Jamie's 30 Minute Meals

Open your horizons with home cooking.

I take my hat off to celebrity chef Jamie Oliver for his success in turning school dropouts into chefs worthy to be employed in his restaurant "Fifteen". And I also applaud the inroads he's made in getting British schools to serve more nutritious lunches. But though I enjoy watching his TV series, "Jamie's 30 Minute Meals", I find the logic he uses to persuade his viewers to move away from takeaways to home cooking seriously flawed.

You see, there's more of what happens before the preparation and cooking process and more of what happens after. In order to cook at home, I have to plan what to cook, make out a shopping list for the ingredients I need to buy and go get them. And by cooking at home, I'll likely end up having to do the after dinner washing up as there will definitely be cooking implements that I can't chuck into the dish washer.

And all these adds-on take time.

So it actually makes better sense to persuade more of us to cook regularly by emphasizing the health benefits for doing so. When I buy takeaways and tv dinners, I've lost control on what's been added into my bought meals. Doing my own preparation and cooking empower me to regain that control. This is especially crucial if I'm big on organic produce, free range chicken and eggs, using less processed produce, and whatever else that may be my personal drivers at given points in my life.

By the way, being handy in the home in this way actually equips me with a new set of skills other than what I've been professionally trained to accomplish in my career. And this can become truly handy when I hit my mid life crisis and so definitely want a career change. Look at Nigella Lawson - she went from being a food critic to a celebrity chef on no other cluedos than that she did loads of home cooking, and did it well.

Now I'm not saying that I want to run my own tv cooking show. But cooking well at home can become the basis of an emergency career switch when I tire of teaching, writing and editing for an income during an economic downturn. Then I'll have a sound basis in starting, say, a catering business in lieu. Just look at Mrs Field's cookie business: she built a cookie empire on the one skill she knew how to do well - bake at home. And mind you, she was only a home maker before she ventured into a business of making and selling yummy biscuits.

So the crux of the matter is this: there are more crucial reasons for doing more home cooking. And I may well become surprised where this adventure will take me.

10-minutes Mains

Sunday dinners as tantalizing as the sunset.

While I luxuriate in the kitchen preparing Saturdays' dinners, the family vegges out on Sunday evenings. And that means my mains are prepared, cooked and consumed super fast - so that we can spend the evening finding out what happens next in "Torchwood - Miracle Day" on dvd.

While Italian spiced sausages (bought from Cold Storage) may grace the dinner table on such occasions, it's the occasional occasion that I resort to grilling them. Often I still prepare and cook my mains: I just make sure that the meat will be ready within 10 minutes.

Off my head, I can mention three meat dishes that I can successfully dish out within the time limit I set myself: roasted lamb cutlets dressed with a honey mustard sauce, sauteed salmon fillet that's served with wedges of caramerlised lemons and pan fried pork belly that's drenched in a sauteed orange marmalade sauce. Yes, all three takes just ten minutes. But that doesn't mean that I've compromised on flavour. Oh no, I still stand by my motto that "the test is still in the taste". And my hubby swears that these dishes are on par with recipes I slave for hours on end on Saturdays.

So the moral of today's blog entry is this: the complexity of preparing and cooking a dish is by no means a sure fire means of enhancing flavour. No, the actual trick is in using ingredients that harmonize and create that perfect balance in contrast. And that can even be achieved with just a few ingredients.

My pork dish, for example, is complimented with only salt, pepper, bay leaves and a generous splash of marmalade. The crux that takes this meat dish to the next level is in investing in a good quality jam. The best I've tried is a Duchy's, with Hediard's coming in a close second. Anything else makes this dish a complete waste of time.

Breakfast Treats

The early bird gets a hearty breakfast.

Often on Saturday and Sunday mornings hubby and I will laze around in bed till it has healthily passed 10 in the morning. Then we roll out of bed and climb into his nifty Alfa to head off for a late breakfast. And we regularly haunt four places for breakfast.

And we find that Cafe Beviamo and Toby's Estate do great granolas, while Laurent Bernard the Chocolatier dishes out a banana and blueberry crepe that is to die for. His eggs benedict are also superb, although Brunetti comes in a very close second in this department.

But once ever so often we do our own cooked breakfast. And we can whip up an absolutely mouth watering French toast, using Gardenier banana and walnut loaf as the differentiating factor. Baking the pan fried concoction is the second difference. The last is in coating the toast in maple syrup and a generous dusting of icing sugar.

Alternatively, we will whip up some scrambled eggs. My hubby's recipe has his own signature twists. He adds a generous amount of freshly squeezed orange juice to make the eggs cook even runnier. And just as the eggs are done, he liberally laces his eggs with slices of Norwegian smoked salmon.

Or I would whip up a mean omelette that's filled with snow peas, grated mature cheddar, and crispy bacon bits. The secret in my arson of cooking tricks is to add good old trusty salt to my beaten egg mixture before I pour that into the frying pan.

And if we're into appeasing our sweet tooth, there's an egg custard recipe I learned from my mum that I can whip up. Into the beaten eggs we add heaps full of Milo and an equally generous spoons full of condensed milk. And out of the steamer is a custard that's as smooth to the palate as it is to the eyes.

 

Hubby's In Town This Week

My kitchen brings a pond like calm to my marriage. 

Hubby's job in Singapore handles regional responsibilities. So most business trips take hubby away during the week days. That means I'm often a Mrs during the weekends only, dishing out sumptuous food to romantically seduce his discerning taste buds. As I always say, "the test is in the taste".  And this keeps the fires of romance coursing through the veins of our marriage (we'll celebrate our fifth anniversary this year).

But once ever so often hubby will be in town for a full week. And that's when I celebrate having all that time with him by cooking up a storm in my delightful kitchen. And it's not just the dinner for two I'm talking about. Oh no. It's about the snacks he gets with his beer when he gets home in his nifty Alfa from work. Often I'll wet his appetite for dinner with his mother's greatest recipe - that's right, Necia's absolutely heavenly cheese biscuits: where the wholesome grated texture of the mature cheddar and the contrast given by the freshly crushed garlic granules shine through ever morsel he takes.

Other times, I'll whip up an assortment of liver pates as appetizers - although those made with chicken liver are his favourite. Some times it'll be laced with slivers of garden fresh orange rinds. Other times, delicate slices of granny smiths settle down with the clarified butter that settles on top of the smoothly textured pate.

And there'll also be jugs and jugs of freshly brewed cordials sitting in our trusty fridge - just in case hubby needs a refreshing palette cleansing drink after the clock strikes nine after dusk. If time isn't a luxury for me that week, I'll whip up something quick - like a traditional home made iced lemon tea and, for excellent contrast, an ice cold lemon lime (using the local kafka limes). And when I find that the time is mine to while away at leisure, I'll stir my brewing pot to pour forth some zesty lemon barley that's first destined for the fridge.

And to accompany his refreshing after nine drinks will be the best home made Anzac oatmeal cookies he has  ever tasted. And the secret is in the abundant crushed pistachios I add into the cookie mixture. Not those that come raw though. No, I use the ones roasted in salt. And that provides the best foil to the sweetness offered by the caster sugar in the biscuit dough.

 

The Joy of Cooking

Dining out: A source of cooking inspiration.

While I've done my fair share of cooking for one - namely, myself, the joy in cooking is sharing what I've dished out. And that joy trebles when hubby and guests find my dishes a true pleasure to wolf down. So is it little wonder that when hubby's away for business, I have little motivation to cook my own meals?

I'll take those times to dine out with friends instead. And recently, I've revisited Au Petite Salute in Dempsey. And have found to my greatest delight that their souffles are still worth dying for. And this has inspired me to dish out from my oven a heavenly chocolate souffle when hubby gets back today.

And it would be a dessert he will take great delight in as he's just spent a fruitful week and a half in China. And as he'd have been taken to all sorts of Chinese banquets during his time there, he'll truly appreciate a home cooked dinner menu that draws inspiration from the west. So a succulent steak served with a peppercorn sauce will come before the delicate souffle.

And that's the ball park bench I take to planning my meals home: If he's been away in Europe, I'll look east for inspiration. So when he's been to Australia - where the cuisine draws strongly from middle eastern, European and eastern cuisines, I'll serve up some delectable African delights.

And hubby will be most appreciative that there's variety that's being served up on the home front. And the home cooked food will be an added incentive to concluding business to everyone's satisfaction at the speed of light.

An Old Dog with New Tricks

Cooking with a twist: as exciting as spotting a  colugo on a ramble.

You know what they say: "you can't teach an old dog new tricks". There's still a lot of truth in that if the old trick the old dog has is in trying out dreamed up techniques. Then this mutt teaches itself new tricks.... Now that's a bag of bones I'll like to think myself to be in: always question the given paradigms.

So yes, everyone does this given: you first heat up the oven to the right temperature before putting in the hot cross buns to heat up. Well, I questioned that the other day. So I put the frozen buns into the oven before setting it to warm up till 180 degrees Celsius. Guess what?: it still took eight minutes to get to 180. But by the time the clock registered the thirteenth minute the buns have been in the oven, the latter was giving out a distinctive aroma of nicely warmed buns: they can be taken out. And they have been heated to the core. If I'd stuck to tradition, it would have taken another ten minutes for a 180-degree oven to do the same trick.

Well, I similarly questioned the rationale of stir-frying cubes of raw salmon first and setting them aside to heat up the fish sauce, kecap manis, lime juice, brown sugar, garlic and onions, before returning the lumps of fish back into the pot. I can understand doing that with chunks of raw beef as you'll be browning it first. But pre-cooking the salmon first serves no similar function. So I decided to cook the garnish and the sauce first and add the salmon in as I'm leaving the sauce to thicken in the pot. And hubby still found that the dish has surpassed every caramelized fish dish he has ever tasted.

So the trick to keeping cooking fun in the kitchen is in adding a new twist or two into tried and tested recipes. Then I'll be discovering something excitingly new each time I put on my trusty apron.

The Accidental Perk

Lemonade: as vital to my strudel as a pool is to a hillside resort.

Hubby and I planned a holiday in Europe a couple of years ago, and it involved driving over the Swiss Alps to Pordnone in Italy in a day. We were pretty confident about succeeding in doing that and so had booked holiday accommodation in the historical centre of Pordnone.

But we didn't as we didn't bargain on me getting bored listless with hours confined to the car's front passenger seat. So when we still had another five hours of driving before we could get to our destination, I mutinied. And successfully demanded that we stay over night in the next town we chanced upon.

It didn't matter that we were driving through the most depressing looking industrial neighbourhood, which as good as fore-warned an even more crummy town centre. I was determined to spend the rest of the evening working out my legs.

So imagine our surprise when we did arrive in the heart of town. Trento's city centre had a beauty that surpassed Verona. It was like chancing upon a rainbow after a blistering thunder storm. It turned out that we've stumbled upon a town known only to vacationing Italians born and bred in Italy. What a divine stroke of luck! And to this day we would advise friends planning an Italian holiday to pay a visit to this exquisite little piece of heaven on earth.

And cooking's like that at times. Like the other day when I was making a well-loved tried-and-tested apple strudel recipe and discovered half-way through the preparations that I'd used every one of my lemons' zest to make a fresh batch of home-made lemonade. And the apple strudel recipe definitely needed that. In exasperation I added two tablespoons of the home-made brew into the sliced apple filling. And kept all my fingers crossed when I shoved the raw strudel into the oven.

Well, the emergency switch up turned into a blessing in disguise. The apple strudel came out of the oven tastier than ever. The lemonade accentuated the flavours of the sherry soaked raisins and enhanced the tartness of the slices of pure granny smiths. Even hubby commented that I was actually on to something here, and he wolfed down his portion before the strudel had time to cool down to room temperature.

From now onward, lemonade's more than just a refreshing drink to wash down the strudel: it's a vital ingredient!

The World in a Cook Book

Oz: the melting pot for the world's cuisines. 

Whenever I travel, I love buying cook books from the places I visit and that are written in the English language. And I have accumulated 87 from the world over, since starting this endeavour in 2006. And while I love using the recipes written in Europe, the Middle East, Latin America and various countries in Asia, my favourite cook book authors are Australians writing for Australians.

Be it Stephanie Alexandra, Donna Hays, Bill Granger and a host of others from the land of Oz, their cook books set themselves a world apart from the rest of the world. Why? Because you get, say, authentic Italian recipes from Italy, African fare from Africa, Moroccan dishes from Morocco and India spiciness from India. That is all and well if the cook book collector's ambition is to be deadly faithful to the roots of a particular cuisine.

But my ambition is to put under my belt a taste of every cuisine under the sun. So Australian recipes enthrall me because these cook books take a leaf from various parts of the world and making their recipes Australia's own. You get a taste of the world in one Aussie recipe book.

And what thrills me even more is this: the Australian chef cum author has better captured the essence of the the various global dishes one better than the chefs in their country of origin. Bill Granger's Singapore noodles surpasses the dish dished out by the chefs in Hong Kong and his Moroccan fish stew is as divine as one prepared in Morocco. Donna Hays' Vietnamese chicken curry is a definite cut above the ones I've tried in Vietnam.

And I truly belief that what you get in Australian cook books is a genuine reflection of how Aussie folk have whole heartedly embraced the varied influx of immigrants into their home land from the world over. And that the people from the land down under are willing to try the different, internalizing it and making it an integral part of Australian culture.

And then isn't it any wonder that I married an Australian - he supports my love of harbouring the world in my larder.

Spectacular Seafood

Fresh seafood as breath-taking as the Tasmanian seas. 

While the only restaurant in Binalong Bay had magnificent views of the coast line, the one half an hour's drive  away blew us away with its food. The menu in the Blue Shed at St Helens, Tasmania was a tour de force in its representation of everything fresh and local in Tassie.

Not only were its oysters farmed in the sea right off its coast, they were fantastically seasoned with yummy pancetta and a superb hot sauce and then grilled to perfection. After we had swallowed the dozen of morsels of pure muscle, we were compelled to ensure that not even the generous serving of sauce remained.

Its calamari out-rivals the way Italy best prepares this dish, and that is done with an Asian twist. The feather-light crumbed rings of melt-in-your-mouth flesh has to be sparingly dipped into a groovy light gravy to introduce the vast contrast in taste that as yet complements this catch from the sea. Regular patrons make their pilgrimage from where ever in Tasmania to St Helen's just to repeat the divine experience of savouring this dish.

Fortunately, I have a few seafood recipes under my belt to ensure that hubby's taste buds continue to be similarly pampered when we are back in Singapore. So I'll be serving lovingly stewed oysters, American style but plated on its shell, as an Asian tapas to start the evening. This is followed by an Australian inspired recipe of charcoal grilled prawns specially seasoned with sweet paprika and freshly squeezed lemon juice. The mains will take its honours from Latin America - a paella-like fragrant rice dish with plenty of ocean fresh mussels thoroughly stirred through the spicy grains.

  

 

Inspirational Pies

Pies as iconic in Australia as kangaroos. 

Tasmania is an island with a best kept secret in its pastry industry that's not shared with mainland Australia, much less the world. And come lunch during my holiday week there, I've been stuffing myself silly with it. I just can't get enough of it.

Just what is it? Well, besides the usual range that you can get in every where else in Oz, the Tasmanian bakeries offer as their signature specials scallop pies. The richly creamy versions show case the shell fish's unique flavour to its best advantage. And the bakery in Oatlands has mastered that to perfection. The curried ones, though spiced to favour the Caucasian palate, sing in sweet harmony with the generous morsels of juicy scallops: the cake shop along Hobart's Battery Point even offers these in neat little bite sizes - just the ticket to perfect your afternoon tea.

Still it's just as well that mainland Australia doesn't offer this delectable treat. Otherwise I wouldn't have ordered the beef and mushroom pie in Denmark, Western Australia. And thus would have missed out on a palatable sensation made for heaven. The gravy in this pie spurts loads of piping hot woody mushroom flavour. You literally can't put it down until you've taken the very last hearty bite. Ummmm... my mouth's watering just thinking about it.

So it's little wonder that this Australian road trip has inspired me to steam back into my kitchen to whip up some gastronomical delights of my own. Hubby will be taking to work sumptuous slices of his favourite beef and Burgundy pie. It would be slices as he can never get through his lunch without some work colleague wanting to take a bite or two. So taking along more than one ensures there's sufficient to share.

I'm also putting into my oven my version of a chicken curried pie so that the spices are loaded to better suit the discerning Singaporean palate (yes, after 8 years working here, hubby has become acclimatized to the local spiciness). I intend to cook the meat the way the local curry is made, and then adhere to the Caucasian recipe of adding peas and carrots to the pot. Thus creating a pie by taking the best of two national cuisines.

And to keep my vegetarian friends happy, I'll offer them a really cheesy tattie pie. And this should be eaten piping hot so that the cheese remains runny through the multiple layers of thinly sliced creamy potatoes, with skins still intact to enhance the nutritional value of this pastry.    

Merry Christmas

It's shorts and tees on the beach this Australian Christmas.

When I finally decided not to spend the rest of my life single and fancy free, I started internet dating eligible bachelors from the world over but working in Singapore. And what they say is really very true: within the first fifteen minutes of meeting the guys in person, you can tell if there's the right chemistry, even if it's as simple as sharing mutual feelings about Christmas.

That's right: Christmas. Those who came from the northern hemisphere equate the yule tide season with neighbourhoods covered with glistering snow, sitting round open log fires toasting each other with egg nog. And they have a general agreement that spending that time of the year in my tropical island home a far cry from the joys of a winter wonderland.

So it was a welcome relief to discover, when I first met hubby at Borders Bistro nearly eight years ago, we shared the same sentiments about a summery celebration in December. Yes, South Australia blisters with a dry heat that can hoover around the low side of 40 degrees Celsius, drying the meadows to a brownish terrain. Then the Christmas lunch is often partaken under an open air pavilion on the ranch, as the hungry flies buzz around eyeing the summery spread.

And you get raw salads lightly dressed with Tetsuya's finest concoctions, pickled beet roots straight from the bottle and barbecue steak and lamb chops washed down with a chilled Australian shiraz comes along side the roast turkey and leg of ham. And the children get home-made raspberry rippled ice-cream served with their share of yule tide log cake. Just right for even a X'mas celebration in Singapore, should family decide to congregate in Asia for next December in 2012.

Hubby could never imagine not serving a summery fare in our little slice of home in the tropics.

Stock it Up?

Korrs: as simple to use as the setting sun.

I used to collect the breast bones, when I buy the fillets of breast meat, from the chicken stores in the wet markets; for the sole purpose of making my own stock. And it was a stock with a difference: there's no added vegetables at all, despite what Julia Child and Michael Smith wax on about using veggies to add flavour - so, no carrots, no celery sticks. Instead, the pot of water is simply filled with chicken breast bones, and this successfully intensifies the chicken essence.

However, I find it a pain to stock up on my home-made chicken essence. It takes up too much room in my freezer (they have to be frozen because I use a recipe that requires it only once in a while). And I hate thawing out the frozen packets of liquid only to discover that it wasn't necessary to have thawed two whole packets - that was just way too much stock.

So I've since packed up my stock pot and have now resorted to using Korr's cubes of chicken essence. The primary rule in this instance is very simple; whatever volume of stock is required by a recipe, I use the same measure of water and melt into that a single cube of Korr's magic ingredient.

And that concentrates the flavour so much, I don't need to season my dish with salt and pepper. And this rule of thumb I adhere to regardless of whether I am stirring up some warm rice salad, making the pea salsa sauce to dress my salmon or baking limey chicken in a very hot oven. It's definitely a cube for what I dish for a dinner for two.

Even then, there's a word of caution here: don't automatically think that you need to triple the cubes from Korr when you're now serving six. The liquid and stock cube ratio isn't a linear progression. Two cubes is plenty for   half a dozen seated for dinner, or even seven.

Harissa is In

So delicious harissa draws the birds from their roosts.

I first came across harissa as an ingredient in my cookbook on Moroccan recipes. But even though it had a recipe on spooning out a home-made version to use as a spice, I had resisted from making and bottling it for two reasons. For one, I cook Moroccan once in a blue moon and the home-made version stores for only three months. For another, when I do cook a dish from that part of the world, I've made do swapping Nonya curry paste for this chilli paste of a North Tunisian origin.

But all that was about to change when I chanced upon commercially bottled harissa in a local supermarket in the heart of Paddington in Sydney, Australia. Using it for the first time authentico in my home-cooked dish opened up my taste buds to the essence of Moroccan flavours. It is as far a cry from a Nonya curry paste as the Arctic is to the Amazon jungle.

And for the first time, I can understand why harissa is so popular and vital an ingredient in the very souls of African cuisine; as I can now comprehend its migration and nestling down in the domestic and commercial kitchens of Morocco. Even the hearths in Europe are opening their doors to this amazing spicy concoction for their fusion cuisine.

So I've made up my mind that when the bought bottle of harissa eventually runs out, I'll put my nose into that Moroccan cook book and whip some up of my own. And yes, that's the only way I can ensure a constant ready supply: the shops in Singapore haven't caught on to stocking this kitchen miracle yet.

Pasta Sauces

Pasta: As comforting as the Tasmanian woods.

We grace our dining table with pasta dishes on a weekly basis, as it's comfort food for my hubby and they tend to follow very simple recipes. So besides loving these dishes, it gives me opportunity to veg out in my kitchen on a lazy Sunday.

So I'm quite happy to use commercially bottled pasta sauces. Be it a tomato base with a lovely mushroom flavour, or one with garlic and basil. But I move these flavours from the acceptable to the extraordinary by enhancing their flavours. That means a dash of shiraz and stirring in tons of grated mature cheddar. Other times I spice up the tomato sauce with minced olives and crispy bacon bits. Still others I melt the finely chopped anchovies into the sauce.

But I always stop short of buying bottled cream-based pasta sauces, regardless of its added flavours. I believe the canning process destroys the fulfilling taste of fresh cream. And that is the essence of creamy pasta sauces - the cream, be it single or double, must be added to the pasta the moment the milk has been processed into its final consistency. Fresh is yum.

And so I stick to the rule of building my creamy pastas from scratch. And that is as simple as tossing fresh cream into the pot of Italian noodles. And letting the stir fried mushrooms and bacon bits to flavour the dish. Or use capers and dill to offer contrast to generous chunks of baked salmon.

Since both types of pasta sauces are thus simply simple to dish out, this comfort food is a staple when we go rent a self-contained cottage for a holiday. There's certainly nothing move comforting than chowing down on a generous serve of well-sauced fettucini by a log fire, its aromatic scent perfuming the air.

Lemons & Limes

Even among frogs, differences are only skin deep.

The minister officiating my wedding ceremony. four and a half years ago, wanted to talk about the challenges of a cross-racial marriage. We decided against it as the differences he alluded to are only skin deep. So he went on to talk about the hills we'll climb growing old together, after all in his mind I was already 43 and my hubby to be was seven years older. This topic wasn't any better but at least he was now focusing on individual differences rather than just racial ones.

And so it is with lemons and limes. Think west, and you tend to mention lemonade, pan seared salmon with caramelized lemon; even a lemony-citrus hot toddy as a remedy for the common cold. Think east, and you bring up lime juice as the thirst quencher for a hot and spicy curry dinner, lime as an a vital ingredient for a Viet inspired nan jin chicken and a sprinkling of this green citrus to liven up the palate for a serving of freshly stir-fried char kway teow.

But just as hubby and I are both homo sapiens, so are lemons and limes sour citrus fruits. The differences are really only skin deep. And that means that we can safely swap a lemon for a lime and vice versa while preparing a dish. So the next time you are marinating freshly peeled ocean fresh prawns with salt and paprika, reach instead for the limes. And when you want to twang up the flavours for oyster sauced deep fried chicken wings, squeeze the juice out of some lemons instead.

And when you have a little of both citrus fruits, mix the two together. For what's better than home-made lemonade or lime juice? Well, a fresh batch of lemon lime of course! You get the best of both worlds in one thirst-quenching, palate-cleansing drink.

Fresh Greens are In

Veggies as lushly green as the Malayan rain forest.

Before my family converted to Christianity, we’d frequent the Chinese temples for ancestral worship. And that was culminated by a vegetarian lunch on temple grounds. And I was always amazed by the variations of vegetarian mock meats on the nuns’ menu. Delicious though they were, I’ve always had a preference for the honesty of a traditional vegetable dish.

So in my kitchen, I ensure the dominant green showcases its dominant taste. This is one principle I apply to all my fresh and cooked salads. Hence, the anchovies play a secondary role seasoning my cauliflower dish, as the slivers of almonds do in the way I dish out my broccoli.

In a raw apple slaw, the spritely green koo chye serves only to enhance the flavours of the finely chopped cabbage. And the spring onions are only added into a serve of Asian greens for the sole purpose of highlighting the contrasting crunch of the blanched snow peas swimming daintily in a sprinkling of fragrantly light soy sauce.

Even when King Island blue cheese is added to a refreshing rocket and Peckham pear salad, its prime presence is to sharply define their abundance of distinct flavours, when dress with extra virgin olive oil and coyly aged balsamic vinegar.

And that is the crux of this message: the authentic flavours of garden fresh greens deserve to be showcased. Over powering them with too many added ingredients does them a grave injustice, for the fresh greens are in.

This Thing with Fresh Mussels

Mussels just cooked to the freshness of its origins.

Picture this: at low tide, the rock pools are filled with eight-pronged starfish trying hard to stay immersed in the sea waters, and the delectable baby mussels are clamped shut till the tides return to shore. So it’s little wonder that Eden’s coastline is dotted with mussel farms and its restaurant with wharf views offer them truly fresh as appetizers and mains.

What a great promise for a divine dinner watching the sun setting below the dreamy blue horizon. But it is a promise unfulfilled: the mussels were rubbery and tasteless from spending too much time in the cooking pot. It’s only saving grace was the sumptuous new Asian slightly spicy soup in which the mussels are cooked.

It is doubly disappointing because I have three great ways to serve mussels to my dinner guests’ satisfaction. The first is inspired by the way the restaurant, Three Chimneys, prepares its mussels in the Belgium (European?) traditional fashion: speedily poached in a dry chardonnay with hearty chunks of celery, carrots and shallots. The moment their mussel shells gap open, they’re equally speedily served.

But that is out rivaled by a wonderfully modern and equally simple Australian take: it smolders the fresh mussels in sparkling verjuice and creamy basil-infused tomato passata. Again, the mussels are cooked a relatively short time, so that they retain their orangey muscle and keep its insides truly creamy.

That both features must be retained holds true even when the raw mussels are added into a Spanish paella. For only then can it lend its wonderful flavour to complement the seasoned rice and remain a tender contrast to the pleasantly spiced grainy grains.

So I’ll drink to my good fortune that I live in this garden city, no bigger than a little red dot on the globe left under the sun, where we get a fresh catch of all sorts of seafood from our surrounding neighbours. For cooking the above dishes with pre-cooked air-flown varieties will lend that rubbery and tastelessness to all three of my dishes drastically. Now that will never do, a double crime to over cooking fresh mussels.

Leftovers with a Twist

As twisted as this little critter in Langkawi.

Sweet Sour Salt, Orange’s recent addition to the new Asian culinary scene, lifts the growing food and wine town in New South Wales to new heights. That its resident chef is Lebanese holds testimony that Australia’s forte is fusion cuisine.

But what I liked about this restaurant is its decision to include offering Asian fare in a beautifully presented tasting plate. So two dainty bowls of deliciously spicy pumpkin soup sit on one side of the square plate; balanced by a plate with superbly prepared tandoori fish on the opposite end of the dish. The other two corners of the tasting plate get two halved to-die-for mother-in-law eggs and two servings of crisply roasted pork belly seated in total contrast juxtaposed in opposite positions. All these were served as an entrée, minus the steamed jasmine rice.

That I must admit is brilliant out-of-the box thinking and should be generously applied to sizable leftovers from any of last nights’ home-cooked dinners. So what’s left after stuffing the wholesomely creamy mash of tantalizingly cooked minced crab and prawn meat into savoury crepe suzettes can be reheated and now served as a light lunch on whole meal toast the next day.

Or what remains of a sumptuous beef and mushroom casserole can be reheated as a tasty gravy; now generously spooned over a lovely heap of al dente sundried tomato laced fettucini. Just garnish the chunky sauce with freshly grated parmesan cheese and a few spritely sprigs of parsley.

These transformations then add new tastes and presentations to day-old leftovers; breathing a new lease of life to the dish served the next day. It’s almost like having something refreshingly different the second time round.  

Balancing Dijon Mustard

As delicate as balancing on this fallen tree branch.

I love kir royales, the way their fizzy slightly acidic champagne is delicately balanced with sweetish pinkish cassis. This nifty trick on the balance beam is only out-rivaled by the bubblies the Union Bank House in Orange, New South Wales serves. Its sparkling wine is beautifully poised with wild hibiscus dipped in sugary syrup. So this lends that same balance but one better: this fizzy concoction is not only more palatable as a thirst quencher, it entices our visual realm as well. As one sale staff at Orange’s kitchen ware shop cum deli, The Essential Ingredient, testifies, “we ran out on our bubblies, even though none of our invited wedding guests were champagne fans. Every one wanted the sparkling wine as there’s a pretty flower in their drink!” 

And I’m so endeared with this New South Wales restaurant’s sparkling wine with wild hibiscus that I’ve actually rushed into The Essential Ingredient and bought those irresistible hibiscus flowers dipped in pinkish subtly sweet syrup (and no, I’ve never been enticed by kir royales to buy some cassis). That is one steady feat I want to repeat in Singapore. And should it work, hubby will be sent on a mission to stock up on those pretty syrupy flowers the next time he’ll be in Orange.

And as champagne or sparkling wine seems to pair up well with a sweet liquid, so does the acidity in a Dijon mustard pair up very well with a sweet or savory sweet ingredient. So I have three ways I can actually serve my lamb. The mustard can be equal parts stirred into pure golden honey and then pour as a sauce over the oregano roasted lamb racks. Or it can be laced with sweet soy sauce and that is splattered over the freshly bought lamb chops, lovingly marinating the red meat for at least a speedy hour before barbecuing the individual chops till they are charred on the outside by nicely pink inside.

And if you have run out of the soy sauce, this dilemma is easy to remedy: Just swap this all time time-honored Chinese sauce with an extra sweet fruity jam or chutney. The essential trick is to balance the Dijon mustard with something intensely sugary. Then the char grilled lamb will still be beautifully marinated before the burning charcoal caramelizes the sugar in the mixed marinate.  

A Diet that Saves Gas

His diet doesn't even need gas.

My neighbourhood uses bottled gas for cooking over the stove. And some of my neighbours find this a nuisance as they have to get a replacement every two to four weeks. That surprised me completely as I’ve lived in the Novena area for more than a year and a half now, and have yet to empty the bottle I had put in when I first moved in.

But it soon became clear why there was such a huge disparity in gas usage: my neighbours choose to chow down on traditional Asian cuisine breakfast, lunch and dinner. And that means stir-fried, deep-fried, stewed, steamed and boiled dishes that often take a long cooking time.

Unlike them, I only use my trusty gas stove when I prepare my mains for dinner. And that is deliberately confined to recipes that need only a quick sauté or boiling of the meat, served with a raw salad on the side:  the tropical climate is just too hot and humid to induce me to serve every dish cooked.

And that is the only meal I use my stove. It’s definitely cereals, fruit or yoghurt with an orange juice for a quicky breakfast. Lunch finds me serving the equivalent of John West oysters on toast. Or the microwave will thaw out and heat up the generous slices of quiche lorraine, baked in the electric oven the week before. And my thirst is quenched with icy cold diet Coke or a refreshing home made lemonade – made by stirring the freshly squeezed lemon juice into hot water that was boiled in an electric kettle.

Given the rate I use my stove it’ll be another year or so before I need delivered a new bottle of gas for twenty-seven dollars.