Book Bait: Squid Ink Ramen

"A bowl of slurpable crude oil, but in the most edible and delicious way. " [ezcol_1fifth]-[/ezcol_1fifth] [ezcol_3fifth] WHAT:  Welcome back my utterly self-serving recipe series I would like to call - The Book Bait, a shameless campaign to draw out all cookbook-hunters to our upcoming cookbook, The Art of Escapism Cooking – A Survival Story.  These are brand new recipes that are not in the cookbook but however, in order to make them, you will need one or more essential component from the book to complete which, yes, is yet to be published on October 15, 2019.  And yes, I am still doing that to you to sell books. WHY:  It isn't without brag when I say that there is an entire chapter in our cookbook enshrined to the universal religion of noodle-slurping and ten of which are full-blown, no bullshit, the milky broth, the umami, the toppings, the thick and the deep, the sacred and the indecent, the full spectrum of the unapologetic and delicious absurdity that is, Japanese-style ramen.  Yes, I went there, the whole nine yards.  And I feel that I could still go further.  Because in Japan's traditionally defined food culture, this rare and liberal, democratic even, arena of

Cookbook Preview – Shrimp wontons w/ spicy coconut shrimp oil

[ezcol_1half] FYI, There is an entire chapter in our cookbook with delicious little morsels recipes just like this.  Preorder your copy now! [/ezcol_1half] [ezcol_1half_end] Here is another recipe preview from our cookbook - The Art of Escapism Cooking that is coming out on Oct 15th! This recipe has many components - slippery, bouncy, rich, tangy, spicy, creamy - working collectively and in balance to support what is ultimately a perfect shrimp wonton.  The idea was born out of my desire to eat a bowl of shrimp wontons where the shrimp-ness is celebrated in more ways than one, and to reminisce the time when I was little when I would always try to gather the dark orange oil from my mother's pan-fried shrimps and spoon it over my rice while sucking on the shrimp heads till my brain hurt.   No other person in the family did that.  And this is my way of doubling-down on their loss. As previous recipe preview, I will include the entire intro and instructions exactly as it will appear in the book.  Reading back, this one in particular was undoubtedly written on a day of great angst and bitterness (insert lol emoji).  Thing is, the way I approached writing a recipe

Spicy mussel and burnt mushroom toast w/ broth

overcooking mussels is not a victimless crime.  do not engage. [ezcol_1half] Amongst all the abundant obstacles in between humanity and happiness, I am perhaps most snuggly and intimate with one in particular.  Jealousy.  I am jealous a lot, both in frequency and of subjects.  If you had just crossed my path in a white linen dress resting around a decently shaped neck, chances are, in the privacy of my somber awareness, I hated the shit out of you.  I don't want to.  But it doesn't matter what I want.  I am betrothed to my involuntary raid on all signs of missing things. What does this have to do with mussels or mushrooms, or toasts for that matter?  Well, for it stands as a mascot for a particular specimen of humankind - one of many others of course - who consistently requests for my envy in every encounters: Self-enjoying party hosts. [/ezcol_1half] [ezcol_1half_end][/ezcol_1half_end] [ezcol_1third][/ezcol_1third] [ezcol_1third][/ezcol_1third] [ezcol_1third_end][/ezcol_1third_end] [ezcol_1half] Who are they and which planet do they come from?  And are we going to see a lot more of them after the storming of Area 51?  Because let's face it, in what is inarguably a highly stressful and - don't deny it - hostile environment where any number of guests has

Japanese fried chicken (karaage) w/ salmon caviar (ikura)

[ezcol_1half] "  Ikura's intensity lies in its sticky and viscous brininess that liquifies and oozes around the tongue after each pops.  When you think about it, a sauce, almost.  " We came home from a long weekend in Kyoto and, if I may, I want to talk about me and karaage for a bit. For those who aren't familiar, karaage, aka Japanese fried chicken, is and should be regarded as a league of its own, standing far apart from the classic American fried chickens or the recently popularized Korea-style fried chickens.  It is none of those.  Karaage is boneless, cut into medium to large-size chunks, without sauce, and almost always, as gods intended, uses dark meats only.  Flavor-wise, due to its mildly sweetened brine, its juice runs almost nectar-like, secreting from its firm and bouncy muscles following the crunch of karaage's trademark white-speckled crusts.  Served simply with lemon wedges and Japanese-style mayonnaise called Kewpie — also a distinction from American/European mayonnaise but that's another story — such formula has become an establishment in the Japanese diet, celebrated everywhere from restaurants, department stores, convenience stores and even train stations.  Clearly as popular opinions suggest, there's nothing wrong with it for sure. I used to adore

POTATO LATKE WAFFLE FRIES

THE PERFECT HOMEMADE FRENCH FRIES ARE, ACTUALLY, NOT FRENCH FRIES.  NOT ANYMORE. [ezcol_1half] As a "foodie", for a lack of better words, I hereby acknowledge and accept all ramifications of these following confessions: Despite the inexcusable amount of opportunity and close proximity in the past couple decades, I have never, until last Wednesday, had a Shake Shack burger. That is correct.  Never wanted one.  Never needed one.  I suppose as a food-blogger who's supposed to know these things, that oozes the same level of non-credibility as a cityscape Instagrammer who hasn't been hit by a car  — judgements ensue.  But what can I say, because to me, burgers are like children.  Despite the high hopes and dreams every time you wanted one, let's be honest, most of them turn out to be a disappointing investment with negative returns.  So as a general rule of thumb, I avoid both equally at all costs.  Having said that, I have to admit that my first Shackburger experience — an honest portrayal of a classic cheese burger yet of high caliber — was undeniably satisfying.  But blah blah, who cares, because today's subject has absolutely nothing to do with burgers. Instead, it has more to do with Shake Shack's equally

OLIVE OIL FROM SPAIN – HALIBUT SOUS VIDE IN HERBY EXTRA VIRGIN OLIVE OIL FROM SPAIN

[ezcol_1half] FIERCELY GREEN, GRASSY EXTRA VIRGIN PICUAL OLIVE OIL WITH ALMOST A BITE TO THE TIP OF THE TONGUE, THAT IS EXTRACTED AFTER IT'S BLENDED WITH GREEN CHILI, LIME ZEST, MAKRUT LIM ELEAES, LEMONGRASS AND GINGER, GATHERED AT THE BOTTOM OF A PORCELAIN BOWL LIKE AN EMERAL LAKE OF FLAVORS AND WELL INTENTIONS. Sponsored. There’s a Chinese saying that goes, “Wisdom resembles stupidity.”  If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought it came from Spain. Spain is, of course, well known as a pioneer for the consistently complicated, decidedly not-stupid molecular cuisines that went on to sweep the rest of the world.  But, in my short yet nonetheless life-changing trip to Madrid a few years ago, that wasn’t what I had taken away from it.  What had really stricken me, left a mark, drilled a hole in my perhaps unsophisticated heart, were the traditional, sometimes almost dumbfounded and simplistic everyday-foods from Spain that surprised me.  A few slices of jamón and nothing else in between a crusty baguette.  An omelet cooked with sliced potatoes.  A tomato rubbed against toasted bread.  Fried peppers.  Things that, on the surface, aren’t even trying.  But if you’re not careful, they might just be enough reasons for you

Singapore hawker marathon: Hokkien prawn mee (prawn bisque stir-fried noodle)

[ezcol_1fifth]  [/ezcol_1fifth] [ezcol_3fifth] IT IS "UGLICIOUS" WHAT:  This will be the last span in Singapore hawker marathon.  Another aesthetically underachieving, possibly unappetizing-looking dish called Hokkien prawn mee (basically noodles stir-fried with prawn bisque) that became one of the few Michelin-blessed hawker dishes in Singapore. WHY:  At first glance, let's be honest, it looks like shit.  Clearly, this is a dish that gives little to zero fuck about what anybody thinks about it.  But how on earth does a spatter of yellow and unenthusiastic gloop land effortlessly on the Michelin Guide, kind of made me curious.  And if you also care to find out, you'd be blown away just as well by the powerful and intent talent and flavors that traffic underneath all that unbothered facade.  As the highest compliment for both ends of the comparison, it's the Ed Sheeran of noodles. HOW:  Forget about making it pretty.  It's not about being pretty.  It shouldn't be pretty.  What this dish should be about, at all cost, is the nuclear fusion between two of the most powerful elements in gastronomy:  lard, and prawn fats.  Every bite of this lightly saucy strands of noodles is a perfectly engineered explosion of porkyness from rendered lard with crispy cracklings,

Singapore hawker marathon: Coconut rice part two, lemongrass fried chicken and fragrant salmon cake

[ezcol_1fifth]  [/ezcol_1fifth] [ezcol_3fifth] THE CRUST IS THE HERBS, THE HERBS ARE THE CRUST, ONE AND INSEPARABLE, CRUNCHING TOWARDS A COMMON, GLORIOUS PURPOSE WHAT:  The overkill toppings for my nasi lemak, none other than the jacked up lemongrass fried chickens, and a salmon shrimp mousse fused with herb pastes and grilled inside aromatic leaves. WHY:  Nasi lemak wants toppings. HOW:  I was once floored by a fried chicken I came across in Kuala Lumpur during the Ramadan, and it took me several years and at least six attempts to get it as close to what I remembered as possible.  Instead of heavy flour-based breadings, these chickens are suited in a delicate, crispy, nest-like formation of blazing lemongrass, ginger and spices.  The crust is the herbs, and the herbs are the crust, one and inseparable, crunching towards a common, glorious purpose.  And that is to be the best damn fried chicken you'll ever taste.  A few of my past mistakes that you should take note from, is that the chicken needs to be marinated inside the herb-puree for at least six hours in order to reach its true calling.  Then instead of a breading, a minimal amount of potato starch or cornstarch is added at the end

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