Peter Green

Serena’s just mixed me up a vanilla milkshake for dessert. She feels that hand whipped is much better, as it conserves energy. She’s got way too much energy, if you ask me. Let’s go back to Bangkok. It was last Tuesday, and Yoonhi had just arrived to join me. Flush from a fun overnight haul in cattle class, she figured the best thing she could do was stay awake. Sort of like in the film Crank, except for the parts that weren’t. We were at the Dusit for a reason. I’ve long been a Sukhumvit sort of guy. I like the street; I like the mix of restaurants, shopping, and club life, particularly from Phrom Phong up through Thong Lor; I like(d) the now-shut Colliseum at Ekkamai; I liked the ghost at Phrakanong; and I like(d) (if it’s still there) White Lotus Books just past the Tesco at On Nut. Heck, just the fact that the road goes all the way to Cambodia is neat. But, when you’re a creature of habit, you need to break out from time to time. To temper yourself. I was in a rut. I’d tried staying in the older part of town, down near Wat Po, last year, but found I missed all the things I’d just mentioned (except for the ghosts). Some good street food, but no real mix. Kao Sarn holds little attraction for me, outside of a vague interest I have in the anthropology of world travellers (a completely different tribal grouping). Generally, the food there isn’t up to snuff (although Tha Phra Arthit, nearby, has some good options). One area we hadn’t tried was Silom/Sathorn. Restaurants, street food, clubs, shopping. Could this lure me away from upper Sukhumvit? Only one way to find out. Hit the pavement. Something you must understand about Asian women – they’re on a different clock from us. They need to be fed and watered often, and woe betide you if you let them get hungry. So, outside and around the corner from the Dusit I had already staked out some eateries. We’d found a khao man kai (Hainanese chicken rice) place, the chicken cooked in the reserved chicken stock from the boiled chickens. Across the street was a place with good looking stewed pork, but their must’ve been a feud between the two, as they wouldn’t let us share a common table. As Yoonhi thought it stupid for us to sit on either side of the lane, we just went with the chicken, as it was already ordered. There’s a certain mystique to chicken rice. People will fight over who has the best. Current pride of place generally goes to the Montien Hotel, but every Thai (especially every Sino-Thai) has their own preference. I queried Yoonhi for her opinion. “Tastes like chicken and rice”. Also in the environs was the standard fruit trolley with melons, mangoes, cantelope, bags of fermenting things, bananas, and the world’s best pineapples And next to it was something I’d long admired, but for some reason had never eaten. The little pancaky things (Okay! I’m looking for a little help here! What are they called?) The flour and egg shell is that perfect taste we all recognize from the fortune cookies of our youth, just thinner, more delicate. And then there’s the topping of coconut and shredded palm sugar (it looks like cheese at first to me), which gives a thick, coconut marshmellow feel in your mouth. I’d asked the lady for only two so I could test them, but she only sells them by the sack (for about 5 baht). Maybe I could get used to this part of town. More tomorrow. It’s time for bed. I’m still four hours out of whack.

Thanks, Erik. I'm giving all credit to the catering on the Bangkok side. I should've taken pictures in the plane going over to give a comparison. I did get some shots from the lounge, though (I used these in the WGF thread, but I like to recycle). I think I described this as "a meatball of unknown origin" and "something in orange" colour, not citrus, that is. I have some particularly biological references for the sliminess of the molokhaya sauce on the warrm potato, but I'll leave that go for now. Cheers, peter

I'm personally distressed by the worldwide phenomenon of grocery stores forbidding you from taking pictures of their products. What are they afraid of?

Okay, I won’t moan so much. There are worse things in the world than a bowl of simple spaghetti with some grated parmesan on top. With food in my tummy, I turned my attention back to the ice cream. Settled down a bit, I strained out the peppercorns, and then brought it back to a simmer, and added some sugar. Then I put my remaining sugar to the yolks, and took up the manly art of egg beating. (What can I do with those egg whites?) Then I added some of the warm mix to the eggs to temper them, and then mixed it all together to thicken to the coat-the-back-of-the-wooden-spoon stage. All done, I strained again, and then popped it into the fridge. I know have a perfectly serviceable experiment for tomorrow’s dessert. Serena’s looking scared. She remembers the last time she got some Szechuan peppercorns in her diet. Returning to the Thailand theme, here’s a shot of some of the fresh material we brought back. I stocked up on the pea aubergines, as they’ve become difficult to find here. And I couldn’t resist the colour on the red chilis, and the cunning allure of the little bird chilis (for “cunning allure” you can substitute “ease of hiding”). The green peppercorns I’m torn over. Do I use them all up in an orgy of curries, or do I try pickling some of them (personally, I’m in favour of an orgy). The fresh lily flowers are going in a salad, once I figure out which one. And the cowslip creeper (the bag of odd looking green things upper center) is getting eyed by Serena’s babysitter, who knows it from the Philippines. Kaffir lime leaves. You can never have enough kaffir lime leaves. And the mushrooms were a given. There are few things more attractive than nice mushrooms. Over here we’re limited to what we can get, so every time I’m somewhere with a ‘shroom culture I have to pick some up. I really need to make a curry. I’m getting twitchy. Dropping back into past history, let’s go back to that first trip to Thailand. As I’d said, it was the food that hooked me. Not just the taste, but the look and the smell. I can still remember walking through the sois to get from the old Chiang Mai Guesthouse on the Ping to the Night Bazaar, and turning a corner to walk into a wall of frying garlic. Even now I can smell that (okay, they were mincing garlic this afternoon in the kitchen). What I’m leading up to is that this was a doomed love. I knew I was going to have to leave; that the stars conspired to create this desparate situation of a love that could not last…. It was quite tragic. (“That’s pathetic”, says Yoonhi). So, in a Shakespearean tradition that I’ve just made up, I bought a cookbook. I had a cunning plan. I would leave this book in strategic locations around our flat in Maadi, in the suburbs of Cairo. I would leave the pages open to particularly appealing dishes, and thus Yoonhi would be drawn into my web and induced to cook Thai meals for me. My cunning plan lasted all of a week, and then I broke down as I was trying to set up the Tom Kha Kai page. I couldn’t take it anymore. I started cooking. From then to now, I credit that moment, when my spirit was completely broken by the smiling picture of Khun Malulee Pinsuvana, as the beginning of my interest in cooking. Other cookbooks may have fancier, more drawn out methods and techniques, but Khun Malulee’s is what I began with, and what I still turn to quite regularly. What I always liked, and what was perfect for us in Egypt (the Land that Food Imports Forgot) was that she had written this as much for Thais living abroad as for farang. Each page is in Thai and English, and much of her effort went into detailing how to substitute for when you couldn’t get the authentic ingredients. Nowadays, with so much readily available, this isn’t as critical, but back in the 1980’s it made a big difference to our lives. And the writing is so darn…well….gentle. In much the way that I enjoy reading Fergus Henderson’s writing, so to do I like the softness of this book. Excuse me, I think I'll go read this again for awhile.

Wouldn't it be East and East? Both the bread machine and rice cooker were invented in Japan, and you know how much the Japanese love their bread. Looking forward to the rest of your blog! ← East and Yeast? (editted for a smiley)

Yup, Polaris is still out there, and is still the hotel-water-of-choice, based upon its availability at the Dusit. They had one or two bottles of their own brand out on the night tables, but there were always a couple of bottles of Polaris out there as well.

Oh, man! There's nothing like a brisk half hour walk home in 99 degree heat to get you in touch with your inner escargot. Just don't pour salt on me. Thanks everyone for the proactive support! This should be an interesting week, at least if I can get to the kitchen before I'm thwarted me as I have been tonight, with a standard spaghetti and meatball dish underway before I could get to the fresh ingredients I brought back. This won't happen tomorrow, I assure you. But, I refuse to let the activities of the help get in the way of my making a mess. I swore a solemn oath a week ago that I was going to make Szechuan pepper ice cream, and I’m a man known for his swearing. Luckily, there’s enough of what I need to get things in hand. I checked Keller’s book for the ice cream proportions (The French Laundry Cookbook) and swapped out the cinnamon for Szechuan peppercorns, given them a bit of a rough-up in the mortar. Now I’ve taken the cream, milk, and peppers to a simmer and then removed it from the heat, covered, and let it cool. While that’s going on, I find out that someone’s already opend up the dried candied snow tamarinds that my friend brought back from the Four Seasons for us. Since China I’ve become partial to dried fruits, and these are good. Seeing as how we have to wait for the next bit, we might as well tour the kitchen. Here’s the perfect marriage of East and West. A bread maker next to a rice cooker. Looking back from fridge number 2, you get something of an idea of what a mess the place is. Our accommodations here are okay, but I would kill for a bigger kitchen. I’m going to hold off on the fridge shots for just now, as, frankly, the freezer sections of our fridges terrify me. I can deal with the general purpose cold storage, but things get kind of scary with what we’ve squirreled away in the deeper sections. Having said that, I’ll toss up a teaser of the main pantry. Everything we drag back, or figure we’ll need in depth goes in here (well, almost everything…there is that section in the closet…) And what’s needed at hand, along with some of the dry herbs and spices, goes into the small cupboard by the sink Since our Egypt days, we’ve taken to distilling our water with countertop units. The sludge we pull out scares me almost as much as our freezer section. And we’d seen a string of our friends suffer kidney stones from bottled waters (they used them for everything, even boiling vegetables, which goes beyond overkill). We also believe in pickling (Yoonhi is Korean) and we keep chilis, garlic, and other things in odd jars about the place. Beyond the sink (which would be a great name for a comic book) there’s the crock pot, the popcorn thinging, and some of the knives. Okay, I just got the call to feed. I’ll be back with more later.

Congratulations, Jensen! We were worrried that if we were too obvious things’d blow too quick, so we were sort of obscure with the teasers. I figured that the wai’ing Ronny would give things away, but it’s too demonic a shot not to use. This one was taken from the verandah outside of the “Air Bar” of the Royal Bangkok Sports Club on Thanon Henri Dunant (but most of the time you see it from the Ratchadamri Skytrain station). Beyond the fans and general Somerset Maughan feel, you should be able to spot the telltale Thai cooking stalls that dish out some great food. (More on this later) Roofie, don’t feel bad. This shot was from Tawarn Daeng, the Thai/German brauhaus/beerhall that’s now celebrating it’s 8th anniversary. They’re famous for their pork knuckle (too dark, I know) with mashed potatos you see in the back, but Yoonhi particularly liked the fried morning glory you see in the forefront. Me, I like the beer, a dark example of which is in the Tawarn Daeng mug on the side. I think they'd be thrilled beyond belief to hear that they were mistaken for Munchen! A little blurred, but this is Bangkok at night, shot from D’Sens, the Pourcel brotthers’ place atop the Dusit Thani. From here we’re looking up the Skytrain and across Lumpini Park. But it was the clown that did it. It’s always the clown. This particular one, at the corner of Silom and Rama IV, has been terrifying my children for years. Maybe I shouldn’t have let Scud watch “It” when he was four? Okay, that’s it for a few hours. I need to make some money to pay for my feeding habits. Back soon. peter

Trading Places – A Tale of Two Cities…….would you believe one city and a village….would you believe one city and a kitchen?....... Welcome to my week. For some reason I’ve volunteered to do this. I’m sure it sounded like a good idea at the time. I’m starting this sitting in Suvarnabhumi Airport, wating for our 3:45 flight to start boarding. I’ve wrapped up in the lounge, having checked mail, had a Chilean Cono Sur ("connoisseur", Yoonhi points out to me) Chardonnay, and indulged in a ham sandwich smothered in butter. Is the modern Chardonnay the standard bearer of quality? If we consider quality to be defined as repeatability and standardization? This goes back to Signor Bellini’s discussion of Chardonnays back at the WGF (was that a week ago?). And how does that relate to food? Do we want everything standardized and repeatable? Ist that just an invitation to have all the joy taken out of our dining. Myself, I rebel against such strictures. Of course, that may have more to do with my inability to follow instructions the same way twice…… I’m getting ahead of myself. Or at least my stomach and nose are. This will be a somewhat schizophrenic blog. I’ll provide material on what we’re up to in the kitchen, especially as we’re just back from the Gourmet Fest in Bangkok. However, I get a distinct feeling that there’s more interest in the last week of eating in Bangkok with my spouse – Yoonhi - in tow. As I’m still in that state of bliss that Krungthep induces upon me, We’ll do both. By way of introduction (you expected structure from me?), I’m a 1960’s product of the Canadian government; the results of our country’s aid to St. Lucia, a small Caribbean island. My parents were there doing a project for Canada Agriculture, and I’m what the St. Lucians got out of it. They still won’t give me a passport. Anyways, don’t ask me anything about St. Lucia. I left when I was a few months old. All I know is that the banana boat called every few weeks, and children were killed by falling coconuts (I must’ve lived through that). If I was to call anyplace home, it would probably be Kitsilano, a neighborhood in Vancouver. I grew up a few blocks from where Lumiere is located now. I might have more memories about the soft ice cream cones dipped in chocolate at the Dairy Queen, though, than Lumiere and Feenies……(Modern Burger is pretty close, too). I left Canada over 22 years ago, and haven’t been back much. Houston, then Egypt, a very brief stint in Calgary that made me understand why I wasn’t staying in Canada (Yoonhi’s eyelashes froze shut on her), and then the Middle East for the last 22 years or so. We’re going to concentrate this week on the food of my great love, Indochina, and Thailand in particular. At first I had no interest in Thailand. Garish orange roofs, it all struck me as too much like a big Denny’s concession. But all the other expats in Egypt (our posting then) were going to Thailand and coming back to bend my wife’s ear. “Couldn’t we go to Korea or Japan or China or Italy or….” I’d protested. But Yoonhi has that steely perseverance that can get downright scary at times. Finally I gave in, and we were off for one month in The Land of Smiles. My attitude lasted only up to the point of my first bite of real Thai cuisine. I was head over heals in love. Let’s drop back into the normal time stream (or what passes for such around here). I’m tidily packaged into my economy class seat. I’m still cheap about flights if I have to pay for them myself. We’ve just had our in-flight Gulf Air meal, and, much as it pains me to say it, it wasn’t bad. Both of us started with the mild spiced noodle salad with cucumber and tomato, then I had the red curry beef with traditional biryani rice and vergetable casserole, and Yoonhi had the penne past with steamed carrots, pumpkin in cheese veloute, served with pan seared chicken and tomato sauce. Top that off with “white bread slices” which are straight from a Thai bakery. Only dessert was inediblem with a rather dismal pineapple crumble cake (it should crumble, not wallow in juice). I had tried the Blanc de Blanc earlier, but it was horrible, especially warm, so I’ve switched over to Carlsberg. It’s not cold either, but it’s bearable. I wonder who does their catering on the Thai side? Once landed, cleared through customs, and in the taxi, the rest was a piece of cake. We arrived home hungry again, and found Serena’s babysitter had steamed up some brocolli, breaded and fried some chicken breast and had some Filipina lumpia on the go. At that point we went to sleep. And now it’s not quite 6 a.m. here. It’s Ramadan, so there’ll be no coffee in the office later, so I’ve got a pot of Pakxong beans perking me up right now (I still think I’ve got a couple of kg of those Lao beans squirreled away somewhere). I’ll get this up, and then see if there’s still time for more before work (we start at 7:00 a.m.!) Next: more

This is the end, beautiful friend, the end..... Maybe I don't quite qualify for that refrain. We tarried for some moments after dinner in the lobby, and compared the week. There are a number of things I want to try when I get home (the Szechuan peppercorn ice cream being right up there), and there still remains a lot to say about the wines. Both the Grange tasting, and a more comprehensive treatment of the Italians are needed. But at this point in my non-linear life, all I really wanted to do was enjoy the Macalan, get to a birthday party up on soi 22 (where the police are supposedly cracking down on farang without passports), and start eating some Thai food. But that's another story. Cheers, Peter PS - yeah, we should've popped a flash, but it might've scared the Macalan girls away. They were rather skittish about us.

The Last Dinner (of the WGF) with Roberto Donna - Galileo - Washington, DC I was there. The week had run its course, as had I. I made one last attempt to track down a Russian in Aqua, but to no avail. I did find Benny there, though. I’d met him last year at Syn at the Nai Lert, where he was promoting South. Here he was running the bar staff, and working with them on cocktails. Now there’s a job! To be a cocktail promoter. Why can’t I do that? Just because he has training and talent? Okay, that’s a fair enough reason. Benny whipped me up a chocolate martini which I savoured while wondering how long my suit would last in the humidity. The answer, of course, is “not long”. I headed back inside, and found myself flitting between friends in Shintaro and my dinner in Biscotti. Thank heavens this suit isn’t going to be doing any more dinners for a few days. Then they started making the opening speeches in Shintaro, so I beat a hasty retreat to Biscotti to join my table and the Gavi that they’d poured. Gavi DOCG, Del Commune di Gavi, Beni di Basiolo, Piemonte 2006 Octopus Carpaccio Served with Green Sauce, Black Olive Potato Salad and Rucula Chardonnay, Aurente, Lungarotti, Umbria IGT, 2005 Chestnut Soup with Rabbit Sausage Duck Liver, Duck Gizzard and Pancetta Nero D’Avola & Syrah, Benuara, Cusumano, Sicilia IGT, 2005 Raviolini “Del Plin” of Three White Meat, With Tartia Pudding and Fried Sage, Topped with a Crunchy Parmesan Cheese. Chianti Riserva DOCG, Cantine Leonardo daVinci, Toscana, 2004 Risotto with White Truffle Fonduta Cheese Sauce Served with a Barolo Wine Caramel Chiant Classico Riserva DOCG, Castello di Volpaia, Toscana, 2003 Roasted Veal Fillet Served with Porcini Mushrooms, Polenta Concia, Fried Rosemary and Sweetbread Veal Jus Amarone della Valpolicella DOCG, Campo dei Gigli, Tenuta Sant’Antonio, Veneto 2000 Edizione, Cinque Autoctoni, Faranese, Abruzzo, 2004 Janduja Chocolate Cream Hazelnut Croquant, Served with a Caramel Ice Cream and Whipped Cream Moscato d’Asti DOCG, Bosc dia Rei, Beni di Batasiolo, Piemonte, 2006 This seemed like a good way to see out the week. Roberto Donna - a fine extract of Piemonte - has an excellent reputation with Galileo in Washington, and his other venues (in America, it is always “franchise or die”), and the Dogliani family never disappoint with their wines. The first course, the octopus was good enough, tangy with the brine still in the octopus. But if I compare this with Talamimi’s octopus terrine of last year, I would go with the terrine. The chestnut soup was beautiful. Both to the eyes, with the rich browns and the rugged little tower of meat and bird offal rising from the morass, but also on the tongue. Enough flavour in the fowl, and more than enough of that thick rich cream we associate with chestnut flavours. The ravioli were serviceable enough, with the butter giving a fullness in the mouth, and the sage coming through in the nose. Risotto…..I love risotto. I am also not adverse to truffles. This is just plain good. And what a great room this is. With that large cooking space in the open, I can get up – supposedly to stretch my legs – and watch the staff at work with Roberto and Danilo putting together the meal. The visual with the rattle and hum of a happy room is better than a good film. The veal disappointed a little. It was fine, a perfectly good cut of veal with very pleasant sauce of sweetbread jus but perhaps I just become jaded. Or perhaps I was getting full. Or perhaps I was paying too much attention to the Amarone, reliving it from the Gala, and comparing it to the bottle of Barola I’d knocked back at lunch? No, it couldn’t be that. And desertt? A solid finish. A nice finish of chocolate cream. I must admit that I paid no attention to the Moscato, and continued to enjoy the Amarone. It was a good meal, a nice room, and pleasant company. I would not classify any one element as breathtaking - well, perhaps the risotto - but the overall effect was a very nice story.

Drinking the boot (with apologies and homage to Tupac) After Susur’s class it was time to be in the next session, the Italian Sommeliers Association’s wine tasting. For this they took us on a tour of the “boot”, starting in the North, and ending in Sicily. Signor Bellini was much happier today, having either warmed to us the day before, or having resigned himself to his fate. In either case, he was enjoying himself much more, and joy is contagious. I won’t go into the details here (as I’m already over a week behind), but we started with a discussion of the country classified on the basis of North, Central, and South. Of reds in the Northwest, and whites in the Northeast. Of the throng of grapes in the centre, and of the semi-drying of grapes in the South. From there each of the regions was reviewed and their grape varieties and most significant wines were discussed. I learned that there are a lot of different grapes in Italy. After the tour, we tasted six wines. First we compared two whites. One from Umbria, a new, modern style Aurente Lungareotti 2005 Chardonnay, and the other the Angimbe Cusumano 2006. The Chardonnay was fine, 2005 being a good year for whites. Lots of fruit in the nose, oak barreled so you get that taste of vanilla. Long finish. Toasted. What you’d expect from a typical wine of this sort. In fact, it tates, as he says “like a Chardonnay from anywhere”. This could come from France or California, or Australia, or Chile. The Cusumano, from the Inzolia grapes, has tropical fruites, almonds, a floral nose, and a little oak. “For me, the taste is like lemon grass of Thailand. Lemoncilla.” The colour is a rich, golden urine tone. This wine would work with shellfish, or chicken, and is generally drank in Italy with fried chicken. Next is a Leonartdo Chianti Reserva 2005, from the vineyards nearby daVinci’s house. 90% Sangiovese, and the rest Merlot and Syrah. Drink it with steak, and drink it within 3 years. Balifico Castello 2003, a “Super Tuscan”. Sangiovese and Cabernet Sauvignon. There’s the spice of oak barrels, cloves, peppers, and licquorice. Tannic. A good nose, and a long finish (with not bitterness). A 1999 Barollo from Batasiolo is poured. I’m content to let it open up a bit in the glass. This one is still young, and really needs to get to 10 years. The tastes are of pepper, roses, black truffles, chocolate and coffee. Liquiorice and mint come at the finish. For this wine Signor Bellini recommends we kill something wild and cook it. And we end on a Moscado from Piemonte. “We drink a lot of Moscado in Italy”. At only 5.5% this is a refreshing, aromatic little thing to toss back while arguing about everything under the sun. For some odd reason, most people are very happy after a wine tasting, especially when they’re on their fifth pour of the Barollo (does anyone use those spittoons?). Signor Bellini advised us to applaud the wine, not himself, and we all parted in the best of spirits.

September 15 - The Secret Recipes of Susur Lee For some reason, today’s recipes came out without any notes. The bio, the strident pose, but no notes. One of my friends had brought his book, and we’d looked over the history in that. There are separate threads about Susur, so I won’t go into too much on his background. Susur is a Canadian, and like so many of us was born somewhere else. In his case Hong Kong, where he apprenticed at the Peninsula. Then he moved to Toronto in ’77, and opened Café Lotus in ’87, a 45 seat restaurant with 3 cooks. The book goes into some detail on how he put the place together, quite literally, designing and building a lot of it. In the late 90’s he took up a position with Tung Lok, setting up Club Chinois in Singapore, which got him a solid fan club there. That fan club took a little while, as Tung Lok had brought him in to “consult” and put things straight, and as he says, when you try to “put straight” a bbq chef who’s been working in his trade for 30 years…well….it’s a good way to almost get killed. But by the second year things were going very well, and, like I say, he’s got a solid following there. When I was in Singapore for the WGS last year I just missed Susur, but his name was the talk of a lot of the folks I was dining with. That’s part of what had had me so primed for his meals. In 2000 he was back in Toronto and opened Susur, and then opened Lee in 2004. He’s been a big part of the movement we saw in part of in Shanghai, where Chinese cuisine is being brought away from family style dining and driven more in a European serving style. So, without ado, let’s fill in those blanks in the cooking notes. Susur is working today with Khun Piched up front, and his own sous chef, Dusty Gallagher, doing the behind-the-scenes work. Kendall Jackson is providing two wines, care of the California Wine Company. These are from the Collage line, a Semillon (55%) Chardonnay (45%), and a Cabernet Sauvignon (80%) Merlot (20%), which are following the Australian style in blending. For knives, he’s using a kasumi and an F.A. Porsche. I’m not certain the make on the third. Marintated Rack of Lamb with Slow Cooked Onion Tart Mint, Coconut and Confit Lemon Chutney Up front, with his meez, he’s got a plate of pre-fried crispy herbs and flowers. Thailand excels in frying things, getting just the right consistency on their foods, and he wants to take advantage of that. Ingredients - lamb 1 rack – 4 to 5 bones – 2 lb - lemon grass – 2 stalks - Kaffir lime – 2 leaves - Garlic – 6 cloves - Curry powder (Yellow) – 1 tbsp - Veetable oil – 1 cup - Coriander – ¼ cup - Salt - White pepper - Turmeric Curry marinade - treat this like a pesto - chop the garlic, lime leaf (rib removed), coriander, and add some salt. Use enough salt as you would in normally seasoning lamb - brown the yellow curry powder in the oil for a quick cook to release the aromas. - Remove the oil/curry from the heat, and pour into the “pesto” of curry ingredients - Cool this mixture to room temperature, and then run it through the blender for a cook chop up and puree. You want to get this to a chunky stage. - Once the marinade is ready, you can keep this in the fridge for a couple of days. Lamb - have the butcher trim down the ends of the bones a bit. - Spoon rub the marinade onto the meat - Let the meat sit in the marinade for a day. o If you do this with steak, cut the marinade time down to a couple of hours o If you want to try a chicken, it can extend for half a day to a day. o Now, if you’re man enough to do a turkey, you want a 2 day marinade. - Earlier in the day, pan fry the lamb on the fat side. Use sunflower oil or canola oil, something relatively neutral in flavour. If you went for a European approach, then go instead for olive oil. - Foil the bones on the tips to avoid browning. - If you have two racks, after frying, interleave the bones and tent them, allowing the fat to drain away. - Let the meat rest - When it’s time, pop the rack into an oven at 350 fahrenheit Chutney (we only oovered the carrot coconut, the lemon confit and mint were pretty self-explanatory) - ½ cup of coconut (meat from older, brown coconut) - ½ cup of carrot – cooked and minced - red chilis to taste - coconut milk - sugar and salt to balance Cook in the coconut milk, then just puree this to a soft point but still some texture, and use the sugar to balance the chili, and the salt to balance the sugar. You can either spoon this to shape, or use a squeeze bottle. This sauce would go really well with satay, and I’ll try it when I’m home. One note, don’t serve the dish on too hot a plate, as the heat of the plate will affect the colours and consistency of your sauces. The onion tart is simply a matter of making onion “jam. Thin slice some juicy red onions, sprinkle some sugar, and simply pack them into a casserole with a good cover (foil). Then let them slow cook and caramelize over about 90 minutes on a low heat. When it’s time to serve, spoon them into some prepared tarts. For the service, he would put the tart under the cut of lamb, then garnish with the crisped leaves and herbs. However, we forget the tart and had to bring the plate back for it, so you get what’s in the photo, instead. The next dish, the Shrimps with Chiang Mai Sausage, Pomelo and Yuzu is one of my favourites. I already did the sacrificial princess analogies in last night’s dinner, so I’ll put those aside. And just get on with it. One of my favourite quotes from the WGF this year “If you don’t eat pork….that’s too bad”. Sai eua (Chiang Mai sausage) - 1 cup ground pork shoulder - ¼ cup pork fat - ½ tbsp egg white - ½ tsp cornstarch - 3 tsp nampla - ground black pepper (fine grind) - 1 kaffir lime leaf – fine dice, stem removed - pinch of salt - red chili to taste - coriander Here he’s trying to capture the flavour of the sai eau, looking more for a meat loaf, or pork meatball, rather than trying to find some entrails to stuff. Likewise, the skin of the sausage wouldn’t work with the texture of the shrimp. Once the mix is all worked together, shape it into a loaf, wrap in saran wrap, and put it to the fridge to stay cool. He rinses the shrimp well to remove the iodine, dipping his hand into a bowl of water each time as he deveins to aid in cleaning them out. Then the shrimp take a quick toss in a little cornstarch. This is so they’ll hold the bundle of sai eua that we attach in the curl. The ratio of prawn to meat should be about 2:1. Put these flattened on a plate, Put that plate into a steamer. Steam to a halfway cooked stage, so that the frying can finish the job. Then put it in the fridge. You want to get it cold so you can bread it. For the breading, use bread crumbs (there’s an act of genius). He prefers the panako, the Japanese bread crumbs. You could also use finely chopped pistachios. He beats up the eggs, gives the shrimp a quick wash in it, and then rains the breading upon the shrimp. Once these are breaded and the tails are cleaned off, they go back in the fridge. When it’s time, the shrimp are fried in either peanut oil (hot) or canola. For the juice, we’ll need kaffir lime leaves, yuzu juice (or else a ¼ blend of tangerine and lime juice, which could substitute) and some Japanese soy sauce. Again, this should go back in the fridge to cool. For a garnish, he’s using a Japanese mountain potato (yamaimo) coloured with some Chinese plum, then julienned and salted. To plate, put some of the juice in the bottom, put in the pomelo wedge, and put the shrimp on top. Garnish to your heart’s delight. Dessert – Slow Cooked Apple Terrine with Vanilla Ice Cream 1 apple (don’t use Red Delicious – he uses a green Matsu apple here) 1 tsp butter 1 tsp water 2 tbsp sugar This is basically a tarte tatin – an upside down slow cooked apple tart. The apple gets cored, peeled and set aside. We need to caramelize the sugar, which uses up the water and sugar in our recipe, and then we add the butter to that when it’s ready. This we leave in the pan to cool down. We thin slice the apple (rings) and then pack it into the casserole. We could also use pineapples for this, but thin we’d make them thicker so we don’t lose all the juice. Likewise, we could add some cinnamon or cognac. Once packed in, seal with foil and then poke some holes in the foil. Pop it into an overn at 250 degrees, and cook for 2 and a half hours. When done, pull it out and let it cool. This is best done the day before. To serve, turn it upside down to remove, and then dress with the caramel sauce. Susur has done this as a “pagoda” but he recommends just having one big thing of this that everyone can dig into at the table. We talked a little bit while the food was coming (we were hungry). He spoke well of the products of Canada; of the foie gras that he’s getting from Quebec, and of his regular trips to the local markets. And there was talk of the staging of last night’s dinner. He’s seen too often that Western diners, arriving hungry to a meal will load up on bread and kill their appetites. To counter this, why not put your heaviest dishes up front, and then move to the smaller and lighter dishes as you progress? This is more the form of a Chinese banquet. Works for me.

September 15 – Lee Susur Domaine Famille Ligneres, La Baronne Rose 2005 Marinated Rack of Lamb with Slow Cooked Onion Tart Mint, Coconut, and Confit Lemon Chutney Domaine Famille Ligneres, Aric 2002 Seared Foie Gras With Duck Confit Roll and Spiced Nut, Berry Glazed and Black Currents Varite La Muse 2003 Clear Gaspacho With Tempura Phi Phi Lobster and Salted Duck Eggs Domaine Famille Ligneres, Chateau de Launay Blanc 2004 Shrimps with Chiang Mai Sausage, Pomelo and Yuzu Domaine Famille Ligneres, Le Signal 2003 Hot and Sour Consomme Mountain Potato and Crab Meat Domaine Famille Ligneres, Chateau de Launay Blanc 2004 Melted Chocolate Tart with Caramelized Banana and Jack Fruit Coriander Infused Milk Chocolate Mousse Rhubarb Jus Petits Fours Susur Lee had made an impact at the Gala with his lamb, and so I was looking forward to this dinner. And Shintaro is a good spot to do it in. Small, so the chefs aren’t too stretched in covering all the seatings. And so cozy enough that I can flit between the tables and check up on how my friends are enjoying the meal. Of course, that level of cozy means that someone my size is going to block the traffic like a chunk of cholesterol in an artery…… I had a sip of the rose that I’d caught on the fly coming back from the Russians in Aqua. I was running fashionably late, but this is Thailand. I could blame the traffic. I joined my table just as we received the bruschetta prepared and presented as mini-pizzas. They poured the Aric, named for Alaric, the great Visigoth who plundered Rome. The family Lignerese, from Languedoc-Roussillon. I wish that the Kendall-Jackson rep was here, as I’m uncertain of the connection now between them and Domain Famille Ligneres. Famille Lingeres has been a family owned operation, and are well regarded. The aric is a blend of Carignan, Mourvèdre and Syrah. A good nose, and a flavour of dark cherries. Plus, the labeling is really cool. I like the runic lettering they use (darned if I know the proper name for that script). And the wine was a good match for the meat. We started heavy and went light. The lamb was up first, which is a great place for it, as it allowed us to study it in more detail, and to try and break down the trio of sauces that came with it. The coconut was the tough one for us. It was a chutney of carrot, chili, and coconut. I’ll talk a bit more about it in the cooking class tomorrow. And after the lamb we stayed heavy with the seared foie gras. A solid piece of duck, and set off by the berry and currants sauce. But I really liked the duck confi, the meat rolled up in a nice crepe. With that they’d poured the Varite La Muse 2003, an American (Sonoma) merlot (mainly). Parker thought well of the 2002, but did note that it needed to wait until 2008. This one, the 2003, he gave one point less to (93 points) but did say it was perfectly fine to drink now. I took his advice and drank it. The we moved back across the Atlantic (or the long way around the Pacific and Asia) to France and the Domaine Famille Ligneres Chateau de Launay Blanc 2004. A crisp Bordeaux Blanc, a blend of mainly Sauvignon Blanc, and some Semillon. It cleaned the light oil from the tempura of lobster quite well, and then the gazpacho made a nice hit of clearing flavours and crunch (the sachet was some lime). The shrimp was a delight. I’m honestly not a big fan of shrimp, but I love sausages. And sai eua, the Chiang Mai herbed sausages, are amongst my favourites (up there with Korean offal soondae). I restrained myself from sipping the finger bowl, and paid attention to the wine, again a Domaine Famille Lingeres, Le Signal 2003. This time a red, a Carignan , Grenache, Syrah, and Mourvèdre blend. This falls under their estate wines, and was named for the horn on the old barreled delivery truck they used in the 20’s. This I could drink quite a lot of. And then we finished the meal with the soup, a hot and sour consommé. Light, refreshing, holding enough of the signature elements of a hot and sour, but none of the heaviness. After that, dessert, which I sadly admit I paid only limited attention to as I was busy being the social butterfly and paying my respects at the tables. The dinner went well. Of the chefs, I must say that Susur was the only one I saw going into the flavours of Thailand, beyond, of course, the normal frontliners of lemon grass and kaffir lime leaves. Now, if someone would start doing things with the fermented pink sausage, nehm…… I did manage to shoot the petit fours, so let me end on that.

Russian Standards I took a break from the Executive Club (I’ve got a lot of pictures from there I’ll need to post soon, but I’m falling behind) and cut down to Aqua in the courtyard to check out the Russians. While Russian Standard was not technically part of the WGF, they were running a promotion in the lobby. I wanted to drop by as I’d been told that there would be someone who could talk about the vodka with me. I like Russian Standard. When we were in Moscow last year, it was the vodka of choice for most of the restaurants we were at, and generally preferred by our (very large) drivers, who were loaned to us by our friends there to get us from A to B (or their Cyrrilic equivalents) It’s smooth, no back aromas (like the old school pencil erasers I pick up on some vodkas) and generally guaranteed to get you into a lot of trouble. My preference would still be Kauffmans’ but that’s not something that you can get ahold of that easily. Now, Russian Standard is one of their products, and is a good vodka. But now they’re pushing Imperia as the “top end premium” and I was interested to see what’s what. As I waited, I enjoyed a couple of martinis. Again, the quality of the vodka comes through. Malcolm, the F&B Manager for the Four Seasons was kind enough to roust me up one their press kits (with a mini of vodka inside). It has some of the details of the company, and some good material on vodka overall. For instance, I was not aware until now that Dimitri Mendeleev, the man we all know as the founder of the periodic table of the elements, was the one who, in 1894, set the standards for the distillation of vodka. And what are those standards? - the mash has to be wheat based - there have to be multiple distillations for purity - to be blended with soft water (glacial) - 40% ABV for “perfect balance” (and to keep your eyesight) - Charcoal filtration for removal of any remaining impurities - The brand (Russian Standard) was launched in 1998 In 2006 these guys opened up their own distillery in St. Petersburg. Importantly, they also secured the entire process chain for their vodka, so they’re the only Russian producer with control over the entire product. So now I know. The name Russian Standard is not a strident cry of nationalism about the country’s colours (well, these guys are pretty strident) but rather an adherence to the old regulations on how to make vodka. Russian Standard is distilled 4 times and run through adctivated charcoal 4 times. They run Imperia through 8 passes of distillation and then do two filters through charged quartz crystals and two filters through activated charcoal. Then they dilute from 94.6% to 40% with glacial water from Lake Ladoga. They’ve had the Swiss run gas chromatography tests (these guys are thorough) and have some pretty impressive claims about the purity of their vodka against the other major brands. There is some nationalism in their material, but it’s understandable. Roustam Tariko, the founder, had built himself up through the rough years by securing distribution networks for imported luxury products. In 1998, you couldn’t get a premium vodka in Russia. You could get a good $5 bottle that would give your liver a workout, but for good vodka you’d have to go for the imports. It just seemed wrong. It’d be like Scotland without single malts. Mexico without Tequila. The US without bourbon. England without gin. Korea without soju…..maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing (ouch, that’s going to get me in trouble). I try a shot of the Imperia. It is very smooth, with almost no back tastes. A hint of wheat – maybe – but it’s hard to pick out (especially as this stuff has been distilled 8 times). I would think the tanks would boil dry on the 5th going for 94.5% In a martini it came across well, very clear, with nothing distracting from the hint of vermouth and the three olives. The press kit that I was given includes a 33 cl of Imperia, so I’ll try and do a taste test later while I can. Unfortunately, I run out of time. I’d like to talk with them directly, but there’s a dinner with Susur Lee that I don’t want to miss.

How To Open A Bottle The Italian Sommeliers Association, or rather, Associazione Italiana Sommelier, part of the Worldwide Sommelier Association, founded in 1965. Things were off to a rocky start. Our teacher, Signor Roberto Bellini, from Florence, did not look happy. An unhappy Italian is never a good sign. It was an odd beginning. It felt like he wasn’t really certain of what he should be doing here. But there was a plan, and there was a powerpoint. If you have a plan nowadays, you have to have a powerpoint. In the first half, he covered the basics of a sommelier’s profession, his role in life, the universe, everything. What we were getting was a resume, as the proper course is a two week affair, lasting all day. Later I was to learn that his primary role in being in Bangkok was to conduct a sommelier’s course for several of the hotels, condensing the two weeks into a very intensive 5 days. This is something Thailand needs. While the country is (even with the abusive taxes) a sophisticated market for wines, the handling of the wines is often a travesty. The odd thing is, that’s not really as big a concern for the people who are bringing in Signor Bellini. The big hotels can generally train their staff well (or excellently, in the case of my favourite spots) as their senior staff in F&B all have good backgrounds for this sort of thing. No, it’s precisely the independent restaurants that need this. I watched in awe just last night (stepping out of the time line here) as a very earnest young lady attacked a bottle’s neck in much the manner you’d expect she’d take care of her cheating husband. That it was a red didn’t help. I’m digressing again, aren’t I? Signor Bellini apologized for his English, and relied in the beginning upon the services of a very gracious (and pretty – I’m still allowed to say such things) young lady who handled some of the translation. I’d suggest that she was Italian herself, but I usually get this wrong. Anyways, back to the Associazione. They’re young to this business, as the “science” of wine tasting had already been established in 1950, so at this we were some 15 years late. (Now, if this was the south of Italy, that would be considered “on-time”). Still, late or not, this is an important date for Italy. The formazione di deustatori professsionisti. The profession of a taster, something to aspire to for me. The association has threee levels to the course. In the first, it’s a matter of “the role himself”. The grapes, the oenology, the tasting of wines. The second level deals more with establishing a general background in the two major types of wine – Italian and “World” wines. (What! That covers everything I should think). To this end you’re sampling 3 different wines every session. The third level, which I would be very interested in, covers the matter of food and wine matching – that critical ability of a good sommelier to establish which food would go well with which wine (I have priorities). Of course, the most interesting part is the graduation, at which point you have one very loud party and drink heavily. I do like the Italians. A lot. People come to the Associazione for training for a number of reasons. - A sommelier should be able to conduct wine tastings for the public, to spread the faith. - A sommelier should also visit the wine districts and so improve both his tasting abilities, and to help in improving the knowledge of local wines. - A sommelier should conduct cellar organization. - A sommelier should participate in international events, and be prepared to speak at them. - A sommelier should take part in international trade fairs, promoting the products of the grape. - And a sommelier should be able to act as a journelist. Signor Bellini was warming up at this point. This is the description of a professional’s duties. Beyond this, the heart of a profession is to give yourself over to “the call”, and to undertake it body and soul. The aim is to cultivate yourself – to perfect the skill of how to be polite, elegant, and gracious. To know perfectly how to serve and treat a guest, how to bring them into the grand world of wine and technical knowledge. We then talked about the Cellar, that wonderful place where the wine rests in tranquility, like Sleeping Beauty, or Superman’s Fortress of Solitude. There are no noises, no vibrations, and, sadly, no other food stuffs that might contaminate the flavours of the wine…..pity. There, in the darkness and the chill (11 to 15 centigrade, 65 to 75% humidity) the wine will rest…..maybe this is more like Dracula? The whites take the lower bunk, and the reds the higher. This takes advantage of the temperature gradient that falls off sharply from the cool floors. And as the wines rest, they do so uniformly, with the labels up, so that should decanting be necessary, the position of the sediment is known. What are the tools that the sommelier needs? - cavatappi – opener - pinzo – stopper (I’m not 100% sure on my spelling there from my notes) - cestello – spittoon (I carry one with me, don’t you?) - decanter – decanter (we had to work hard on the translation for that one) - termometro – thermometer (okay, this wasn’t as tough as decanter) For proper temperature the wines have different requirements. A champagne, or sparkling would be served between 6 and 8 centigrade. The bucket should contain ½ ice and ½ water. And champagnes should rest in the bath for 40 minutes before serving. A white or rose is slightly different. Here the bath should be 2/3 water and 1/3 ice. The temperature would be slightly warmer, at between 9 and 12 centigrade. And red should be 18 to 19 centigrade. An issue with the reds of course, is that it’s often said to serve them at room temperature, but the issue is “which room”. That room in Bangkok will be quite different from the one in Lombardy. To serve, the wine is first announced to the guest. First, of course, you wait for him to allow you to present. It is presented on his left side, and the name, classification, year, and name of producer are called out. The label is presented to the customer as you do this. With his assent, you may now open the wine. To open, you should have all of your tools prepared on the service table, which is kept to the front of the customer’s table. Thereupon (ideally thereupon involving starched white linen) you should have ready 2 small plates, 1 knapkin, and 1 glass for tasting. Again, as you open, the label faces the customer. The foil is cut with a straight horizontal cut under the ring, quickly and with efficiency. Then the foil is removed, and placed upon the plate (“not in your pocket!”). Then you clean the top of the bottle of cork with your napkin before proceeding. Then fold the napking perfectly, and place it to your right. Now, enter the opener into the cork, and extract the cork ¾ of the way. Use the napking to grasp the cork and make the final removal. The hand of the sommelier should never touch the cork. Then smell the cork on the contact zone, and upon the side. “When the cork smells of wine, the wine doesn’t smell of cork”. Then place the cork on the second plate. Place a small amount in the tasting glass, smell the wine in the glass, and taste. If acceptable, the customer may check the cork. If accepted, the sommelier will serve the wine first to the person who has ordered the wine. A small quantity is poured, and then the sommelier waits for the customer’s approval. Then the wine may be served. A change has occurred in pouring etiquette. Before the body of the bottle was held during pouring. This has now been modified for practical purposes to allow the sommelier to grasp the butt, instead. We say practical, as this allows him to extend his reach upon the table and so avoid intruding too closely upon the customers. This is the service for a young wine. Should you have an older wine, then decanting is necessary to avoid the sediments. To this end you require: - 2 napkins - a holder for the wine that will keep it at an angle - a candle - a carafe - and all of the other stuff. I wondered what the name was for the apparatus that held the bottle, a “bread basket for wine” from the French was what we could come up with, but we hit a mental block on the Italian name. “If I remember the French name I’ll remember the Italian”. Our purpose is to ensure that none of the sediment makes it into the decanter. To this end the angle of repose of the bottle should be 30 to 35 degrees. First, pass some wine into the decanter and dispose, so that the decanter is of the wine. Then pour the rest of the wine into the decanter with the candle acting as a back light to allow you to catch the first hint of sediments. No screens are used, as these would harm the wine. (But in ports fine screens are used). To tell if you need to decant, you must know the wine. There are no strict guidelines of how many years. The service itself is the same. There are some guidelines on the shapes of the decanters, but this is not something held to with great consistency. There is one shape for the very aged, there is another for sherries, ports, and massalas, and then there is everything in between, depending upon your mood. For a sparkling, remove the foil as you would in the normal service, use your left hand to grip the neck, and secure the cork with your thumb. Hold the bottle at a 35 degree angle and open. No theatrics, no shooting corks. Now the sommelier can smell the cork without the napkin. You make a very rapid analysis (as nobody wants to wait for champagne), place the cork on the plate, and pour, with your left hand on the butt. I asked about the shapes of the glasses used. These were quite detailed, but the reasoning really comes down to the profile you allow for oxygen to enter the wine. We followed this with a tasting of four wines; a Valpaia Chianti Classico 2003; an Edizion Cinze 2006; the Amarone we’d had at the Gala dinner; and a Prosecco. We begin with the Prosecco as an example of the handling of a sparkling (interestingly enough, the Prosecco was the basis for the Bellini cocktail. I should email him and ask if there is any relationship). He opens this as described with a threatening sideways look at the waiter beside him, and it comes open with a hiss. Then he points out the elasticity in the cork. This wine carries a hint of white flowers, pear (which it must have, otherwise it is not good), and a floral, fruity feel. This is a wine you drink year by year. Now, the prosecco is a grape variety, not a DOC, and as such is a table wine. The Chianti is all Sangiovese grapes, and gives us a good example of the wine, although this year was not a very good one, 2003 being one of the hottest years this century. In fact, we were lucky in that the first bottle opened was bad, and we had a chance to note what to look for in terms of a “corked” wine. Effectively, it was dead. There was nothing in the nose, and the wine had a taste like prune juice. Signor Bellini checks all of the wines with short, panicky sniffings of the corks, and loud, chomping tastings, which are removed to the spittoon. The Edizione, a blend of primitivo, montevi, sangiovese, negronero, and malvasia is a table wine. As Signor Bellini says “a good spaghetti wine”. The grapes could come from just about anywhere. This one comes with tones of cassis, blackcherry, vanilla, cloves, and anise – created to be a soft wine that will be drank immediately. The Amarone is an older wine, and is hotter, at 16% alcohol. In fact, it is one of the booziest wines in Italy. This probably explains some of the impact it had on us at the table. The wine is famous for dried fruits. We slowly broke up from this, but I took the opportunity to ask about the Associazione’s new listing of restaurants. It appears that this is the first year of such a guide, and it has been put together from the recommendations of association members. They’ll look at this for next year, possibly changing the manner in which it is done, and will include it with the Italian Wine Guide. And so, rather loudly, we broke up from class. A rough start, but it finished well.

Okay, rice paddy snails are on the list of "must eats".

I second that! We need a "drool" icon for egullet!

Katrina Kanetani – Pier Restaurant – Sydeny (Australia that is, not the one in British Columbia) First up in the day for those of us remaining was Katrina Kanetani’s class. With husband Karl along the two of them were ready for most any questions we might field, as Karl is the sous chef over at Este, while Katrina is from The Pier, both restaurants under the Doyle brothers, Peter and Greg. Este does red meats, and French/Australian dishes, while the Pier does some of the best seafood there is. For the class, we’ll work through Valrhona chocolate pave and Passion Fruit Madeleines Also, as we must be fed, we’d be having Canadian lobster claw and Slow cooked salmon But both of these seafood dishes were coming from the Four Seasons’ side. Before getting too stuck into it, we talked chocolate. Valrhona chocolate. I’ve yet to meet a dessert chef who doesn’t love Valrhona chocolate. It’s also important that every one of them has their own particular one that they prefer for nibbling. Katrina had sacks of them with her today; a 61% extra bitter; Caraibe at 66%; Guanaja at 70%; (the first of Valrhona’s Grand Cru chocolates) Venezualan Araguani at 72%; and Manjari from Madagascar at 64%. Valrhona (whom I talked more about last year, earlier in the thread) is the Grand Cru for chocolates, and take the business as seriously as their wine making neighbors. The little balls in the husk are a new Valrhona product – chocolate chilis. Not really a bite, but very, very edible. Valrhona Chocolate Pave For the pave (“brick” to describe the shape) we’ll use two chocolates; the Guanaja and the Araguani. The pave will sit upon a chocolate genoise (sponge), which will have to be made and put to set in a mold first. For this we drop in 5 whole eggs into 1 cup of sugar in a bowl, and beat it over a bain marie, looking for it to be heated to about the halfway cooked stage, beating it to a pale white, fluffy stage (sort of like me). She’s a little nervous that she doesn’t have her thermometers, but says we’re looking for about 40 centigrade. Cocoa and flour are sifted together three times to get a good, aired mix. This is done over parchment paper to make it easy to funnel back. And while this is going on, Karl’s got some butter melting to go into the genoise. Then the mix goes into the blender, and it gets worked over at high speed with the whisk attachment for about ten minutes (about triple in volume). Then the clarified butter is folded in, the spatula working around then cutting through, around and cutting through. With your four arms (it’s good to do this with a friend) you sift the flour/cocoa into the bowl, and gradually mix. They sift in in three passes, working to avoid lumps. The halfway cooking has allowed the eggs to come to a point where they provide enough rigidity to carry the structure. We’re missing a prepped cake tin (buttered and floured) so she improvises with a tray lined with parchment paper folded in. Then it’s into the oven at 200 for about 25 minutes. You can use the finger press to check for when it’s done, looking for it to pop back up and just be pulling away from the sides. And remember, like meat, that the residual heat after you remove it from the oven will continue to cook through. For the pave we’ve already got the chopped up chocolates into the double broiler, melting down, taking care that we don’t get a bloom, when the cocoa butter comes out in white streaks. Tempering (heating, cooling, heating) will avoid this, working to strengthen the internal bonds in the material. The melt temperature here is about 45 centigrade, a little warmer than blood. Again, without her thermometers she’s a little nervous, but the easy, traditional check is for a pastry chef to smear a little of the mix on her lips. This’ll tell you if it’s hot enough yet. It also explains why pastry chefs are often found around the kitchen with chocolate all over their faces like six year olds…..wait a second, wasn’t she talking earlier about always nibbling on chocolates while at work? This could just be the uncovering of a massive pastry chef conspiracy! Anyways, once it’s ready you remove it from the bath and let it set on the side. We’re going for an Italian meringue here, with hot sugar cooking the egg whites (as opposed to a French meringue, where the egg white is beaten and then powdered sugar is sifted in). For this we’ve been working the sugar syrup up (lots of sugar -250gm – to 83ml of water). As the sugar melts, you need to be careful to work down any sugar that’s crystallizing on the sides of the pot. You can use a wet pastry brush, or if you have asbestos fingers like Katrina (I don’t feel much in my fingertips anymore) you can just wash it down with those (“don’t do this at home”). We want to get this to soft ball, rather than hardball. One check is in the bubbling rate, and the other check is by tossing a bit into a glass of cold water. It’ll form a ball, and you can check with your fingers (if you have feeling left in them after attempting the hand wash) if it’s the soft consistency, or if it’s gone hard. While that was happening, eggs have been beaten – 5 yolks and 2 whole eggs – down to the ribbon stage. Do this over a bowl of hot water to get the right volume for the sabayon. When it’s ready, and the sugar is ready, introduce the sugar syrup into the working blender in a slow steady stream, and keep blending to cool. The stream needs to go down the edge of the bowl, and avoid hitting the top of the whisk, otherwise you’re not going to get the volume you need. And you need a good spatula to get all the sugar out of the bowl. Any sugar you leave behind is going to get you out of spec with the recipe, and pastry chefs live by their measures. In another stainless steel bowl (note to self, buy more steel bowls), we prep the cream to nice, soft peaks (and no further). This should be room temperature, so we can match the temperatures to get consistency. Now get a bigger steel bowl (note to self, write more notes to self) ready, and in a small steel bowl fold in the melted chocolate into half the sabayon mix, then combine the rest of the sabayon, working it with a good spatula to combine. When that’s combined (and your temperature should be dead on, now) take a new, clean spatula and fold in the cream. The “new, clean spatula” part is something that Gordon Ramsay beat into her when she worked for him. This is the one tried and true way to avoid getting lumps (in your pave, if not from Chef Ramsay). To assemble the cake we take a ring and punch through our pad of cake to get the base. Normally we’d use a brush to soak the sponge a little with a syrup of Kahlua (or whatever) and sugar – it is a sponge. Then, with our base in place, we add in the pave and smooth the top off with a warmed pallette knife. Put this puppy in the fridge, and let it set for a few hours or overnight. Plated, they have some very tart currants to put on the side (and more chocolate on top). Then the conversation turns to Gordon Ramsay, and the benefits of kitchen discipline. The top chefs “may be crazy, but this is how you get true professionalism in the kitchen”. Karl has his say here, and you have to agree with him; coming to a restaurant, you expect consistency. You aren’t paying so you can worry about if the kitchen is having a good day or a bad day, you want the flavours and tastes to be the same regardless. That’s why, with a great restaurant, you shouldn’t worry if the headliner chef is there that night or not. He should have a team disciplined enough to follow his plan to the letter. Of course, as Katrina says, this creates a lot of stress when working. But it has its rewards, “like eating chocolate cake every morning.” And while this is going on, I should point out, they’ve had plates of chocolates going around the room, letting us try the differences in the percentages. I’d agree with her, the Manjari would propably be my favourite for a nibble. Passionfruit Madeleines Then we do some Madeleines – the famous French Petit Four, named as a parting gift for a lady. Not too much to this. First you reduce some passionfruit in a small owl. You want to take about 30ml of juiced passion fruit (or any juice) down to 10ml to concentrate the flavour. This small an amount will get you the flavour you want without altering the proportions in the recipe. And let this cool. Honey (1 tsp) and butter (80 gm) are melted together now. At this stage, other flavours can be introduced - kaffir lime leaf, a tsp of instant coffee with a couple of drops of water, etc. If you were going to swap out honey, then use Moscado sugar. Someone asked about molasses, but this would be too heavy a flavour. Let this cool. Whisk together the eggs (2 whole) and sugar (85gm Caster) until you get a pale mix, then sieve in some almond meal (25gm), and flour (80 gm), and baking powder (1/2 tsp). Add the cooled butter/honey mix, and then the passion fruit reduction (also cooled). Let the batter sit around for a few hours (or overnight) before using it. Really, Madeleines are best right out of the oven, so you want to be ready way ahead of time if you’re doing this for friends. So, when it’s getting to be time, stand a piping bag in a glass to be filled up, and then fill the little molds (buttered) about ¾ of the way. A good Madeleine, when it’s done, should have a characteristic bump on the top. Bake at 180 centigrade. As we said, these are best straight out of the oven. Roll them in some icing sugar and serve them with coffee or tea while the middles are still warm. We chat for a bit. Katrina and Karl are good at getting the audience out of their shells. She’ll have a new cookbook out soon, or rather The Pier will, and she’ll be doing the dessert recipes. The Pier is doing great seafood, but much of it isn’t just the recipes, but the attention to how the fish are treated. Their doing a line catch, and an ikijimi kill, which sees a wire introduced to the spine of the fish, which “doesn’t quite kill it, but it does” putting it into a coma. This way the line catch doesn’t give you the thrashing damage of fish in nets, and the wire avoids the muscle stress of fish in distress. I wasn’t aware, but when you see a rainbow colour on your tuna, this is a sign of it having been under stress at the time of death. (I would be too). Este, where Karl is working, is, as we said, more of a traditionally red meat place. They’ve got, as he says, the most beautiful room. The property came into the Doyle’s possession after an arson, and in rebuilding the place as a boutique hotel, they kept a lot of the burnt timber in the design of the restaurant. I was also curious about Kartina’s take on working St. Lucia. This caught her out, as no one ever asks. Me, I’m just looking for a reason to visit. It sounds like the island is as beautiful as I’ve heard, but you really have to have a lot of recipes for bananas if you’re looking for indigenous recipes. The lobster and salmon were excellent (pointing out that the Four Seasons can do well on their own, too), with the salmon in particular having a great, soft flavour. Not a Pacific Spring, of course, but the technique made up in part for that. The madeleines took a mixed review. It’s a very simple thing, and goes well with chocolate, but I think are palates are jaded from heavy chocolates and don’t appreciate something as light as this. Of course that means that we loved the pave. Nothing like a good old chocolate flavoured brick. No wines with lunch, but that actually felt like a good thing, with the excesses of the last few days debauchery slowly taking their toll.

Friday – September 14, 2007 This was going to be a busy day. It began at breakfast as I was catching up on notes over my usual ten cups of hightest coffee. I was joined by one of the couples traveling with me. She woke up this morning to her husband’s comments of “You smell like Cabernet”. Luckily, he immediately followed this with “That’s a good thing!” This will brand me as a heretic in this part of the world, but I am not a big fan of rice porridge for breakfast. Call it khao tom in Thai, or juk in Korean (yeah, my spelling is probably wrong) but it doesn’t thrill me. Sorry. However, my Korean friend put together one of the prettiest bowls, using fresh sping onion and dried sardines. It was so cheerful looking it helped clear her headache. I had to at least take a picture. I was losing this couple today. They would be heading for the airport at lunchtime for the flight back, happily fed (even if nursing a slight headache). Me, I was on the run for the whole day.

That basket of wild mushrooms is one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen.

The Gala Sparkling Wines & Senorio De Alange Pardina, Spain, 2004 Douglas Rodriguez, Roberto Donna, and Michael Ginor Canapes Patrizia Di Benedetto Tuna Fillet in Pistachio Crust and Marsala Sauce Sauvignon Blanc, Sunshine Bay, Marlborough, New Zealand 2005 Romain Fornell The Norway Lobster Chardonnay, Terrazas de los Andes Reserva, Argentina 2006 Steven Snow Red Emperor with Mirin, Lime and Tamarind Cabernet Sauvignon, Xanadu, Margaret River, Australia 2004 Susur Lee Marinated Rack of Lamb with Slow Cooked Onion Tart Mint, Coconut, and Confit Lemon Chutney Amarone, Campo dei Gigli Tenuta, Sant’ Antonio, Italy 2000 Suzanne Tracht Jar’s Signature Pot Roast Caramelized Onion, Horseradish Cream Cabernet Sauvignon Premier Cuvee, StG, Sonoma County, California Escudo Rojo Cabernet Sauvignon, Carmenere, Syrah, Baron Philippe de Rothschild, Chile 2003 Paul Wilson Roasted Blackmore Matsuzaka Wagyu Sirloin and Braised Brisket With Bordelaise Sauce, Celeriac, and Truffles Bin 8 Cabernet/Shiraz, Penfolds, Australia 2004 Noa Sicilia IGT, Cusumano, Italy 2004 Katrina Kanetani Deconstructed Mango Cheese Cake Nicole Krasinski Roasted Banana and Guanaja Chocolate Pudding Cake Stephane Calvet Valrhona Petits Fours Jura Aged 10 years, Single Malt Whiskey, Scotland In order to get from the main lobby of the Four Seasons to the Ballroom, it is necessary for one to walk through the most tasteful of outdoor passages, past lush vegetation and milling carp in the waters about youl. This tasteful outdoor passage is not airconditioned (there are limits) and I was in a tuxedo. I try to use my weeks at the WGF to further my knowledge of the important things in life. One of these important things is knowing where the coldest part of the reception area in front of the ballroom is. I found my usual spot and settled on a glass of sparkling. A little sweet. Some of my friends were about, working the hall and catching up, but I held firm. Then somebody wanted to take pictures. Outside we go, looking for a posing spot. Then back inside. Then we take the pictures. I’d been doing fairly well up to then. But once in the ballroom, with the 220 or so of us dispersed to our tables, things weren’t a problem. We sat at table number 1, my party of visitors and I, with a nice family in seafood export and their friend, a veterninarian working with the government on food inspection issues. They’d gone with a green motif this year, giving a fairly soothing, submarine feel to things. The room looked far different from the collection of naked chairs and boxes that I’d observed the day before when I was taken through for a tour of the setup. The first wine was good, fresh, just as you’d expect from a Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc. We enjoyed this while Patrick Ghielmetti said a few words, reminding us that the purpose of all of this was in support of Princess Soamsawali’s charity Save A Child’s Life From Aids Project, run with the Thai Red Cross, which works to provide HIV drugs for pregnant mothers, in a bid to protect their children. He also, quite properly, thanked his team. The Four Seasons has done very well, and Isidore Sharp, the founder and sitting with us tonight, must be quite proud of what he’s created. Many of the courses were reprises of things done in the dinners. Same, same, but different. In the case of the tuna, I was quite happy. Tonight the crust was more alive, and the Marsala sauce definitely had more flavour to it. I was content to the extent that I didn’t even get a good shot of this, the first dish. The lobster, served with the Argentinian, was quite different. The crust of mushroom tartare and “rice cream” was harder, crisper, and felt more precise than what we had had for dinner earlier. The Red Emperor was, again, excellent, and the twice cooked sushi rice underneath took rave reviews from the young Korean sitting next to me. The Xanadu with this wasn’t as chilled down as it had been at dinner, and you could feel it trying to muscle up on the wine, but it still worked. The next wine and the next course were my favourites. Susur Lee’s lamb, marinated in an Indian fashion and served with three dollops of sauce and a little tart of onions. Of the sauces, there was one with carrot, chili, and coconute that really caught my attention. There was also a paper thin slice of something dried, and we were trying to figure it out. I thought maybe lotus root, but it was pineapple. The wine, the Amarone, was what I was looking for. Something I could nuzzle my nose into and go asleep. We’d railed a bit against “hot” wines earlier in the Fest, and this was a high-alcohol wine, but that does give you something that’ll reach in and yank your nose hairs like this one did. Maybe that’s not the most elegant of analogies?....... After the lamb, the beef. Or rather the first of the beefs. Suzanne’s pot roast pulled apart as you dug into it with your fork, and, having the horseradish cream made a world of difference to the flavours. I’m doing more creams with my braises when I get home. The Sonoma was a good Cab, and neither distracted nor submitted to the pot roast, but I felt a general preference for the Escudo, with the Syrah and the Carmenere in there. Now, as you may have noted, a couple of courses ago we hit the Wall of Meat. Up to now, it had been a fairly easy climb, but now we hit the overhang. A plate of roasted Wagyu, braised brisket, a dollop of celeriac and truffles, and, just to take things way over the top, a bit of marrow. I noticed some of my dinner companions were starting to flag. I called for a spoon for my marrow and went for it. I was so much in the midst of the marrow feast (“you gonna eat that?”) that I can’t really recall much about the Penfolds and Cusumano, other than that they were wet and red (which would be a great title for a band). The auction went well, with all of the packages drawing some bidding. Gone are the days when I would find myself buying a package just because I wanted to get the bidding started (but it was a very good package). I did try to get some (the Mercedes again, the four days in Chiang Mai and Chiang Rai), but people were in a good mood, and I know that Yoonhi’s patience will only be tested so many times before I find myself short a body part or two. We “lightened up” after this with Katrina’s deconstructed mango cheesecake. This was okay, but it’s hard to do justice to dishes like this after fighting our way over that precipice of protein. Likewise Nicole’s roasted banana and Valrhona Guanaja chocolate pudding was very good, but it was getting hard to focus. I had them pour me a triple of the Isle of Jura’s excellent 10 year old, and went out to work the room, catching up with some of my friends (one of whom I’ll hopefully meet up with in Seoul in October). When I came back to the table I found it cleared, so I’d missed out on Stephane Calvet’s Petits Fours. A pity, as Stephane, the Four Seasons’ pastry chef, really does a very good job at these sorts of things. What were the highlights? The Amarone. The lamb. The bright green-ness of the pistachios in the crust of the tuna. The barbarity of the marrow, and the clarity of the truffles and celeriac. The soft tang of the horseradish cream……. I was feeling quite primed at this point, if “primed” means a state simlar to that of Mr. Creosote in The Meaning of Life. I parted for the lobby before I found myself in my usual state of being the last one out of the room. At the lobby I opted for the better part of valour, and just went up to the room and laid down. That felt good.

Fresh soodae and makkolli. Now that'd be a breakfast to wake up for. Are the big shellfish the same as geoducks? A long, long foot hanging out of the shell? What time of the day were these shots taken? Is it really late, or was the rain just that heavy? Cheers, Peter

farthest from the mark is pretty normal for me......but I liked that cyan on the building. Will we see some dumplings? I'm not even certain of the naming for them in Estonia. This is exciting, as it's a part of the world we hear so little about. But, whatever you cove, I know it'll look good (as good as it tastes!). Cheers, peter

Stairway to Heaven or at least the Mezzanine Straight out of the class…well, maybe not quite straight. We’d been punishing the remaining bottles of the Rothschilds’ Chileans, and it had sort of kept us occupied a bit….anyways, stumbling back through the lobby, I was just in time for the group photo shoot. It’d be hard to miss it. Not only are the pros getting the record down, but the kibitzers like me are thronging as well. Cameras and videos and cell phones (oh, my!). So here’s our cast of characters, all in one place. Like every year, it's a good group. And here’s some of the details. I should also mention that, just as important as the visiting chefs is the work of Nicholas Schneller, the Four Seasons Bangkok’s Executive Chef; Stephane Calvet the 4S’ Pastry Chef; Satoshi Sawada from the Four Seasons’ Shintaro; and Danilo Aiassa from Biscotti. Needless to say my photo work stinks, as I missed getting Malcolm Omond the F&B Manager in any of these, and I’m intensely embarrassed that I missed getting a good shot of Patrizia. I’d blame Nokia, I’d blame the Rothschilds for leaving those wines about, but it is all my fault. I also wish I'd been better about getting the names down in one place for all of the assisting chefs. My ineptitude aside, I really enjoy the staircase shot as it gets everyone out of the kitchens. This is where I get a chance to meet some of the people that have been working on things out of sight for decades. I know the front of the house, the main chefs, and the administration, but, having been a plongeur myself way back when, these are people I admire. And then everyone breaks up, some couples shots are taken, and its smiles all around. It’s the smiles after the cameras finish shooting that matter the most. Next: The Gala