EatingAsia

Second Time's the Charm?

Doubtful, considering the competition.

But that's really OK. We're tickled just to have been nominated, by Saveur magazine's editors -- and for the 2nd year in a row -- for a Best Culinary Travel blog award.

If you're so inclined, you can vote for us here. You'll have to register (ignore the fact that the United States is your only residence country of choice) first.

You have until May 12 to vote.

Congratulations to our fellow nominees: David Lebovitz, Rambling Spoon, My Kugelhopf, Souvlaki for the Soul, and Traveler's Lunchbox.

And to you, our readers --- a heartfelt thank you, as always, for reading (or even just looking at the photos!).

Dumpling Knots (麵疙瘩)

Dumpling knots (mian geda in Mandarin) are a staple in this house, a dish I've been cooking and adapting for almost a quarter of a century (!!).

This version of the dish is basically a Sichuanese pork and dumpling stew. As a recipe it's near perfect.There are few ingredients (Sichuan peppercorns and crushed dried red chili being the most "exotic"), it requires minimal prep time, and the result delivers big, satisfying flavors with a high comfort quotient.

I first encountered dumpling knots on a wiltingly humid afternoon in August 1984, shortly after I moved to Chengdu. On my second or third day in town a grad student friend from the history department took me to a shed with two rickety wooden tables and a big cauldron of soup set over a charcoal-fired brazier by the entrance. We were served large bowls of broth packed with bits of pork, lengths of pea vine and uneven knots of dough about half the size of my thumb. At the table we added spoonfuls of chili oil and sprinklings of ground Sichuan peppercorn. The pasta was rough-textured and chewy, manna to a noodle lover.

Though that meal made a big impression I never went back. I was in a fog in those early days, everything new and confusing and overwhelming. I had no idea where the shop was, and I didn't remember to ask. Each day in Chengdu brought scads of unfamiliar, delicious dishes, outrageously good meals. Dumpling knots receded to the back of my mind.

It was 18 months before I ate them again -- in Michigan -- when I prepared the dish from a recipe in a Sichuan cookbook my mother-in-law-to-be gave me. I fell right back in love with dumpling knots all over again. I've been making the dish, often, ever since.

In the intervening years I've adapted this recipe so much -- subsituting one ingredient for another, adding Sichuan peppercorns and dried chilies in at the beginning, increasing the amount of cabbage so that it resembles more a stew than a thick dumpling soup -- that it bears scant resemblance to its original form. But I have to give credit and high praise to Ellen Schrecker, the author of Mrs. Chiang's Szechwan Cookbook. Dumpling knots are not the only gem in that volume, which is worth seeking out for its home-style dishes that always remind me of those early years of simple eating and big flavors in Chengdu.

Dumpling Knots -- Mian Geda (Adapted from Mrs. Chiang's Szechwan Cookbook by Ellen Schrecker)

Makes about 4 servings (when it's just the two of us I halve the dumpling recipe)

Think of this dish as pork, cabbage, and dumpling stew with Sichuan flavors. The original recipe calls for much less cabbage, cloud ear mushrooms instead of oyster mushroom, and boneless pork. I like the way the additional extra cabbage thickens the soup and the oyster mushrooms and bone-in pork (I use short ribs) flavor the broth. You could certainly go with more meat, or less, or use a different mushroom (or add some slivers of dried shiitake) or skip the mushrooms altogether. What is essential is the chili oil and ground Sichuan peppercorns to add punch at the end -- and black vinegar, for those who like a bit of sourness.

The dumpling technique is super simple and will be at least somewhat familiar to anyone who's made spaetzle. Just be sure not to overwork the dough and to keep the dumplings small, certainly no bigger than the first third of your forefinger.

This stew-soup keeps well and the flavors really intensify with an overnight in the fridge.

2 Tbsp peanut oil or other cooking oil

Optional: about 5 dried red chilies, snipped in half  and 1 tsp of Sichuan peppercorns

8 scallions (white plus a couple inches green part), cut into 1-inch lengths

.3 kilos (about 9-10 ounces) pork ribs, preferably cut into short lengths (substitute boneless pork if you prefer)

2 Tbsp soy sauce

1 large head cabbage, shredded

2 handfuls of fresh oyster mushrooms, cleaned and torn into largish pieces (or left whole if small) -- leave the stems on if you like

For Dumplings:

2 cups all-purpose flour

1/4 tsp salt

3/4 cup water (approximately)

For serving:

4 scallions, white part only, thinly sliced

4 tsp sesame oil

To place on the table, for diners to add as they wish:

sandy chili oil (see "recipe" below), ground Sichuan peppercorns, black vinegar, and soy sauce

1. Heat a wok or large heavy Dutch oven, Le Creuset, etc over high heat. Add the oil and swirl it around the pan, then throw in the Sichuan peppercorns and dried chilies, if using. Stir-fry for 20 seconds or until the chilies start to color. Do not let them burn. Add the scallions and stir-fry another 30 seconds.
2. Add the pork ribs and stir-fry until the pink color disappears, then add the soy sauce and stir-fry for another minute.
3. Add the cabbage and mushrooms and stir-fry until the cabbage is wilted, 4-5 minutes. Add water to just barely cover the meat and vegetables and bring to a boil. Partially cover the pan, reduce the heat to a medium simmer, and cook until the meat is tender, about 45 minutes, stirring occasionally. (At this point you could turn the stew off and leave it for a couple hours, or refrigerate it overnight and reheat it, before adding the dumplings.)
4. In the meantime, prepare the dumpling dough: in a medium bowl mix the flour, salt, and water together with a fork until the dough is blended and as free of lumps as possible. The dough should be very sticky with a tiny touch of liquidity; it should barely move, slowly and sludgily, when the bowl is tipped.
5. When the meat is done add the dough to the simmering liquid, either by tipping the bowl and "grabbing" a bit of dough at the edge with two chopsticks or even a fork and dunking it in the bubbling liquid to dislodge it -- or by dipping up some dough with a spoon and using another spoon to dislodge it directly into the liquid. Be sure not to make the dumplings too big (though they needn't all be exactly the same size) -- no more than the first joint of your forefinger. Do not try to push the dumplings into the liquid right away --- let them float on top until you're finished with the batter, then replace the lid and let them cook for a minute or two. At that point, gently stir them under and into the stew. Let the dumplings cook for at least ten minutes.
6. In the meantime, divide the chopped scallions between four bowls and drizzle each with a teaspoon of sesame oil.
7. When the stew is ready ladle it into the bowls, on top of the scallions and oil. Serve and let diners add chili oil, ground Sichuan peppercorn, black vinegar, and soy sauce to taste.

Sichuan-style Sandy Chili Oil -- La Jiao

A Sichuan pantry essential, this chili sauce/oil takes many forms. This is the simplest. Make a heap -- it keeps forever (in Malaysia's humidity I keep mine in the fridge) and if you're a chili hound you may soon find yourself drizzling it on scrambled eggs and adding it to salad dressings. The heat of your chilies will determine the potency of the oil. 

1/2 cup ground dried chilies, preferably Sichuanese

1 cup peanut oil (preferred) or other chili oil

1. Place a small pan over low heat and add the oil. Slowly heat the oil. Meanwhile, have the dried chilies ready in a jar, measuring cup, or other heatproof container that will hold both them and the oil.
2. Watch for the surface of the oil to begin to shift -- not boil! Test its readiness my dropping in a flake or two of chili -- it should sizzle, move about, and give off a little red color. If it blackens the oil is too hot -- turn off the heat and let it cool down.
3. When the oil is ready pour it over the chilies. Stir with a chopstick to make sure all the chilies are exposed to the oil. Leave aside, uncovered, to cool completely. Then cover and store in a cool dark cupboard or in the fridge (if storing in the fridge let the oil come to room temperature before using).

Note: A commenter on the EatingAsia Facebook page says his family makes another version, also with pork, mushrooms and cabbage but in a tomato-based broth. Makes me wonder how many types of mian geda are out there. Does your family make it? Leave a comment!

"You Shouldn't Eat Poop...

Grilling skewered meats, vegetables, and bean curd in a Chengdu alley

But if you're going to eat it make sure it's cooked."

Sound advice from American food safety expert Douglas Powell, whom I interviewed for our latest contribution to Zester Daily, on staying safe while grazing Asia's streets.

I get a fair number of emails from folks seeking advice on to how avoid getting sick while eating, well, like we do. Honestly, advice based solely on our personal experience is of limited use to the average traveler. In this piece I tried to get beyond what we do to stay healthy (though there is some of that too) and bring in a little science.

We hope Dave's slide show will inspire you to hit the region's streets hungry. The article is here.

Since we're talking beautiful images of street food, this seems as good a time as any for the sort of gentle reminder we try to limit to just a few times a year:  We draw no advertising revenue from EatingAsia. But all of the images you see here or in our Zester Daily slide shows, or on Dave's brand-spanking-new professional website, or his photography blog or Photoshelter galleries, are available for purchase. Just hit the "Email me" link in the upper left hand corner (you can also purchase directly from the site on Photoshelter).

We also conduct private food outings and photography walks in Kuala Lumpur (for a limited time only), Penang, and Chiang Mai.

OK, enough of that. Now, hit the street and eat!

Gat Luang Diaries III: The Other Side of Songkran

Last week marked our first Songkran in Thailand.

When we lived in Bangkok almost 10 years ago we fled to Hanoi in the lead-up to the New Year, staying away until the Thai capital returned to its normally torpid, hot-season self. If not for our continuing work in Chiang Mai's Gat Luang neighborhood we would have passed Songkran 2011 as we've passed every other Songkran that we've lived in Asia: far, far away from Thailand.

It's true -- there is a not-so-pretty side to Songkran. To whit: A furor broke out when three Thai girls were videotaped dancing topless in Bangkok. On Chiang Mai's Tha Phae Road a farang standing next to me suffered damage to her eye when a high-powered water gun was aimed at her face. (According to traditional Songkran etiquette splashing is for below the neck.) An obviously inebriated bikini-clad farang hopped onto a float in last Friday's provincial procession to the Chiang Mai governor's house. (Note: Thais are generally non-confrontational and unfailingly polite. Just because Thais do not tell you that your behavior is offensive does not mean that they don't think it.) A nationwide death toll of 271 between April 11 and 17, (The silver lining: that's down 25% from 2010.)

But there's another side to the Thai New Year as well.

We began the first day of Songkran by joining the members of Gat Luang's Namdhari Sikh temple in a ceremony marking the Sikh New Year, which begins on the same day as the Thai New Year. After prayers, some sung to the accompaniment of a harmonium and drums, we ate a Sikh New Year breakfast of chickpea daal, paratha, raita studded with bits of wheat dough, and sugar-soaked jelebi hot from the wok -- all prepared in the temple's kitchen.

Then more food -- in another local kitchen we learned to make several northern Thai dishes from the recipes of a family with connections to Gat Luang that go back more than a century. (Recipes will be included in the book, but look for one here later.) One of the dishes was gaeng hang lay, a Burmese-influenced pork and ginger curry that's soured with tamarind. Because it's cooked for half a day, it is considered special occasion food -- especially appropriate to the New Year celebrations.

We then hurried to Tha Phae Road for the annual procession of Buddha images. The statues are brought out from wats around Chiang Mai, paraded through the streets, and washed by observers with splashes of water from silvery cups. The procession finishes in the Old City, at Wat Pra Singh, and then each Buddha is carried back to its home wat.

The third day of Songkran is devoted to dtam hua -- paying respects and making merit. Wat Saen Fang sits on the edge of Gat Luang, set back from Phae Road. The wat's prayer hall and other buildings are Burmese in style, and the old wooden house that now serves as the monk's quarters was built by a Burmese family whose wealth came from the Chiang Mai logging trade.

Around 7am worshippers began arriving to make merit, first in the prayer hall -- for themselves and their living relatives -- and then in the entrance to the monk's quarters (the wat's abbott is pictured above). Some brought baskets of packaged foods, while others brought out pots and bowls from their car trunks and prepared trays of home-cooked dishes. (The opening photograph is an example of the latter -- gaeng hang lay is at about 11 o'clock on the silver tray on the right). An offering is made for each departed ancestor, whose name is written on a piece of paper and handed to the monk so that he can utter it during his prayer over the offering.

Finally, wat members plant paper flags in a sand chedi next to the prayer hall, to wish for a long life. The sand chedi are constructed the previous day (the second day of Songkran). They were once made from sand carried by by community members from the Ping River, but these days trucks make the sand delivery. Why the sand? Throughout the year earth is carried out of the wat as community members come and go. This is a way of returning what one has taken from the wat.

Dtam hua of a different sort took place in the afternoon of Songkran's third day. Every year each municipality in Chiang Mai sends representatives to participate in a procession to the Chiang Mai governor's residence. Partipants carry a variety of most agricultural gifts -- nowadays, mostly symbolic items such as dried betelnuts strung together in the shape of giant lotuses, or large trays of earth planted with herbs and vegetables. The procession starts in the Old City at the Three Kings Monument and ends on the governor's front lawn, where participants may join a line to be blessed by the governor.

Dtam hua is a Songkran tradition repeated in homes, workplaces, schools; the young dtam hua to their elders, staff dtam hua to their employers, students do the same to their teachers. And it's a tradition that northern Thais hold dear. This year Chiang Mai's newish governor -- a descendent of King Rama IV appointed, as most of Thailand's governors are, rather than directly appointed -- caused a stink by announcing that in order to avoid troubling the people on their holiday he would cancel this year's dtam hua procession. Vociferous objections arose from all directions, and the dtam hua procession was held as usual.

If you were in Chiang Mai this year and didn't get past the goings-on at the moat you might not know that Songkran is a deeply spiritual time for many Thais. We're thankful for these peeks at the other side of the Thai New Year. We might even return in 2012.

Grilled Chicken and Laab, Together. Literally.

We love laab. We love gai yang (grilled chicken). So when our Chiang Mai food-obsessed friend Wilaiwan told us of a place serving a combo of these two dishes there was no doubt that we'd make our way there as soon as opportunity presented itself.

The lanes limbing south off the stretch of Thanon Suthep east of Nimmanhaemin Road were -- are still, really -- the "main streets" for little villages. Few have street signs. Don't worry -- ust tell your taxi, tuk-tuk, or songthaew driver to drop you off on Suthep Road at roongpayabaan suandook (roong-pah-yah-bahn soo-ahn dawk). Opposite the large patch of green is a gray concrete fence anchored by white painted posts. Enter the peaceful lane,

proceed to the stall sporting a yellow sign with not-very-attractive photographs of various dishes and fronted by a green-framed blackboard menu, and prepare to be amazed.

The kichen is humble (it usually is, in these kind of places), but beautifully lit by a skylight.

Magic happens there.

First, in the form of the dish that lured us beyond our adopted neighborhood of Gat Luang -- is an inspired creation of smoky grilled chicken, roughly minced and mixed with toasted rice, chopped green onions, roasted ground chilies, lime juice and fish sauce. An average Isaan-style laab, basically, but made with grilled bird. Which makes it about ten steps above average.

Perhaps even more intriguing is the restaurant's tom yam gai bak makham, a sour chicken soup floating sliced green onions and sawtooth coriander, grilled red chilies smashed with the side of a cleaver, lemongrass, bone-in chunks of tender chicken, and young tamarind leaves. Sawtooth coriander adds an agressive herbiness that counters the tom yam's ferocious chili heat. And each spoonful packs a double dose of tartness, a sip of limey soup followed by the sourness that leaks from the feathery tamarind leaves as they're chewed.

More reasons to love this place: yam khanaa, a sweet-sour "salad" featuring the stalks and leaves of phak khanaa (aka gailan, or "Chinese broccoli"). We could have gone with a bit less sweet and rather more hot, but the general concept -- one of our favorite vegetables served lightly blanched instead of stir-fried, as it usually is -- is one we can certainly get behind. Especially when it's embellished with sweet fresh shrimp, as this one is.

Thai eateries of this sort don't often offer khong waan (sweets), but both this spot -- and its neighbor, which serves housemade kanom jeen (more on that later) -- offer law chawn, short squat pandan-flavored noodles similar to Malaysia's cendol, but made with rice instead of mung bean flour.

It's a self-serve set-up: bowls of law chawn, taro chunks, and fresh daeng tai (a local cantaloupe) are arranged on a table in front of a vat of palm sugar-sweetened "broth" and a dish of coconut cream. Choose your "soup" ingredients, add broth and a drizzle of coconut cream, and top with ice.

Immensely refreshing, even in this abnormally cool hot season.

Tom yam gai bai makham (the tamarind leaves are a seasonal item but tom yam gai is always on the menu), laab gai yang, and more. Lane off of Thanon Suthep opposite roongpayabaan suan dook. Look for the yellow sign with photographs of dishes -- it will be on your right. Daytime -- opens around 930am, stays open till at least 6 or so.

Movin' On Up. North.

No shirt, no problem. Dave is looking forward to never wearing a shirt again once we're settled on Penang.

We've called Kuala Lumpur home for over 5 years and 8 months. That's the longest continuous stretch of time that Dave and I have lived anywhere, inside or outside of the USA. It's been a great run. But it's time to move on. Time for a change.

We're not going very far. Last weekend we signed a lease in Penang.

This isn't just about moving house. We've got a couple of fun projects in the works up north, one of which will birth a new blog in 6-8 weeks. EatingAsia will continue as it always has -- well, maybe (hopefully) with a makeover. We'll keep you apprised here, and there.

In the meantime we're off to Chiang Mai tomorrow to continue with our Gat Luang project. When we return there's work to do in Melaka and Kelantan, and on Taiwan. We have the frightening material results (detritus?) of almost 25 years of marriage to sift through. (PURGE is the operative word.) We have much too much packing and organizing to do. In addition to ourselves and Wan, we have 3 dogs and 3 cats to resettle.

Bottom line -- the next two months are going to be hell. But we know we're fortunate to be in a position to make this kind of decision. After nine major moves for grad school or work this one is just for us. We're doing it solely because we want to.

And if all goes to plan (fingers crossed), by June we we'll be in a very good place indeed.