Now the title for this blog could sound extremely rude and some might say, I will get loads of porn surfers looking up my blog now for food porn suggestions. However, as I am writing a blog about my new found wisdom in culinary skills and the course I am on is currently focusing on vegetables - I am surprised myself, with a carrot's versatility. Julienne, Jardinere, Paysanne, (types of cutting techniques). They are used in soups, stocks and as decoration. You roast them, boil them, grate them, puree them - I could go on. Well its interesting for me anyways.
So the course is one week in and I am delighted by the prospects of another 15 weeks. True a week on vegetables may sound boring but we have to have a grounding and build our way up. It was sauces today! - All the french words keep getting stuck in my throat and make me jittery about whether I will remember them all, but I will get there. Bechamel sauce, mornay, mushroom, some easy, some meant to drive you mad, but once you know the technique - its tre terrifique!
So I am bringing home all the food I cook, which means trying to get ellaborate with its uses. Todays mushroom sauce and mornay sauce has been used to make my diner tonight and lunches for the next two days - Just add a little fettucine to the sauces and with the mornay I added a little streaky bacon so carbonara tommorrow. Friday was theory day and we had a day at looking at how to run a kitchen and more importantly what to think about to ensure it makes money. So budgeting and menu planning - I suppose this is what its all really about. getting creative but making it financially viable. Sort of takes the romance out of it all. Sure I would love to order fresh truffles from France - flown over in a lear jet, for that perfect over the top dish that's gonna wow the patrons, but then I would need a patron willing to pay over $25,000 for a dish. I have several projects to work on over the next few months involving setting up a menu for a select group of people (different each project) but ensure I budget accordingly. I have $17.60 to cook a Mediteranean meal for two - that includes starter, main and desert. I pay over $10.00 just for a sandwich for lunch most days. Fuck me its gonna be hard! But enjoying the "wake up and smell the roses" nature of it all. Wish me luck and I will tell you all about my menu decisions.
Thanks dear reader. Speak again soon.
D
Monday, May 18, 2009
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
If Only One Day I Could Say Fuck Like Gordon!
Well I have started my course. The first day they announced that we shall get our equipment the next day and we should be careful when dealing with our knives. I was eager to have a decent set of knives to cook with and my mate in London of Lambshank fame asked me if I had cut myself yet and that it was a right of passage into chefdom. Well you will be pleased to note that I did incur a little nick on my middle finger. Only a little blood and the knife impressed me rather then scare me due to the easy way it sliced into the flesh. I have cut quite a few pieces of paper in front of people since to demonstrate just how sharp my knives are.
Its now the 4th day which is slack that I have not written a daily account so far due to the important nature of this course for me and my one day hopes to fucking swear with the best of those celebrity knob chefs. Day one was all hellos and meets and greets. Talk about the course which would follow and in the afternoon a fabulous history lesson in French Cuisine by Celia Hays the founder. She has a history degree so she was eager to share her knowledge in this regard. Her knowledge both old and new of chefs in the know was fascinating and exciting. Having dined at the Fat Duck she could attest to the quality and ingenuity of Heston Bleumenthal. What I did not know was the history of the Michelen Star. Developed by the tyre company of the same name (I never knew - Just always thought it unfortunate that they had the same name), and created as a result of the developments in the motor car. People began to travel in the early 1900's and Michelen wanted them to burn rubber so to speak. Travle far and wide and wear out those tyres. So they encouraged people to visit restaurants further afield then their local areas and rated restaurants worthy of visiting. As a result the michelen star was born and people drive to these bastions of fine dining. As a result the chef's that managed to impress the critics of michelen and earn their stars became the first real celebrity chefs. Right up to Gordon and others who now adorn our TV screens some with amazing insight into food and others with utter drivel. The next day was vegetable cutting (the day I cut my finger). Never knew that there was so much science to the simple sliced carrot. Even faces in a diced carrot will allow even colouring and enhance flavour. So cutting needed to be precise and although it seemed a little anal I can appreciate perfectionism that one bit better.
Day three was soups and we made two vegetable soups which I was lucky enough to bring home and serve to my darling's family for starters in a birthday dinner I had eagerly volunteered to cook. So the guests got two soups, a cream of vegetable which I boosted with fresh coriander and a French Provincial soup called Soupe de Pistou which I spiced up and served with a lovely baked foccacia bread from a local bread artisan (can't wait for my own baking week on the course). She wanted Vienna Schnitzle, which although not fine dining was her birthday request - so I delved into the request with gusto. I made the schnitzle with garlic and parsley butter in its centre so when you cut into it the delicious buttery juices poured out. Vegies where, two types of potato (they are an Irish family afterall) one roasted chips and the other a mash concoction where I blended the potato with three seeded mustard and gruyere cheese then piped out into baking tray in lovely swirls to be lightly roasted. Roasted carrots in honey and seseame seeds, courgettes, shallots and mushrooms fried in butter and parsely, Broccolli and snow peas. It was a veritable feast. I even managed an angel cake with hokey pokey icecream and white chocolate and cream sauce.
Today we did more vegetables. A ratatouie and braised cabbage dish and I got to invent a egg plant dish of BBQ'd eggplant, olive oil, garlic, green peppercorns, parsley and cumin. Fuck knows what I will call it - mayber Patlican a la Dazza. It'll be nice on some of that fucking bread I bought.
Tommorrow is budgeting for restaurants so will have t use my brain and also take a calculator. Eugh - maths.
Its a great course though and can't wait to get stuck into some of the more interesting ingredients. Oh and the wine.
Speak soon dear reader.
D
Its now the 4th day which is slack that I have not written a daily account so far due to the important nature of this course for me and my one day hopes to fucking swear with the best of those celebrity knob chefs. Day one was all hellos and meets and greets. Talk about the course which would follow and in the afternoon a fabulous history lesson in French Cuisine by Celia Hays the founder. She has a history degree so she was eager to share her knowledge in this regard. Her knowledge both old and new of chefs in the know was fascinating and exciting. Having dined at the Fat Duck she could attest to the quality and ingenuity of Heston Bleumenthal. What I did not know was the history of the Michelen Star. Developed by the tyre company of the same name (I never knew - Just always thought it unfortunate that they had the same name), and created as a result of the developments in the motor car. People began to travel in the early 1900's and Michelen wanted them to burn rubber so to speak. Travle far and wide and wear out those tyres. So they encouraged people to visit restaurants further afield then their local areas and rated restaurants worthy of visiting. As a result the michelen star was born and people drive to these bastions of fine dining. As a result the chef's that managed to impress the critics of michelen and earn their stars became the first real celebrity chefs. Right up to Gordon and others who now adorn our TV screens some with amazing insight into food and others with utter drivel. The next day was vegetable cutting (the day I cut my finger). Never knew that there was so much science to the simple sliced carrot. Even faces in a diced carrot will allow even colouring and enhance flavour. So cutting needed to be precise and although it seemed a little anal I can appreciate perfectionism that one bit better.
Day three was soups and we made two vegetable soups which I was lucky enough to bring home and serve to my darling's family for starters in a birthday dinner I had eagerly volunteered to cook. So the guests got two soups, a cream of vegetable which I boosted with fresh coriander and a French Provincial soup called Soupe de Pistou which I spiced up and served with a lovely baked foccacia bread from a local bread artisan (can't wait for my own baking week on the course). She wanted Vienna Schnitzle, which although not fine dining was her birthday request - so I delved into the request with gusto. I made the schnitzle with garlic and parsley butter in its centre so when you cut into it the delicious buttery juices poured out. Vegies where, two types of potato (they are an Irish family afterall) one roasted chips and the other a mash concoction where I blended the potato with three seeded mustard and gruyere cheese then piped out into baking tray in lovely swirls to be lightly roasted. Roasted carrots in honey and seseame seeds, courgettes, shallots and mushrooms fried in butter and parsely, Broccolli and snow peas. It was a veritable feast. I even managed an angel cake with hokey pokey icecream and white chocolate and cream sauce.
Today we did more vegetables. A ratatouie and braised cabbage dish and I got to invent a egg plant dish of BBQ'd eggplant, olive oil, garlic, green peppercorns, parsley and cumin. Fuck knows what I will call it - mayber Patlican a la Dazza. It'll be nice on some of that fucking bread I bought.
Tommorrow is budgeting for restaurants so will have t use my brain and also take a calculator. Eugh - maths.
Its a great course though and can't wait to get stuck into some of the more interesting ingredients. Oh and the wine.
Speak soon dear reader.
D
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Update before the whirlwind!
Well its been a while and I have stopped berating myself for being slack so dont you start on me. I came back from Thailand to Australia. Met my darling at the airport and we ventured accross the country visiting friends and family and in the middle had a bit of break in lovely Byron Bay where I turned 40. There was no great fan fare, I did not feel any different afterall. I did however undertake my first ever Yoga class and despite it being advanced and grueling and I sweated like a 40 year old pig I had a ball. Had a cleansing bath to remove toxins through my feet and all around had a holistic experience. We even fit in some comedy at a festival. Back up to Brisbane after the break and said farewells to family again ("boy not another farewell" said my brother). Lisa sung the national anthem at a race meeting on the Gold Coast to raptuous applause by me and thousands of others and we flew to Sydney and saw Tim Minchin perform. He is a genius and had us in stitches. Then it was off to New Zealand.
Christchurch is a fantastic city and for those of you at all interested I will start a new blog this week called A Life Less Ordinary where I will describe the antics I encounter in this fabulous city over the next four months. Working in factories, writing for magazines and checking out the night life. This blog Squeezing Grapes, will continue with my adventures in food as I embark on a 16 week intensive chef course at the New Zealand School for Food and Wine. Starts Monday, so thought I better get back in the swing/saddle so to speak.
One thing I guess I shall admit before going to this course is that my baking skills are slightly lacking. Having been frightened I could never cook perfect rice I have had two attempts prove perfect of late so I can scratch that one off the can't do list. Baking however. I made a fabulous Carrot cake guessing volumes of ingredients like a man refusing to look at directions when he's lost and it worked out brilliantly although I stuffed up the philly cream icing. Still pefecting that one. Then I tried a big Chocolate Cake. Guessed the ingredients again and added a load of choc chips into the mix. The consitency looked good and it tasted lovely prior to baking and watching it grow in the oven was exciting at it rose perfectly. Then when I tried to see if it was cooked all looked good and i decided to cut it in half so I could add a layer of caramel in its centre. Damn it was still soggy in the middle so I had to bake it again cut in half and watch the goo solidify. I then added the caramel and then smothered it in the thickest glumpy icing made with icing sugar and a chocolate mousse packet (didn't really work but those that ate it agreed the icing tasted lovely). The cake itself was stodgy to say the least and was more like a chocolate brownie cake. Thick and heavy. I blamed it on the choc chips melting and stuffing up the sponge effect but I think I just fucked up the mixture because I refused to look at a recipe. Then little kids arrived at the house so the challenge was to bake cup cakes. Had all the ingredients and then at the last minute decided to throw caution to the wind yet again like the idiot I am and cook 'em "guess stylie". You suck at baking dog - says a Randy Jackson in my ear. Gonna get booted off the cooking idol show me thinks. You cook like a bad kareoke singer says Simon. Oh hell the cup cakes looked great although they grew in the oven like scones. I lathered them up in four different coloured icing toppings with freckles and choc chips and other decorations and although I was unhappy with them the kids gobbled them down. I must start using bloody recipes. Who the hell do I think I am.
I made a big Thai meal for Lisa and friends last week and it was a huge hit - and guess what I used my cooking books from the thai cookery class I attended. What a surprise. Well lesson learned and as I am about to enter school and take instruction from a real chef soon I had better start using the tools they give me.
Speak soon dear reader.
Hopefully with cup cake recipes to blow you away with. Gonna make choc chip cookies to a recipe right now and later whip up a bowl of home made hummous for Lisa. I can do that!
Christchurch is a fantastic city and for those of you at all interested I will start a new blog this week called A Life Less Ordinary where I will describe the antics I encounter in this fabulous city over the next four months. Working in factories, writing for magazines and checking out the night life. This blog Squeezing Grapes, will continue with my adventures in food as I embark on a 16 week intensive chef course at the New Zealand School for Food and Wine. Starts Monday, so thought I better get back in the swing/saddle so to speak.
One thing I guess I shall admit before going to this course is that my baking skills are slightly lacking. Having been frightened I could never cook perfect rice I have had two attempts prove perfect of late so I can scratch that one off the can't do list. Baking however. I made a fabulous Carrot cake guessing volumes of ingredients like a man refusing to look at directions when he's lost and it worked out brilliantly although I stuffed up the philly cream icing. Still pefecting that one. Then I tried a big Chocolate Cake. Guessed the ingredients again and added a load of choc chips into the mix. The consitency looked good and it tasted lovely prior to baking and watching it grow in the oven was exciting at it rose perfectly. Then when I tried to see if it was cooked all looked good and i decided to cut it in half so I could add a layer of caramel in its centre. Damn it was still soggy in the middle so I had to bake it again cut in half and watch the goo solidify. I then added the caramel and then smothered it in the thickest glumpy icing made with icing sugar and a chocolate mousse packet (didn't really work but those that ate it agreed the icing tasted lovely). The cake itself was stodgy to say the least and was more like a chocolate brownie cake. Thick and heavy. I blamed it on the choc chips melting and stuffing up the sponge effect but I think I just fucked up the mixture because I refused to look at a recipe. Then little kids arrived at the house so the challenge was to bake cup cakes. Had all the ingredients and then at the last minute decided to throw caution to the wind yet again like the idiot I am and cook 'em "guess stylie". You suck at baking dog - says a Randy Jackson in my ear. Gonna get booted off the cooking idol show me thinks. You cook like a bad kareoke singer says Simon. Oh hell the cup cakes looked great although they grew in the oven like scones. I lathered them up in four different coloured icing toppings with freckles and choc chips and other decorations and although I was unhappy with them the kids gobbled them down. I must start using bloody recipes. Who the hell do I think I am.
I made a big Thai meal for Lisa and friends last week and it was a huge hit - and guess what I used my cooking books from the thai cookery class I attended. What a surprise. Well lesson learned and as I am about to enter school and take instruction from a real chef soon I had better start using the tools they give me.
Speak soon dear reader.
Hopefully with cup cake recipes to blow you away with. Gonna make choc chip cookies to a recipe right now and later whip up a bowl of home made hummous for Lisa. I can do that!
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Back To Basics!
Well, you would have thought that after my last blog and the reverence I paid the simple hotel in Krabi compared to the electricity bare bungalow of Koh Jum, that those days of slumming it are behind me (slumming is a big word for the bungalows as they were quite quaint, had their own shower and toilet and did have electricity for 4 hour night). I arrived yesterday afternoon in Kuala Lumpur armed with a budget hotel guide. I chose my hotel based on the symbols you get above each. Air-Con (tick), Shower (tick), Internet (tick) the rest were really supplementary or should I say, elementary. I had decided on a budget (usually unheard of by me) and limited myself to MYR100 per night (about £10). That should do it. The last hotel I stayed in the last time was only MYR120 a night and it was quite reasonable and I had a lovely view of the city, it was close to the shopping district and had internet although its strength was so poor in the room it was almost non existent some times. But I had a mini bar and TV and the bathroom had a bath. So back to my current search, I had agreed on The Green Hut Lodge also near the shopping district so that I was familiar with the best places to eat and shop. It had all the criteria I needed and maximum room was MYR85. I thought bargain.
I had back up hotels should this one be full, but if you ever get to see my travel bag, you will realise getting about fills me with dread. The place looked nice enough. I was asked to go see a room and low and behold the upstairs sections of the building had been raided by Irish builders. Now I am not being racist here when I say this I merely have first hand knowledge of their quirky building ideas. Walls were there shouldn’t be walls, stair wells that seemed to grow out of nothing and find there way to the next floor like some Escher painting. The room I was shown thankfully was not the one I stayed in but I am still not sure whether I got the better room at the end. It had two small single beds squeezed into a space meant for a toilet. The air-con was there – well half of it. The other half went into the wall presumably so that the next room could share. I wonder who gets the control or is it battle of the remotes. Also to my surprise the shower and toilet was a shared one. Well there were several on each floor in crazy haphazard places that only Paddy could of conceived of constructing but no room in the hotel had its own shower/toilet. Bit of cheek that they got away with sticking that little symbol in the budget book I say. When I came down I was reluctant but couldn’t be arsed to move besides it looked clean at least and it had internet which was my pre-requisite. Thankfully / or not I was saved staying in that room by the manager who berated the guy behind the counter for being stupid as they could put two people in that room and make more money. “You want single? I have best room for you with double bed and window” and then the best line I have ever heard in a hotel “you have your own air-con – no share!”, “That’s me sold”, I said. So the man behind the counter helped me up the steps with my gargantuan bag. Seems the Wi-Fi would not stretch to that part of the building so I was told I could use it down in foyer. Seems even though the Wi-Fi was down in the foyer I couldn’t use it there either so had to resort to chatting with my girlfriend on an antiquated computer with a dodgy screen. Well they did not lie….. but!!
I eventually went out and dined in the street market I had used as my source of food the previous visit and had drunken duck hot pot. I personally think they used chicken and hoped I would not notice. I noticed but did not pull them on it. It was nice, the hot pot is infused with rice wine therefore reasoning behind the name “drunken”. What perturbs me is the fact that Thai and Malay people spend so much time cooking and eating fabulous meals and yet appear very lazy with their preparation. They all had mad axe cleavers to cut meat with which is effective and quick but means when eating chicken its like pieces of road kill, with shattered and splintered bones throughout. Not a pleasant experience when eating. The last time I came I decided to be adventurous and ordered frogs in spicy black bean sauce. It all looks appetising and certainly the flavours all worked together but fuck me, did they have to chop the little mites up with a cleaver so that every miniscule portion was saturated with tiny cracked bones and splinters. It was worse then eating little fish were every mouthful is a dance with potential slow death by swallowed fish bone.
Stick to the char sui pork and satay sticks I say, at least the only bone is the stick that runs through the centre and with the pork all you get it the occasional gristle which can be crunched and eaten anyway (Neanderthal, I hear you say!).
After some brief window shopping, I ventured back to my room. Not having been too observant the first time I realised, there was a fitted sheet on the bed but no top sheet or blanket, so presumably I would have to just lay there on the bed cover non-gratis, flagrantly nude to the world. Furthermore there was no towel, so I guess no shower for me then. Presumably, the other backpackers that would stay at this establishment came with there own top sheets and towels. With the size of my bag you would be excused for thinking I had a whole array of linen and bathroom accessories in side – but sadly – no! One saving grace was that the Kuala Lumpur city area has limited Wi-Fi service throughout the city and from the top floor of my salubrious hotel I was able to connect and surf porn for most of the evening. During my sojourn with computer on the bed, of which the bed was the only piece of furniture in the room, I noticed the scurrying of a couple of baby cockroaches on the wall. Damn – well I guess I could not have expected to avoid them in a place like this. After squashing a couple including one which had crawled on the bed and up my arm, you would have thought, he’ll pack now and go find another hotel. One with its own shower and a towel. I am not that much of a snob, well actually I am but I am also interminably lazy and I couldn’t be arsed traipsing around at the time of 11.00pm in search of another hotel. I would also have to argue about getting my room fee back although I would have gladly foregone the MYR52 they charged me (I should hardly complain for a room worth £5 a night, should I). But it crawled up my fucking arm!!
I decided I would brave it and after spraying the contents of my mozzy spray around the bed and luggage (who knows whether it would keep the cockroaches away but at least lying on the bed I should be spared mozzy bites. I slept disjointedly and at one stage felt one in my hair. Oh this was intolerable. Then the neighbour came home at around 3am and was banging and clomping and making all sorts of racket – someone should complain (I am shy! – well lazy at least). I survived the rest of the night without noise or bug incident although I am sure if I taped myself they all must have swarmed all over me the moment I went into deep sleep the little bastards. I had a wash and blow dry at a shopping mall today and have decided on a full body scrub when I arrive in Coolangatta. After my girlfriend reads this she will probably make me wash again in Sydney before I can even kiss her.
So Now I am in the airport, ready to return to Oz and more tastes of adventure and food odysseys await. Thanks for joining me.
You will be hearing from me again real soon.
D
I had back up hotels should this one be full, but if you ever get to see my travel bag, you will realise getting about fills me with dread. The place looked nice enough. I was asked to go see a room and low and behold the upstairs sections of the building had been raided by Irish builders. Now I am not being racist here when I say this I merely have first hand knowledge of their quirky building ideas. Walls were there shouldn’t be walls, stair wells that seemed to grow out of nothing and find there way to the next floor like some Escher painting. The room I was shown thankfully was not the one I stayed in but I am still not sure whether I got the better room at the end. It had two small single beds squeezed into a space meant for a toilet. The air-con was there – well half of it. The other half went into the wall presumably so that the next room could share. I wonder who gets the control or is it battle of the remotes. Also to my surprise the shower and toilet was a shared one. Well there were several on each floor in crazy haphazard places that only Paddy could of conceived of constructing but no room in the hotel had its own shower/toilet. Bit of cheek that they got away with sticking that little symbol in the budget book I say. When I came down I was reluctant but couldn’t be arsed to move besides it looked clean at least and it had internet which was my pre-requisite. Thankfully / or not I was saved staying in that room by the manager who berated the guy behind the counter for being stupid as they could put two people in that room and make more money. “You want single? I have best room for you with double bed and window” and then the best line I have ever heard in a hotel “you have your own air-con – no share!”, “That’s me sold”, I said. So the man behind the counter helped me up the steps with my gargantuan bag. Seems the Wi-Fi would not stretch to that part of the building so I was told I could use it down in foyer. Seems even though the Wi-Fi was down in the foyer I couldn’t use it there either so had to resort to chatting with my girlfriend on an antiquated computer with a dodgy screen. Well they did not lie….. but!!
I eventually went out and dined in the street market I had used as my source of food the previous visit and had drunken duck hot pot. I personally think they used chicken and hoped I would not notice. I noticed but did not pull them on it. It was nice, the hot pot is infused with rice wine therefore reasoning behind the name “drunken”. What perturbs me is the fact that Thai and Malay people spend so much time cooking and eating fabulous meals and yet appear very lazy with their preparation. They all had mad axe cleavers to cut meat with which is effective and quick but means when eating chicken its like pieces of road kill, with shattered and splintered bones throughout. Not a pleasant experience when eating. The last time I came I decided to be adventurous and ordered frogs in spicy black bean sauce. It all looks appetising and certainly the flavours all worked together but fuck me, did they have to chop the little mites up with a cleaver so that every miniscule portion was saturated with tiny cracked bones and splinters. It was worse then eating little fish were every mouthful is a dance with potential slow death by swallowed fish bone.
Stick to the char sui pork and satay sticks I say, at least the only bone is the stick that runs through the centre and with the pork all you get it the occasional gristle which can be crunched and eaten anyway (Neanderthal, I hear you say!).
After some brief window shopping, I ventured back to my room. Not having been too observant the first time I realised, there was a fitted sheet on the bed but no top sheet or blanket, so presumably I would have to just lay there on the bed cover non-gratis, flagrantly nude to the world. Furthermore there was no towel, so I guess no shower for me then. Presumably, the other backpackers that would stay at this establishment came with there own top sheets and towels. With the size of my bag you would be excused for thinking I had a whole array of linen and bathroom accessories in side – but sadly – no! One saving grace was that the Kuala Lumpur city area has limited Wi-Fi service throughout the city and from the top floor of my salubrious hotel I was able to connect and surf porn for most of the evening. During my sojourn with computer on the bed, of which the bed was the only piece of furniture in the room, I noticed the scurrying of a couple of baby cockroaches on the wall. Damn – well I guess I could not have expected to avoid them in a place like this. After squashing a couple including one which had crawled on the bed and up my arm, you would have thought, he’ll pack now and go find another hotel. One with its own shower and a towel. I am not that much of a snob, well actually I am but I am also interminably lazy and I couldn’t be arsed traipsing around at the time of 11.00pm in search of another hotel. I would also have to argue about getting my room fee back although I would have gladly foregone the MYR52 they charged me (I should hardly complain for a room worth £5 a night, should I). But it crawled up my fucking arm!!
I decided I would brave it and after spraying the contents of my mozzy spray around the bed and luggage (who knows whether it would keep the cockroaches away but at least lying on the bed I should be spared mozzy bites. I slept disjointedly and at one stage felt one in my hair. Oh this was intolerable. Then the neighbour came home at around 3am and was banging and clomping and making all sorts of racket – someone should complain (I am shy! – well lazy at least). I survived the rest of the night without noise or bug incident although I am sure if I taped myself they all must have swarmed all over me the moment I went into deep sleep the little bastards. I had a wash and blow dry at a shopping mall today and have decided on a full body scrub when I arrive in Coolangatta. After my girlfriend reads this she will probably make me wash again in Sydney before I can even kiss her.
So Now I am in the airport, ready to return to Oz and more tastes of adventure and food odysseys await. Thanks for joining me.
You will be hearing from me again real soon.
D
Monday, March 16, 2009
This Land of Sun, Sand and Spills!
Well nearly at the end of my jaunt in Thailand and its been full of fun and unexpected adventures and delights. I will take away with me the smells and the excitement over cooking. Just today in the night market of Krabi Town the vibrancy and energy surrounding the place makes you feel you are in a circus. The chefs all around in the makeshift kitchens with flaming woks some flames shooting high into the night (mostly for effect I dare say), the waitresses grabbing couples and families and singles to sit at the nearest chairs to their stall so that they can win another customer. The menus juggled like ten pins and the plates jostling all around the hub bub finally making it to their respective tables with eager faces, forks and chopsticks at the ready. For tourists and locals alike this market produces a prodigious amount of food on any given night. With the piquant smells of lemon grass, ginger and chillies filling the air its like the piped piper calling to the rats - and oh we scurry.
So on ending this holiday i am nursing an injury from a motor scooter accident of which I have only myself to blame. Sober and with pillion rider in tow I ventured around my island haven of Koh Jum (Pu Island for those who can not remember previous blogs). We entered terrain meant for 4WD only and carelessly ventured forward even after we had reached the point on the map the hire company had told me to avoid. With danger on every slippery rock we pressed forward until on the top of an escarpment with wondrous views of the Adaman Sea to be admired I lost my nerve on the impending swooping hill. So retreating back to safer roads we thanked ourselves lucky for no misadventures. Beer was beckoning and lovely forest floated on either side of me on a normal relatively safe dirt track for the island. Low and behold a bloody big goanna (iguana type lizard from these neck of the woods closely related to the Kamodo Dragon - I kid you not) was sun bathing on the path. The fact that he was 2 metres long meant he took up the entire path. Now normally my brain does not work this quick but in succession the following thoughts flowed through my head. If I run over its tail it may swing back and bite me or Silvia my Scottish pillion rider. If I hit it dead on its large enough to topple the bike without killing it and therefore I will be on the ground with a huge pissed off lizard. Thirdly I registered that slowing down may just prompt it to scurry off but that braking hard to stop will surely cause pre-goanna crash. In the split seconds that these thoughts occurred I braked softly at first and when realising darn goanna was not scurrying on, I hit the brakes harder. I was aware of yelling to the girl on the back "we are going down", before the bike even started to lose grip on the road and suddenly I was down. Losing my watch and silver bracelet, which no doubt saved me from larger injuries. Silvia, sadly went down behind me and immediately lept to her feet before I had even stopped sliding. She asked what happened and then I saw the blood pouring from her knee. I think I got off lightly. Now, what is it with nearly deserted islands that you don't see anyone for ages and then if you do something stupid three people come along immediately to gawp at you. So sadistic nurse in town, after a very careful ride back, cleaned our wounds and gave Silvia a bandage (bless her she was brave and only a few tears came out). Said sadistic nurse relished dabbing iodine on my scraped up elbow. I nearly cried like a baby.
The next morning I had booked a snorkeling trip around the nearby islands. Being told not to get my arm wet until the seeping wounds had scabbed did not deter me. Besides drinking loads of beer and smoking some local weed from the island helped my determination to see some lovely sights the next morning. We went to Bamboo Island (I say we - I mean I joined a group of two couples from Germany and from Birmingham). We snorkeled in some of the loveliest waters I have seen with the exception of places in the Whitsunday Islands in the Barrier Reef. We then ventured to the island itself were a National Marine Park fee of 200 Bahts was required. We all agreed that as long as beer was sold on the island we would pay. Lovely chicken and fried rice was prepared for us for the day trip and Singa beers washed them down. The sand on this island was as white as snow and the water a crystalline green. If you stood up to your neck in the sea on the beach and looked down you could see your feet as if you were on dry land. We later ventured to Mosquito Island and thankfully that's a misnomer. No bugs at all, just weird rock formations and staggeringly beautiful vistas. The ride home was interesting for the fact that our Thai captain had to undertake repair work on the engine when we were still 3km's off shore - nicely making us all confident in our vessel.
Drinks and a feast that evening with Sarah and Duncan the Brummies, together with two other couples I had met in the resort and pretty soon we had ourselves a fare gathering which they all started calling a farewell party. I was quite chuffed, they were all very sweet and one friend I had met actually woke at 6.30am to see me off as well - The owners were asking whether i knew all these people before the trip as we all seemed to act like we had known each other for ages. Enough to bring a tear to the eye. Sal the woman who owned Woodland Lodge on Koh Jum surprised me by cooking me her favourite dish, Seafood Peanang Curry. It was amazingly sweet and spicy at the same time and a faint taste of peanuts. Sal even took me to the main land and dropped me at the current hotel I am staying at in Krabi (to make sure she got me off the island she joked).
Oh the delights of modern technology. Having spent 10 days on Koh Jum with electricity available in my room when I was never in it (between 6pm and 10.30pm meaning I am in the bar or at a restaurant), meaning arriving in the bungalow hot and in pitch black with no fan, I can definitely say I am happy I now have air con. I once would never have been bothered by this lack of comforts. Now however I have developed a taste for some of the finer things in life (no I don't mean a fan in my rickety bungalow would have been "finer things"). Nearly all my fellow islanders were backpackers on a budget and had not seen air con for months - washing their own clothes whilst having a shower themselves - that is when they have showers. Of the small bunch of friends I made on the island however there was Sharlene and Grant (friends I had briefly met in Sydney at a mates BBQ) who just happened to be on the island (see previous blog about "perfection and the barracuda carppacio"), well all I have to say is that I would have much preferred their bungalow. Bloody Luxury compared to mine. Well they still only get a fan and I have now got 24 hour free Wi-Fi and air con at will.
Kuala Lumpur tomorrow and perhaps a blog about the 3 days I had there before I came to Thailand as well as tomorrow's adventure. Maybe I will have started adding photos as well by then. We can only hope.
Catch you all soon.
D
So on ending this holiday i am nursing an injury from a motor scooter accident of which I have only myself to blame. Sober and with pillion rider in tow I ventured around my island haven of Koh Jum (Pu Island for those who can not remember previous blogs). We entered terrain meant for 4WD only and carelessly ventured forward even after we had reached the point on the map the hire company had told me to avoid. With danger on every slippery rock we pressed forward until on the top of an escarpment with wondrous views of the Adaman Sea to be admired I lost my nerve on the impending swooping hill. So retreating back to safer roads we thanked ourselves lucky for no misadventures. Beer was beckoning and lovely forest floated on either side of me on a normal relatively safe dirt track for the island. Low and behold a bloody big goanna (iguana type lizard from these neck of the woods closely related to the Kamodo Dragon - I kid you not) was sun bathing on the path. The fact that he was 2 metres long meant he took up the entire path. Now normally my brain does not work this quick but in succession the following thoughts flowed through my head. If I run over its tail it may swing back and bite me or Silvia my Scottish pillion rider. If I hit it dead on its large enough to topple the bike without killing it and therefore I will be on the ground with a huge pissed off lizard. Thirdly I registered that slowing down may just prompt it to scurry off but that braking hard to stop will surely cause pre-goanna crash. In the split seconds that these thoughts occurred I braked softly at first and when realising darn goanna was not scurrying on, I hit the brakes harder. I was aware of yelling to the girl on the back "we are going down", before the bike even started to lose grip on the road and suddenly I was down. Losing my watch and silver bracelet, which no doubt saved me from larger injuries. Silvia, sadly went down behind me and immediately lept to her feet before I had even stopped sliding. She asked what happened and then I saw the blood pouring from her knee. I think I got off lightly. Now, what is it with nearly deserted islands that you don't see anyone for ages and then if you do something stupid three people come along immediately to gawp at you. So sadistic nurse in town, after a very careful ride back, cleaned our wounds and gave Silvia a bandage (bless her she was brave and only a few tears came out). Said sadistic nurse relished dabbing iodine on my scraped up elbow. I nearly cried like a baby.
The next morning I had booked a snorkeling trip around the nearby islands. Being told not to get my arm wet until the seeping wounds had scabbed did not deter me. Besides drinking loads of beer and smoking some local weed from the island helped my determination to see some lovely sights the next morning. We went to Bamboo Island (I say we - I mean I joined a group of two couples from Germany and from Birmingham). We snorkeled in some of the loveliest waters I have seen with the exception of places in the Whitsunday Islands in the Barrier Reef. We then ventured to the island itself were a National Marine Park fee of 200 Bahts was required. We all agreed that as long as beer was sold on the island we would pay. Lovely chicken and fried rice was prepared for us for the day trip and Singa beers washed them down. The sand on this island was as white as snow and the water a crystalline green. If you stood up to your neck in the sea on the beach and looked down you could see your feet as if you were on dry land. We later ventured to Mosquito Island and thankfully that's a misnomer. No bugs at all, just weird rock formations and staggeringly beautiful vistas. The ride home was interesting for the fact that our Thai captain had to undertake repair work on the engine when we were still 3km's off shore - nicely making us all confident in our vessel.
Drinks and a feast that evening with Sarah and Duncan the Brummies, together with two other couples I had met in the resort and pretty soon we had ourselves a fare gathering which they all started calling a farewell party. I was quite chuffed, they were all very sweet and one friend I had met actually woke at 6.30am to see me off as well - The owners were asking whether i knew all these people before the trip as we all seemed to act like we had known each other for ages. Enough to bring a tear to the eye. Sal the woman who owned Woodland Lodge on Koh Jum surprised me by cooking me her favourite dish, Seafood Peanang Curry. It was amazingly sweet and spicy at the same time and a faint taste of peanuts. Sal even took me to the main land and dropped me at the current hotel I am staying at in Krabi (to make sure she got me off the island she joked).
Oh the delights of modern technology. Having spent 10 days on Koh Jum with electricity available in my room when I was never in it (between 6pm and 10.30pm meaning I am in the bar or at a restaurant), meaning arriving in the bungalow hot and in pitch black with no fan, I can definitely say I am happy I now have air con. I once would never have been bothered by this lack of comforts. Now however I have developed a taste for some of the finer things in life (no I don't mean a fan in my rickety bungalow would have been "finer things"). Nearly all my fellow islanders were backpackers on a budget and had not seen air con for months - washing their own clothes whilst having a shower themselves - that is when they have showers. Of the small bunch of friends I made on the island however there was Sharlene and Grant (friends I had briefly met in Sydney at a mates BBQ) who just happened to be on the island (see previous blog about "perfection and the barracuda carppacio"), well all I have to say is that I would have much preferred their bungalow. Bloody Luxury compared to mine. Well they still only get a fan and I have now got 24 hour free Wi-Fi and air con at will.
Kuala Lumpur tomorrow and perhaps a blog about the 3 days I had there before I came to Thailand as well as tomorrow's adventure. Maybe I will have started adding photos as well by then. We can only hope.
Catch you all soon.
D
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Perfection Found In Paradise
So as not to labour the point, I am having a marvellous time in Thailand, obviously too good a time to sit and write blogs in the blistering heat, so i will apologise no more. But having some time and some exciting things to say I thought I may tolerate a sweat fest for an hour for your pleasure. Having left the mainland of the Krabi Province for a small island 2 hours south, I was expecting white sandy beaches and cute bungalow huts in rows between palm trees. Lazy days rocking in hammocks and reading books that I have been meaning to read for ages, sipping Singha beers as the sun slowly drops down on the horizon in glorious technicolour - and I wasn't dissapointed. However I was not prepared for my idyllic paradise to be so cut off from modern technology - like electricity. Yes of course there is some on the island or I wouldn't be typing this blog right now but when you realise its because they run a generator out the back and charge an arm and a leg for sitting in baking heat as the electricity can only charge the computers and internet and could not possibly cope with a fan or two as well. Well you get a slight idea. My resort (the word resort makes it sound swish doesn't it) is a collection of updated bungalows following the disaster of the tsumani that have been updated merely by the attachment of a toilet and shower at their rear. A minor neccessity I would suggest. No electricity during the day and the generator fired up at 6pm and executed at 10.30pm sharp, so if phones and other technological necessities are not charged during said time your royally screwed. What makes it even worse without electric in the dead of night you have to crawl around in the dark to find the toilet and hope the breeze from the sea picks up to stop you from sweating. But to give the island its fair do, it is stunning, rustic and has a lovely charm to seduce even the sweatiest.
Food fare is your standard thai meals with the occasional incredible crab curry when freshly caught in the local area. However I stumbled upon a little slice of heaven, which wasn't even Thai food. After stumbling accross some friends from Sydney who just happened to be staying down the beach (love coincidences), I was invited to dine with them at their far more exclusive resort (fucking 24 hour electricty). The decor and set up at their resort was nothing less then sumptuous so I settled down to expect an exorbitant bill at the end of my meal. It was nothing of the sort and to my astonishment on the specials of the day was something that made my mouth water and my anticipation impatient. Barracuda Carpaccio with capers and olive oil. Now I know that sounds amazing right! Having tried barracuda for the first time in a curry the night before I was squeeling for the waitress to come over and take our orders. It sooooo reached my expectations of deliciousness I was overjoyed. Like any good sashimi but with the Italian edge and what marvellous capers and olive oil on my tin pot no electric island. The rest of the meal was average due to the fact that the chef in this plush resort europeanised (if thats not a word sue me) the food by making all the spice seem non existent. So after ordering some prik nom plar (a fish sauce and fresh chillie accompaniment) I was able to spice up all three of the main meals on the table to suitable Thai standards. Later we strolled along the beach as the full moon rose high and gave the sand an opalescence, arriving at the dubious Freedom Bar painted in reggae style. The evening was meant to be a short one due to the encroaching high tide which would eviscerate the beach for a couple of hours. We ended up staying out until 2am by which time the tide had begun to recede. This particular druggie den is owned by the mayor of the town so its often considered a safe haven for hippies and backpackers looking for a little bit more than a cheap beer to get their thrills. I hired a moped earlier that day and there was no number plate on the back. the man renting me the bike said quite straight faced, "thats ok there are no police on the island". So perhaps with the mix of wealthy and beautiful resorts and cheap backpacker accomodation striving both for a standard of living that matches peoples requirements, the perfect setting of this gorgeous island and the terrific food found at all corners, this is a little bit of perfection in paradise.
Food fare is your standard thai meals with the occasional incredible crab curry when freshly caught in the local area. However I stumbled upon a little slice of heaven, which wasn't even Thai food. After stumbling accross some friends from Sydney who just happened to be staying down the beach (love coincidences), I was invited to dine with them at their far more exclusive resort (fucking 24 hour electricty). The decor and set up at their resort was nothing less then sumptuous so I settled down to expect an exorbitant bill at the end of my meal. It was nothing of the sort and to my astonishment on the specials of the day was something that made my mouth water and my anticipation impatient. Barracuda Carpaccio with capers and olive oil. Now I know that sounds amazing right! Having tried barracuda for the first time in a curry the night before I was squeeling for the waitress to come over and take our orders. It sooooo reached my expectations of deliciousness I was overjoyed. Like any good sashimi but with the Italian edge and what marvellous capers and olive oil on my tin pot no electric island. The rest of the meal was average due to the fact that the chef in this plush resort europeanised (if thats not a word sue me) the food by making all the spice seem non existent. So after ordering some prik nom plar (a fish sauce and fresh chillie accompaniment) I was able to spice up all three of the main meals on the table to suitable Thai standards. Later we strolled along the beach as the full moon rose high and gave the sand an opalescence, arriving at the dubious Freedom Bar painted in reggae style. The evening was meant to be a short one due to the encroaching high tide which would eviscerate the beach for a couple of hours. We ended up staying out until 2am by which time the tide had begun to recede. This particular druggie den is owned by the mayor of the town so its often considered a safe haven for hippies and backpackers looking for a little bit more than a cheap beer to get their thrills. I hired a moped earlier that day and there was no number plate on the back. the man renting me the bike said quite straight faced, "thats ok there are no police on the island". So perhaps with the mix of wealthy and beautiful resorts and cheap backpacker accomodation striving both for a standard of living that matches peoples requirements, the perfect setting of this gorgeous island and the terrific food found at all corners, this is a little bit of perfection in paradise.
Friday, March 6, 2009
Exotic Ready Steady Cook!
Well, having proclaimed my desire to write about everything I do and hopefully daily in an effort to get me ready for my New York jaunt, I must unabashedly apologise to your dear reader. I have been cooking up culinary delights aplenty, drinking copious amount of Singha beer and a strange rum substance known as Sing Som, kayaking through stunning scenery between vast karsts (the craggy rock islands of Krabi Province), lounging on beaches and partaking of the odd Thai massage (no happy ending!) and all I have written so far is two measly blogs. Well apologies are all I have and of course the power of the keyboard. I can found solace in retrieving some dignity by writing several recapping blogs for you over the next few days. That is if we have internet connection at our next destination, the strangely named Pu Island. Koh Pu or even Koh Jum as its sometimes known as, is about 2 hours south of my current destination and will involve not one but two boats to get me to my destination. The first boat will drop anchor somewhere at sea and await smaller boats to come and drag bags and tourists from the ferry to the topsy turvy unstable long boats that will take us to respective hotels. So far, I will leave my judgements about Pu Island until we get there. It will be shit if my bag ends up in the Adaman Sea mid transfer however. But I have been recently informed that Pu is Thai for crab so it may mean crab will appear on the menu when we arrive (yippee I can escape the shit jokes).
The last two days I have been cooking up a storm at the Siam Culinary School where the lovely Pin (my teacher and chef) rushed me through 12 dishes in the space of only 4 hours. Yes that's 12 (over two days I must say) and you have to eat them as you go as well, although I learnt the art of will power and doggie bags from my first visit, much to the delight of my house mates. Wonton soup from scratch - I loved making those little morsels and the soup was the best I had ever tasted. Thai fish cakes, chicken spicy salad, spring rolls, steamed fish in lime, steamed fish in banana leaves, chicken in pandanas leaves (getting good at all the origami for food), fried fish with three flavour sauce, paenang curry and massaman curry. On top of all that we had to empty the fridge out tonight at the apartment, so I rustled up a calamari salad in mint and coriander and lime, and some morning glory in an oyster sauce, compliments of Jesse the speckled yank who looks like Harry Potter. With doggie bags from the cookery school it was veritable feast yet again. This is in a kitchen without running water now, I must add - it would appear the local villagers are having water cut off in some political move, which is so inconsiderate for the farangs (us poor foreigners who have decided to stay in a village rather then the resort areas). We need our regular showers in this heat and to be able to flush the toilet in the middle of the night - yuk! (that was for you readers who were still salivating at the food itinerary above - cruel aren't I). I have been told by a very sexy woman that she will not read my blogs at lunch times any more after I described the anuses of kangaroos in detail in one of them. I bet she is reading at lunch time again - darn, I'll get another irate mail. Death threats will follow.
We actually headed to the local river for a dip this afternoon thinking we may not get a shower tonight. Then we had a downpour like no other, with lightning that lit up the sky and still no running water.
Anyway I digress - I seem to do that a lot. I was talking about Pin and the 12 dishes she rushed me through. I don't necessarily think she usually rushes people but it was one on one rather than a whole class as I was doing some advanced cooking class with her and at one stage I had 4 dishes all cooking at once which is cool because if I want to be working in a kitchen someday soon I should be easily able to handle this small challenge. It was like Ready Steady Cook though only without the clock just a Thai chef on speed or late for a date. Rushing along with assistants preparing some chopped vegetables first, my mortar and pestle crushing ingredients into exotic pastes at rates normally set for industrial food blenders. In one photo of me (with cleaver in hand) I looked positively insane. But it was all extremely fun. everything tasted so powerfully, and over and over I heard Pin's mantra "you want salty you use fish sauce, you want sweet you use sugar, you want spicy you use chillies, you want sour you use lime - salty, sweet, spicy, sour". She was lovely and when it came to spicy we had a few chuckles. Pin's idea of a little spicy was 30 chillies in a paste meant for one serving. My idea of spicy would be around 5 which is sweaty face burning mouth hot. Then she would just look at me with that comical look which said "OK farang let me see you sweat - how hot you want this dish huh!!!!" So obviously I had to rise to the challenge and go for local Thai hot. Pin thankfully admitted that I had asbestos for a throat as even my Thai fish cakes were hot for her. Once again in the cooking class the desert was the only dish fully polished off without doggie bag required. Thai deserts are usually sickly sweet but our sticky rice and mango or the banana in coconut milk and the black rice with coconut had both a salty and mild sweetness, that, combined with the luscious creaminess of coconut cream, made each dish heaven amongst burning fire spicy dishes.
So that was the cooking and the home kitchen has certainly had a workout this last few weeks. Now fridge is clear, the bags are packed and we are off to Pu tomorrow. So I will say goodnight and adieu for now and promise little prequel blogs about Malaysia and stuff (if we have internet on Pu that is). See ya for now.
D
The last two days I have been cooking up a storm at the Siam Culinary School where the lovely Pin (my teacher and chef) rushed me through 12 dishes in the space of only 4 hours. Yes that's 12 (over two days I must say) and you have to eat them as you go as well, although I learnt the art of will power and doggie bags from my first visit, much to the delight of my house mates. Wonton soup from scratch - I loved making those little morsels and the soup was the best I had ever tasted. Thai fish cakes, chicken spicy salad, spring rolls, steamed fish in lime, steamed fish in banana leaves, chicken in pandanas leaves (getting good at all the origami for food), fried fish with three flavour sauce, paenang curry and massaman curry. On top of all that we had to empty the fridge out tonight at the apartment, so I rustled up a calamari salad in mint and coriander and lime, and some morning glory in an oyster sauce, compliments of Jesse the speckled yank who looks like Harry Potter. With doggie bags from the cookery school it was veritable feast yet again. This is in a kitchen without running water now, I must add - it would appear the local villagers are having water cut off in some political move, which is so inconsiderate for the farangs (us poor foreigners who have decided to stay in a village rather then the resort areas). We need our regular showers in this heat and to be able to flush the toilet in the middle of the night - yuk! (that was for you readers who were still salivating at the food itinerary above - cruel aren't I). I have been told by a very sexy woman that she will not read my blogs at lunch times any more after I described the anuses of kangaroos in detail in one of them. I bet she is reading at lunch time again - darn, I'll get another irate mail. Death threats will follow.
We actually headed to the local river for a dip this afternoon thinking we may not get a shower tonight. Then we had a downpour like no other, with lightning that lit up the sky and still no running water.
Anyway I digress - I seem to do that a lot. I was talking about Pin and the 12 dishes she rushed me through. I don't necessarily think she usually rushes people but it was one on one rather than a whole class as I was doing some advanced cooking class with her and at one stage I had 4 dishes all cooking at once which is cool because if I want to be working in a kitchen someday soon I should be easily able to handle this small challenge. It was like Ready Steady Cook though only without the clock just a Thai chef on speed or late for a date. Rushing along with assistants preparing some chopped vegetables first, my mortar and pestle crushing ingredients into exotic pastes at rates normally set for industrial food blenders. In one photo of me (with cleaver in hand) I looked positively insane. But it was all extremely fun. everything tasted so powerfully, and over and over I heard Pin's mantra "you want salty you use fish sauce, you want sweet you use sugar, you want spicy you use chillies, you want sour you use lime - salty, sweet, spicy, sour". She was lovely and when it came to spicy we had a few chuckles. Pin's idea of a little spicy was 30 chillies in a paste meant for one serving. My idea of spicy would be around 5 which is sweaty face burning mouth hot. Then she would just look at me with that comical look which said "OK farang let me see you sweat - how hot you want this dish huh!!!!" So obviously I had to rise to the challenge and go for local Thai hot. Pin thankfully admitted that I had asbestos for a throat as even my Thai fish cakes were hot for her. Once again in the cooking class the desert was the only dish fully polished off without doggie bag required. Thai deserts are usually sickly sweet but our sticky rice and mango or the banana in coconut milk and the black rice with coconut had both a salty and mild sweetness, that, combined with the luscious creaminess of coconut cream, made each dish heaven amongst burning fire spicy dishes.
So that was the cooking and the home kitchen has certainly had a workout this last few weeks. Now fridge is clear, the bags are packed and we are off to Pu tomorrow. So I will say goodnight and adieu for now and promise little prequel blogs about Malaysia and stuff (if we have internet on Pu that is). See ya for now.
D
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