In Search of Hmong

Have you seen the movie The Gran Torino? Prince Charming and I watched it on DVD recently and it brought out a number of mixed emotions from me. Shock, disbelief, joy, and confusion. For those who haven't seen it before, it is about a grumpy old man (Clint Eastwood) living in a neighborhood in Detroit that has been taken over by the Hmong community. Shock and disbelief because of the economic implosion that has taken place in Detroit and the brutality of gang warfare. Joy because Clint's neighbors essentially win him over with scrumptious Hmong food. They talk about roast duck, chicken dumplings, soups, spring rolls, fresh basil and chili sauces. The food looks fantastic in the movie and I really wanted to try some.

I was confused because folks usually turn to me for answers on all things Asian and in this case all things South East Asian. So, when Prince Charming turned to me and said, "where are the Hmong from?" my answer was, "I don't have a clue..." Well, the characters in the movie inform us that they were mainly from Laos, Vietnam and some parts of China. Hey, I'm Singaporean, why had I not known about them before? Is this what neighboring Malaysians mean by Singaporeans being arrogant about our successes that we go around calling Singapore the Switzerland of the East and looking to the West while ignoring our own Asian brethren? Growing up in Singapore, if we did not go to India to visit relatives, we would fly to Australia, Europe or the States. We did go to Malaysia a couple of times and school mates did go to Thailand, but no one went to Laos nor Vietnam.

Thinking more about it, I realize now that it was because Laos and Vietnam are communist countries and there was a certain amount of filtering that took place in Singapore before any form of media reached the common man. Before I go any further, I have to declare that I am one of the biggest fans of Lee Kuan Yew and the PAP. When I first left for Cambridge almost 20 years ago, I had lofty dreams of returning to Singapore to work for the government and to join the PAP. I wanted to join the Monetary Authority of Singapore and be involved in policy making. My dissertation was on how the Central Provident Fund of Singapore formed the foundation of Singapore's success by enabling the investment of huge sums of capital funneled from forced savings of its people back into Singaporean industry and its infrastructure. In addition to developing the economy driving it from its third world status in the '60s, when it was at the same stage of development as Indonesia or the Philippines, to where it is now - a gleaming metropolis with flashy cars and shiny sky-scrapers. It is now the center for finance, health and education for South-East Asia. No easy feat for any developing nation. However, this was possible only because Lee Kuan Yew ruled with an iron fist. The communists in the 1960s were crushed and detainment without trial was used openly. Singapore was routinely featured in Amnesty International articles in the 1980s and there was always this underground whispering of human rights violations.

A few days after watching the movie, I had my annual medical exam. I was sent to the lab to have some blood drawn and the technician walked up to me. He looked Chinese and I looked at his name tag which was filled with THs, PHs, OAs, and NHs. I was excited! Could he be Hmong? Like the folks in the movie? I asked him what his ethnicity was as I hate asking people where they are from. He could have been born in California, right? He didn't understand my question and the guy sitting next to me piped in "she wants to know where you're from!" Laos. "Laos? Are you Hmong?" He wasn't. He explained to me that the Hmong are tribal people from the mountains and he was just from Laos. The conversation quickly turned to food and he explained to me that Lao food is very similar to Thai food, due, of course, to the proximity. He said it is also very spicy and chucked that it's the chili that keeps him skinny. I wanted to say that there are many fat Indians who eat very spicy food but felt that it wouldn't add much to the conversation. At that point, my fellow patient who was also having his blood drawn jumped into the conversation once again and asked when he moved to the States. His face twisted into tough memories and he told us that he moved here in 1979. He had to swim across the Mekong river in the dark of the night to escape to Thailand from the communists. He explained that when the communists said that wanted to meet the men of the family to discuss issues about the community, they would invite them into a room and shoot them in the head. He and his father were called one day, and that night they escaped. I reckon Lee Kuan Yew knew a thing or two about communists those days and I am thankful to him.

Anyway, I have been searching for Hmong recipes as I really want to try some. Do you know of a good recipe you'd like to share? There are quite a few out there on the World Wide Web. How about we use the next 10 days to try some out? I would love to hear from you about your thoughts on Hmong cuisine, Laos, or even Lee Kuan Yew.

Sincerely yours,
Cinnamon

Keep on Running

Sorry, folks. I’ve been awol again. Much has been happening in Truffle Land, and I don’t know where the last two weeks have gone! The above photograph is just to say: how fat is this asparagus?!

Our younger sister (for today, I’ll call her Rice Krispie) ran her first ever half-marathon over the weekend. The Royal Parks Half-Marathon took runners from the south side of Hyde Park, through Green Park, along the Thames, and finally back to Hyde Park to loop it a few times. Meanwhile, supporters like us were ourselves racing through the park to see our runners at pre-arranged mile markers, or hanging out in the festival area. Someone had said something about there being a climbing wall, but all we could see was one food stand after another. One of our friends pointed out that all the organic food shops were empty, while the sausage and bacon butty stands had at least 30 people queuing outside each one. I shook my head sadly as I bit into my deep-fried churros sprinkled with sugar and cinnamon.

But seriously, the topic of fitness and healthy eating is one that’s close to my heart. After I quit the unhealthy lifestyle of corporate law last year, I started taking fitness pretty seriously. I set aside more time to work out, but I also started reversing the damage done on the nutrition front. I’m sure many of you are familiar with what most people eat in the corporate world: basically, whatever’s available when you’ve been released from your desk to feed! Now, London is many things, but I wouldn’t describe it as the health food capital of the world. (Remember that queue for sausages and bacon I was telling you about?) So, when you’re hungry and you can’t face yet another refrigerated sandwich or limp salad, most of the options you’re left with consist of fried saturated fats and a carb fest (with vegetables, if any, drowned in a roasting tin). By the end of my time as a lawyer, my suits were getting so tight I was finding it hard to breathe! (To be fair, my suits weren’t the only reason I was feeling suffocated…)

In the process of my search for health and fitness, I came across an excellent book that I’d like to share with you. The great thing about this book is that it’s not pushing another one of those faddy diets (which I’ve never trusted). It’s written by a couple of doctors, and it tells you straight up how your body works on the food, metabolism and weight management fronts. The key premise is that your body is your ally, and (if treated right) it will naturally head towards its healthiest playing weight and shape. If, however, you get in its way by putting a lot of artificial, processed and unhealthy foods into your system, you upset its chemical/hormonal balance and unhappiness ensues.

The first part of the book takes you through a body 101: e.g., how the liver processes fats, which hormones tell your brain that you’re full, which ones tell you to keep eating, what chemicals trigger these hormones, why certain foods (e.g., refined carbs and high-fructose corn syrup) are so bad for you (and, crucially, how eating some of it makes your body crave more). It was only after reading this book that I realised how dependent on our chemicals we are. (It makes sense, really, given that we’re biological organisms. So often, I forget that and think of myself as some kind of walking cardboard box inhabited by a mind.) Two really interesting things I learned from the book: (1) it’s not completely accurate to think of healthy eating as being just about willpower. What you want to eat is determined by the cocktail of chemicals and hormones in your body (which is, in turn, determined by what you put into it). If we’ve been off-track for a long time, then pitting your willpower against your body’s impulses (i.e., millions of years of evolution) is like holding your breath under water – you can do it for a while, but at some point you need air. (2) Eating healthy fats is actually an important part of weight loss and maintenance, because the presence of fats in the intestine triggers the “I’m full” signal in your brain. This is why people on fat-free diets are always hungry (and at breaking point).

In the next section, the doctors give you a meal plan (with recipes) which aims to ‘reset your factory settings’, so that your body craves healthy foods and heads towards its ideal weight. Now you understand why I was craving vegetables in that London restaurant! My personal experience of this meal plan has been great. The recipes are pretty quick to make and they taste really good. After about a month, I felt the plan needed some supplementing, because I’m a pretty active person and I wasn’t getting enough energy. But I kept to the principles of lots of veg, wholegrains and sufficient Omega fats.

The book’s called You On a Diet: The Owner’s Manual for Waist Management, and it’s by Dr Mehmet Oz (of Oprah fame) and Dr Michael Roizen. Even if you're not looking to work on your physical fitness, I think the book's a good place to equip yourself with information on how your body works.



As usual, please don’t do anything without your doctor’s advice, blah, blah, blah. If in any doubt, please see my disclaimer at the end of this post.

Love

Truffle

Dear Manana Mama...

...THANK YOU for your comment and your recipe for Chicken Schnitzel last week. I tried it yesterday and it was a hit! My children were so tickled that they were being served Schnitzel for dinner that my five-year old sang the song "My Favorite Things" five times before she settled down at the table.

I could not, however, find Spike Seasoning, so I made a few modifications. With a little bit of research on the net, the following is what I ended up doing:

-3 pieces chicken breast, marinated in lemon juice, fat trimmed and cut into halves. I wrapped it in paper towels and bashed the heck out of it
-beat 2 eggs with salt and pepper
-1 cup Italian bread crumbs and 1/2 cup parmesan cheese, a couple of rounds in the food processor
-dip chicken into egg mixture and bread crumb mixture
-fry 2 pieces at a time on medium heat with 2 Tbsp oil for three minutes on each side (Truffle, this is the secret to cooking chicken breast perfectly. I've never managed to get it right before, so remember this tip!)
-keep pieces warm in the oven
-slosh some white wine in the same frying pan, add 1/2 cup chicken broth, salt and pepper, chopped up cilantro and bring to simmer. Turn off and add a little bit of cream and 1 tsp flour to thicken.

Serve chicken with sauce on the side with sliced potatoes and micro-waved broccoli and listen to children sing "My Favorite Things" with huge smiles on their faces.

The next day, I had some extra Schnitzel left. So, I made some Laksa from an instant spice past package my mother had brought from Singapore. I sliced up the Schnitzel and placed it on top of the spicy noodles which were sitting in their curried soup. My eight-year old understood my sense of humor and laughed his head off at the sight of the Singaporean interpretation of Schnitzel with noodles.

Best,
Cinnamon

My Favorite Things

As a working mom, I cherish the evening rituals I have with my children. It morphs over time, but it generally includes reading to my five-year old, the question "Have you brushed your teeth?" multiple times to both children, the rubbing of little backs and the humming of an old lullaby - the words of which I do not remember. Recently, however, an additional step has been added and that is the loud, energetic, and hardly sleep-inducing rendition of "My Favorite Things" from The Sound of Music by my children. I am always laughing out loud during these times.

Truffle used to watch The Sound of Music over and over again as a child and we all used to sing the songs together. We too belted out My Favorite Things, without knowing what Schnitzel with Noodles were, nor that Apple Strudels were apple-filled pastries. For all we knew, they were mushroomy noodles and some intricate apple dessert that was beyond the imagination. What do you expect for a 10-year old Singaporean girl in the 1980s who ate mee pok for lunch everyday?

I was so enamored by this song and intrigued by these dishes that these Austrians ate. Back when I was a final year student at Cambridge, I had very studiously declared that I was going to stay on in college during the Easter break to get some extra revision done. My father was busy with his cashew business and was exploring exporting urea from Russia. He was going to be flying back from Moscow and suggested that I meet him in Vienna for a long weekend. I was very happy to have such a break and I booked my flight with his credit card, flew in to Vienna, took the train and booked myself into the Hilton. Unfortunately, my father's flight was stuck in Ukraine and he didn't make it to Vienna until the end of our planned stay. So, I took it upon myself to have a full weekend despite the aberration to our original plan. I visited Vienna' many beautiful museums, parks and churches by myself and ate Mozart Kugeln in my hotel room. I also made it a point to try out the local fare, with Schnitzel mit Nudeln at the top of my list. I must admit, I was a little disappointed to be served deep fried beef (yes, yes, veal) on top of pasta. It tasted much better in the song.

In any case, I want my readers to know, as a girl who grew up in Singapore in the '70s and '80s, what my favorite things are:

Raindrops on orchids and lashes on puppies
White plastic kettles and loose cotton T-shirts
Large shopping bags from Robinsons
These are a few of my favorite things

Cream colored retrievers and oyster egg omelets
Botanic Gardens and Charsiew with noodles
Japanese koi that swim gracefully
These are a few of my favorite things

Girls in gold Cheongsams with silvery hairbands
Soft sand that stay on my feet and ankles
Heavy wet monsoons that cool the city
These are a few of my favorite things

When my child cries
When my back hurts
When I'm feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I don't feel so bad

Would love to hear about your favorite things....

Best,
Cinnamon

A Vegetable re-Torte

My sister Truffle attracted you with beautiful chocolate decadence crowned with Inca gold (see Truffle's post). I show you sinister dark green foliage with veins of blood red - the realities of swiss chard. Truffle, you will be proud and happy to know that I have gone back to the organic vegetable delivery service.

Last week's delivery consisted of small red potatoes, dark plums, grapefruit and swiss chard. The plums disappeared within two days and my colleagues were met with the citrusy wafts of grapefruit at 3:00 PM two days in a row. Sunday came and I was still left with the potatoes and swiss chard. I ruffled through my favorite cookbook by Jamie Oliver, a wedding gift from a dear school friend, and came across a fish pie recipe that I had made once before. I had found the perfect solution to consuming both vegetables. The potatoes were the perfect sweet topping for the pie and the swiss chard its ideal bitter companion.

I par boiled thin slices of the potato in salt and layered it on top of the fish that had been doused with sour cream and grated left-over hard cheese, which in turn were seated on sauteed onions, celery, green peppers, chili flakes and capers (not Oliver's original recipe). The whole dish went into the oven at 400*F. The leftover potato slices were fried in olive oil.

The swiss chard was more of a challenge. Never having made it before, a little internet research led me to believe that sauteing them with garlic, salt, pepper and vinegar would do the trick. I faced my challenge of chopping up what seemed to be an entire bush of the plant on a small chopping board and looked for a pot big enough to accommodate the mass. I watched with disbelief as the entire thing reduced to a fifth of its original volume and fussed over it with self-doubt as the vinegar went in and its fumes shot out. I added sugar to retain its color and breathed deeply for courage before serving it to my two children. The verdict? I loved it, my children put up with it, but unfortunately, my husband, born to vegetarian brahmins, did not care for it. Ah well, I can't win 'em all!

Truffle, I commend you. You dare do these things that I would not dream of - ordering vegetable sides in Spain and fresh cut vegetables in trendy London restaurants! I thought I was brave ordering organic food, battling with unknown chards and then serving them to my family in my small town of Davidson in rural North Carolina. You, my dear, are definitely far braver.

Love,

Cinnamon

London boleh!

I’m trying out a modern-day media technique of showing you a photo of a pretty face (in food terms) to get you to read this post. It’s a dessert I had in Salamanca – a chocolate brownie with Incan gold (the head chef was from Peru)!

So back to my post. As you know, my most recent travels on the Continent were in Spain, where we were attending a family wedding. Now, I love many things about Spanish food (see here for evidence), but I also can’t deny that part of me that needs more than just meat for sustenance. And the Spanish don’t seem to have a very close relationship with vegetables.

This was part of the reason for my frustration during that week of travelling – everywhere we went, I had to make special requests for veggies. Often, our requests were greeted with looks that combined “Why would you want that…?” with “That’s not the way we do things here” and “I can see you two are going to be trouble…”. But I had to stick to my guns and not be afraid of looking like a weirdo as I persisted against the bureaucracy. It’s quite surprising, really, because I’ve always felt that Spain was the best country in Europe for customer service. (My husband explains the reason for this: “Spanish people, darling. They just start shouting.”)

And so, after a week of having to fight to get my greens, we flew back to London and ended up at our favourite restaurant on our first evening back. As we were seated at our usual table, I got a real craving for some fresh vegetables. You see, I’ve been reading this book on healthy eating (more on that later) that suggests asking for fresh cut vegetables instead of the bread they give you before the meal. The principle behind the eating plan is that your body will get to its ideal playing weight if you don’t get in its way with fake, processed and unhealthy stuff that upsets your body’s chemical/hormonal balance. A part of the programme is to eat lots of fresh veggies, which trains your body to want more (in the way eating lots of sugar sets it up to want more sugar) – hence my craving.

It is surprising how difficult it is to get the simplest thing on Earth that is in any restaurant kitchen. The restaurant’s duty manager looked more and more panicked as I explained that I would like some plain, cut vegetables please. Gamely, he went to the kitchen (in case Gordon Ramsay hasn’t done enough PR for his profession, I should just mention that head chefs and cuddly bunny rabbits have very little in common…). He came back and offered me a carrot soup that was on the menu. I jumped on the offer of carrots and asked if I could have just the carrots cut up. This time when he went back to the kitchen, I suspect he got thrown out.

I thought it just wasn’t going to happen, when he came back with a large oval bowl full of fresh lettuce, carrot batons, cucumber and radish. I was delighted, but he was still looking a bit sober. I realised why when he explained that the vegetables weren’t from his restaurant, but from the Lebanese place nearby.

I was impressed. People living in London often complain that things are slow here, you can’t get what you want, that service isn’t as good as in other parts of the world. However, I thought, where I had heard ‘no, no, no’ all week, I was finally back in a place where you could sometimes hear a ‘yes’. I appreciated how intelligently he had solved the problem, and I thought to myself that London could indeed do it (in Malay, London boleh!).

And just before anyone inclined to that reflex pulls out the Anglo-Saxon card from their Uno pack, I should point out that the duty manager in question was French. When I later explained to him my veggie-deprivation of the past week, he said he understood where I was coming from. In France, he said, in Michelin-starred restaurants of a bygone era, they would serve fresh, cut vegetables before the meal. The vegetables were of such good quality that they could be served on their own. And they would taste excellent. Just imagine the sweetness of those carrots and the fresh perfume of those cucumbers and lettuce leaves.

Incidentally, Cinnamon, there’s another reason you should keep going with the organic delivery!

Love

Truffle

Waste Not, Want Not

I’ve always thought that was such an odd expression. While the meaning is (to most people who are not me) clearly “if you don’t waste it, you won’t be left wanting in the future”, my imagination has always thought it sounded more like one of two things. The first is “don’t waste it, and don’t want it”. I’m convinced it’s all the fault of that comma…

Anyway, semantic wrinkle in the Universe duly denounced, I move on to today’s topic, which is another wrinkle in the Universe it would be nice to have ironed out. During my recent trip to Spain, it was necessary for us to stay in a few hotels. By the end of the week, I was thoroughly tired of the experience. More on that in the future, but one of the things that started overwhelming me by Day 6 was the amount of food that gets wasted in hotels.

The photo above shows that part of the standard delivered-to-the-room breakfast which we didn’t touch. In addition to all of those rolls and pastries came an abundance of eggs, ham, sausages, sautéed veggies, toast, juice and coffee/tea which we just managed to finish. Is someone seriously expecting anyone (triathlon-types excepted) to eat all of that as well?

I didn’t sneak any photos, but buffet breakfasts on this trip told a similar story. Piles of scrambled eggs, fried eggs, chocolate cakes, fruit tarts, mini-sandwiches, sausages and bacon soaking in grease, enormous quiches, fruit salads and what not assembled and waiting, and most of it getting packed up at close of breakfast and taken away behind the screens to be quietly done away with. I wonder if hotels think you need to see mountains of food at your disposal so that you don’t feel so bad paying them high rent for small spaces.

There is broader issue here. Almost everyone throws away a lot of food at the end of a day – restaurants, bakeries, patisseries, sandwich shops and supermarkets. True, some do give surpluses away to charities, but they are a slim minority. And my question is: why are we producing so much if we can only eat so much?

I’m going to keep an eye out on this issue and find out more, but for the moment, I wonder if small steps wouldn’t help. For example, after taking that photograph, I thought that maybe next time, if I know I’m not going to have the pastries, I should just let room service know and ask them not to bring any. Maybe, just maybe, this could filter through to the kitchen’s purchasing decisions. This strategy will not be without its challenges (try explaining to a chef or waiter in Europe that you want something that’s not on the menu – more on this in a future post), but I’ll give it a shot. Which brings me to my imagination’s second interpretation of the “waste not, want not” mantra: waste not what you don't want.

I’d be glad to hear from our readers if you’ve felt similarly about food wastage in hospitality and catering establishments, or if you have any experiences and tips to share.

Love

Truffle

Birthday Pastries vs. Birthday Blues

I get the birthday blues every year. I think it started when I turned 24 while I was living in London. I was in the M&A department of a blue-blooded British investment bank, lived in a smart part of London, and had a tall, blond, public-schooled investment analyst for a boyfriend. That was the year I realized that I added little value to the world even though I worked 14 hour days. I could play no musical instrument, no sport (except for badminton, but is that really a sport?), and I did not know how to paint nor produce anything of artistic value. I realized that if I were suddenly hit by a bus, no one would miss me for anything I did. So, I embarked upon a mission of self-improvement, which was half Singaporean and half Virgo in nature. I decided to take up various courses - piano lessons in Hampstead, art lessons on the Strand and tennis lessons in Regents Park.

Many years have passed since that point in time, 13 to be exact. I can now paint huge canvasses of acrylic and oil and can play decent tennis. No, I didn't get very far with my piano, but my two lovely children are learning to play piano, violin, tennis and golf. I have a handsome doting husband (neither blond nor English), a good, steady career, a beautiful house with a koi pond, and a burgundy BMW. However, I still get the birthday blues.

Today is my birthday. Three days ago on Sunday, as my birthday blues started settling in, my fabulous girlfriends from Davidson turned up at my house for a surprise tea party. The five of us get together regularly for glasses of wine, dinners and movies and have been compared with famous posses like the one in Sex in the City - some of the fashion and very little of the sex. The fab four, Artichoke Dip, Brown Sugar Cookie, Fruit Salad and Texan Chili, turned up at my door with huge smiles and tea from Gevalia, cucumber sandwiches, scones, clotted cream, raspberry jam, and brown sugar cookies. The warmth and affection was just what I needed and I smiled through it all, not revealing the blues I concealed in my heart.

At work today, I had a similar special treat as Swiss Chocolate took me to a new French Bakery in Uptown Charlotte, Amelie, and treated me to pastries and coffee. The greedy guts that I am, I wanted to try two pastries instead of one, and she smilingly obliged. I chose the chocolate eclair and my all-time favorite, the almond croissant and washed it all down with some French roast coffee. I also got to sample some of Swiss Chocolate's plum tart. They were all very good and the almond croissant was exceptional.

My mother once said to me, "Cinnamon, wherever you go, you manage to make really good girl friends. You are very lucky." She's right. All through my life, in all the cities I have lived in, I have managed to surround myself with a tight group of girl friends. Maybe, I am always looking to replace my original tight group of four sisters. Whatever the impetus, I am indeed fortunate. I may not be able to move people with music, nor art, will probably not win a trophy for tennis, but if I were hit by a bus, I think my sisters and friends will miss me.

The pastries won the battle this year.

Cinnamon

Real Tapas

Just before my trip to Spain (for a family wedding), I’d promised to tell you about the famous Segovian suckling pig. Well, unfortunately Hubbie fell ill as soon as we reached Madrid, so a trip to Segovia was out of the question. The pigs escaped us once again! Thankfully, Spain isn’t by any means short of other wonders to please the palate.

My favourite has to be the Jamon Iberico de Bellota. This is an entire leg of pork that is cured and then carved by an artisan into thin (but power-packed) slices. Apologies to my wonderful Italian friends, but eat your heart out, Parma! The flavour and texture of the jamon is incredible. The pigs (of the black Iberian variety) are reared free range, and they spend their cushy lives wandering oak forests and feasting on acorns (bellota). According to popular belief, the bellota is what imparts that extraordinary nutty punch to the jamon’s flavour (and the pigs’ easy-going lifestyle is what results in the firm yet yielding texture of the meat). We had plenty of it at the wedding reception, having stationed ourselves on the trade route between the carving table and the marquee full of guests.

Another favourite Spanish classic of mine is paella. There are varieties featuring chicken and rabbit, but I prefer the seafood kind. My father-in-law makes a mean paella, and the first time he treated us to it, he was surprised to learn that South Asian cooking (e.g., Cinnamon’s beloved biriyani) uses saffron as well. Indeed, paella and biriyani seem pretty similar to me – rich rice dishes with meat and the magical saffron. I figure this must be due to the Arab influence in Spain through the Moors and the Arab/Persian influence in South Asia (through, for example, the Mughals). I’m hoping to get a copy of the family paella recipe to share with you, but I didn’t want to hold up the post for it, so you’ll just have to be patient!

What I can share with you though is a recipe for my final favourite; that simple classic, which serves as breakfast, lunch on the go, or a light dinner with salad: the Spanish Tortilla. Having grown up thinking of a tortilla as a round flat bread, the Spanish egg tortilla took me by surprise. Modern versions at boutique hotels feature some sort of deconstructed omelette, but imho you can’t beat the true tortilla – one that looks almost baked like a cake. I asked my husband (whose tortilla recipe this is) what the secret to a good tortilla is – his response: “you have to make sure the potatoes are really happy”. Translated from Spanish into English, I think that means lots of time, attention and good quality olive oil. Que Aproveche!

1. Ingredients: eggs, large onions, potatoes, plenty of olive oil, salt, pepper (and chorizo if you like it)

2. Chop the onions finely. Peel the potatoes and chop roughly into small cubes (not more than about an inch a side).

3. Heat olive oil in a large frying pan, and once hot add onions and potatoes. Cook until the potatoes are reasonably soft and on the verge of browning (but not completely there yet).

4. Whisk eggs and add some salt and pepper. When the onions and potatoes are ready, add the eggs (ensure an even distribution) and turn the gas to a low setting.

5. If you like, add a few slices of chorizo, but make sure it goes into the liquid egg mixture and doesn’t sit on the surface (because chorizo doesn’t taste so good if it cooks on the frying pan surface).

6. Once this side is cooked to your satisfaction, turn it over by sliding it from the frying pan onto a plate and turning the plate over onto the frying pan.

7. When it’s ready, serve it with a nice lemony-dressed salad and good quality baguette. If you have leftovers, you can make Spanish sandwiches with butter and baguettes.

Love

Truffle

Back to the Fearrington

Prince Charming and I have now been married for 10 years. We had two weddings in the year 2000 to accommodate a timely green card application. The first was in April - a small affair in San Francisco. Immediate family and a few friends gathered at City Hall in the morning to witness our legal union and we had 50 guests join us in the evening to enjoy the food, wine and the view at the Carnelian Room at the top of the Bank of America Tower. A few months and a green card application later, we had a grander get together of 1,400 guests in Chennai, India for our Hindu wedding with two receptions and that encompassed meals prepared by a famous chef of that time, Arusuvai Natarajan, and a gala dinner at the Fisherman's Cove Resort that ended with fireworks. Yes, fireworks.

You might remember that we went to the Fearrington Inn back in April to celebrate our SF wedding (see Picture! Picture! Picture!). Well, as creatures of habit and nostalgia, we decided to go back to the same place for our August anniversary too. Once again, it was perfect. The weather was a cool 73⋅F, the gardens gorgeous, and the food simply impeccable.

Everything went like clockwork, and we chose the wine pairing to go with our three-course meal again. The sommelier, Max, did a remarkable job once again and paired each dish with a nice wine. What I liked was that he chose wines that I had not heard about, but what surprised me was that they were mostly sweet! Gerwurztraminers and Rieslings! And an Austrian wine I had not heard of but whose name just rolls off the tongue - the Grunerveltliner. As we analyzed why the sweet wines went so well with our beef carpaccio with pesto creme, Charming's foie gras with English ginger cake, my lobster tortellini with lime and vanilla dressing, we realized it was because every dish had a good dose of .... sugar. Don't worry, I am not complaining (see post on sugar). Just observing. Anyway, with each glass of wine, I found it harder and harder to remember the names and vintages, and Max was kind enough to write them down for us and I have attached it here for you ... and me. I am not very good at filing paper away.

Look at the list. Who in today's fast paced lap-top tapping world writes like that? That writing is more from times past... In any case, it's going to keep us going back to the Fearrington for future anniversaries.

Cinnamon

Will YOU Pay for Quality?

Did you read the article on Toledo Museum of Art's Glass Pavilion in the Wall Street Journal today? It's on the front page. I took great interest in reading it as I was just there this past summer (see post on Modigliani and roast pork). It is a well written article of the eye-opening kind. It explains that though the museum is the legacy of a local glass maker in honor of the city's glass-making past, the curved pavilion glass was imported from...China. The Shenzhen based manufacturer was willing to invest in the $500,000 equipment for making the intricate glass for the exterior of the building and is quoted as saying "US companies are too cautious, preferring standardized processes and easy money." What? Have the tables turned? When did the Chinese mount the high horse of quality?

My first thought was that American food production has indeed become all about standardized processes and easy money. Taste and quality have been forgotten along the path of production expansion and cost cutting. Small, local farmers are going bust as large scale farms use pesticides and chemical fertilizers with the single goal of widening profit margins.

It also made me think of the organic vegetable delivery I had just cancelled. My friend, Brown Sugar Cookie, had passed on details of an organic vegetable service to me and I had tried them out for a couple of weeks. Yes, the fruit was perfectly ripe and delicious and the vegetables was exceptionally tasty. Though they were smaller in size, even the colors were more vibrant. For those two weeks, I felt good that I was exposing my children to fewer chemicals and also felt empowered that I was supporting local farmers in NC. The delivery service even goes the extra mile of emailing you recipes for the delivered produce. How perfect for a foodie. Unfortunately, I felt that the quantity delivered was small for $30 and I kept thinking I could buy more at the farmers' market for the same cost. Not much difference between me and the American glass manufacturer who is not willing to pay for quality.

So, what should I do? More importantly, what would you do?

Best,
Cinnamon

Give a Granola Bar for Breakfast

School started early in Singapore - 7:30 AM and I always found it difficult to eat breakfast at 6:30 before leaving for school. My five-year old has the same problem, and I find myself struggling to get her to drink her half-cup of milk and granola bar before her school bus rumbles up at 7:05. As a Singaporean, as a foodie, and as a mother, I constantly worry about my children's nutrition. I want to give them the best possible start in life and nourishment is one of the building blocks I focus on.

A year ago, I approached a friend of mine in my neighborhood - a full time lawyer with a little family just like mine. She played the same juggling game of rearing children and keeping a balanced household with her husband while building a full-time career. She, however, managed to find the time to give back to society by volunteering at charities. She asked me what I was interested in and I said simply that I wanted to help empower women and children. This friend led me to Pat's Place, a child advocacy center for sexually abused children (www.patsplacecac.org). It's a one-stop center where a child and his/her family can go for forensic interviews, medical exams, lawyer meetings and support from social workers - a little more intense than what I was looking for, but if this what the Higher Powers wanted me to dedicate my time to, so be it.

I was there last week talking to the director for development and she was informing me about the issues of fund raising and that an important part of development included getting non-financial donations of granola bars and juice boxes. I held my breath. She carried on to explain that in many cases, families ended up at the center very upset, rushed, and panicked and would have invariably forgotten to give their child breakfast. "A granola bar and a juice box helps fill the little tummy and makes the interview process a lot easier." Yes, I have shed a tear or two at this place.

So, friends in North Carolina, if you are reading this and want to do something for these young victims and help Pat's Place empower these little souls, here are some ideas:

1. Drop off a box of granola bars and juice boxes at Pat's Place. Or drop them off at my place and I will take them there.
2. Join me at their "Blue Jeans and Barbeque" fund raiser on the 11th of September - $50 a ticket.
3. Tell your corporate charitable committee about Pat's Place and put them in touch with the Director of Development. Let me know if you want a name and number.
4. Tell people about Pat's Place and spread the word. Schools, clubs, churches, friends whom you think might want to help. Networks are powerful.

We have 70 readers. If each and everyone of the 70 decides to do one thing for Pat's Place, what will the total impact be? At the very least, it will be 70 breakfasts for abused children in North Carolina.

Best,

Cinnamon

London tapas, anyone?

The last couple of weeks have been completely food- and fun-filled. First, there was Sparkly Date Palm’s wedding in Ireland a couple of weekends ago. Then, there was a friend’s surprise birthday party at one of Covent Garden’s iconic American imports. Later in the week, I was at a wine and food pairing evening in Canary Wharf (where plans were made to go to a pop-up restaurant in the Isle of Wight later this year). This past weekend alone saw a barbecue on a tiny central London balcony, a book launch at an Indian street food joint in Soho, and dinner at the oldest Indian restaurant in the city. The trend is set to continue – we have another wedding this week, but this time in Spain. On the way to the wedding, we’ll be stopping at a famous suckling pig restaurant in Segovia. I managed to squeeze in a few gym sessions over the past few days, but I don’t think it’s going to help – I’m on track for spontaneous explosion!

With all of these food experiences to rival the schedule of an APEC summit, it’s hard to choose which one (or ones) to talk about. Since Cinnamon and Truffle have promised to tell you about a variety of things, including our food findings, I thought I’d share with you a few highlights and discoveries from the past weeks. This is food-blogging, tapas-style!

Wedding in Dublin * This was wonderful for a whole lot of reasons, including the beautiful couple, and their lovely, welcoming family (the Irish are my favourite people on the planet). The food highlight was the wedding cake, with all three layers of sponge, chocolate and fruit having been home-made. I’d never had a home-made cake at a wedding before, and it was simply delicious – nothing like the usual plastic fruit cake which most wedding venues offer. Nice one, Sparkly Date Palm!

Asia de Cuba, Covent Garden * I’m not a huge fan of this place, it being a pretty expensive version of cheap and cheerful. But we had a memorable dish of seared tender scallops, which came with a creamy sweetcorn sauce and caramelized onions. Something I’m definitely going to try to replicate at home. If it works, I’ll share the recipe!

Battery, Canary Wharf * In ten years or so, when the East End becomes the in place to be in London, Battery is going to become the penthouse restaurant everyone wants to go to. It’s located at a bend in the river on the West-side of the Wharf, and so it offers a great view over the heaving Thames and towards the Gherkin end of the City (behind which the sun very aptly sets). A real find here was the Cremant de Bourgogne, Moingeon, Blanc de Blanc, an excellent French sparkling wine from Burgundy (and therefore made from Chardonnay). It would be perfect as a daytime sparkly aperitif, when you’re having friends over and you’re not feeling like an overly uptight, dry, evening-gown-type champagne.

Mooli’s, Soho * Started up by two ex-corporates (one of them an ex-lawyer who also found the road to freedom), Mooli’s is one of the early movers on the Indian street food scene in London. It totally makes sense to me – after an evening out, why go for a kebab and chips when you can have a fresh roti with healthful ingredients? Their goat mini-mooli, with tender cubes of goat meat and potato, with refreshing red onion wrapped in a warm roti was pretty good. I’m going to try wrapping some spiced lamb and potato (avec garnish) in a chapatti at home and - although it won’t be the same as Mooli’s - see if it works as a quick lunch. Watch this space for a recipe.

That’s this week’s round-up! Next week I’ll report back from España (and hopefully tell you about real tapas...)

Love

Truffle

Chill, baby, chill

I don’t know how it is Stateside, but here in England, the days of bright and baking sunshine are dwindling. Some days we see chilly winds take the upper hand, and Londoners scramble for their cardis and jackets. Given this changing unpredictable weather, it’s always the case that a few weeks of heat and humidity followed by a cold snap (relatively speaking) bring on the bugs - cold and cough bugs to be precise.

I once heard that this was because people weren’t drinking enough water during the warm, humid days and the dehydration made them susceptible to colds. Okay, so drinking more water on hot days might be a solution. But there might be a couple of other ways to nuke those germs.

A Russian lady taught me this one. She recommended taking this at night before bed, when you have that feeling like you’re about the come down with something. Find some red peppercorns (like in the picture) and whole black pepper. With a pestle and mortar, crush about three-quarters of a teaspoon of each. Mix the crushed pepper into a bit of vodka (something between half a measure and one measure should do, but it’s up to you). Drink it in one go, and use some vodka (without the pepper!) as rubbing alcohol on your neck and limbs if you like.

The other method is a traditional English or Scottish remedy, Hot Toddy. This involves taking a large mug of hot water, juice of a lemon quarter and some teaspoons of honey and then adding half a measure of whiskey (use the Single Malt only if you must, Cinnamon). Even just the hot water, lemon and honey make a comforting drink that I often use to help stave off a cold or to soothe a sore throat.

I know we have an international readership on this blog, so we’d love to hear from you about traditional cold remedies from all your different parts of the world!

Disclaimer: You don’t need to tell an ex-lawyer that anything featuring alcohol or remedies needs a disclaimer! The above post is not meant for anyone under the legal minimum age in their relevant jurisdiction. Enjoy Single Malts responsibly. Don’t crush the peppercorns with your bare hands and then rub your eyes. Please don’t use any of the above as a substitute for medical attention. Do what your doctor tells you, and don’t rely on what you read on the internet, Einstein.

Love

Truffle

Cappuccino with Nutmeg

I love coffee. I love French roast, Italian espresso, Portuguese cafe pingado, and most of all a simple cappuccino with a few shakes of nutmeg. The only coffees I don't like are Arabica and Sumatran - too acidic. I initially thought I was going to write about the fact that coffee originated in Brazil and that thanks to Vasco da Gama, many around the world now enjoy that smell of the freshly roasted bean. I was wrong. It actually originated from the hills of Ethiopia and Arabian kings and noblemen were the ones who established it as a social drink. Arab traders then brought it to Italy, and the rest is history.

Coffee formed an integral part of our daily structure in Singapore. At 4pm everyday, our cook, Solai, would come round checking for coffee orders. Coffee was fresh milk, boiled, frothed using the old teh-tarek method of pouring from one cup into another a few times, with a good dose of Bru coffee powder. My readers will be shocked to find that our family in Singapore drank (and still drink...) instant coffee. BUT, Bru coffee was no ordinary instant coffee! It had chicory in it. According to Google, chicory was historically a cheap substitute for coffee in the olden times... Great, not only did we drink instant coffee, we drank cheap instant coffee! Anyway, my school friends didn't seem to notice, and many an evening would find a group of us gathered around our dining table drinking Bru coffee, known as Solai's coffee those days.

I left Singapore for the UK when I was 18. I came back home most holidays and one of my favorite past times was hanging out at Suzuki Coffee House in Centre Point with my best friend, Beans. This was back in the day before Starbucks, before it was cool to drink coffee, and when Takashimaya was only a green plot of land next to the Mandarin. We would lounge around Suzuki Coffee for hours on end, each drinking three cups at least, and analyzing the intricacies of our love lives....or, in my case, the severe lack of it! Beans was always more adventurous but I would order the same thing every time - Cafe Mexicana, which was essentially a cuppuccino with nutmeg.

Beans and I were classmates together at RJC. We were so similar, yet so different. We were both Indian girls who had always been the minority at school, both tall, and both had an affinity for maths. She had mad curly hair, mine was straight, and she was light skinned and I was dark. We were like yin and yang and were always together. Our friendship was filled with fun - secret giggles about the guys we liked and catty eye rolls toward the girls we didn't. Our relationship was never competitive but always supportive. It was through my friendship with Beans that I learned how friendships can be true, loyal and actually enlightening. I have made many wonderful friendships with women since then, and all have been based on the Beans model of true friendship.

Beans, miss you! Looking forward to our next cup of coffee together, whenever or wherever that may be.

Love,
Cinnamon