Best sandwich bread, Florence-style schiacciata
[ezcol_1half] " A whopping 85% hydration
[ezcol_1half] " A whopping 85% hydration
[ezcol_2third][/ezcol_2third] [ezcol_1third_end] A couple weeks ago, I wondered my way into a small break from cooking. For no particular reason than because, over one morning coffee, I felt it was called for. People talk about the ferocity of love and passion a lot, in all forms and sizes that drives humanity for what it's worth, rising in salute for its consuming, inconvenient, majestic torment and glory. But what fuels it, what fuels love and passion, is often less marketable. At certain points, what fuels passion is simply absence. THE AU JUS
IT HITS JUST THE RIGHT SPOT, ONE OF THE FEW LEFT IN OUR HYPER-STIMULATED MINDS THESE DAYS, WHERE IT STILL ACCEPTS OR EVEN CRAVES PURITY [ezcol_1half] As we know that there are plenty for the taking, but this is perhaps - as far as I know and hopefully true - Jason's most obsessed of all perverse Japanese creations, the menchi katsu. Menchi, meaning "minced", and katsu, is anything "breaded and fried". It exists in many different forms and spirits, each and one of them equally bizarre to the conventional wisdoms of the west, but one in particular, the menchi katsu sando / fried ground pork patty sandwich, will send many scratching their heads inside a Japanese convenience store. That is because its pure genius can only be realized upon one fateful encounter - one that reflects truly on its seemly simple but in fact, delicate preparations, and the childish yet complex satisfaction it plays on your tastebuds - which, unfortunately, can be a rare occurrence outside of Japan. Actually, outside of Japan, this idea sounds more desperate than anything else. Why do we want to fry a disk of ground pork - by the way, an almost comically massive disk of ground pork - then leave it with nothing else, and I
[ezcol_1third] IF LIKE ME, YOU'RE TURKEY-LESS OR DUCK-LESS, DON'T LET THAT STOP'YA GRAB YOUR NEAREST LIMBS OF ANY SORTS AND GO TO TOWN! [/ezcol_1third] [ezcol_2third_end][/ezcol_2third_end] [ezcol_1third] [/ezcol_1third] [ezcol_1third][/ezcol_1third] [ezcol_1third_end][/ezcol_1third_end] [ezcol_1half] Life is going through some dramatic, if not crazy, changes. And I'm mastering the art of adaptation. I know I threw a bomb out last post without any proper context, and perhaps have gotten some friends worried. I thank you all for the comfort, support, and unrelenting kindness that you gave this stranger who talks on the screen. It is a compassion that I may even lack in comparison, embarrassingly, and such realization has helped pulling myself away from my emotional blackhole in a strange way, shown me perspectives. If that makes any sense. Still a bunch of gibberish, I know. I promise I will explain everything next week. Meanwhile, holy shit, Thanksgiving was last week? Where have I been
[ezcol_1half] I want to tell you about my trip back in New York in extensive details, I really do. But I'm jet-lagged
[ezcol_1half] In the walk of a cook who fancies herself a genius, there is no pain more excruciating than to realize when someone else has out-genius her. If you were one of "her" (not saying that I am)(I mean genius? Who? Me?), careful, because this is gonna hurt. This guy, Tyler Kord, who wrote this book, A Super Upsetting Cookbook About Sandwiches, is really pissing me off. Okay, fine, go have a super successful and ever-expanding sandwich shop all over New York City as if that was a dream of mine or whaaaatever. Dream-stealer
[ezcol_1half] I guess I am currently in the middle of what one would call, a blogger limbo. We have "officially" moved out of Beijing, so to speak. But in the next 3 weeks when our apartment is under renovation, we are going to be staying in a hotel where the closest thing to a cooking vessel is the bathroom sink with hot tap water (hotel sous vide?). How do I create something delicious when the mere act of making fruit smoothies posts challenges? Then I realised, the answer lies just around every corner in this city. Cantonese-style roast pork. Something as abundant in Hong Kong as Starbucks are in New York. This awesome thing, is everywhere. Even if you didn't live here, chances are you've seen it in your nearest Chinatown, a staple in Cantonese cuisines. Typically served with rice, which I've always had my doubt on. I mean, it is a great piece of roast pork, with salty yet juicy flesh and gloriously blistered skins. But on its own, and paired with yellow mustard, in my opinion, it just isn't the most flattering companion for steamed rice. It is however, the most perfect yet most under-utilized sandwich candidate, practically an half-way porchetta sandwich. [/ezcol_1half]
[ezcol_1third] After what seemed as long as forever, but now, feels as short as a blink of an eye, five weeks of traveling in and out of 6 different countries, I am now, finally, back home. It is difficult, if not impossible, to sum up a journey as long as this one in one post. It began in Hong Kong, then Taipei then back to Hong Kong, then it departed towards London, then Madrid, and Lisbon, then finally, passing by Germany, back to Hong Kong, then back to Beijing. It was a zig-zaging montage of cityscapes, sounds, smells, flavours, stimulations… but also disorientations, sense of aimless drifts, dubbed by a relentless seasonal flu somewhere at end. How do I tell such a story I have no clue. I suspect I would be inadequate but I shall try. I shall try, starting with Lisbon. Why Lisbon? I don’t know. I guess there are moments in life that didn’t feel particularly monumental at the times, but somehow, years and years later, they stay with you whenever you feel like looking back. Lisbon, in the best sense, felt as such. There are cities where we go to feel the future. New York, London, places that strut at