Hi, everyone.
Seeing how Friendster Blogs has been on the fritz of late, I’ve moved Sybaritic Diversions to a new home on Bloxster.
The new address is http://www.bloxster.net/sybdive.
Hope to see you all there!
Taking a break from food right now on account of a number of things that are keeping me from my kitchen. (Darned! I’ll say it again: darned!) But, then again, music is also a sybaritic diversion.
My iTunes player is stuffed to the gills with practically everything from pop-classical to urban rock to anime soundtracks. Of late, my tunes of choice have been from the iconic anime series Cowboy Bebop: the bluesy, folksy rhythms of Japanese composer femme Yoko Kanno, the Seatbelts, and a host of other singers who can do everything from banjo-busting country-and-western to tres Francais chansons. The music suits the wacky-noir tale of a raggle-tag band of space bounty hunters rather well. Definitely not anime music for kids.
Personal faves now are the blues-flavored Ask DNA (album cover shown above left) and the playful Cats on Mars. With these, I think I can hang on till I can get back to cooking. ^_^
Till then, see y’all later, space cowboys.
**SybDive’s What the Effin’ Heck?!? Alert of the Week** These, watashi no tomodachitachi, are black vinegar candies (su no kuro-ame) from the Japanese confectionary firm Meisan. Whilst I have no qualms against sour candies (sour gummies are, as a matter of fact, a real delight), I draw the line at anything that will smack my tongue with the sharpness of balsamic vinegar. Balsamic vinegar on salads (and just about everything else) = good. Balsamic vinegar in a jawbreaker = gods on high, what were you thinking?!?
Now, for those of you who found yesterday’s post interesting, let me share one of the earliest recipes I found for okonomiyaki on the web:
Okonomiyaki (Osaka-style)
1 8 x 7-inch sheet nori
Sauce:
1/4 cup catsup
1 1/2 tbsp Worcestershire Sauce
1/4 tsp Dijon mustard
2 tbsp sake/red wine
1 tsp tamari soy sauce
Okonomiyaki:
2 eggs
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 cup water
2 tbsp sake/vodka/white wine
2 cups shredded cabbage (1 1/2 inch strips)
4 spring onions, cut in half lengthwise and into 1 inch strips
1/4 cup cooking oil
1/2 cup your choice of filling (crabsticks, shrimp, lean pork, bacon, octopus, various fish, strips of steak, mushrooms, etc.)
Toast the nori by waving it over a flame until it stiffens slightly, but be careful - it burns easily. Crumble into little pieces and set aside.
Combine all the sauce ingredients in a small saucepan and simmer for 30 seconds, stirring constantly. Remove from the heat and cool to room temperature.
Beat the eggs in a large bowl. Add the flour and water and continue beating until you have a batter the consistency of pancake batter. Add the sake. Fold in the cabbage, and scallions. Be sure to mix the batter and vegetables together evenly. Each okonomiyaki will use 1/4 of this mixture.
Heat 1 tablespoon of the oil in a standard 10-inch skillet. Spoon 1/4 of the batter onto the hot skillet (like a pancake) making sure the vegetables are evenly distributed. Then sprinkle 1/2 of the shrimp, crabmeat, or seitan on top. Cook each side on medium heat for 2 minutes, until lightly browned. Reduce the heat to low and cook, covered for another 5 minutes, occasionally turning and gently pressing the okonomiyaki with a spatula. prepare three more okonomiyaki as above. Keep the finished pancakes warm in a low oven while making the rest, or use two skillets and make two okonomiyaki at a time.
Fans of Takahashi Rumiko’s Ranma 1/2 series will probably find the word okonomiyaki familiar as it’s the specialty of spatula-bearing femme fatale Kuonji Ukyou.
Okonomiyaki is one of those somewhat obscure delights of Japanese cuisine. A specialty from the Kansai Region, this omelette-like dish from Osaka is often referred to as "Japanese pizza" because of its shape and the fact that you can practically have everything on it. Students, in particular, scarf it down like mad as it is relatively inexpensive.
Along with takoyaki (octopus dumplings cooked in a special griddle) and dorayaki (known among Philippine urbanites as Japanese cakes, griddle cakes stuffed with an or peanut butter or even custard), it’s a lovely example of yakimono that can be used as a good way to indoctrinate a love for Japanese food into the squeamish. I also recommend it for weaning the unadventurous from the usual sukiyaki-sushi-tempura-tonkatsu offerings of generic oriental joints.
Unfortunately for us here in the Philippines, relatively few Japanese restaurants actually serve okonomiyaki. While dorayaki (again: Japanese cake) and takoyaki stalls are a common fixture in supermarkets, tiangges, food courts, and bus terminals, I’ve only seen one mall stall (on the third floor of the Makati Cinema Square, to be exact) that served up honest-to-goodness okonomiyaki. As for restaurants, I’ve only encountered two: Fukuya and JiPan.
The okonomiyaki at JiPan is more of the traditional Osaka-type: a dense omelette - more of a frittata, actually - stuffed to the gills with pork, squid, shrimp, and cabbage and topped with Kewpie mayonnaise (the delightful stuff that adds flavor to your California maki) and katsuoboshi (dried bonito shavings). Lovely and filling, really.
But, in my opinion, the ultimate okonomiyaki experience may be had at Fukuya where you can choose to have your omelette done either Osaka-style or Hiroshima-style. My personal preference is for the Hiroshima; it is the bomb (tasteless pun intended). What sets it apart from the Osaka is the fact that it has noodles (sometimes soba, but it’s udon most of the time) thrown in with everything else. Fukuya’s offering has shredded cabbage, noodles, shrimp, squid, and pork sandwiched between two virtually paper-thin egg-and-flour crepes. As seen in the picture above left, the whole shebang is spread with Otafuku’s signature okonomiyaki sauce, drizzled with Kewpie mayo, and sprinkled with aonori (pulverized nori). Spice it up with some togarashi (Japanese red pepper mix) and you’re good to go.
Fukuya @ Festival Supermall - 3rd Level - Festival Supermall, Alabang, Muntinlupa
JiPan @Glorietta - 2nd Level - Glorietta IV, Ayala Center, Makati
Chocolate is one of the few things that a person can actually bring along straight on into maturity. Indeed, a person’s love of chocolate grows along with him/her over the passage of time. It makes the transition from a love of everything sweet to a hankering for chunky additions like crisped rice and nuts to a craving for more intense, deeper, darker flavor experiences.
I’d like to think of this concept as going through a sequence that can be phrased as: Choc-Nut => Butterfinger => Hershey bars => Cadbury bars => Godiva => Valrhona. Of course, some people grow up without ever losing their love of Choc-Nut. Some will eventually grow up with specific favorites.
Cases in point: my sister and I are mad for darker chocolates, the ones that are more bitter than sweet. Mom will go for anything with nuts and Dad has a pronounced fondness for raisins in his confections. Nicquee, one of my younger colleagues, has a hankering for white chocolate every once so often. Jenny, the JICA officemate who used to raid my candy jar, sticks to sweet milk chocs; we even had another collegue who was a real monster but turned into a regular lamb when offered Hershey’s Kisses. Takafumi can pretty much subsist on KitKat bars alone, but hand him a stick of bittersweet chocolate (specifically: Valrhona Caraibe) and you can see the faint blush in his cheeks and sheer bliss in his sleepy eyes. And there are people - like my brother and my friends Cristina, Nix, and Peaches - who will demand chocolate in virtually any edible form.
There are some chocolates, however, that are more appreciated by adults than by children. Chocolate liqueurs, for instance. Valrhona Guanaja - 70% cocoa solids - and Baci di Perugina (so rich, it has to be evil) fall into the same category.
Then, there are the utterly superb chocolate-covered dried fruits purveyed by Dilettante, a family-owned corporation run by the descendants of the confectioners commissioned by the czars of Imperial Russia. Definitely rich, definitely sublime, and definitely not for children. You’re not supposed to suck the chocolate off the morsels of their amazing Fruit Medley (shown above left) ; you’re supposed to bite into each succulent dragee. You don’t scarf them by the scad - you savor them bite by bite, morsel by delectable morsel. Apricots, blueberries, cherries, and strawberries in dark chocolate and dipped into color-coordinated white couverture are all there to be savored slowly, lingeringly.
Now, if only I could find a store that sells these chocolate baubles here in the Philippines, then I should be in a state of sheer bliss…
After feeling seriously run-down at work yesterday, I decided to go on a little java-jaunt to the Coldstone on the eleventh floor. I had a hankering for some fruity-tasting coffee and this just so happens to be the Coldstone’s specialty as mentioned in a previous post.
Unfortunately, they were all out of stuff for their Very Strawberry coffee shake and I wasn’t exactly in the mood for another dose of Cherries Jubilee. (‘Maryosep…!)
So I opted to go for their Ana Banana Malt. Think of it as a liquefied banana split in a glass topped with whipped cream, chocolate syrup, and a chocolate wafer stick. It wasn’t quite what I wanted for the day, but it sure kept me from going bananas over my work. ^_-
Oh my gawd: is this really Post # 50 for Sybaritic Diversions? Whoa…!
One of my favorite food blogs is Cheat Eat run by ST of Singapore. (She writes magnificently, her food shots always look fabulous, and her Japanese Spitz LL is the most adorable doggie I’ve seen in ages - and I’m not even a dog person!) It’s a fun read and offers an amazing variety of recipes, particularly for Southeast Asian cuisine.
One particular treat that caught my eye was ST’s recipe for Thai-style Braised Pork Belly. If you go look at her post on the subject, the first thing that will grab you is the scrumptious looking snapshot she took of the finished dish: chunks of nicely-cooked pork gilded, absolutely dripping with golden-brown sauce. Very mouthwatering, indeed.
The first time I tried her recipe, I forgot to tell my mother to turn off the stove and went off to Mass, completely oblivious to the fact that I left the pot simmering on full throttle. When I got home about an hour later, the dish ended up caramelized as all the sauce had dried up. Nevertheless, it tasted magnificent. I do not, however, recommend it for people who are trying to limit their carb intake as it’s a dish that demands to be eaten with rice! (You don’t want any? Good: more for us, then!)
The second time I tried the dish, I tweaked it a bit. (Well, personalized it, I think, is the operative word here. I hope and pray that ST doesn’t mind…) My mother can’t stand cilantro be it leaf or root and my dad wanted a bit of sauce to dribble over his rice. I also substituted spare ribs for the pork belly - not as fatty, but every bit as delicious - and half a tablespoon of black peppercorns as opposed to the tablespoon of white peppercorns in the original recipe. Plus, I was a bit more vigilant over the pot this time. ^_^
What I ended up with was a dish that was a sweet-and-savory hybrid between classic Filipino adobo and the sweetish humba which is usually made with pork knuckles. My brother said it was a tad strong, but everyone else couldn’t get enough of it. True enough, when I checked the fridge for leftovers the next morning, there wasn’t a bite left.
Thai-style Pork Rib Adobo
Grind the peppercorns and garlic into a paste in a mortar; set aside. Heat oil in a heavy pan and brown the meat; remove from pan and set aside. Stir-fry the garlic-pepper paste until fragrant. Add patis, soy sauce, sugar, and 1/4 cup of the water. Turn up the heat and bring to a boil. Add the pork, stirring to coat the chunks. Add the remaining 2-3/4 cups water and bring to a boil. Turn down the heat and partially cover the pan. Simmer for 1-1/2 hour, stirring occasionally.
Another day, a few more problems, a couple headaches, and I managed to pass through my luncheon hour without ingesting the smallest morsel of food into my system. Shoot…
As a result, I found myself dashing out the door the minute my weekly teleconference wrapped up. Trust me: I was ravenous and in need of some serious sustenance. Fortunately, the NYFD Diner was open and I decided to tuck into something nice and satisfying.
The acronym "NYFD" doesn’t stand for the New York Fire Department in this particular instance. Rather, it stands for New York Fries and Dips, the stock in trade of its sister-kiosks scattered throughout the city’s malls and shopping centers. While its fries are definitely wonderful, it’s NYFD’s all-day breakfasts that really hit the spot.
I had the ham steak and eggs pictured above left and it was amazing! The ham was a perfect mix of sweet, salty, and smoky; it went so well with the parsley rice, buttered veggies, and two sunny-sides-up. Tired as I was and rattled, it calmed me down in a major way.
NYFD Diner @ Eastwood: 3rd Floor - Eastwood Cybermall, Eastwood City, Libis, Quezon City
I felt the need for something Japanese for lunch today but turned up my nose at Tokyo Tokyo where, alas, the quality of the food has gone down considerably. I was also too lazy to haul my flabby backside over to Teriyaki Boy; besides, I had a business plan to edit. (Excuses, excuses…)
It really is a pity that Yoshi Q on the third floor of the Eastwood Cybermall closed down about a couple months ago; their yakitori was exceptional and their set meals offered real value for money. Ah, well…
Well, seeing that real Japanese tabemono wasn’t going to be on my menu, I decided to try something different, something that had a major fusion twist: Zuppa Cafe’s Cool Ninja.
The Cool Ninja is made with rice flavored with soy sauce and bits of onion topped with shredded crabsticks and nori. The whole thing is lightly topped with a wasabi-mayo dressing. To be perfectly frank here, it’s a schizophrenic rice bowl (donburi in Nihongo) in the sense that it doesn’t quite know whether it’s kamameshi (mixed rice) or a kani temaki (sushi cone with crabsticks) that met an accident with a bottle of soy sauce. Nevertheless, it sure hit the spot where it mattered the most.
Zuppa Cafe @ Eastwood: 3rd Floor - Eastwood Cybermall, Eastwood City, Libis, Quezon City. Open 24 hours a day from Monday to Friday. (Rice bowls priced from Php 80.00 to PhP 100.00. The Cool Ninja goes for PhP 90.00.)
When I was a college kid at the Philippine Women’s University, people knew almost at once that I was no ordinary kid for a number of reasons: I hung out alone, did a lot more reading than the average kid, spoke English with a decidedly Western twang, won almost every contest they threw me into (obviously, modesty isn’t my strongest point), and my softdrink of choice was neither Coke nor Pepsi. Yes, they really threw that last one into consideration because people’s eyebrows rose whenever I came out of the cafeteria carrying a can of ginger ale.
Seriously: there was this one little stall in the University food court that sold canned Canadian ginger ale between 1993 and 1997. (Alas, I forgot the brand. It has been eight years since I graduated, after all.) At PhP 18.00 a can, it was three bucks more expensive than other, more common canned sodas. I loved the stuff for its sweet spiciness that tingled through my throat as I sucked it down.
When I graduated, I felt more than a little deprived as ginger ale wasn’t exactly something you could buy from the corner mini-mart. But I made a lucky discovery recently as I was browsing through the shelves at Healthy Options: Hansen’s Diet Ginger Ale. It was everything I’d craved for over the past several years: sweet, spicy, and sublime. Sure it’s a bit pricier than other softdrinks, but the lift it gives me is absolutely priceless.
***Shopping Notes*** Hansen’s Diet Ginger Ale costs PhP 44.00 a pop at all Healthy Options stores.
