My colleague, K., has what sounds like an expansive, tantalizing array of vegetables growing in her garden. So, when she offered to offload some of her bounty of homegrown cucumbers, I was not one to refuse.
During these hot spells that we've been enjoying in Oxford, these cukes have been the perfect refreshing component to many dishes. The other day I came upon a particularly good pairing--'Singapore Noodles' and pickled cucumbers. The 'Singapore Noodles' are entre guillemets because this dish was more of a quick, easy exercise in clearing out the remains of the crisper and making a dent in my profusion of condiments than an attempt to follow a recipe. This is a veggie interpretation, but the traditional preparation uses roasted pork and vermicelli noodles.
For the pickled cucumbers:
1 small cucumber, peeled (seeded or unseeded, up to you) and thinly sliced 1 tsp. chili paste (sambal oelek or the like) 1/4 tsp salt 1/4 tsp sugar 3 Tbs. rice wine vinegar
Combine all of the above in a shallow bowl, cover and chill for at least one hour.
My 'Singapore Noodles': SAUCE 1/2-inch cube of fresh ginger, peeled and finely chopped 1 large clove of garlic, roughly chopped 1 Tbs. chili paste (to taste) 1 Tbs. low sodium soy sauce 3 Tbs. fish sauce (nam pla) 1 Tbs. rice wine vinegar 1 tsp. palm sugar (caster will work, too)
EVERYTHING ELSE 7 oz. (half of one bag) rice noodles (vermicelli or Banh Pho) 1 Tbs. vegetable or peanut oil 2 Tbs. toasted sesame oil 1 egg 2 spring onions, thinly sliced 1 red or yellow, or orange bell pepper, thinly sliced Coriander, chopped roasted peanuts (optional) lime wedges
Success with these kinds of stir-fry noodle dishes depends on having all of your components washed, chopped and ready to go. It's fast cooking in a hot wok, after all, and it only takes a moment of neglect to burn. Prepare the sauce in a bowl in advance as well.
Once all of your veg is prepared, place the rice noodles in a bowl and cover with boiling water. Let the noodles steep until soft and pliable (1-2 mins.), drain, and then toss with 1 Tbs. toasted sesame oil. Heat over a high flame remaining sesame oil and vegetable oil in a wok or other shallow pan that can handle high heat. Add the spring onion (reserving 1 Tbs. for garnish) and pepper, moving constantly. After 30 seconds, crack the egg (careful of stray shells, etc.) straight in and stir-fry, breaking up the yolk. When fried, add the sauce and toss in noodles and peanuts. Stir-fry a few seconds more, ensuring that everything is coated in sauce. Serve warm in shallow bowls, topped with coriander, reserved spring onions and lime wedges.
The noodles will be tangy, sweet, salty, and as spicy as you like, and the cucumbers are the perfect pairing--light, clean and picked, with just a hint of chili.
May the gods of flat letting be praised: I have a place to live. With the end of my cushy student housing contract looming, these past days have been rather hair-raising.
The exciting thing is that the new pad is not far from one of Oxford's Asian markets, and there, tucked away in a dusty corner of racks of plastic wash bins, woks, and wire baskets it called to me:
a Thai granite mortar and pestle, not unlike this one.
Try to imagine, as hard as it may be, life without a food processor. Difficult, I know. Yet now, dear reader, you realise how joyous a day it was when my hand mixer came into my life. And now, to add to the pantheon of gadgets, a mortar and pestle!
This new acquisition and subsequent christening meant one thing: curry.
I trotted over to the market and picked up lemongrass, baby Thai aubergines (if you haven't tried these yet, do!), shallots, chilis, nam pla (fish sauce), sambal oelec (chili paste), fresh turmeric (you'll never go back to powdered), galangal, and peanuts.
I had diligently watched Rick Stein travel his way through Asia on his 'Rick Stein's Far Eastern Odyssey', and I was hungry. The pastes used as the bases for the dishes explored and explained in Cambodia, Vietnam, Thailand, Malaysia, Bali, Bangladesh, and Sri Lanka had such striking colours, interesting textures, and left me yearning for the mingling aromas of lemongrass, fresh turmeric, and chilis.
The only disappointment I feel obliged to express here is a certain Eurocentrism that coloured his commentary. Perhaps Oxford's post-colonial contingent of the English Faculty was as small then as it is now, but I really did expect a more enlightened, less complacent tone from the OBE. Whether the writer(s) was Stein himself or a group of BBC producers, either way, Stein's reluctance to walk along a Phuket beach because--he states more than once--it would be too cliche does not jive with observations of rural Bangladesh like, 'It looked to me like scenes from ancient Egypt along the flood planes along the Nile', and 'thanks to a massive population, everything is done by hand'.
Somehow, I have to believe that the back-breaking labour of brick makers and rice paddy workers has far less to do with mere population numbers and much more to do with global trade and the exploitation of a product and a people (particularly the rural populations) by Western consumers who aren't willing to pay the true price of their imported goods.
Another line pulled me up short: 'I feel slightly proud of being British because we introduced tea to Assam. And here it is, it came from China in the first place'. This sense of (misplaced?) pride and awe is a constant throughout the series, with Stein focusing far less on the realities currently facing the people of these countries than on romantic asides that smack of nostalgia for the days of Conrad. While it certainly must have been exciting times in Assam in 1838 when that first dispatch of 160 Kg of tea was sent to be sold at London's India House, not one word was mentioned of the tea crisis in India of the past decade. The British did not 'introduce tea to Assam', but certain multinational corporations who shall remain nameless have succeeded in fostering a growing preference for soft drinks, which, along with the global financial crisis, continues to threaten the tea industry in India, Kenya, and Sri Lanka.
I truly do enjoy listening to Stein talk about food. It's clear that his awe and affinity for Asia comes from a place of respect and good intentions; I just wish the travelogue commentary could have stuck to food, or, better yet, acknowledged the hardships faced by those in the food production industry of these countries.
OK, now that that is off my chest, back to this recipe. I freely admit that this concoction is in no way an 'authentic' version of any one national dish. It is, rather, what I found to be a combination of flavours that are largely Thai, but one that certainly does not strictly adhere to what a Thai curry should entail.
Annie's 'Thai' Curry: (yields approximately 4 portions)
4 garlic cloves
7 shallots (substitution: 2 small red onions)
2 1-cm cubes fresh turmeric
1 stalk lemongrass
1 1-cm cube galangal
2 handfuls of plain (not roasted) peanuts
3 red Thai chilis (bird's eye), 3 green Thai chilis (to taste)
4-5 Tbs. sambal oelek (to taste)
1 tsp. lime zest
Juice of 2-3 limes (to taste--I like lots of chili and lots of lime)
4 Tbs. nam pla
1 Tbs. ground corriander
1 Tbs. ground cumin
1 Tbs. garam masala
Fresh corriander
Salt
4 chicken breasts
4 baby Thai aubergines
4 tomatoes (with or without skin)
2 Tbs. palm sugar
1 can coconut milk
Jasmine rice
1. Toast the peanuts in a skillet, and get to chopping!
2. Chop as finely as possible and add to the mortar: shallots, garlic (use a garlic press), lime zest, tumeric, galangal, and chilis.
3. Cut the root tip off of the lemongrass and pummel the length of the shoot with a rolling pin to soften the inner flesh and chop finely. Add to the mortar and, using the pestle, work into a paste. One small handful at a time, add the toasted peanuts, alternating with lime juice, and sambal oelec. Then add the dry spices to taste.
5. Cut the chicken breasts into small, bite-sized pieces, salt and pepper, and brown in the same pan, adding a small amount of oil, as needed. While the chicken browns, add about 10 shakes of nam pla. Remove browned chicken and set aside.
6. Add enough oil to barely cover the bottom of the pan, bring to medium-high heat, and add the paste from the mortar. Stir-fry the paste for about two minutes, then add the chicken, aubergines, tomatoes, and a few shakes more of nam pla. Let cook, stirring often for about 4 minutes. Then, add a palmful of palm sugar and as much coconut milk as you'd like (I used about 3/4 can to make a lot of creamy sauce). Lower the heat to medium-low and let the curry simmer for at least 20 minutes. For a rich curry, add the entire can of coconut milk and let the curry reduce further.
Serve with jasmine rice, fresh coriander, and chopped peanuts.
1 Tbs. chili paste (to taste)
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