Traveling through Time

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cmvillaverde — Wed, 25 Feb 2015 11:58:00 GMT

Passport & Plate - Tom Yum Paste

cmvillaverde — Wed, 25 Feb 2015 11:42:32 GMT

Ingredients
8 lemon grass stalks, white part only about 5 inches long each, minced
3 onion leeks stalks, white part only about 8 to 10 inches long, minced
8 kaffir lime leaves, dried or fresh, minced
3-4 fresh Thai chili peppers or to taste, minced

5 to 7 tablespoons of coconut oil
5 tomatoes, diced (about a cup)
5 shallots, minced
6 pieces of garlic, minced
4 tablespoons of grated fresh galangal (or if using dried, get about 3 to 4 pieces, soak in hot water, drain, then mince the galangal), if no access to galangal, replace with ginger
2 tablespoons of shrimp paste
about a cup of cillantro, minced

1 ½ cups of coconut cream
1 cup coconut milk
2 tablespoons of oyster sauce
1 tablespoons of fish sauce
1 tablespoons of soy sauce
juice of 3 lemons, or about 6 tablespoons
4 tablespoons of sugar

How to prepare this recipe
Place the lemongrass, leeks, kaffir lime leaves, and chili pepper, and pound in a mortar and pestle until softened into a chunky paste. You may also opt for a food processor for this. Set aside.

In a medium-hot pan and add the coconut oil. Saute the tomatoes until softened, about 3 minutes. Add the shallots and mix thoroughly, and cook until translucent which will take about a minute or two. Add the garlic, and cook until fragrant but do not brown. Add in the galangal, and the shrimp paste and mix. Add in the chunky paste of lemongrass, leeks, kaffir lime leaves and chili pepper. Follow in the cilantro. Allow all of this to cook dow,n, around 15 minutes, over low fire.

Add the coconut milk, oyster sauce, fish sauce, soy sauce, lemon juice, and sugar. Taste. Let it simmer for 45 minutes. Taste, and adjust seasoning and heat as preferred. There should be a balance of sweet, spicy, sour, and salty and the fragrance of all the herbs and spice. Use for tom yam, tom ka, addition to pad thai, or even as a sauce for fried food.

The story behind this recipe
Traveling for days, I was feeling a bit lonely. I was 2000 kilometers away from my family, my home. But as I shuffled along the bustling street of Khao San, my loneliness was replaced by excitement. I followed my teacher into a market, and the scents came bursting forth. A hint of chili in the air, woody galangal, tangy kaffir lime leaves, and citrusy lemongrass! Fragrant chilis, coconuts ready for grating, and colorful tropical fruits lined the market stalls. It was unmistakably Thailand! And today, I was going to learn to make my favorite dishes from a local chef.

Soon we were in my teacher’s kitchen, aprons slung around our necks and tied at our waists. All the ingredients are familiar, except for one. A small bowl of an oily, reddish-brown sauce. Tom yum paste, she said. I tried the paste on its own, a mixture of salty, sweet, sour, and spicy. I was curious and asked how it was made. She laughed and replied that it takes a long time, many ingredients, and will take another lesson altogether to learn. I felt like she was keeping it a secret! As the lesson went on, the tom yum paste went in the tom yum, tom ka and pad thai. The simple looking paste, it seemed, was the heart and depth of her dishes.

Soon after, I was home in Manila, and I wanted to recreate at home what I have learned in that Thai kitchen. I wanted my family to experience and taste what I did. That tom yum paste was key. Producing the same flavor seemed impossible. I only had a ramble of ingredients from different internet sources but I have the Thai cooking techniques my teacher taught me. I got excited at every pound of the pestle, at every slice of the sharp knife, every sizzle of pan. Tomatoes, shallots, garlic, adding each flavor layer by layer, and finally ending with the coconut milk. And as my mom put a spoonful of the final dish in her mouth, she uttered in surprise, “Wow. This tastes really good.” And I replied, “That is the taste of Thailand.”

Passport & Plate - Hardinera

cmvillaverde — Tue, 11 Mar 2014 12:30:00 GMT

Ingredients
For the meat:
1.5 kilos of whole pork shoulder, preferably a fatty cut
125 grams of tomato sauce
¼ cup of vinegar
¼ cup of soy sauce
2 pieces of pork broth cubes

For the décor and flavoring of the meat:
1 small can of pimiento
1 small can of Libby’s Vienna sausage
2 hardboiled eggs
1 small can of pineapple tidbits
2 whole sweet pickles, diced
½ cup sweet pickle relish

To add during cooking:
1 onion, minced
5 cloves of garlic, minced
grated cheese, to taste
½ cup of breadcrumbs
1 small can of liver spread
leftover sauce from initial cooking of the meat
7 eggs
salt and pepper to taste

How to prepare this recipe
Will make 3 to 4 loaf pans.

Preparing the Meat: Cook the meat in the tomato sauce, vinegar, soy sauce and broth cubes for about an hour, or until the meat is tender. Ensure that there is always enough liquid so that it will not burn. Add water if necessary. Remove from the pan to cool and set the sauce aside. Cube the meat into ½ inch pieces, and making the fatty parts smaller.

Preparing the Loaf Pans: There will be ingredients for décor, and for mixing. Allot at least two slices of each kind of the items below for decorating: Vienna sausage, pimiento, pickles and hardboiled egg. All should be sliced about thumb-sized (except for the egg which should just be sliced), but thin and flat. Set aside and prepare the loaf pans by lining them either with banana leaves, parchment paper, or plastic. This will facilitate easier removal from the pans. Butter these and decorate the bottom with the prepared items. Set aside.

Preparing the Other Vegetables: Now prepare the rest of the ingredients. Drain the pineapple tidbits. Dice the sausage and pickles (about the same size of the pineapple tidbits). Mince the pimiento.

Mixing Everything: To the cubed meat, add the pickles (diced and relish), minced pimiento, drained pineapple, and diced sausage. Mix well. Dilute the liver spread with some of the sauce from the meat to make a thick paste. Then add to the meat. Mix and set aside.

In a big pan, sauté the onion and garlic until tender. Add the meat and mix well. Add cheese and bread crumbs, almost to the texture of a meatloaf. Add some of the sauce set aside initially if needed to moisten the meat more. Lastly, add the beaten eggs, about 3, until thoroughly mixed.

In the prepared container, fill each with meat until almost full. Then top with a beaten egg and allow to egg to fall through the meat cracks. Cover with foil and steam for 30 minutes. Flip on a plate once done. The rest may be refrigerated or frozen, then steam again before serving.

The story behind this recipe
I was young and tasked with the job since I was the only one home with our grandma. Hardly a foodie at this age, I thrived on fast food fried chicken But my Lola Belen was insistent. She was 77 and echoed woes of the old on how she needs to pass on this recipe, “Lest the dish disappear from our family and just remain a memory.” With all the grumbling and sighing a 9 year-old can muster, I got to work. I typed the recipe she dictated, sans measurements. “Estimate it. You will know.” She said.

The printed copy was filed into our notebooks of recipes and tucked away, serving no use. My Lola would still spoil us with food coming from her kitchen when we visit her, like most grandmas do. And like all people do, she eventually passed away.

We missed Lola Belen dearly, and going back to Quezon Province was not as happy as it used to be. We began to miss what made our house in Lucban a home: the food, how it was prepared, and how we used to share meals. It was that time the notebook was opened. A couple of tries and so-so meals, my mom finally nailed her mother-in-law’s recipe down to an exact science. The recipe had measurements for most of the ingredients, and this has replaced the recipe in the old notebook. Finally, we had it. Every bite of the tender fatty pork, the crunchy pickle, and the cheesy pate, all ensconced in that pretty little picture on a plate. We had our Lola Belen’s Hardinera.

Now that I am old enough to cook and a self-proclaimed foodie, I feel saddened that it was the only recipe of hers that I have noted down. There is still her embutido, chicken pastel and bola-bola. All recipes are available on the internet, but none will ever be as delicious as hers. I know I will eventually discover her other recipes, through relatives’ recipes and perhaps my unwavering belief that my memory will serve as the best guide and critic. The great thing is, I now cook my lola’s hardinera like she used to, without measurement, like she told me to.

Understanding a Culture through Food - 7,107

cmvillaverde — Thu, 4 Apr 2013 12:16:44 GMT

Standing in the middle of my house in Manila, I felt my compulsion to go. To Just go. I was hungry. For food. For adventure. For experience. I step out.

I am on a plane ride to the south of Manila, to Bicol, where the coconut trees grow. The towering bodies rising to the sky as if to thank the heavens for a life fulfilled. The sight is heartwarming, green and fresh. I step inside a friend’s manor in Baao, Camarines Sur, where meals are served on banana leaves. Everything is drowning in the delicious, creamy coconut sauce with just a hint of salt for savory, and sweetness for desserts, and hyped-up by the tear-inducing spice that is Bicolano cuisine. The milky texture envelopes the tongue, and gives way to the meat. It’s a simple pleasure, but what a pleasure it is.

I am on another trip to the island of Iloilo where seafood reigns. The fish swim swiftly in the blue waters as if teasing the fishermen and guiling them into another world. The sight is endearing, cool waters under the hot sun. I step inside a street-side hut called Allan’s in Oton, Iloilo, where meals are served on plastic plates. I see the oysters being freshly shucked; I salivate over the nearing experience. Imagining the feeling of the raw, gooey oyster sliding down my throat and bringing me to the middle of the ocean, I smile. I smack my lips at the thought of having that tender, salty freshness of the seafood. An unpretentious sensuality, but sensual, nevertheless.

I am on a boat ride to Cebu, a highly-urbanized city in a different island. Gleaming on their proud concrete jungle, the few skyscrapers tower upon me, as if wanting to remind me where I live. The view is familiar, but with sounds of incomprehensible language. I step inside a big family-run restaurant called CnT in North Reclamation where meals are served cafeteria-style. The grimy walls and floor disappear when the smell of the popular Cebu Lechon wafting in the air hits you, and brings you visions of happiness. A little bite of that roasted pork skin, a deafening crackle from your lips, shatters your dreamy state. The tender meat is flavored generously with lemongrass and salt. Indulgence at its finest, extreme indulgence.

I settle back home, in Manila. But I have been nowhere but home, in the land of my birth, Philippines. I was hungry, and I was sated. A travel to any of 7,107 islands is nothing but a culinary exploration. All of these islands, pleasurable, sensual, and indulgent, and yet all Filipino.