Kaya made easy

Bottled homemade kaya jam for the special friend. 

My Dad used to proudly tell us the time he’d overheard my sister, then a primary school kid, yelling across the fence to our neighbour that her father was “the best cooker in the world”. He used to say it with such a glow in his voice, and half-chuckled because although grammatically incorrect, he knew what she’d meant and he cherished the compliment for it was never uttered again as her tastes got fussier and/or more discerning.

Ingredients for kaya jam

This isn’t to say that my Dad’s cooking was tragic, he did cook a few memorable dishes like the homemade ‘char kway teow’ which he never made again because his healthy sensibilities changed his whole perception of what we should be eating. Our foods took on a strict minimalist approach – steamed or lightly poached and without seasoning.

I think we were reared to be Buddhist monks without the saffron attire, shaven heads nor prayerful disposition

Any thing is possible with eggs and sugar

The other day, my 5-year old said those exact words between mouthfuls of freshly made kaya on crackers. Like my Dad, I chuckled under my breath and explained to him the difference between "a cook” and “a cooker” and pointed to the slow cooker that was quietly perched on my counter-top.

Stir it up.

I then realized that those words used weren’t entirely wrong. He’d said it whilst enjoying homemade kaya and that kaya was made in the slow cooker. I didn’t make it per se. In the traditional sense of making kaya, I would have had to slave over the stove, stirred the egg custard under watchful eyes, and curbed any bodily calls for rest or potty breaks. That was my previous method of cooking kaya.

Forget that! These days, I make the lazy ass version of kaya – my slow cooker does it for me. It is true. My slow cooker is the ‘best cooker’!

Place lid on and come back in an hour to check.

I’ve only had my slow cooker for a year, driven by necessity when our kitchen was being remodeled and knowing that our small town had little good food to offer. I bought a moderately priced (about US$30/) slow cooker with only 3 functions – low, high and warm. Other versions had timers which might have been nice to have but I assumed that I would only use the slow cooker for the duration of our kitchen remodeling.

I was wrong.

Lumpy, and a little crusting but don't you worry your pretty head over this. A simple sieve will do magic. 

I’ve cooked many pots of warm glossy kaya; made many tender stews, curries and soups and more so now that I’ve returned to work. My slow cooker would wait bubbling and triumphant as I walk through the doors at 6.10pm smelling dinner in the air; I would immediately know that little tummies would be promptly fed and my night would already be less daunting.

I told you it will glisten sweetly! 

So, if you want kaya in the style of Singapore’s famous Chin Mee Chin in Katong but without having to put up with the grumpy geriatric stalwarts, who ladle kaya with Nazi zeal, do yourself a favour and make your own. It is so easy you’ll have to kick yourself for not trying.

Can't get any more Singaporean than kaya on a Khong Guan cracker.

And by request, here is the recipe for lazy ass kaya (a.k.a ‘slow cooker kaya’) in under 2 hours. Your life is about to be changed – forever.

Lazy ass Kaya recipe in 2 hours

- 400ml thick coconut cream

(I used ‘Goya’ brand of coconut cream)

- 150ml fresh coconut cream

(I used 150 ml of canned coconut cream since I don’t have access to fresh coconut cream)

- 10 eggs, lightly beaten

- 450g regular fine sugar
(adjust if you don’t want it too sweet.)

- 10 pandan leaves washed and tied into a knot
(and if you don't have access to fresh leaves, I use the frozen ones all the time. I might consider pandan paste which is just a bottle of chemicals if my Asian grocery ever runs out of pandan leaves)


Yields about 900g of kaya or about 2 ½ jam jars of kaya.

Method
1. Mix coconut cream, sugar and eggs in a bowl.


2. Turn slow cooker on High and pour mixture in. Stir until all sugar is dissolved.
* It is important that the sugar is dissolved or you’ll have a burnt or brown layer at the bottom of the slow cooker. Some crusting does take place around the edges but that is easily rectified after being processed. 


3. Occasionally stir and check mixture.
I checked it after the first hour and then one more time around the 1.5 hr mark.


4. When the custard thickens and becomes lumpy, turn heat off and take pandan leaves out.


5. Either with a sieve or hand processor, take out lumps.
I used my Bamix hand processor and whisked the lumps out until the jam glistened smooth.


6. Bottle jam or serve out on buttered toast. Be warned, it will not last.

Moments before the words "You are the best cooker" were uttered.

Bitten but not wounded

Autumn 2010: Sophia & Ritesh find fun in the mundane

I received a lovely letter the other day from a dear friend I’d known when I lived in Taiwan. I'd been thinking about her since and then it hit me that I’ve been forging fewer and fewer friendships over the last few years. There have been too many friends I've met and liked but then, fate would play a nasty trick and whisk them or me to faraway lands resulting in a premature ending to the friendship.

Summer 2010: Monique & Hannah play dress-up.

We would hug, promise emails, greeting cards, and the occasional call but in reality, our lives were far too busy to cope with friendships much less in far away places. We knew that from the second we broke our parting hug was when the friendship ties began withering.

Autumn 2008: Aidan with Tiger; best buddies in Japan.

2011 didn’t start off on a terrific note. A really good friend that I’d known from day 1 of my life in upstate NY was relocating to another state even if only a 5-hr drive away. Still, it meant the screeching halt to knowing she was only a phone call away, and a death to the many wonderful joint meals we’d shared with her and her family “R-S”. I’d always taken her for granted because she lived in the vicinity; she stayed while we uprooted twice to Taiwan and Japan, and every time we returned, it was as if we had never left. She was always there for me; the same open-hearted, out-spoken, vibrant personality that was refreshing particularly in “Pleasantville” upstate New York.

Summer 2009: Nevin & Sean, the odd sized pair in Kobe, Japan

I’m supposed to take heart if I heed a certain wise saying that “Tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all.” (Alfred Lord Tennyson, 1850)

Summer 2009: Saying goodbye to An Hong in Kobe Japan.

But after too many reluctant goodbyes to treasured friends, my heart is nearly as hardened as Miss Haversham’s and I’m convinced that Lord Tennyson hadn’t said as many goodbyes in his lifetime. Those poets probably took too many long meaningful walks in the English woods to ponder the frivolity of friendships.

Needless to say, I’ve become a little wary of new friendships. I should have a tattoo on my forehead that reads, “Don’t be my friend because I’d hate to lose you one day.”

Autumn 2010: Team Sean & Vasu

I’ve met a few interesting people since, particularly the one who stands out because her parenting methods are as unorthodox as they are amusing. I sniff a potential but I know the minute I claim her as a keeper, she’ll be relocated or we could be shipped to Timbuktu. Fate is just lurking in the shadows to pounce another doozy on me.

Summer 2010: Sophia & Winston having a play

Last night, we joined another family for a meal at our (only decent) grocery shop. Their 4 kids and ours watched “Shrek” on a projector screen leaving the adults to attempt the basic awkward steps of “getting-to-know-each-other” over cafeteria-styled meals. The kids hit off like a house on fire, mostly because 3 of them schooled with our 3 kids, and they seemed to have similar personalities. The couple was lovely even if a little reserved, but that was to be expected. A sneaking thought made me wonder if they would or could ever fill the void that the “R-S” family had left gaping.

Autumn 2008: Aisa & Monique trick-or-treating in Kobe, Japan

Then I caught myself; squashed that thought and simply enjoyed the moment we had with them.

I'm giving Lord Tennyson's words another chance.

Autumn 2010: Friends I'm missing.

A different cake

‘Gu Por’ was tiny; she peered behind the largest black round-framed glasses, and had a smile that glittered every time the gold in her teeth caught the light. She was my mother’s doting Aunt whom -- never mind that she spoke mostly Cantonese in a voice so hoarse and raspy you wondered if lozenges would ever bring relief to her parched throat -- Gu Por always had the tastiest Chinese New Year goodies at her home.

One year, seemingly out of the blue, she brought over a metal tray of Chinese radish cake – thick, gray and slathered with crispy fried shallots and shrimp, it looked unappetizing. The pallid gray didn’t trigger the onslaught drooling but the fragrance of the shallots eventually wrested my attention. With the cake, she’d also packed pungent homemade chilli paste to be eaten alongside.

The radish cake was possibly one of the best I’ve had – a fact.

Like all homemade dishes, Gu Por wasn’t stingy with the chopped mushrooms and chinese sausages nestled in the radish cake. I wasn’t eating a slab of starch with a side of chilli paste; this homemade goodness was packed full of delicious stuffing with every bite. Unfortunately, since we weren’t very close to her (even if my mother was very fond of her) I never got to savour her Chinese radish cake again

Gu Por now sits in a little urn behind marbled tiles but I decided to resurrect the taste of her Chinese radish cake in her memory after a harried week at work. So, I threw on the proverbial apron and attempted to channel the Cantonese cooks from my heritage. I had 2 fresh daikon radishes, chinese dried mushrooms, dried shrimps and preserved sausages ready. From the healthful eating perspective, I wasn’t too sure about using the dried shrimps or sausages but I was curious about replicating, to the best of my ability, Gu Por’s unforgettable radish cake. I figured that the mineral-rich shredded daikon would cancel out the unhealthy elements in the dish; I also believe in the tooth fairy and in world peace.

5 hours later, I was finally done steaming all 4 small trays of radish cake. The process would have been less laborious if I’d owned a decent steaming pot and could put in multiple large trays at one go. But the pains that go with good food make the appreciation more lasting -- that's idealistic me muttering.

Steamed radish cake

Truth be said, my kids weren’t impressed and matter-of-factly said that they preferred the fluffy white ones served out at Dim Sum houses. I might have been overly generous with my ingredients rendering the radish cake a tad stiffer than restaurant-grade versions but taste-wise, I thought it was pretty darn yummy. I pan-fried it, and layered it with chilli and hoisin sauce; I stir-fried it with loads of garlic and with scrambled eggs in thick black sauce like my favourite hawker food. It brought a taste of Singapore to frigid cold upstate New York. But next time, I’ll remember to go easy on the fillings. Somewhere, I’ll bet Gu Por is looking down at me and nodding in agreement.

I'll make time to perfect this.