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.