u m a m i

The Good Life in Provence

We woke up in Orange to find beautiful sky and sunshine smiling on this part of southern Rhone. Instead of going to our winemaker appointment directly we looked for lavender fields in Sault, stopping at a farm to buy organic fruits and juices before finally arriving at their local market to buy lavender soaps and gorgeously dark and perfectly ripe cherries. There was even a truck selling raw milk on tap. Sun, warmth, lavender, cherries, dairy, could life get more beautiful in this part of France? Why yes, it could....

The drive to Château de Beaucastel took longer than we thought, actually we got hopelessly lost, and had to call the château to ask for directions, but we finally arrived, with just enough time for a quick tour of the vineyards and the facilities before being shown to their dining room.

We, as in we and our wine-connected friends Tony and Florence, had also been invited for lunch with Pierre Perrin. He is the fifth generation bearing this illustrious name yet in person he is modest, very approachable, and certainly very generous.

The menu for our "light" lunch (yep, including a 1970 vintage, sure we were squealing with excitement behind our polite facades!). Their personal chef, whom we also had the pleasure to meet and talk to, creates menus to pair the local and seasonal specialties with their own wines for optimum enjoyment. We were in for a real treat.

Before we started, there was a round of Aigo Bouido, a typical Provencal garlic soup.The name literally means boiled water, and it is made up of lots of chopped garlic, toast, olive oil and hot water. I think it is the secret why people in these parts are seldom ill, can one imagine anything more healthful and nutritious? It was very comforting and not too strong-tasting despite the copious amounts of garlic. V really enjoyed this soup and finished most of her bowl, including the tender garlic bits.

Saint Pierre fish with girolles and fresh rosemary was very delicate, the delicious girolles in camomile-scented almond milk provided a stunning contrast.

The roasted rack of baby lamb was deliriously good, the meat so tender hardly any chewing was required and the flavour was incredible, you can taste the warm and grassy spring with each bite. Even V wanted my share.

The wines were all, needless to say, totally amazing- complex and beautifully structured with longlasting finish, everything you'll expect in a great wine. 

Dessert was just three little heavenly bites of choux puffs piped with cream and sandwiched with strawberry slices, finished with that very elegant dessert wine of Beaumes de Venice. The conversation flowed as easily as the impressive wines, we talked about everything and nothing, but soon it was time to say goodbye. We thanked our host profusely and floated out of the château on a happy cloud, tipsy with good food, wine and the beautiful life in these parts.

Our tropical Christmas

I was feeling melancholic yesterday, remembering all the past Christmasses with friends and family. I thought of last year's indulgent lunch with C and my cousins. Yesterday, Fourth sister C called me from Heathrow airport while waiting to board the plane that will take her home to KL where the household would be frantically helping third sister to fulfil her holiday orders and also put together something celebratory for the children and extended family. I looked through my blog archives and remember all the friends left behind, the so many delicious meals shared with them and above all, the companionship, the part after the meal when we kick back and talk and laugh, and not worry about cleaning up.

I remembered my very first Christmas. Growing up in a non-Christian household meant we had no memories of Christmas, the trend for turkeys, decorated trees etc only took off in the last 20 years. Anyway, my first time, it was in December of 1985, ten days away from Christmas and I was 16 years old. I arrived in High Barnet, London with my maternal step-grandmother to join my cousins and her children who were studying there. Everything was so new, the air so cold and crispy, waking up from an afternoon nap to find total darkness outside, pushing a loaded trolley with much difficulty around the Sainsbury carpark, going to the elderly couple's house down the road for "drinks" and feeling awkward and stiff. It snowed that winter, but not on Christmas day itself. The first two days we played in the snow, I remember my male cousins stripping down to their shorts in the snow in a big display of bravado, also the makeshift sleds we fashioned to slide down the little slope behind the house. I remember walking to Barnet high street to buy malt bread from the bakery that doesn't exist anymore- it was small, dense, black and sticky, we sliced it thickly and ate it with cold butter. I was introduced to thick country style loaves, lemon curd and marmalade, and on the breakfast table we had every kind of cereal advertised on television. Speaking of the telly, it showed movies non-stop; even until my last year in England I never tired of the repeated oldies and black and white movies shown on Channel 4.

When the snow melted I slipped and fell on the muddy wet street often, and when we walked to the tube station my short legs could never be able to keep up with my taller cousins and uncles. My uncle took us shopping, I bought a Benetton sweater, later I would wash it and hang it to dry, which made the sweater stretched to twice as long! We made mince pies one day, and on another day my grandmother cooked spiced chicken and potatoes as stuffing for curry puffs, with so many hands around it was done quickly and efficiently. No matter how many racks of pork ribs (or roast chicken, lamb chops or any meat really) we cooked it was never enough, we girls learnt to eat fast in order to keep apace with the boys. On Christmas day itself my grandmother invited another set of extended cousins (they lived next door) over for dinner, I remember there was a lot of food, of course, the highlight was a roast goose, or maybe there were two. We pulled crackers, set the pudding alight, exchanged presents and watched more telly.

Fast forward to 23 years later. I am back again in foreign land, this time with our small family. For V, this would also be the first Christmas that she would probably remember. I tried to tell her about baby Jesus but she was more distracted by the carols they teach in school, and by the glittering decorations along the streets. She was excited when we put up the tree, and even more excited when she woke up to find that presents had appeared at the bottom of the tree while she slept. For days she kept asking to open the presents.

To reconcile with our homesickness, I decided to cook laksa. The Asian groceries here do not stock Prima Taste laksa mix. I pick them up when I am in London or ask friends to bring them over from Singapore. To make it more tasty I cooked the toppings (chicken breast meat, langoustines, baby corn, brocolli) in the water before adding some lemon grass and the contents of the laksa mix sachets- usually I use half the coconut mix and double the spice paste. For noodles I did the Malaysian thing and used thin beehoon, they are perfect for soaking up the rich, spicy gravy. 

The langoustines were very good-looking but not as tasty as fresh shrimps. Unfortunately I woke up too late on Christmas eve so by the time I got to the market they had run out of uncooked shrimps or prawns, save for the giant prawns which I can never bring myself to fork money over for, being over 60 euros per kilo. Still, when cooked for the briefest moment, 2-3 minutes for big ones like these, the flesh do not get too mushy and the shells make the soup very tasty. Husband enjoyed the laksa very much, declaring it better than foie gras.

Last night I had a sudden hankering for sago gula melaka. I remember my young uncle, younger than me by 2 years, who loved sago gula melaka. One year, he made sago gula melaka for Christmas, the big Pyrex bowl of the wobbly sago sitting next to his older sister's English trifle, that was the year we had roast turkey and I made fried wontons, I would have been about 20 years old then. We've lost touch with this uncle, he should still be living in England, CL, if you are reading this we all miss you very much.

I love sago too but I refrained from buying some because I wanted to use the glutinous rice sitting in the pantry. The Thai grown rice was beautifully perfumed. It was also a doddle to cook, just soak overnight and steam dry for 30 minutes. I added some coconut cream to the rice and cooked it for a further 5 minutes but next time I would stir the santan into the rice instead.

After our coconutty lunch that reminded us happily of home, we sat down to help V open her presents. She didn't eat laksa- we fed her beehoon with the topping and clear soup- and she didn't like the glutinous rice dessert either, but she had her fill of black cherries and super-sweet satsumas and later, the presents made her so happy she forgot to ask for dinner. It was a very good day for her and for that we are very thankful for.

Can you guess how many seeds were in this fruit?

            

Chan-che asked as she cut up the cempedak which had been sitting in a corner of the kitchen for three days. Its ripening aroma was driving me nuts but the timing must be right if we want to eat it at its ripest and most succulent point. Finally my mother said it was ready to eat and Chan Che cut it up with an oiled knife. One look inside and she said, I doubt there's more than 10 seeds inside. My mother took over next, scooping up each piece of creamy pulped seed into a bowl.

            

There were only 6 seeds, pathetic indeed. Mother urged me to eat all of them, after two seconds of hesitation I plunged right in, thanking her appreciatively. The flesh was sweet and creamy, the distinct pungent aroma left me wanting more. Mum peeled the bits of flesh around the inside of the husk, these were equally delicious.

            

Our trip home was kicking good. It would be an understatement to say that we were spoiled rotten by our families and friends. From the moment we landed till the time we took the taxi to Changi airport we and our tummies were well taken care of. In Singapore we stayed with the Lims, well known for their unstinting generosity and kindness. When we arrived at their house at 7 a.m. we found our breakfast waiting for us: home-cooked nasi lemak. On other mornings we enjoyed the likes of beef hor-fun, roti prata and mee goreng. Their cook even made dinner for V every night. This and so many other personal hospitality touches prove them the most perfect hosts, we were very fortunate indeed.

          

Back home in KL, my mum was not in a cooking mood. She was short of one helper in the kitchen so she decided that we would eat out more often. Anyway, she is not the type to cook fancy breakfasts, a pot of congee or the occasional fried beehoon would be the most she would stretch to in the mornings. Breakfasts is more likely to consist of takeaway chee cheong fun from the Bangsar market or whatever is available in the kitchen. This time round, what was available were papayas, plucked from her tree in half-ripened stage and wrapped in newspaper to continue ripening safely away from the birds that visit her vegetable and fruit garden.

            

There were about 4 or 5 pieces in various stages of ripening. Every morning I unwrapped them to pick the ripest specimen, and that would be breakfast shared between me and V. I love the papaya from my mother's garden, she grows them as organically as she can and the fruit is very sweet without that faint sickly smell associated with Malaysian papayas. 

            

For husband, he was very happy to come home one day to a bowl of pig stomach soup. Mother had especially ordered four pieces of stomachs from the butcher. The thoroughly cleaned stomachs were packed with fresh whole peppers before boiling. Surprisingly clear tasting and yet meaty, and delicious too. Husband had two big bowls.

Not pictured but this time round we hit jackpot with our durian eating. We arrived in full season. In Singapore we enjoyed a late supper of designer "Cat Mountain" durians but these pale to the special kampung durians from Malacca that our maternal grandmother gave to our mother. These were so delicious we ate and ate until our stomachs threatened to burst- the seeds were tiny, the flesh creamy and melting, all tantalising with their mutlifaceted sweet-bitterness and amazing bouquet. Lousy durians are a waste of calories but good durians is the secret to world peace. Once they figured out how to transport it without setting off sniffer dogs and the smell police.

            

Less odoriferous perhaps and more transportable are twisties and murukku which I loaded up one check-in baggage of to remind me of home. The chickpea murukku was bought at an Indian grocery stall at the Machap rest-stop along the North South highway, they were very good being judiciously spiced and freshly made. It also puzzles me a little that the Twisties packet states that it should be sold only in Malaysia. I hope they don't take my stash before I have a chance to finish them!

            

ASEAN Family Day, France 2008

            

(have a feeling the spring rolls were from the Thai contingent..)

Every year the diplomatic agencies of the ASEAN countries get together for a Family Day. This year the event was held at a leisure centre 40 km outside Paris. We were thrilled to be invited and my goodness what a yummy day out. The sun was shining, the kids received loads of goodies and I ate an embarassing amount of deliciousness.

Please scroll through the pictobrowser for more pictures, and click on the "notes" link for the commentaries. It is me in the pink batik tunic tearing into a banana rice cake, marking the first time that a picture of myself appears on this blog. I must have been rendered gaga by the THREE pieces of banana samosas, see top image, 12 o'clock- sliced bananas cooked in syrup, wrapped and fried up as samosas and glazed with sticky caramel, doesn't that sound crazy delicious?

Daulat Tuanku, from Paris

             

Do you know that, every year, the Malaysian King's birthday is celebrated on the first Saturday of June? Always. The sultans of all the 13 states take turn to be king, and during their kingship the country celebrates their birthday. On their real birthday of course, they can do whatever they like, but come first Saturday in June, they will be lots of cake-cutting and greetings of "Daulat Tuanku" to wish them long life. Even as far away as France.

We went to the celebrations held in a sports complex on the outskirts of Paris. After the speeches everyone went to take a good look at the cake. Strawberries, chocolate swirls, sugar cookies and a lone macaron.

             

Makan time. These are pancakes rolled and stuffed with curried chicken. Sedap.

             

Still, all everyone wanted was to eat satays. The tantalising smell was the first thing we noticed on the way to the venue, and it was worth the 40 minute drive out. Spicy sweet but not hot so that the kids can enjoy them as well. Before they got busy with the games. Our V didn't do too badly either, she won second prize in the colouring competition and also a bonus prize for jumping like a crazed monkey when the band played. All in, a very good day out.             

Reunion dinner CNY 2008

I went to the market and discovered the florists are better stocked, their pussywillows and cherry blossoms were gorgeous, and back home the cherry blossoms have been blooming prettily and filling the hall with a delicious aroma. We have a lot of flowers this time round, in addition to some ranunculas and a rambutan-like flower arrangement I set on the reception table, the cousins gave us a lovely arrangement of orchids, très exotic for this part of the world. Please click on the pictobrowser thing to admire!

I forgot to buy fresh salmon for the yee-sang, so had to hijack the fresh scallops (meant for the hotpot) instead. Still there were plenty of stuff for the hotpot: scallop roe, entrecote boeuf, pork, farm chicken (equivalent of kampung quality), cod, tofu, quail's eggs, vegetables and an interlude of pork guotie dumplings in honour of cousin''s girlfriend who is Shanghainese. The hotpot was a great success if I may say so. We kept to a very basic stock which is made by simmering an entire yellow farm chicken in water for a few hours, no more, no less. It makes a homely, clear soup base which can only be enhanced by all the other ingredients. After dinner we crashed out by watching KungFu on DVD.

Today, we went for a simple Korean lunch of spicy rice cakes, bossam and more dumplings. I had a conversation class and after that, husband and Vera came to meet me and we all went to have tea at the Four Seasons George V, the little one enjoyed a strawberry tart while we munched daintily on beautiful finger sandwiches. Back home the central heating is not working again, fortunately GG made a pot of scallop and chicken congee which provided the much needed warmth, it was also so delicious that we cleaned out the whole pot.

Tomorrow morning, bright and early, we go to London. To see my sister C and onwards to Newcastle, specifically Beamish, to celebrate my friend Sui Mai's wedding. Boots, M&S, Whole Foods, honest-to-goodness real Chinese and Indian food, pub grub, WHSmiths, here we come!

Christmas, we ate, and ate, and ate some more!

My friends, I am sad to say that I am now fatter than ever. Because I consumed too much good food over Christmas. 

Originally I planned a real simple meal. Like chicken curry and noodles. Then I saw Wai Fun make confit de canard at home and it looked quite easy so we bought two ducks and threw in a few legs for good measure. We would fry that up, shred it and roll it in pancakes like the best of Chinese restaurants in London. I had already procured a can of foie gras at the market but remembered that we had invited husband's colleague, and reasoned that the small jar could not feed us, C and my two cousins. So I bought another jar, a bigger one. Passing by the patisseries I was seduced by the buche de noels (French for log cakes) and bought two because I couldn't decide on just one. And then I was thinking how V loves ham and all sorts of processed meats and rationalised myself to a Bellota Bellota outlet to buy 200g of pata negra, the seductive ham from the black-footed pigs of Iberico.

Christmas eve, I decided the table needs some decoration so we took out the el cheapo paper napkins we bought on promotion at Tang Freres and looked up ways to fold napkins. We now know how to make 'birds of paradise', and it may not be crisp Frette squares but the end result looked festive enough.

The lunch started with pata negra and Charles Heidsick 1996 vintage, then we moved on to foie gras with toast and a Domaine Cauhape 2003 Jurançon and then crispy duck pancakes accompanied by a Lagrezette 1996 Cahor. The lunch proper was pork ribs braised with wine lees that my friend J kindly sent over from Singapore by way of her visiting friend- the jar was not able to come to us because of the November strikes and the poor girl fell down the stairs so in the end we had to drive over to her campus to take said jar home. J, if you are reading this, thanks very much!! Coloured a vivid scarlet and not as sweet as Andrew's version, the lees married just as well with pork ribs and the dish went great with some vegetables and rice.

By then, everyone was near comatose with so we took time out to watch Shaolin Soccer on DVD. Me, I played Scrabulous on Facebook, there were surprisingly many people online on that festive day too. After tackling the cheeses and the three log cakes- cousins had brought along a beautiful showstopper from Ladurée- we dragged ourselves out to watch the lights along Avenue Montaigne and Champs Elysée and again bumped into hordes of people who had the same idea.

Thus marks our first Christmas in Parisland. Cheers!

Christmas, it was two days ago

The three weeks away flashed by all too quickly. Meeting up with our dear families and friends, revelling in the laughter and easy familiarity and just enjoying their company. Thanks to all our friends who treated us to many wonderful meals, it will stoke us well for the months ahead. V too, benefited from being at home, Wai Fun really feed the children well, their menus can range from spaghetti bolognaise to chirashi sushi and even polenta with truffles and flaked fish, little wonder then that she is now a lot heavier now.

We're back in Paris now, and so are Mimi and Rufus. The past week had been frantic with quite a bit of travelling, then at home there was a lot of dusting and laundry-washing on top of the rush to stock the pantry in time for Christmas. Fourth sister C also came over and spent a few days with us. Christmas lunch was a small affair but plentiful in food and wine for which we are thankful, pictures will be up as soon as I've digested them...

In the meantime, have a good holiday and a Happy New Year 2008!

Hari Raya in Paris

                   

One of the first, and best thing I did was to sign up as a member of the Malaysian Association in France (MAF). The association is very active in organising gatherings for fellow Malaysians and their families e.g. a CNY lunch, charity bazaars, games and Merdeka Day celebrations.

For an important festival like Hari Raya they invited members to the Hari Raya Open House celebrations at the Malaysian Ambassador's residence. In true spirit of Malaysian hospitality people can just turn up, shake the Ambassador's hand, wish one another "Selamat Hari Raya"and after waiting a respectable interval, queue up for free food. Yes, free food in Paris, unbelievable but completely true.

Husband and I were excited, we were hoping that there would be satay. Turned out that satay was not on the menu, but something even better was available, i.e. Beef Rendang. With Lemang. Also Char Beehoon, Ayam Masak Merah, Ketupat and Achar. The falafel wasn't in the menu, we brought a batch to share. There were also some simple cakes and among the beverages, freshly brewed teh tarik.

The queue for the food moved slowly but it was worth the long wait for a taste of home, well actually I nearly shrieked out in joy after taking the first bite of the rendang. Like, move over 7-hour mijotes de boeuf, hello melting beef pieces coated in glorious spicy coconut cream reduction. My tastebuds, I swear, were hi-fiving with the sauce, so exuberant was their reacquaintance. It wasn't the best rendang I've ever tasted but for sure it was the most happy-making version.

To my friends and readers, I would like to wish you all a Selamat Hari Raya too!

La Nuit Bleu

We were walking home from the tiny sushi restaurant, replete with our best-ever, for Paris standards anyway, omakase dinner. We gave the chef free reign and were rewarded with the likes of marinated eel liver, plump oysters, crunchy-sweet chewy fins of yet another fish that we knew not its English name and finally, a series of sushi items that ranged from spot-on classical otoro to innovative yuzu salt flecked whimsies before screeching to a halt with a rather scary battera of unknown fish with gelatinous skin. Well there was also a roll of chopped maguro but by that time my stomach had run out of space.

Eiffel Tower twinkled benignly as we passed the Trocadero, I recounted to husband the events that happened while he was away in Brest earlier in the week. Suddenly, the normally quiet streets erupted in a cacophony of loud cheers and honkings from cars. A fleet of dark blue gendarmerie vans careened through the traffic with their insistent sirens. "On a gagné! people shouted from the balcony.

Husband and I frowned. Could it be? Non, ce nést pas possible! Oh, but stranger things have happened. And indeed the unexpected had come to pass. The French rugby team, the very one that lost its first round match on the first night of this World Cup, clawed their way back to enter the quarter finals; tonight, they defeated team titan, the New Zealand's All-Blacks. Pretty incredible really.

It is La Nuit Blanche tonight, when many places stay open and music play till morning comes and there's no need to sleep. Well, with this major win, Paris is definitely partying all night long and painting the town blue with its team colours!