flying all over the set because he was really 'flying' so to speak. When you're a kid, you don't catch on to those things unless you learn them from your environment. I was well looked-after as a child and I didn't learn that kind of stuff until my brother was in high school - he's 4 years older than I am.
Even though I was naive in many ways, there were some things that didn't get by me. Like when someone does something completely useless. I have always wondered why people do things that don't make any sense whatsoever.
I have always thought it best to spend the time on things that really matter - especially in cooking. If more effort will really make something taste better in a different way, if it won't ever happen unless you take the time, then it's worth it. Like slow-cooking onions until they are crispy, carmelised, golden brown - used to crumble on soups, stews etc. They won't get that way unless you take your time.
I remember one time when Julia Child spent the first half of her show skinning a chicken -with the intent of leaving the skin in tact and whole. This seemed to me a feat more difficult than passing a camel through the eye of a needle. But she obviously had some good reason for carrying out this horrendous operation with her lethal Sabatier boning knife. All you could see during this massacre was her hunched over, her elbows crashing about, the top of her head and knobbly fingers manipulating the chicken flesh and ripping the bone cartilage apart. When she stood up again, she triumphantly held up a chicken skin that looked like a chicken coat right on the hanger - just empty of it's flesh and bones.
I was in awe. Julia Child was going to do something so grand and amazing with this skin - all the effort would have been worth it - I just knew it. To this day, I am not sure what to think. What Julia did with that hard-earned, perfectly tailored chicken skin was this: She filled it with a basketball sized mound of freshly chopped chicken liver and steamed it. That's it. When she presented it, it looked like grey matter in a shriveled brain skin. Ok, basically she was making a type of pate. You could easily buy very similar pate just about anywhere - even back then. Was it worth the effort to stuff it in a chicken skin? I don't think so. I would just go to the French Market in Georgetown and ask for a couple slabs at the deli counter. Spend time on a nice sauce for the veal or something...
Many moons later, in Europe, I find myself watching cooking programmes of all sorts. I watch the British ones - of which there are many on regular TV. I watch a Belgian one where a famous Flemish actor travels the world and makes local specialties and shops in odd, interesting markets. I watch the Turkish cooking channel which is sponsored by a vegetable oil company and every two seconds, the chef flashes the bottle of oil with the label front and centre - he's actually slopping it on something every two seconds anyway. The Turkish meals are always interesting and the plates are artfully decorated with perfectly carved rose-shaped cherry tomatoes, heart-shaped red-pepper rings and cucumber half moons. There's a cooking contest show on the Italian channel that is so noisy and active it sort of makes me ill when I watch - the camera jostles around too much trying follow the slops of red wine and pasta being flung through the air.
My favourite cooking show of late is on the Spanish channel TVE. Jose Andres hosts a programme called Vamos a Cocinar. (He's a famous DC Chef) It's sort of like a Mr. Roger's neighborhood food show. He's in this house and he invites 'friends' to lunch. The 'friends' are always famous, writers, musicians, wine experts, etc. He's a perfectionist and explains everything as if he were speaking to a 4 year-old child. There's always a break in the show where he sits down to discuss ingredients. If he does a show using Chorizo sausages, he will sit down to a table laden with 30 types of sausages from each culinary region of Spain. Then he will painstakingly talk through how each one is produced and then how to cook them. I usually take a break during this segment, or walk the dog.
Jose Andres usually goes through a lot of steps to get his food out so I am used to it. However, last night he did one of those 'Chicken Liver-Ball' things.
I couldn't' believe the lengths he went to last night. In the end, he served filets of flounder with sauce on top to his guests. The sauce was made with a base of onions, balsamic vinegar, red wine and some weird fish part - the fish part had to be cooked in a separate stock for two hours, then rubbed with sea salt to remove something rubbery (I don't speak Spanish, so I have to do my best at guessing), rinsed several times in cold water, returned to the stock for another hour and then finally added to the sauce - a sauce overpowered with onions, balsamic and wine - hmm. Do you think the fishy things were strong enough to handle the sauce? Anyway -a lot of work.
The fish parts looked like halved starfish - I swear. And I am going to call my Spanish friend today to find out what this weird wobbly spiny thing was. All this for the sauce which was poured over nicely baked flounder filets with herbs. Should we be eating something that resembles a fishy chicken foot if it has to be sand blasted and practically sterilized to eat? It had better be a delicacy or a really good aphrodisiac.
Anyway - anything weird and interesting like that piques my interest and I will investigate. I will spend my time learning and trying new things. I just won't be stuffing a chicken skin with chopped liver anytime soon.
