Never too early/late to bake

I sometimes question why I do certain things. Alright, I often question why I behave a certain way, or why I choose the things I do. Baking cupcakes and then frosting them into the wee hours of the morning is one of them.



It's really never too early, or in my case, too late to bake. Weee!

Simplicity at its best

Beef Tataki - A deceptively simple dish that P prepared, quick and delicious.

When a Japanese-crazy friend calls for a dinner party with an East Asian theme, I'd have to be crazy to think that he'd make anything other than Japanese. I was more than happy to go with the flow, but like my previous post, there is a whole lot of cuisines that I've never tried my hand at and Japanese is definitely one of them. That means that while I was eager to try my hand at Japanese cuisine, I was apprehensive and a little worried about the outcome, especially since it was for a dinner party.

Of course, I took the opportunity (read: excuse) to trawl through Kinokuniya's collection for a simple and reliable Japanese cookbook. Since it was my first attempt at Japanese, I was not going to risk attempting overly complicated recipes. Kimiko Barber's The Japanese Kitchen caught my eye with its clean and fresh cover photo, and then with the tres simple recipes.

They are organised according to common Japanese ingredients, cutting across the various kinds of roots, seeweeds, noodles, fruits etc...... A short and informative introduction is also included for each ingredient - 'How it grows', 'Appearance and taste', 'Buying and storing', 'Healthy Benefits', 'Culinary Uses', before several recipes are provided featuring the said ingredient. I find this style extremely useful, especially when I was pushing my trolley through Meidi-Ya supermarket (a very well-stocked Japanese supermarket at Liang Court). When I saw an ingredient I was unfamiliar with, I just had to look for the section on it to find out how I could possibly use it.

I decided to prepare appetisers, and since they were all so simple, requiring so little effort and ingredients, I chose 6 to make in small quantities per person.

Diced Tuna with Yam Sauce, Simmered Daikon with Grainy Mustard and Miso, Edamame with sea salt, Nameko with Grated Daikon, Asparagus with Vinegar Miso and Grilled Octopus with Sweet Miso Sauce. Since there were so many items on the menu, I had to make the effort to be very organised with my mise en place. All the ingredients were grated, chopped, simmered, boiled and sliced beforehand. The sauces were also mixed to the exact proportions required in advance. They were all placed in neat rows to be put together on the dishes just before serving.

The two items which surprised me (with recipes later) were the Diced Tuna with Yam Sauce as well as the Nameko with Grated Daikon. I had initial reservations about the yam sauce, as it comprised raw grated yam dunked in a light dashi stock-based sauce and served with cubes of raw tuna. I was not sure how raw grated yam would taste, and frankly the texture of the grated yam was a little off-putting. However, the flavours and textures came together in a very surprising harmony.

As for the Nameko with Grated Daikon, the description of Nameko was not at all appealing to me. 'Nameko grow in clusters. A bright orangey-brown, they have a tight little button cap measuring 1-2 cm across that is covered with gelatinous slime... [they] are particularly appreciated for their slipperiness on the tongue, which is unique and worth experiencing.' After a truly horrific experience with Japanese fermented soy beans - Natto, I have become wary of 'unique' food, and have developed a greater aversion to all things naturally slippery (I still don't really fancy okra/lady's fingers). However, dipped into the sauce and served with very finely julienned (my grater could not yield the fine matchsticks of daikon I had envisioned for the dish), I actually found it yummy and could truly appreciate its smooth and slippery texture, which I realised should not be confused with sliminess.

In addition, as a result of my usual tendency of wanting to send guests home in an 'oh-my-god-I'm-so-full-I'm-going-to-explode' state, I also rustled up Chilled Soba with Salmon Roe and Avocado. All it took was some very quickly cooked soba (overcooked soba is quite terrible to stomach), avocada cubes tossed in a wasabi-soy sauce dressing, fresh salmon roe and a small drizzling of soba dipping sauce. As a modern take on cold soba, it was yet another great combination, which my guests also enjoyed thoroughly.

The dishes exceeded my expectations and now I cannot wait to try other recipes from the book, using more foreign ingredients like Gobo/Burdock and Kampyo/Dried Gourd Strips. I've taken chances with other cookbooks before and have been let down numerous times. But this book has renewed my faith that as long as I perservere, I will definitely uncover a few gems once in a while.

Simplicity at its best

Maguro no tororo ae / Diced Tuna with Yam Sauce

Serves 4

Ingredients

275g yam, peeled and grated

450ml dashi stock

5 tbspn soy sauce

1 tbspn sugar

1/2 tbspn mirin

400g fresh tuna, cut into bite-sized cubes

1/2 tsp salt

To Garnish

2 tsp wasabi powder mixed with same amt of water

2 spring onions, finely sliced into rings

1 sheet nori (dried seaweed), finely shredded (which I omitted)

Method

Put the yam into a large mixing bowl.

Add the dashi stock, soy sauce, sugar and mirin and mix well.

Put the tuna in a separate bowl, sprinkle with the salt and pour int the yam mixture. Stir to combine.

Divide the tuna and yam mixture between four serving dishes and garnish with small mounds of wasabi, chopped spring onions and shredded nori.

Nameko oroshi/Nameko with Grated Daikon

Serves 4

Ingredients

110g nameko

200g daikon (Japanese radish), peeled and grated

Dressing

2 tbspn rice vinegar

1 tbspn sugar

1 tbspn light soy sauce

a pinch of salt (optional)

Method

Mix all the ingredients in a bowl, season and serve with a little of the dressing on the side if preferred.

Just a couple of months ago, I had to drop all my work responsibilities to attend a two and a half month long (but I say short) course. Since I started work but less than 8 weeks before that, I did not have very much to handover. In fact, the person I was supposed to replace had not even left!

Through the course, I met 60 other new faces I struggled to remember, chinese names I fumbled over, and personalities which kept me constantly amused. By circumstance, providence or confluence of passion, I gravitated towards an endearing handful who gained my respect and love by the end of the course.

Ever since it ended, we have not had much time to meet up again but I was determined to keep in touch with them. And so, I resorted to my usual tactic, and called for a potluck (surprise, surprise). Although I was a little worried that they would end up bringing chips or Mac's nuggets, thankfully I managed to charm (read:coerce) most of them into hands-on work.



SS had been reluctant right from the beginning, giving me countless warnings of food poisoning should she bring anything home-cooked. And so she opted for something that would require little cooking, volunteering to bring a salad. For some reason, I had images of leafy greens, or more specifically peppery rocket and frisee, tossed in a light vinaigrette, floating around in my head.

So you can imagine my delightful surprise when she upped that and instead brought empty shells of avocado skins, with a container full of soft and creamy chopped avocado, perfectly fresh peeled prawns, mixed with chopped mango and little sacs of grapefruit. To serve, she simply scooped generous portions of her personal concoction of avocado 'salsa' into the avocado shells, and placed a few folds of smoked salmon with dill on the side.

It was simple, but she let the ingredients speak for themselves. And speak they did, or more like sing. No drizzle of anything, no touch of what-nots, just pure flavours and a combination of textures. It was lovely, and absolutely touching. Her dish, like her, had both form and content.

To cater to the guys in the group, I made sure someone brought meat. YC initially suggested preparing his 'Lazy Man's Chicken', but while I fully appreciated that he did not cop out by buying roast chicken from a nearby hawker centre for the potluck, I was concerned that the chinese-style cooking would not meld with the rest of the dishes. And although I would like to believe that I managed to exercise my irresistable charm to change his mind, we all know that guys are a little more thick-headed and would need something less like a nudge and more like a shove.

In fact, I had to provide him with another recipe, buy the other ingredients, and instruct him to 'just buy chicken and come over early'. The end result was Chicken with Black-Pepper Maple Sauce that was served in a teapot for self-service. It may not have been termed Lazy Man's Chicken, but I thought it was surely lazy enough. And although there were a few kinks here and there, things worked out with a little improvisation (I henceforth love butter and emulsification) and the sauce was delicious - smooth, sweet and savoury. I helped to prepare some roasted baby potatoes to go with the chicken, but unfortunately roasted them too far in advance. Instead of biting into crisp, brown skins perfumed by sage, we ended up with potatoes a little too tough for anyone's liking.

I still remember one of my first few encounters with D. He was one of the first few who I discovered also shared my joy in entertaining, and eagerness to learn more about food. Always humble and sincere, he even shared his choice of recipe with me and his friend before proceeding with it. The recipe came from Epicurious.com, with a rating of 4 forks no less, and I could not wait to taste it!


He requested for heavy 'supervision', but actually needed little. And at the end of the night, with some help from the rest, the capellini was really worth every ounce of effort in it. Most of the effort went into measuring and chopping though, and is definitely not tedious. It is however, not something you could prepare on a whim though, unless perhaps you have a secret stash of vodka that you keep replenished, a packet of cream you keep for days you crave for hot chocolate (not the wimpy kind of course), and a herb garden with an everlasting supply of dill.


While some would have preferred thicker pastas like linguine or spaghetti, I enjoyed the dainty strands of angelhair. Something about its fragility, making it a challenge to prepare, and all the more precious.





For dessert, PL had planned to whip up his signature dish- cheesecake. He is a Korean Food Junkie, but in his path towards greater wisdom in the USA, he also mastered cheesecake. Of course, what impresses me most is the fact that he once made his own Kim Chi before, and that shall be a story for another day.

But the photo above gives away the fact that this story ends with him being unable to find time to prepare the said cheesecake, opting to bring ice cream instead. The redeeming factor is that he brought most of us our first taste of Daily Scoop ice cream (can't blame us since they are really situated in ulu-ulu-land). Lychee Martini and Durian-Durian were rich with little chunky surprises of lychee and durian respectively.

And of course, I would not organise a potluck without contributing anything myself. I spent a fair amount of time thinking of what else I could contribute to complement the rest of the dishes, and finally decided upon clams. It was light, fun to eat and very importantly as well, able to be prepared on demand easily. A slight touch of luxury was from saffron, of which only a pinch sufficed for an entire 2kg worth of clams.

I discovered however, that washing clams takes alot more than a few rinses under the water. Soaking in salt water is supposed to help, and I'll be keeping that in mind next time I prepare these again. How could I not, after watching my parents slurp up all the clams and saffron-tomato broth that I served them for supper?

My last guest, P, brought a bottle of red wine. But she also brought along her vivacious laughter and stories that kept everyone else entertained through the night. When the night came to a close, I was knackered but in a good way. Is there any better way to re-establish relationships than over food? I think not!

Like a fish out of water

A quick glance at my ever expanding collection of cookbooks and it wouldn't be too difficult to identify what kind of food I am more inclined to cook. While my palate takes to Mee Hoon Kuay and Murtabak as comfortably as Aglio Olio and Duck Confit, my kitchen endeavours typically involve more thyme, rosemary and sage, than candlenuts, lemongrass and belachan.



I usually justify this by saying that it doesn't make sense trying to make from scratch a dish like Laksa (springy rice noodles in a rich, coconut-based broth that is indescribably flavourful from all the spices and herbs involved), when it can be easily purchased at a paltry sum of SGD$3 after a mere 5 minute walk, which is great for working up a mini appetite. It just seems like a helluva lot of work trying to match something that has already achieved phenomenal standards elsewhere. It felt like I was trying to reinvent the wheel.



At the end of the day however, I think I was just trying to find excuses not to try something that seemed so labour intensive. So I really admire people who actually bother trying to make Laksa.


Recently, I decided that I would try to push my limits and step out of my comfort zone within my comfort zone, if that makes sense. Basically, I'd still be working in my kitchen, the place I do so much cooking, baking, and smiling. But instead of cream, I'd have to use coconut milk. In place of dried parsley, I'd be using crushed coriander seeds. I would finally try cooking from the neighbouring region, using 'Inside the Southeast Asian Kitchen' as my tutor.



If you ever chance upon previous editions of cookbooks commissioned by ASEAN, I'm pretty sure you'd be, like I was, aghast about everything in it - from the layout to the writing and to the photos, or rather the lack of. As I slowly thumbed through the pages in the latest and far more attractive cookbook though, I could not help but flag out certain recipes I thought seemed easy yet interesting enough to try.





One of these was for Gudeg Yogya, long-cooked chicken and jackfruit (Yogya style). It didn't look like an overly painful process, though it did involve plenty of 'foreign' ingredients to me. When I decide to whip up something from my Damien Pignolet's French, or Jane Lawson's Cocina Nueva, I usually have about 80% of the ingredients in my cupboards just waiting to be used. However, I found that with this, I had to practically start from scratch and source for 80% of the ingredients on the list.



Jackfruit was also something I had never handled before. Thankfully, I met a superb vegetable/herbs/spices lady in Tekka Market, who sold virtually anything I needed to cook dishes from around the neighbouring countries. While wrapping the jackfruit up for me, she also gave me wise tips on managing the sap that oozes out when you slice the skin away (basically, keep wiping the knife with oil in between each slice).


Though, after all that effort I think I'll leave it to the pros next time. Coincidentally, I passed by a fruit seller in Tekka Market today, who was removing the flesh from the fruit. The deft of hand he had when dealing with the jackfruit was amazing, and he did it in a mere fraction of the time too.


Anyway, I went home happy with my loot and set to work almost immediately. Within 2 hours (though the chicken would have benefitted from a little more slow simmering), I managed to put together the Gudeg Yogya and a Chuchi pra kong (Chhouchi fragrant shrimp from Cambodia). The shrimp was supposed to involve some pounding, but a lack of a mortar and pestle meant that I had to resort to using a blender, which I knew would produce an inferior result. But I had no choice at that time, and am now eyeing a particular set I saw in a Korean minimart!


My family seemed pretty surprised that I made something so out of character for dinner that night. But I have to admit that I definitely felt like a fish out of water throughout the entire process. From the time I stepped into Tekka Market, looking for candlenuts without knowing how they even looked like, to the moment I took a peek into the pot of Gudeg Yogya, wondering if the jackfruit was supposed to take on that unappetising shade of earth-brown.


There was definitely plenty of room for improvement - I could have used Jackfruit that was a little more ripe, I could have added fewer than required dried red chillies to the Chuchi pra kong (it was incredibly spicy and my whole family was sniffing away by the end of the dinner), and I could definitely have stewed the chicken a little longer. What I also learnt is that my fears of cooking anything that required asian herbs and spices, were unfounded. Of course, that could be because I merely took the blender out and blitzed the herbs and spices together into a thick paste for each of the dishes.


Still, it is a start. I may not make perfect Indonesian chicken stew or Cambodian fragrant shrimp, but I've tried and can only get better from here.

In the meantime, at least I can say that I can steam fish! It is such a simple process, requiring only the freshest of ingredients for success. And it was one of the first few things my grandma and my mum taught me when I was tall enough to look down on the kitchen counter. I also If I could count the total number of hours I've spent picking fish meat from their bones, that might add up to quite a hefty sum.

Gudeg Yogya
Serves 6-8 for breakfast

Ingredients
1 medium chicken, ready for roasting
1 tsp salt
1 lemon, juiced
850ml thick coconut milk
1.1liters thin coconut milk
3 salam leaves (or bay leaves)
3 cm piece galangal (blue ginger)
900 g parboiled jackfruit segments (or canned green jackfruit drained and rinsed)
6-8 hard-boiled eggs, peeled (which I omitted)

Bumbu Paste
5 chopped shallots
5 cloves garlic, chopped
1 tsp chopped ginger
8 kemiri (candlenuts) or macadamia nuts, or 10 blanched almonds, chopped
2 tsp ground coriander
1 tsp crumbled terasi (shrimp paste)
1 tsp ground white pepper
1 tsp sugar
1 tsp salt

Method
Rub outside of whole chicken with salt, then liberally rub the juice of the lemon all over the chicken. Wrap chicken loosely in aluminium foil, and roast in a pre-heated oven at 330 degrees Fahrenheit (165 degrees Celcius) for 1 hour.
Unwrap and chop the chicken into 8 or 10 portions, discarding some of the large bones.
(Alternatively, the whole chicken can be boiled with water in a separate saucepan, for 50 minutes from the time the water starts to boil.)

Blend all the ingredients for the bumbu with 8 tbspns of thick coconut milk until smooth and transfer it to a saucepan. Bring to the boil and simmer, stirring often, for 6 minutes.
Add thin coconut milk, salam or bay leaves and galangal, and continue to simmer for 10 mins. Add jackfruit, increase the flame and boil for 40 minutes.
Now add the remaining thick coconut milk, the chicken and eggs. Continue to simmer, stirring often, for 30-40 mins or until the sauce becomes quite thick.
Serve hot with plenty of boiled rice. The more the merrier!

As I only started cooking at 6pm, and had to speed through dinner preparation, I could not give the jackfruit nor the chicken the time they needed to soften into melt-in-your-mouth tenderness. It was therefore much yummier the day after. It might sound like a lot of work, but it actually is not. It just needs a little bit more time and patience.

Have you ever forgotten the feeling of....hunger?

For the past two weeks, my colleagues and I have been heading out of the stuffy and virus-inflicted office for lunches to celebrate birthdays, bid farewells or welcome newbies into the department.

Among others, we've had a pretty good Indonesian lunch buffet spread, luxurious pastas from Menotti (at Raffles' City Shopping Centre), sinful but super delicious Ayam Penyet (literally translated: smashed chicken) with Gado Gado, and a fairly wide range of thin-crust pizzas from Modestos.

And to make matters worse, I've had similarly heavy dinners after work too. I used to be busy trying to balance on one leg, while keeping the other suspended in mid-air at unattainable angles ('trying' being the operative work) - i.e. yoga. But when my contract ended, I decided not to renew it as they seemed to have oversold their membership.

I was no longer gaining peace, and instead had to keep battling with people's arms and legs infringing into my little private space demarcated by the often soggy blue yoga mat. If it sounds gross, you should just try it.

So with plenty of free time, plenty of friends eager to try new places with me, and plenty of new places to try, I discovered quite a few gems but also sadly (and quite frighteningly) forgot the feeling of hunger. A friend, S, who also happens to be my colleague, agreed with me and suggested that we have a 'SALAD DAY' this coming Monday. I could not have thought of a better idea to quell our (or at least my) anxieties that we would soon develop sitophobia - fear of food or eating.

While typing out the email to recruit fellow colleagues verging on sitophobia, I was running through the list of possible salad dressings I could contribute. The one tried and tested dressing that I've made quite frequently for different groups of people, is a miso-based one that is light and uber refreshing. The only problem would be making enough of it to go around.

It can be added to almost anything. I've used this with crisp iceberg lettuce, sweet romaine, and lollo rosso. For one version, I included soba (thin Japanese noodle made from buckwheat flour) and my adulterated version of teriyaki salmon - made from salmon, dark soy sauce and golden syrup in equal proportions.

For another, I simply grilled some store bought shishamo (the Cold Storages at Takashimaya and Bugis Junction stock a few of these) and served it with the salad leaves gently but thoroughly tossed through the miso dressing, a wedge of lemon and a sprinkling of bonito flakes (pictured above).

Its great as a tantalising starter, to get the tastebuds moving and eager for more. But double (or in my case, quadruple) the quantity for a healthy, and surprisingly comforting dinner for 1. Just salad, a fork and you're good to go! The following recipe is just a guide, and should be adjusted to taste. To try, just dip a piece of salad leaf into the dressing and taste.

With so little exercise in my schedule these days, I'm only more than happy that I've found such a great tasting dish that won't go straight to my thighs! Woohoo!

Miso Dressing for Salads

Ingredients

1 tbspn miso paste

2 tbspn mirin (omit if you have Muslim friends, though this would affect the taste quite significantly)

juice from half a lemon

2 tbspn sugar

1 tbspn light soy sauce

5 tbspns olive oil (or water, for an even lighter dressing)

Method

Mix miso, mirin, lemon, sugar and light soy sauce until well combined.

If using olive oil, trickle in slowly while whisking vigorously.

Mixture should form a brown, homogeneous dressing.

If using water, simply add in tablespoon by tablespoon until you attain your perfect dressing.

My Indulgence

I used to scoff at the small-portion-in-big-plate concept that I had seen in many 'atas' restaurants. That was until I realised that it was a conspiracy to leave you wanting for more of the good stuff - a conspiracy that worked on me.

And so for dinners at home, I try to put some of that into practice as well, in the meantime balancing that with my conditioned instinct to feed feed feed! I've picked up, from the women in my family, the type of hospitality insisting that having guests practically lifting their tummies off the floor at the end of the night and dragging it out the door with them, signals success.
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When Yin came over for dinner the other day, I tried to control the portions, but still failed. A salad, pasta and a risotto later, we were stuffed. I didn't even prepare a sweet finish to dinner, expecting there to be little space for anymore after two carb-heavy dishes and I'm thankful for that decision. Though truth be told, I did toy with the idea of making AT LEAST an ice cream.

Thinking back though, if I had to choose between some ice cream and more pasta or risotto, I would go with the pasta (even over the risotto!). Not because I think I have unlocked the key to creating the perfect forkfuls of the classic pasta - Aglio Olio (garlic and olive oil), but because of my latest discovery of Tetsuya's Truffle Salsa.

Having passed by Culina (Bukit Timah Road, next to Coronation Plaza) countless times without actually dropping in, I resolved to make a trip down specially to have a look-see. They stock plenty of gourmet goodies that may not be a need, but would be a luxurious bonus to have. Squid ink in little sachets, vanilla fleur de sel, dried ceps that will knock your socks off with a sniff, and even chestnut puree in retro-looking squeeze tubes.


Seeing how they stocked all these deluxe ingredients, I asked if they happened to bring in any truffle-infused Camembert that made one of my trips to Paris absolutely unforgettable. Sadly, they didn't bring any of that hedonistic, creamy cheese in. They did however, recommend the next best alternative - mix some of Tetsuya's Truffle Salsa with a good quality Camembert for my very own sensuous spread.

At SGD$29 for a small 80g bottle of truffle salsa, I guess my reluctance was written all over my face. But they then very connivingly showed me the bigger bottle with better value for money (SGD$59 for 500g), and let me have a whiff of their own personal stash. I was hooked at first smell, and in a heartbeat, I said I'd take a bottle.


Obviously alerted to my nasal instincts, they brought out tiny apothecary bottles that contained super fragrant tea leaves from Gryphon. Of course, I have my own stash of Gryphon tea at home, and am loving it (Moroccan Mint is great for ice cream). Still, I enjoyed the moments sniffing away!

But I digress, yet again.



I haven't actually tried mixing the truffle salsa with any Camembert cheese yet, but using it for the little Aglio Olio 'upgrade' was simply heavenly. The salsa has olives (and I really don't like olives), but the flavours were a perfect balance of olives and truffle among others. The angelhair pasta was tossed in mild garlic-flavoured olive oil and truffle salsa for super silky delicate strands of noodle bathing in the distinct aroma that only truffles can yield. And while that would have been enough, I went over the top and added an extra teaspoonful of the good stuff.

After the delicious pasta, I made risotto with truffle oil, and dried ceps that I bought from Culina as well. Standing by the stove, nursing the starch from the risotto and chatting with Yin at the same time was such an enjoyable and therapeutic experience. The risotto had an extra dimension of flavour from the smooth ceps that triggered images of oak trees basking in gentle early morning sunlight, with chilly fog embracing their trunks.

But like I mentioned earlier, I would choose the pasta over the risotto if given a choice. It's hard not to, especially since the pasta took a fraction of the total time taken to make the risotto. This may seem to sit at the other end of the difficulty-spectrum of home-cooking as compared to the previous post, but it really isn't.

I can't think of a more idiot-proof pasta dish to do than Aglio Olio. And if you happen to have some of the truffle salsa at hand as well, this would be a great way to pamper yourself without too much bustling around the kitchen.

In fact, when Val suggested having a tennis session over the weekend and 'arrowed' (civil service lingo) me to provide a simple one-dish dinner, that came to mind immediately. I just upped the quantities to almost 100g of pasta per person and took just about 10 minutes to put it all together. Together with the smoked cheese that Val brought from Germany (I think), some table water crackers, we were well fed and ready for an intensive round of tennis.

Truffled Aglio Olio

Serves 4

Ingredients

400 g angelhair pasta, cooked according to instructions on packet till al dente (I always salt the water generously so that it needs minimal seasoning later on)

8 tbspns olive oil

3 cloves of garlic, sliced thinly

2 tbspns Tetsuya's Truffle Salsa+ 4 tsps (optional)

salt and pepper to taste

Method

When pasta is almost done, heat olive oil over medium heat.

(Place a slice of garlic in the oil, and if it sizzles, the oil is hot enough)

When olive oil is heated, add garlic and fry until it just starts to brown, then remove from heat.

Toss the drained angelhair pasta through the olive oil, adding 2 tbspns Tetsuya's Truffle Salsa and more olive oil if required.

Season with salt to taste.

Serve with 1 additional tsp of truffle salsa each.

Leave some parmesan cheese and black pepper at the table to add if required (my friends always love a little interactive portion)

Home-cooked food

Before I started working, I certainly wondered if I would have the time and energy after work to cook an entire dinner for my family. I had some serious doubts, as previous internship experiences left me rather drained even though I was able to leave on the dot at 6pm. Now, I'm starting to think that it's not really that difficult to do.

While I am willing to eat pretty much anything when I'm alone (and some of the really odd things that I've conjured up for myself is pretty ghastly), I try not to put family to that same kind of treatment. I thought this would mean cooking big, yummy dishes. Putting together fresh ingredients to produce yummy food is a given, but these home-cooked-after-work sort of meals aren't necessarily big-big. It could be a one-bowl meal like porridge or fried noodles with all your leftovers. But with a grocery store or bakery along the way home, all the better since I can get some fresh ingredients as well.

Just the other day, I had some time to pop by Cold Storage and decided to grab some chicken drumsticks and lettuce. I then stopped by Da Paolo's Gastronomia for a loaf of soft country bread before heading home. It was just my dad and I and the meal was put together in a flash. After I quickly marinated the chicken in a cumin-and-tumeric-heavy spice blend, I browned them over medium heat and threw them all into the oven to roast. I washed the salad, prepared the dressing, sliced the bread and before I knew it, the chicken was ready.

The meal wasn't big, and I didn't spend too much time on it. The bread was bought and I didn't really slave over the chicken. I don't know about others out there, but I usually have the problem of determining if the chicken is cooked all the way through, or if it is still a little bloody inside. I personally don't have an issue with a little blood, but I know some people cringe at that sight. But all that was resolved when I finally invested in a meat thermometer. It's one of those things you can poke into the thickest part of the meat to check the internal temperature. I then followed a meat-doneness guide rather like this, and waited for the chicken to reach the appropriate temperature.

Everything wasn't fancy, unless you count using a very cute artist's palette-shaped platter. And it certainly felt good, sitting beside my dad savouring every morsel of food. The bread was super soft and tasty by itself. With some olive oil and vinegar, I was transported to beautiful pink fluffy clouds of cotton candy - which is just my way of saying it was damn good.

I think I could do this more often, cooking at home that is. Cooking really doesn't have to be complicated at all.

La Nonna

When looking for a good hearty meal, that will not drain my wallet (too much) and that is not too shabby yet conversely not too stuffy either, a couple of places pop into mind instantly. But to identify one where the bread, menu and meal come with exuberant smiles and friendly banter on top of all that, and my list whittles down quite miserably.

So in the same ardentness that Shu recommended La Nonna, that fits all those criteria and then some, I can't help but spread the little word about this new found hangout I hope to go to with each of my girlfriends.

I went there with Addy earlier in the week and absolutely enjoyed the food, the company and the service. We would return just for the tasty pizza-bases that were sprinkled with dried herbs and baked till crisp. But the ravioli and gnocchi (pictured above) were also delicious though unphotogenic despite all my desperate attempts to take photos of them from every angle. The pizzas that were flying to the tables around us looked pretty tempting as well.

I'll definitely return soon, it is just a matter of time and most importantly, how. See, the problem is that it is quite deep into a mish-mash of bungalows and terraces near 6th Avenue. Walking there isn't a problem only if, unlike Addy and I when we went, you:
1) are not in heels,
2) have crystal clarity about the location,
3) are armed with a map anyway, and
4) don't think that there is a shortcut through 2nd Avenue.

We did manage to work up an appetite for the meal though, and thankfully so since we could not stop eating the 'pizza-biscuits' for lack of a better name. Fortunately, they'll be opening another outlet at Holland Village soon as well!


La Nonna
Shamrock Park
76 Namly Place
S267226
Tel:67621587
Opening Hours:
Lunch: 11.30am - 2.30pm
Dinner: 5.30pm - 9.30pm