Showing posts with label ass kicking condiments. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ass kicking condiments. Show all posts

Gado Gado

is possibly my favourite Indonesian dish

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It's a complete and healthy meal in one. This one had boiled egg, blanched kangkong and bean sprouts, rice cakes, potato, crispy green beans, tempeh, tofu and a lightly kaffir flavoured peanut sauce. Other Indonesian dishes tend to rely heavily on the presence of tasty sambals to "beef" up the flavour. And while I love sambals, if the sambals on offer are not good your whole meal is jeopardised. Of course you can also add sambal to this.

Let's just say somehow they live in the forest

Food blogs often serve as a thinly veiled excuse to brag about one's travel experiences. This blog is no exception.

So last Wednesday I found myself bumping around the back of a four wheel drive for seven hours along logging roads in the district of Berau, Borneo, Indonesia on my way with a convoy of forestry officials, climate change experts and conservationists to visit a remote tribe of forest dwellers known at the Dayaks. We arrived after dark and were ferried across a river in traditional long boats to the village.

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The Dayak's are traditionally hunter gatherers/ swidden agriculturalists and gold panners, dependent on the resources of the incredibly dense rain forest in which they live to survive.

After a quick bucket shower, we were treated to a meal of freshly caught mullet, fried fish, vegetables, rice and an incredibly hot sambal, prepared in this kitchen

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by the Dayak's women folk

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During the tribe's power point presentation to us (they may be remote and tribal but they sure ain't primitive) on their forest management strategies the male folk frequently referred to the forest as their "supermarket". I supposed that they were seeking to translate to us the abundance and utility that the forest provided them in ways they believed we would understand. Indeed, some of their household decorations attested to the fact that somehow, they managed to live in the forest

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However, having already poked around the kitchen where the Dayak women prepared food, and having uncovered a large ice bin containing bags of processed sausages and chicken nuggets

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it was patently obvious to me that the supermarket was also their supermarket, even if only in the advent of catering for large groups. Indeed, their remoteness did not seem to preclude them from a great deal of modern convenience. Although there was no electricity, there were generators. They had satellite tv and their children were all sent to the provincial town for high school education. The tribe had successfully established their own forest management committee comprised of local leaders, district government officials, logging companies and international conservation groups.

The next day I awoke to survey the village I had arrive to in darkness.

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Cacao grew in the front gardens and piggies posed for me

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After a breakfast of white processed bread, rice, chicken nuggets and fried eggs, we travelled for one hour by long boat through the forest and up the river to meet with a neighbouring tribe and learn more about forest management practices.

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We were accompanied by this cool old guy who caught fish with a spear, and owned a poison blow dart (something that me and a good friend have decided would be of great use at our university)

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After forestry discussions lunch was served.

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Plain rice, fried eggs, eggplant and prawn crackers, sambal, salty duck egg, more sausages and chicken nuggets and some plain cabbage soup which we ate with our right hands. As we ate a family speed by on their long boat with dogs to go wild pig hunting. A tribal member speared a fish.

Austrian Raver Fuel




Photos taken by my mate Felix the Houserat from Vienna at Springnine Festival, Austria. 5 kilos of nutella should be enough for one weekend and a few hundred of your new friends, I guess.

MySpace Codes

Are you a member of "The Chup Group?"

certificate

The Chip Group a partnership between local industry groups and the New Zealand Heart Foundation focused on improving the nutritional profile of chips or chups.

Judging from their website* and giveaways they have received some serious funding.

*Note awesome chip wallpaper.

If you do decide to join up like me you will be privy to some pretty spectacular videos covering topics such as optimum "chip size", "oil temperature", "basket drainage" and of course "salt"

After watching seven amusing clips which cover topics such as THUCK cut CHUPS are BUTTAR for your HELF and that you should not use SKUNNY CHUPS. I aced the tests (sorry modules) and received my certificate for which I am very proud.

The Chip Group recommends printing your certificate off and showing your work mates. Which is exactly what I did but Chalong my sous chef burnt it on an open flame. Where is the respect.

The Chip Group is now busily sending my two nieces in Auckland (I used their address as I thought it would be asking a tad much to send the goodie bag to Bangkok)

1 bottle of Kiwi Style Tomato Sauce (6 muthafucken liters!!!)
1 bottle of Kiwi Style Tartar Sauce (Also 6 ltrs!!! BURP)
1 Jar Kiwi Style Deep Frying Baking Powder (2 kg!)
1 jar of Kiwi style Chicken Salt Seasoning (2.5 kg!!!!!!!!)
1 apron and t-shirt (hopefully size XXXL as the girls little Hello Kitty t-shirts will not fit them after eating 12 liters of heavily processed condiments)

It was not a complete waste of 30 minutes. I learnt that 2.5 thousand tons of fat is equal 632 elephants. WTF? Actually this is the total amount of fat that they wish to remove each year from the NZ populations diet by cooking a better chip which is not a bad idea if you have ever seen Maytels dads tummy.

Anyway the password for my membership was horsefat which the website never once referred to which is a shame really as it is a nice middle ground, bridging the worlds of high and low saturated fats and producing a pretty good chip.

Anyway...Ella and Liv enjoy the 2 kg of Kiwi Style Deep Frying Baking Powder.

Nom banchok!



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UOsvbCR-rBs


Thanks to Al for the tip!

Update: I was so delighted by the video itself that I nearly overlooked Alison in Cambodia's tasty post on cooking nom banchok!

Three/ Four Breakfasts in One Day

So we ate breakfast 3 times on Saturday. No actually make that 4.

Awoke at 4 am.....ahhhh jet lag and lay in bed until I decided to eat some granola I had bought from the store downstairs....organic too, with hemp seeds.....oooooooo, yes so very fuckin' UES, apparently, to which I added organic vanilla soy milk. Yes I admit it, for all my rantings I'm just as much of a namby pamby organic loving girly blouse as everyone else who writes a food blog.

Organic granola aside, we felt the need for a more "balanced" diet, so we headed downtown to Bleecker St and headed directly to Russ and Daughters for their famed bagel and lox.

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The place was bustlin with people collecting the necessary ingredients for brunch. I had to overcome my meek kiwi/ asian tendencies and bustle and push.....

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we got mini bagels with capers and onions......it was in my view the most perfect bagel

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The minis left room for us to head to Katz's right next door. We had no idea that the two Institutions were so close together. Hock thought I wouldn't be interested in eating a pastrami sandwich straight after a bagel....he of little faith.

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We ordered a classic pastrami on rye to share, a kinish and two coffees (the lovely watery filter coffee, call me a philistine but I love American style coffee)........The sandwich came with more exquisite pickles. I had forgotten how good a good pickle can be and their pickles are great. In fact New York really has to be pickle capital of the world.

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I also got a unique compliment from one of the staff members who told me I was "lookin good baby" and that he "liked a little sauce with his white bread". I've never quite thought of my sexual appeal in sandwich terms but I guess if you work at Katz this is, in fact, how you may view a lot of things.

So, yaadaa yaadaa yaadaa.....we thought we were full and we were until we stumbled across Cafe Habana at about 11.30 and decided while we were there we should also eat the corn there, because the last time I was in New York, the corn was a revelation to me.


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So we ate a piece of corn. Corn still good. Check.

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And then we walked miles and miles, and we continue to walk miles and miles for atonement.

I'm realistic that I probably won't loose any weight while I'm here, I'm hopeful that with the walking I won't gain any either. But my legs ache and my belly feels like it is going to explode. In short, I'm transforming into my nemisis....a frog.

Rockin' the Stammtisch

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I wish one of us had had a proper camera that night at Brauhaus Putz. I love how my colleague Wulf looks like a weather-beaten politico who just spent 23 hours in the war room, and is now enjoying a well deserved fag with some raw mince.

Maybe some Republicans think Germany is full of people like this: who wear Obama t-shirts and smoke Players P&S while eating raw mince & onion on crisp white buns.

On the subject of smoking & eating, I was just reading an article from February last year about the latent smoking ban in Germany. It quotes Claudia Picht, whose organic café Metzgerei Schmitz was an extreme anomaly last year with its self-imposed smoking ban. She was quoted as saying "I don't see the non-smoking principle of my café as a prohibition, but as a special offer to those people who want some fresh air." Aw.
"They keep telling the barkeepers that a smoking ban would decrease their rates. I think people have to be very courageous to say: 'I will do it anyway! I will turn my bar into a non-smoking place.' And then they find out that drinking coffee can also be wonderful without a cigarette!'"

Meanwhile the old guard of non-organic sausage-loving Germans is represented by Meinolf Saure, the owner of the monolithic Brauhaus Früh. He is quoted as saying "I cannot support a general ban, for a bar without smoke would be nothing." But he admits that he is also happy about the non-smoking areas. "We have established them on every level of our bar and they are a huge success."

The jury is still out on whether eating a raw mince mettwurst brötchen without a cigarette can also be wonderful.

Ironically, my workmate Wulf took up smoking again when he was in North America. The smoking ban in Toronto meant that people would go outside for a chat and a fag, and since he is so tall he found this an easier way to converse than trying to shout down at people in the noisy club.

As New Years approached last year, I was less excited about clinking glasses of 'sekt' bubbly than I was about the promised moratorium on smoking, about to be introduced in clubs. Most eating and drinking venues in Germany are not air-conditioned. The ban felt long overdue - other European countries with a strong penchant for smoking had banned it in public spaces, what felt like ages ago (Italy, Ireland, England, even France). Not without protest. A Parisian cafe-owner, Olivier Colombe, was quoted in the Independant last December as saying "Long dinners with several bottles of wine and lots of discussion are going to be difficult".
It sounds like he needs to sit down for a delicious cup of coffee with the über-upbeat Claudia Picht.

Just before New Years, the governors of North Rhein Westphalia decided that they would push the start of the ban back so that the fine Kölle folk could smoke it up during the traditional carnival season. Then, when I thought the ban would finally trudge into effect on July 1st, a loop-hole was discovered to allow smaller venues who don't have room for a 'non-smoking' area to become members' smoking clubs.

The Federal Constitutional Court ruled on July 30th in favour of plaintiffs who said the constitutional rights to property and to exercise one’s profession were at stake, easing smoking bans for at least 60,000 one-room establishments. It's a convenient loop hole that has been jumped on enthusiastically by all the local discotheques (which are, by the way, not necessarily all that small).

The Economist wrote on the 24th of July that "The German Hotel and Restaurant Association says smoking bans have cost small bars and restaurants 30% of their revenues. That shakes a pillar of social life: the Stammtisch, a regulars’ table at the corner bar where fellowship is forged. If people cannot smoke at Köpi, says its bartender, “we would lose our regulars”.

Anti-smoking campaigners have long found Germany a hard case. Last year the Swiss Cancer League ranked the tobacco-fighting zeal of 30 European countries, and placed Germany 27th. The new smoking bans might improve its ranking, but they are riddled with 130 exemptions, complains Martina Pötschke-Langer, of the German Cancer Research Centre."

130 exemptions is quite an achievement in my opinion. That's something worth bragging about. I'm amazed at the number of loopholes that the normally fastidious Germans have allowed to permeate this veritable legislative sieve. And 'strict' is clearly a matter of interpretation.

Five days ago, bloomberg.com published the following confusing news item. The court begins by upholding the law with no members' club exceptions in straight-laced Bavaria, but then sidles around it by claiming that smoking in beer tents (which also serve a number of Bavarian food delicacies) can be allowed until the end of the year because it is of a temporary nature.

"The Bavarian law is in line with a July 30 ruling that permits smoking bans as long as they don't allow for exceptions, the Karlsruhe-based Constitutional Court said today. Allowing smoking in beer tents until the end of this year doesn't breach rules because the exemption is of a temporary nature, it said. The Bavarian state law, one of the strictest in Germany, doesn't apply to clubs with a restricted membership because they aren't open to the public."

Say whut? Isn't saying something is allowed simply because it's temporary, the very definition of an exception?

Bavaria, sorry mate, I don't think you are as strict as you are cracked up to be.

Most people I've asked still don't think the tobacco lobby is especially strong here: they think all this poking loop-holes in the fabric of the law is down to the strength of the German Hotel and Restaurant Association (DEHOGA). The DEHOGA insists that as long as the consumption of tobacco is not generally forbidden it should remain a personal decision whether or not to smoke in a bar.

But some, like Claudia Picht, are pretty sure the tobacco lobby is meeting up with the DEHOGA in some war rooms of their own.

The Economist commented that it is hard to prove, although cigarette ladies are a fixture at political parties’ conventions. "Germany has conducted no large-scale campaign on the dangers of passive smoking, says Dr Pötschke-Langer. Despite boosting taxes recently, cigarettes are still cheaper than in Britain and Ireland. The share of the adult population that smokes has dropped from more than half in 1950 to around a third, but smoking rates remain among the highest in Europe."

wulf

mustmayostardayonaise

Manufaktum's Bread & Butter Opens in Köln



At last...at long last. The German fine hand-crafted goods emporium Manufaktum, and its signature Bread & Butter bakery/cafe, has come to Cologne. It's in the Disch-haus, a beautiful curved building built in '28, seen as an early 'manifesto of modernism'. We went along on their second day of business.

I first ate Manufaktum's signature sour 'sauerteig' bread at their branch in Munich - Erik and me ate a whole half loaf drowned in pumpkin-cinnamon jam. I then discovered that they do a very good short black espresso at their branch in Duesseldorf (served on a small silver tray with a glass of water), so I've been looking forward to the Cologne branch opening, a lot.

I'm looking forward to trying out the nicely curated offerings of delicatessan goods over the coming months. And it's always fun to browse the kitchenware like raclette machines, utilitarian yet impracticle modernist toaster models from the 50s, Haussler wood-burning ovens for 3000 euros, Kenyo Warikomi knives, hand-made copper & porcelain bain-maries from France, and very serious looking small metal gadgets for removing plum or cherry stones.
And the gardening section is fun too.

Bread tapas, anyone? !



Manfaktum's cafe Bread & Butter is mostly for 'brotzeit' - not as in dinner but as in a snack of something on bread. They have a selection of thick cut sour rye bread with a thick layer of hand-made butter and then cheese, salami or a gouache of quark, taramasalata, sun dried tomatoes or other spread.

The bread with a blue-shot creamy cheese or italian salami both came daubed with barbieri aprikosen-senf - a sharp, tangy apricot 'Mostarda' jam from Lombardia Italy.



The poppy seed cake was the yummiest thing actually. I recommend to order that and take a loaf of bread home. These bread snacks are overpriced at 4 euros each. Whereas half a loaf will cost you 2 euros.

The poppyseed 'mohnkuchen' is nutty tasting and minimally sweet.





Latte art is mocked (mocca-ed?) by some, but in Europe it's a crucial indication that the barista has paid due care to a velvety texture milk and a well-extracted oily espresso. If you are ever in Cologne, come here and order an espresso macchiato: you'll be served a nice small-sized flat white as in the photo above (no, not as strong as in NZ, but thank god, not a milky milkshake - unless you order a latte macchiato, which was my first folly). A capuccino here means something similar to the espresso macchiato pictured, but in a slightly larger size.

Bread & Butter use Mokaflor beans from Florence, (70 & arabica, 30% robusta) available from the store in a gold shrink-wrapped packet.

Or you can have this delicious fizzy French grapefruit drink instead:



And across the road is the rather attractive new Kolumba museum which, when seen from the inside, has really quite amazing natural light effects, star bursts and jagged rows of pin pricks, from the holes in the facade.



Felt a bit sick after this maiden voyage to Manufaktum Koeln though. Probably too much bread and butter.

NZ Soul Food Experiment

It has been a long held dream of Hock's to slow cook ribs inside of my sister's chimney bbq. So being back in NZ we obliged his fantasy.

We picked up Louisiana styled rib cuts at Westmere Butchers, which was packed to the gills the day before Easter Friday. We took our ribs back to my father's apartment in town. Hock protested that we hadn't bought enough ribs so Ginny ran up the road to Parnell butchers and got more. We began the preparation by removing the membrane from the back of the ribs and then rubbing them down with a dry rub. The ribs marinaded overnight.

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Hock put Ginny to work pounding the chicken marinade. A paste of vegeta, Mexican oregan, oil, smoked paprika and a Mexican spice mixture containing Annatto .

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Ginny was also instructed to start the fire in the BBQ early the next morning to make sure the heat had died down just enough to keep the bbq warm but not hot. She was instructed to never let the embers flame, but to always have a small pile of burning embers in the corner of the bbq, just warm enough to slow cook the meat with warm smoke.

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Hock put together the bbq sauce, choosing a recipe from Mike Mills.

Moppping

Pit Master Mopping

Ruby the dog gave out tortured whimpers

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Hock cooked Corn Bread

Corn Bread

The Finished Product
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Kereru landed in nearby trees but this time no one was interested in speculating on their flavour
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The ribs were good, but would have been better if we had used a proper smoking device. Still it was a perfect evening and a perfect family meal.

Masta Grilla.....apologies Masta Killa

Grill Masta

Snags

livers

Spicy

Sucess

Sunset

Most days I cycle the 400 meters to work. This short trip always takes me past my local grilled meat dealer, often I will be tempted to pick up a few assorted sticks to chow on for a linner snack. What is impressive about this particular vendor is his dedication to quality, he does not sell the processed shit that most of the other hawkers pass off for grilled goodies in my neighbourhood, obviously it takes time and effort to do the butchery, prepare the marinades, sauces etc. This dedication to quality has paid off. Initially business was slow as the narrow soi is low on foot traffic but over the year that I have been working in Bangkok and making this daily commute I have noticed that day after day business has slowly picked up and now there is a constant stream of moto drivers and other customers (yes mostly men) who drop by for their meat fix. Masta Grilla (as I like to refer to him) and his smoky charcoal stand has become so popular that much to my amusement other vendors have now tried to cash in on his trade by setting up stands next to his but with little success.
Today was a first for me in that Masta Grilla was open when I was travelling homeward bound (I slipped out early from work as the kitchen crew seemed to have everything under control) so I grabbed a chicken wing, some gizzards and a few livers and headed to the pool on the roof of my apartment. This plus some street corn and a Phuket beer made for an indulgent afternoon snack.

Chili: the perfect drug

Doctors are dripping capsaicin, the chemical that gives chili peppers their fire, directly into open wounds during some highly painful operations.

These experiments use an ultra-purified version of capsaicin to avoid infection -- and the volunteers are under anesthesia so they don't scream at the initial burn...

The hope is that bathing surgically exposed nerves in a high enough dose will numb them for weeks, so that patients suffer less pain and require fewer narcotic painkillers as they heal.

"We wanted to exploit this numbness," is how Dr. Eske Aasvang, a pain specialist in Denmark who is testing the substance, puts it.


I love the idea that the cure for blinding pain is higher doses of blinding pain.

See: The Baltimore Sun
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We did really well on this trip to NYC, all thanks to Village Voice restaurant critic Robert Sietsema. Nary a bad mouthful passed through our gullets. The only sadness was that we couldn't manage to eat two big main meals per day.

A definite highlight was Hill Country Barbecue, located a block west of Madison Square Park, in a block that at night time is dark, stark and does not feel that it will offer up any delights. However, it does.

Read Sietsema's admirable review of Hill Country

If you can stand the fact that Hill Country is a loud, brash, almost Disneyland-ish BBQ experience, you will love it. We actually saw a father & son arrive for dinner in ten gallon hats. Hill Country is styled after the beloved Texas Kreuz Market, right down to the bathrooms downstairs which are fitted out to resemble wooden outhouses (within a separate Ladies room of course). There was NFL playing on TV screens, loud music on the sound system, and a gimmicky system whereby you take your order card to the 'stalls' of the barbecue 'market' and when someone shouts to you that you are next in the queue of (mostly white) customers, you shout to the (mostly African American) 'pitmasters' that you would like a quarter pound each of lean brisket and moist brisket with white bread (scrupulously following Sietsema's directive), and they pull out smoky meat from black iron-lidded brick holding bins (the hulking metal Ole Hickory pits, each of which has a smoking capacity of 1000lbs of meat, are visible beyond some glass doors), and plopped onto a twist of butcher paper on a plastic tray. Then you get your sides from the next stall, then you pay at the cashier. If you want to get a table in the pleasant noisy warmth upstairs or at the long communal tables downstairs, where the bands play and where there are happy hours for Jack Daniels, you're best to book. There seem to be some nice music booked there, like The Poor Man's Roses, a Brooklyn-based Patsy Cline tribute band. We were able to get a table on the street right away without a reservation, which was fine for us, though the mix of NYC hubbub and Texas smells inside would be worth booking for. The black-people-serving-white-people thing made me a bit uncomfortable but everybody seemed pretty happy with their jobs and the atmosphere was nothing less than congenial.
The ordering system was quite hectic and we were glad to know ahead what we should choose.

We loved the moist-and-lean brisket eaten together on white bread, so soft, greasy, smoky, floppy-tender and delicous. Unlike any beef experience we'd ever had. The pork ribs were better with a little of the sauce in the bottle at the table.

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The corn pudding was indeed wonderful. A savoury sort of souffle with a deep corn flavour and touch of sweetness from the corn with slightly crunchy crust, we agreed with Sietsema that it was the best of the sides – Erik also liked the skillet corn bread though I found it too sweet and tasted somewhat of baking soda. I did also like the sweet potato mash with bourbon.

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Looks like baby poo, tastes delicious. I am a maniac about almost anything involving sweet potatoes, though, and most things with a sloppy pureed or mashed consistency. The Cool As A Cucumber salad (ordered as a gesture towards green food) was ok. Beware of ordering too much... it might not seem like much, but a half-pound of meat plus one side is more than enough per person... I wished I'd had room for the peach & blackberry cobbler.

What heaven looks like:

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Hill Country
30 West 26th Street
(212) 255-4544

More photos of Hill Country, including the Ole Hickory pits.

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