January 20, 2020 In All recipes, Poultry, Soup

Chicken in hot and sour coconut broth

[ezcol_1fifth]-[/ezcol_1fifth] [ezcol_3fifth] I made this dish randomly and without aim a couple weeks ago and really enjoyed it, so I thought I'd share it. Despite its gentle-mannered appearance, this soup will slap you out of your winter slumber if you so underestimate it.  Marinated and crispy-browned chickens in an aromatic Thai-style coconut broth that is almost too sour, almost too spicy, almost too salty that the corners of my jaws received it just as much as my tongue.  But only almost almost almost, because in the end I realized I couldn't stop drinking it, this warming dish that sits right at the spearhead of all the sensations that our tastebuds could withstand and lingers there. I know you'd love it, too.  That's all. [/ezcol_3fifth] [ezcol_1fifth_end][/ezcol_1fifth_end] [ezcol_1third][/ezcol_1third] [ezcol_1third][/ezcol_1third] [ezcol_1third_end][/ezcol_1third_end] [ezcol_1half][/ezcol_1half] [ezcol_1half_end][/ezcol_1half_end] [amd-zlrecipe-recipe:209]

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December 16, 2019 In All recipes, Noodle/Pasta/Rice

Miso congee w/ crispy scallion oil and cream

[ezcol_1half] "  It's an agent of both calmness and arousal, a stimulating congee.  " [/ezcol_1half] [ezcol_1half_end] Around this time of the year with its cold crisp air, with it carrying a smell of memory that I can't seem to grapple, I am loosened and adrift.  I feel like anchoring to a sleeved cup of coffee with both hands, and wander aimlessly on the street decorated with relentless sparkles.  Like an old lady who has lost something but couldn't remember what.  My fingertips are toasty, the coffee sleeve too thin

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November 22, 2019 In All recipes, Poultry

Broken rice crispy crust and chicken cutlets

[ezcol_1fifth]-[/ezcol_1fifth] [ezcol_3fifth] "  A crust that is both crispy and airy, with a exceptionally craggy surface that foretells that a multi-textural experience awaits.  " Amongst fried foods enthusiasts, the quest to find the perfect breading, never ends.  Often times either thin but un-impactful, or substantial but too heavy, the delicate balance in a perfect breading, or shall we say "crust", is elusive and ever-changing. But today, I feel as if I had come to a near conclusion that seems to suggest that the search is over.  A breading that leads to a crust that is both crispy and airy, but more importantly, stays crispy and airy, where its exceptionally craggy surface foretells that a multi-textural experience awaits.  Large and small puffy crunches that are light, spontaneous, and almost lacelike. Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you, the broken rice crispy crust. Yes, rice crispy, the juvenile cereal, the cereal that nobody actually eats on its own, the cereal that only finds life's meanings in a tightly compressed square jammed with marshmallow and butter, the cereal that, even then, is promptly rejected by the first sign of puberty and any desire to get laid in the years that follow.  Yes, that rice crispy.  That rice

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October 30, 2019 In All recipes, Bakery/Pastry, Dairy, Sweets

Japanese melty iceboox cheesecake

[ezcol_1fifth]-[/ezcol_1fifth] [ezcol_3fifth] I'm sitting here, struggling with how best to explain to you all why this Japanese version of the burnt basque cheesecake is superior than the original in every single way possible, mentally auditioning all the angles I could cut into this subject that I think is going to change the way you think about cheesecakes in general.  How it's possibly the easiest cheesecake your kitchen-incompetence will ever behold

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October 11, 2019 In All recipes, Dairy, Sweets

Confession of an escapist cook, Hong Kong-style milk tea gelato

(I stood there) mildly confused about what just happened. But a long-overdue sense of consolation and the temporary release from anger and malcontent forbid me to investigate. [ezcol_1half] (An edited version was published on Heathyish). In a sweltering, Hong Kong summer afternoon only slightly tempered by the torrential rain that had just begun to batter the island, I stood in my kitchen trying to figure out the golden ratio for brewing a cup of silky Hong Kong-style milk tea, a legacy of course left by the city's British colonial past, while on TV across the room, a black blanket of soaking wet protesters numbering in over a million stretching as far as the eye can see, were marching for Hong Kong's future. Democracy, is what's on their table. I felt a sense of commotion creeping up my chest as I tried to drown it by scorching the tea leaves with my screeching kettle, watching them tumble and twirl inside the tea pot in a hopeless toil. But it did little to distract me from realizing, once again, what a familiar predicament I am in. Because the very reason that I am in Hong Kong, is precisely because I was determined to leave the place that

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