u m a m i

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.

Surf & Turf alla Siciliana

On the third day we rose bright and early. V was coughing, husband and I were starting to have a sore throat so I made everyone eat some honey from the breakfast table. The buffet selection of dishes were good, but my favourite items were these sesame cookies (some would say maybe that's why I had a sore throat) which went down a treat with a cup or two of milky tea.

We checked out of the hotel and started our coast to coast drive to the south eastern city of Siracusa. But first we had to actually leave Palermo, a not too easy feat considering the terrible traffic compounded by the rain which had flooded some roads. After about 45 minutes we finally crossed the city borders and entered the expressway, leaving the clouds and rains of Palermo behind. Husband decided to take us to see some mosaics at the ancient city of Piazza Armerina. We found the place 2 hours later following some weird directions from the GPS system, and realized that the site was closed for excavation works during winter. Nevermind, we enjoyed the drive anyway, the area under Mt Etna is full of mountains and hills inland yet we can see the coastline on one side, beautiful.

Since we missed the mosaics I thought we should at least get a good meal out of this ancient hillside town. (All the towns that we would later visit would turn out to be ancient hillside towns, Sicily is like that, people live right next to ancient Roman theatres, grand cathedrals and more of such extravagant civic buildings). We saw pizza parlours, little canteens and takeaway shops. Pushing inwards, we decided randomly on Ristorante Amici Miel. We were the first customers, later some local businessmen came in. We were greeted by the chef, who also took our orders. First up, shared antipasto which featured delicious meatballs, capers, roasted peppers and cured meats. miam miam.

Next, a pasta dressed in a pistachio and ham sauce, this was gorgeous. I think the three of us fought for this though to be fair it was originally intended for V.

One of the most expensive dish was beef with nero d'avola which is a Sicilian wine. For 14 euros we got a piece of meat so it can do nicely as two main courses in Paris. The sauce was delicious but the portion was too big.

I had another local specialty, fish fillet with potato crust, fashioned into scale-like pattern and the whole lot baked in the oven. A little too salty but the freshness of the fish was evident. This is about as fancy as it gets, no need to tinker too much when the ingredients are so fresh.

Back into the car, following the expressway to Catania and turning off to another for Siracusa. I did not really pay attention to the signs and we missed one exit and had to waste 30 minutes doing a u-turn. Finally we reached Siracusa, like 3 hours later than expected. At the tip we crossed a little bridge and found ourselves in Ortigia which is a little island. We got stuck trying to negotiate the very narrow side streets, telling ourselves we did pay the maximum car insurance so if the paint was scratched it would not be that bad. After 20 minutes we extricated ourselves and called the hotel for directions. It is not always a good idea to set the GPS to find the shortest route, it will literally take you by all the short cuts and avoid traffic lights not realising you are not driving a Vespa. The Hotel Algila instructed us, erm, holding our hands literally while I relayed directions to husband, to take the outer ring roads and we arrived just in time to take this picture before the rains followed on our heels all the way from Palermo.

The hotel is beautiful, the bed for V is actually a daybed in its own nook. She was thrilled.

By the time we showered and dressed, it was pouring madly outside. We were undeterred, and set out with umbrellas to expore the city. It being after 4.30 pm the sun had long ago went to bed, so our first sights were all wet and dark. What we saw were beautiful though, and along the quieter via Cavour leading to the very impressive Duomo we did a little shopping, buying up many jars of bottarga to bring home. Husband and I love bottarga, dried roe of tuna or mullet which is similar to mentaiko, salty, fishy, pungent, full of umami. 

As it was still raining without pause we stepped into pastry shop Marciante for drinks and cakes. Then it was more walking in the rain, until we reached the seafood restaurant Taverna Sveva right at the southwestern tip of the island.

For starters we shared a plate of fish cooked in a variety of ways- smoked, pickled, fried etc; nothing too memorable. Then it was a plate of pasta alla bottarga for husband. This version, for we have tried quite a few this trip, was easily the best we've eaten. I promptly ordered another plate and demolished that after only a moment of guilt. The pasta was tender and yielding, eggy, yet still has some bite. The bottarga sauce was copious with bottarga, the tomatoes which would have balanced the brininess was a little too tart but in view of the dominating roe it came in just right.

 

This was originally my dish. Misto mare, or mixed fried seafood, was so plentiful I barely made a dent in the pile of squid, shrimps and baby fishies. At 10 euros it was a delicious bargain as well. V meanwhile, didn't really eat much of anything else besides the excellent bread provided alongside. With a bit of wine and more reasonably priced sparkling water we enjoyed our dinner in the restaurant which was not occupied by any other diners. Come to think of it, we haven't seen many other people, local or tourists, these few days. It felt like we had the whole town to ourselves. Certainly when we stumbled out, rosy-cheeked and tummies pleasantly full, the piazza was pissing rain and it was totally dark. We ran back into the restaurant and asked them to call us a taxi; the driver looped around the island for a scenic ride and we reached the hotel in a fairly dry state. A very good end to a long day.

What is The Norma?

We woke up early to do some sightseeing. First stop, the La Vucciria market. Not so much large as sprawling, a giant swordfish here, overflowing displays of fruits and vegetables there, a bustling cafe round the far corner. Lots of preserved olives, capers and tomatoes too. We explored the windy little streets, slowly making our way to the Teatro Mássimo and along Corso Vittoria Emanuele, taking it very easy because V tires easily. Lunch was some pasta and veal cutlets from Spinnato near our hotel, we would visit this pastry shop/restaurant/cafe bar again and again because their selection of cakes and cookies is stunning.

During our late lunch, husband received a phone call from Air France. Our Alitalia flight from Rome to Paris was cancelled, they wanted to put us on another earlier flight which would mean cutting our holiday short by a whole day. We had to return to the hotel to make alternative plans. While V and I took a long bath in the big bathtub, husband was on the phone with his secretary. We would have to leave Sicily earlier than planned and instead make a layover at Milan for a few hours before flying back to Paris. Milan! I was not prepared, so I coughed up 3 euros for internet access and sent out a message on twitter.

For dinner we thought of having pizza. Husband looked in his guide which suggested Pizzeria Italia (via Orologio 54 near the Teatro Massimo). Inside it was bright and full of people eating pizzas. We bypassed the appetiser section and ordered two pizzas to share. The Palermitana has all the classic Palermo ingredients- anchovies, breadcrumbs, pine nuts, cheese and olive oil. I found it too heavy and overwhelming but husband didn't mind it too much.

Mine was a Norma, which means it comes with aubergines. Tender aubergines grilled to perfection, tender and smoky at the same time. Delicious. With some beers and bottled mineral water our meal cost less than 20 euros, so it was inexpensive too.

Fly in the plane

Literally, there was a fly in the plane; it buzzed above our seats and flew with us from Rome to Palermo. It probably could have been avoided if not for my dear husband, but it was only partly his fault.

Rewind to 10 hours earlier, i.e. 5 a.m on the 1st of December. We had to have the early start to get our selves and our guests out of the apartment, factoring time for V to have tantrums #1, #2 and # 3 (during forced waking, brushing teeth, dressing respectively), for clearing the spare room and any last-minute packing. The shuttle van came early, we stumbled out into the cold dark city, feeling glad we had somewhere far away to escape to, if only for a few days.

We got to the airport in good time for coffee, croissants and a good read of the magazines and newspapers of the day. When we boarded the plane I was surprised to see that the seats were upholstered in green but it didn't occur to me until much later that we were flying with Alitalia. We had booked Air France tickets, but Air France ran out of seats for our 9.30 a.m. flight (something to do with our cheap tickets husband informed me) and put us onto an Alitalia one (the two are code share partners) at 10.15 a.m. In the short flight we were offered drinks with a layered white cheese sandwich (okay) and a scary cake.

Our plane landed in Rome Fumicino airport in good time (i.e only 20 minutes delay), leaving us with at least an hour to catch our connecting Alitalia flight to Palermo. We made our way to Gate 6 as directed on the airport screens, and finding ourselves a little hungry (actually V was complaining) we ordered a plate of cured meats (salumi) from a bar-stand. Then we waited. After a while we noticed that there were not many passengers besides us, so we went up to the door and found out that our flight was not leaving from Gate 6. The attendant shrugged and told us to enquire at the Alitalia counter, which had a long line of people waiting to speak to the two staff on duty. Husband looked at the overhead screens which indicated we should go to Gate 31 which was quite a long way away especially considering he had to carry V who could not run that fast. When we got to Gate 31 it was completely isolated, no other human beings there, therefore the plane could not possibly leave from this gate. By this time we were 15 minutes away from the expected take-off time, so husband ran all the way back to the Alitalia desk, this time he did not bother to be nice and jumped the queue. Sighing, the attendant told us nonchalantly that the gate has been changed to #12. Off we ran again, all panicky and sweaty, only to find that the plane has not even arrived! We waited another one hour, meanwhile V had a tantrum on the floor, we dealt with that by pretending we were not acquainted with her, another passenger even tickled her tummy. After a while she gave up, and consented to take some sips from a bottle of water.

By this time another plane had come and picked up passengers for Bari. Husband asked the staff for the reason of the delay. The cleaners, they couldn't find any, the hapless guy said. What? But no problem, the flight is only an hour, there's no need to clean the plane, that's what my husband suggested. The man shook his head, no, not possible, so we waited some more. Unexpectedly, 20 minutes later, he conceded and decided to let us all board anyway. Hurray! 

In the plane, we found a big fly circling above our seats. It buzzed occasionally, but when the attendant came along he knew better than to make any noise. V slept during the flight, she didn't miss anything, only the mini-crackers or chocolate chip cookies offered as refreshments. Our plane finally landed in Palermo and after some time getting our rental car we finally drove to the city, arriving at our hotel after 5.30 p.m. factoring time circling for non-existent parking spot before giving up and surrendering the keys to the hotel for what then seemed like a reasonable daily parking fee of 18 euros.

We loved our hotel. I found it at booking.com at a good price at 145 euros for a double plus extra child bed. Our room was spacious with beautiful bathroom and decorated in a tasteful, quietly opulent fashion.

By this time we were all starving. The concierge said Sicilians don't eat dinner until 8 pm but all we had all day were coffee, industrial croissants, more processed yet insubstantial food so we had to eat something. V and I walked to a nearby coffeeshop and took away a portion of what looked to be pasta pie along with a doughnut. The three of us devoured  the pasta pie ( I know not the actual name). Tender pasta, just the way I like it, with a meaty and mellow tomato sauce brightened with peas and topped with breadcrumbs was unexpectedly delicious, the Sicilians can do extraordinary things with their breadcrumbs as I was soon to discover. They also put breadcrumbs on everything and anything. Anyway, even if we were not starving we would still have enjoyed this simple dish.

 

The doughnut was also another revelation. Despite it being late in the day and probably sitting on the counter for a long time as evidenced by the melted sugar and reapplication, the insides were stretchy and bready and sweet. The ricotta filling was marvelous, I've never liked ricotta up to this point because to me ricotta taste of nothing. Yet the ricotta here was sweet, tangy, silky, light, rich, all at the same time. An amazing doughnut that was. We were still hungry, so we ate Pink Lady apples I rescued from my kitchen table in Paris (see last-minute packing in second paragraph).

Fed and bathed, we let V nap to recuperate her energies. It was a Monday night and most places were closed. Husband looked in his Rough Guide and booked us at a place that wasn't. I had not done any homework because my well-travelled friend who eats at Michelin places all the time told me with great confidence that one can walk into any restaurant in Sicily and have a great meal. Well, I made one lunch reservation just in case, but that was not to happen until the fourth day of our trip so in the meantime we have to see how lucky we get.

Sant'Andrea is about 15 minutes walk from our hotel. It is located on a tiny piazza of the same name, a little off Piazza Sant Domenico. Inside it is bright and the welcome was warm. Being listed in the tourist guide meant our fellow diners were from France, Hong Kong and UK but there was also an Italian gentleman eating a solo dinner just behind our table.

Husband's first course of cod paste over onions and toast was tasty at first bite, boring the second. He couldn't stop saying how delicious the braised carrots were. I think I got the better deal with my mixed appetisers. Meaty tasting olives, some delicious fritters of various seafood, also triangular chips of chickpeas and my favourite, a type of meatball with fresh sardines inside, that was spectacular though one itty bitty ball was like not very generous.

It was easy to predict what husband will pick, if there is squid on the menu he will always order it. This was grilled, the crust was subtly herbal and nutty, and he was contented because the squid was sweet and very fresh; the barley risotto in particular was very good he also insisted. V didn't eat much of what we ordered but loved the complimentary breads and the olives from my plate. 

I was pleased with my choice too. At first I had wanted fried sardines, but decided to try instead the local speciality which is spaghetti with fresh sardines.  What arrived was a tangle of noodles in a gorgeous green sauce of fennel and pine nuts studded with golden raisins which were juicy and plump, their yielding fruity sweetness provided great balance with the pasta, the sauce and the fresh sardine fillets. A little dish of breadcrumbs is served on the side, to be sprinkled on the pasta according to one's inclination. My only complaint was the noodles were too al dente for my taste but overall it was a magnificient dish that came across surprisingly lightly in spite of its number of ingredients.

After finishing the pasta, I was ready to call it a day but the Italiangentleman behind me ordered these raviolis and I had to have some too. The raviolis were stuffed with orange scented ricotta, deepfried then sprinkled with icing sugar and served with a saffron-infused citrusy sauce The skin was light and short, crumbling and crunching most satisfactorily, the filling ethereally light, like melting, making the sauce seemed almost redundant. Outstanding.

The restaurant was also very accommodating. Noticing that bottled mineral water was only 1.50 euros for a large bottle (vs 5 euros in Paris for example) and it being too late to shop at a convenience store and our intention to avoid the minibar in our room, we asked to buy a bottle but they refused and gave apologetic excuses which we could not understand because we spoke no Italian and they spoke no English. What they did instead was to give us a large bottle of iced water to take home, gratis, so very kind of them and very much appreciated by us.

So ended our first day of vacation. A bit tumultous in parts but the ending was good. V fell asleep on the way back to the hotel, she too had a long day. We settled in for some rest, tomorrow the holiday starts.

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Today I asked my nail therapist not to finish my pedicure with any nail polish. Since my feet only sees the insides of socks and stockings they deserve to breathe and hibernate for the winter. It is quite cold this week, running from 2-4C but if you listen to the older folks in the market, they would sniff and say it's nothing, back way then the Canal St Martin would be 8 inches frozen and people could skate on it, ditto also for the River Seine which would also have at least 6 inches of ice....

We've had our little break in Sicily. Alitalia let us down on the way over but delivered on the way home, more details in next post. We drove from Palermo to Syracuse, under the beneficient cast of Mt Etna and through the winding mountain roads. The views were endlessly beautiful, the eating totally local, honest and absolutely delicious. Relatively untouched by tourists especially this time of the year, we kept a leisurely pace and had a very good family vacation. Tacked on at the end was an unexpected layover at Milan, say what you like, even cynics will gasp at their first sight of the Duomo, shimmering in the gray wintry light like the kingdom of Narnia.

Back home husband and I were kind of slain by a nasty adenovirus- fever, fatigue, muscle aches, conjunctivitis, sinusitis and sore throats- which we are getting over slowly so I haven't really had the chance to sit down and look at the photos but the video will be up shortly on my other blog. On top of all this, although I am not feeling that festive, I think that our V is old enough to start appreciating Christmas. Suddenly I reversed my earlier decision not to have a tree and asked husband to set me down (we were on the way home from lunch) outside the florist and ordered a real tree, all 1m tall of it. Then I went to Monoprix to buy twinkling lights and ornaments. This morning I spent another hour clearing the living room to make space for the new arrival, fingers crossed they will deliver it before V comes home from school.

Just for the sake of saying something food-related, up above I have an image of a dinner that husband cooked a few Sundays ago. He did something which I have refused to do ever since GG left, i.e. deep frying. There is no other or better way to use up the last of the ikan bilis but I had put it off because deepfrying means the clean up is a bitch after and the after-smell of fried fish hangs in the air for hours but he had such a strong craving he was prepared to clean up too. Not only did he fry up the little fishies, he did the same to some peanuts as well as a couple of eggs. Along with some rice with peas (my 'healthy' concession) and some bottled spicy sauces we had something akin to nasi lemak but without the coconut milk. There was even red bean soup for dessert. V abandoned her Barbie and Playmobil long enough to munch on crispy little fish and sweet soup.

In other news, commenting has become more interesting. If you have a Typepad Connect profile it will show your picture along with your comments. I've also activated 'threads' so if any commenters feel like replying to other people's comments they can also do so. Please don't be shy, say something!