My Kaleidoscope Bubble: 2012

Tuesday, July 3, 2012

It's a wrap

Cooking Fact #1: Anything vaguely bland and un-tasty cooked with fatty pieces of salty pork or bacon will (most likely) always yield a succulent dish.

The southerners have proven that with collard greens.

Let’s face it, collard greens aren’t tasty little buggers. On the contrary, they are daunting, ginormous looking, stiff greens that could pass off as a hippie’s organic fan. But after a mouth-watering inducing description of how one southerner (an ex-work colleague) liked eating them – slow cooked with bacon until soft and topped with tangy chopped onions - I was willing to give this mammoth leaf a second look.

But when you have a vegan in the house, bacon in cooking - especially in a shared vegetable dish- is considered un-kosher. I tried to slow cook chopped up seasoned collard greens but without the bacon, the flavors were a big ‘meh’ and the texture more suited for gummy smiles. There really wasn’t anything praise-worthy about a bowlful of dull mush.

When the truly inspired came up with an idea of using collard greens as wraps -- like an earthy version of the Greek’s Dolmades-- it was time to re-think these beefy leaves. This was an idea worth exploring even if it was time consuming but I have at least one minion who loves helping me in the kitchen. And together, we nudged and folded rice into lacey green rolls. The end result yielded plump and moist bites so tasty that it was hard to imagine it was all possible even without the comforting bacon drippings. The collard greens were distinct but it didn’t overpower the flavors of my chopped onions, grated carrots, dill, sundried tomatoes and rice mix. Combined, the texture was buttery smooth and suprisingly sublime.

Cooking Fact #2– “Fatty bacon, you may now step aside.”

Friday, April 6, 2012

Dorayaki

There was a time when I would hand draw birthday cards and even make crafty (read: hideous) things from whatever I could lay my hands on for selected few. They weren't always very good and only my loving parents would keep these weird art pieces as if they were treasures. For the longest time I was made to believe that anything that came from the heart (and pulled from the recycled pile) -- no matter how misshapen -- was worth more than store bought perfection.

I still believe that.... some what.

But having access to money has, ironically, made me lazy. I work hard at work to bring in the dough but when it comes to relationships, I rely on online shopping and love the way it can zap all that hassle with a double click. The truth is also that in reality, there are things I can't make.

So, when my friend "C's" birthday came up -- and without having to sell meth or my children to afford the retirement lake house that she'd been dreaming of -- I decided I would make some Dorayaki (red bean paste pancakes) that she liked so much whilst working in Japan.

I realized that I do have a knack for cooking even if my crafty hands have retired and my drawing days behind me.

Most of my creative energy takes place in the kitchen these days. And if I can't find Dorayaki anywhere in this town, then, this token birthday gift was going to be different -- in a good way-- I figured.

It started off as a self-less act but at the end, I'd made enough pancakes and red bean paste to go around for my kids and myself. My kids were thrilled as they sat at the breakfast table peeling the plastic wrap off their pancake and reminiscing the last time they had a Dorayaki. They couldn't believe that I'd managed to recreate their childhood snack, neither could I.

In the end, this home made gift intended for one delighted more. Who knew?

Makes 8 pancakes
Ingredients for red bean paste: (or use canned red bean paste)
1 cup uncooked red beans
Sugar to taste

Method:
1. Place uncooked red beans in slow cooker and fill with 2 cups water.
2. Cook on the low setting.
3. When beans are soft, rid of excess water, mash coarsely. Do not over mash if you like the bean paste to have some texture.
4. Add sugar to taste at the very last.

If the mixture is still too watery, cook the bean mixture over the stove until more water has evaporated.
If the mixture is too dry and crumbly, add a little water (tbsp-ful)at a time to the bean mixture.

*Alternatively, use store bought red bean paste. I find them a little too sweet. In any case, I had a ready supply of uncooked red beans and a very reliable slow cooker.

Ingredients for pancake batter: (from 'Just One Cookbook')
4 eggs
140g (2/3 cup) sugar
2 Tbsp. honey
160g (1 cup) all-purpose flour
1 tsp. baking powder
1-2 Tbsp. water

1. Whisk eggs and sugar together until frothy.
2. Whisk in honey.
3. Whisk in flour and baking powder.
4. Leave mixture in the fridge for 15 minutes to rest.
5. Just before you are ready to make the pancakes, whisk in 1/2 tbsp-ful of water at a time.
The pancake batter should be thicker than usual pancake batter.
6. On low-to-medium heat, ladle out batter on to greased griddle. Be warn that the pancakes tend to brown very quickly. You need to keep a careful watch on the pancakes cooking.
7. Flip and cook underside.
8. Place the cooked pancakes aside with a moist towel over them until all pancakes are made.
9. Spread pancakes with the red bean filling. Sandwich between two pancakes.

If the pancakes will not be eaten straight away, wrap them in plastic when they've cooled so that they don't dry out.

Sunday, March 4, 2012

Italian Olive and Oregano Bread aka Pane alle Olive ed Origano

I did take a break from bread baking.

Juicy black olives, oregano and parsley.

Life got too overwhelming meeting 3 deadlines at work; and then having to juggle daily chores and pretending to be mom to 5 4 kids. Nervous energy got the better of me one Sunday and instead of taking a breather to sit-and-read, my restless self figured that baking could be equally relaxing.

Add bread flour, chopped up olives, oregano, parsley and fried onions.

So, I dug out my Italian Cookbook bible which was essentially my very first cookbook that coaxed me out of my comfort shell to try beyond baking chicken wings and boiling 3-minute noodles. In the days before the magnificent 'Google' and recipe blogs, I depended on this thigh-bruising heavy weight of a cookbook. It had step-by-step pictures which were very handy for an idiot of a newbie cook such as myself. And it seemed as if every recipe that I re-created was always warmly received by the hubs. Sure, he could have been wisely encouraging and had the self-preservation to know better than to be critical. After all, I could also do very evil things to food and there was always the option of performing an Aussie-style union strike. He would understand that.

Dough after 2nd rising, ready for the oven.

I must have been tired of baby steps and only having baked biscuits and a no-fail banana bread, I decided that I was ready to cartwheel past pizza dough and dinner rolls to try my hand at creating an equally lovely fattened Olive bread. The recipe didn't look too daunting; the pictures were like sea sirens taunting me to take the plunge. Mesmerized, I dived right in and in a much smaller kitchen and a less superior oven back then; I worked my way through the recipe with zero intuition for what dough should feel/look like. Despite the blind efforts, the result wasn't a disaster.

Out from the oven and resting.

These days, I can't claim to be a newbie at bread making. Dough, once treated with hesitation, no longer scares me; I laugh in its pasty face as I fearlessly knead it into shape and keep a close watch on its rising.

Serve with olive oil and balsamic vinegar.

It wasn't a disaster the 2nd time around either even if it has been 10 years since my first attempt. That night, my picky eaters enjoyed the freshly baked olive bread slices with homemade spicy sausage, potato and kale soup.

The hums and satisfying slurps were all the assurance I needed.

From The Italian Cooking Encyclopedia

This makes an excellent accompaniment to salads and soups and is particularly good served warm with a chunk of cheese.

Ingredients:

1/ 1/4 cups warm water

1 tsp active dried yeast

pinch of sugar

1 tbsp olive oil

1 onion, chopped

4 cups strong flour

1 tsp salt

1/4 tsp freshly pitted black olives, coarsely chopped

1 tbsp black olive paste

1 tbsp chopped fresh oregano

1 tbsp chopped fresh parsley

1. Put half of the warm water in a measuring cup. Sprinkle the yeast on top. Add the sugar , mix well and allow to stand for 10 minutes.

2. Heat the olive oil in a frying pan and fry the onion over medium heat until golden brown.

3. Sift the flour into a mixing bowl with the salt and pepper. Make a well in the center. Add the yeast mixture, the fried onion, the olives, olive paste, herbs and the remaining water. Gradually incorporate the flour and mix to a soft dough, adding a little extra water if necessary.

4. Turn out the dough onto a floured work surface and knead for 5 minutes until smooth and elastic. Place in a mixing bowl, cover with a damp dish towel and leave in a warm place to rise for about 2 hours until doubled in bulk. Lightly grease a baking sheet.

5. Turn out the dough onto a floured surface and knead again for a few minutes. Shape into an 8 inch. round and place on the prepared baking sheet. Using a sharp knife, make criss-cross cuts over the top. Cover and leave in a warm place for 30 minutes until well risen. Preheat the oven to 425 deg. F.

6. Dust the loaf with a little flour. Bake for 10 minutes, then lower the oven temperature to 400 deg F. Bake for 20 minutes more or until the loaf sounds hollow when it is tapped underneath. Transfer to a wire rack and allow to cool slightly before slicing and serving.

Sunday, February 5, 2012

Love Cripples

Every superhero is flawed. Kryptonite renders Superman weak; Batman is mostly useless without his zipped up Bat mobile and scary Hulk is wimpy if he isn't in full rage.

I'm not a superhero but I think motherhood qualifies fairly close to a super human being on some level. I've performed some amazing feats like existing on little sleep for months and yet not going about in a zombie-like state during the day; I've juggled crying babies and testy toddlers and hit the repeat button for 10 years (and counting); I've sniffed out a lying kid faster than a dog can a bone; I've darted steely stares in public like invisible lasers that make my kids freeze in their tracks.

Yes, I'm pretty darn tough. Mothering has made me that way. I've outgrown giggly school girl and gritted through my fear of worms when my then 4-year old shoved a handful of her "pet" crawlies in my face.

But like in every superhero plot, it was only a matter of time when I would find the grip that crippled my strength.

Mornings are hard for me. The kids are slow to wake, and when they do, they move at snail speed. I'm perpetually barking orders at them to hurry, and counting down the minutes before the school bus arrives. I hate the mornings; they turn my gray hairs white. Aidan, by far, is perhaps one of my most disorganized kids with Sean following a close second. Perhaps it is a boy thing but this 6-year old constantly needs a fire lit behind his butt to get things done. That fateful morning, it was mostly the same story exacerbated by a string of misdemeanors and I was on a war path. I nagged at him for a series of poor decisions and sent myself on the fast track to grumpy mode. I thought, "why me?! what did I do to deserve this torment? Was I this much of a handful for my parents too?"

The morning drama was nearing to a close as Aidan headed for the door. He looked set to head out but instead, lumbered back into the house where I was a spit away from yelling at him to go back outside, worried that the bus would leave without him. But he stopped my angry tongue with a bear hug and these crushing words, "I love you, Mommy".

My superhero strength splintered like cheap glass. I returned his unconditional love with a big wimpy hug, fighting back the mixture of guilt, love and shame called tears. What did I do to deserve this little boy?

I had found my kryptonite.

Aidan and his friend Ava drew an alien. This could easily be me every morning.

Sunday, January 1, 2012

Snap shots from 2011

I'm certain that many on the eve of the New Year watched fireworks, lit fireworks, played with fire or simply stayed up to countdown to 2012 in various stages of revelry.

I did no such thing.

I did, however, watch with great delight, my 4-year old's version of the chicken dance. And that was the best cheer I'd received all day! I want to say for the whole year too but that would just make me sound seriously pathetic. Only a parent can vouch that nothing is funnier than the unadulterated spin the 4-year old put on the old chicken dance. She wore her pink winter gloves on her feet and proceeded to shake her little bottom and flap her folded arms in chicken style. I tell you, it was amusing and not to say the very least, cute-to-the-core!

As opposed to my 4-year old, who remained light-footed on slippery glove-socks, my New Year's Eve started on the wrong foot. I had a bee in my bonnet to clean, de-clutter and simplify. The kids' bathroom sink looked like a vigorous campaign for Crest toothpaste-meets-paint-job, and sticky, minty mouthwash streaked the counter tops along with strands of hair and mangled dental floss in creepy clumps lay on the tiled floor. Don't even get me started on the toys, books and numerous small headless parts that were scattered throughout each living space.

My New Year's Eve was in shambles and there was no way I was going to ring in the New Year faced with domestic eye-sore. Someone had to die to torture my eyes like such.

I yelled, stewed and hoped-as-hell that I'd channeled several demons in my 5ft 1 frame that would terrify my kids into cleaning up and/or at least pussy foot around me that morning while the dark cloud shrouded my thoughts.

Thankfully, the mood lifted after the house was restored to some form of Zen-like calm. Then, I had time to think about the approaching year and caught myself going into a slight panic attack about upcoming deadlines the day I return to work.

Must....not....think... about...deadlines...

I thought about achievements of 2011 and then cackled to myself and decided to ground myself in reality. My achievements might include modest efforts like being able take a breath and count to 10 (not 5) before yelling at my kids to clean up, or efficiently darting my "killer-Mom-eyes" look in public and have them not touch everything on the shelves or maintaining composure when my 10-year old goes on an argumentative banter. I might pat myself on the back for such small achievements but my kids, on the other hand, are constantly reaching and achieving new goals. I'm constantly in awe of them and bath in their exuberance, confidence and love.

2011 knows that I've achieved a big fat zilch but I think my glass is still pretty darn full enough to see me through another year of unknowns and adventures.

Happy New Year everyone! I leave you snapshots of 2011.