nakji

I use commercial curry powder in cold salads: I like potato salad with peas and ham with a curry mayonnaise. Another great one, if you like cold pasta salad, is cavatappi with chicken, mandarin oranges, and red bell pepper in a curry powder mayonnaise dressing. Also, straight up curry dip: half mayo, half full-fat sour cream. Put that out with wings or crudite, it goes fast. I've never actually used commercial curry powder to make a curry, except when making a Japanese-style curry. Then it works great - it gives you that mild taste of a goopy, roux-based curry. Great over fried pork cutlets.

Japanese bar staples: Cassis orange; grapefruit "sours" made with grapefruit juice and shochu; and for the truly brave - cold oolong tea and shochu.

Over here, we were chatting about Oriental Beauty oolong, which Richard notes has a higher percentage of oxidation. I'm curious. The oolongs I have tried and liked, like tie guan yin (my favourite) and da hung pao (my second favourite) are two very different teas. The Oriental Beauty is very different from both those (although closer to the tie guan yin, if I had to compare), and I'm curious to what extent the oxidation affects those flavours. Is the difference in taste solely attributable to the oxidation percentage, or are there other factors involved?

I keep several oils and fats on hand for cooking, which amuses my non-cook friends. ( - Sample conversation: Friend:"Why do you have three different 1l bottles of oil?" Me: "The oils are different." Friend: "...?") Since I tend to cook seasonally, we get a glut of the same thing in my kitchen for a while. Right now it's spinach and pea shoots. To keep things seeming like there's more of a variety, I use different oils to help give the same ingredient a different spin. For example, the spinach with olive oil and a bit of garlic seems Italian. But with a bit of sesame oil, it's Korean. A bit of clarified butter, and it's leaning toward India. Or when I get cucumbers, a bit of vinegar and sesame oil, and we're in Korea again. But sunflower oil and vinegar puts me in Vietnam. What other oils or fats help give the main ingredient the feel of a different cuisine?

Can you say more about the "Oriental Beauty" style tea? I had a cup of what Starbucks was billing "Oriental Beauty Oolong" the other day, and was confused. Although they were calling it an oolong, it seemed to taste far closer to a traditional black tea. I liked it a lot - no bitterness at all, but it didn't taste like an oolong to me.

I used to enjoy egg coffees in Hanoi. Vietnamese coffee was dripped into a cup. Then warmed egg whites were shaken vigorously with sweetened condensed milk to make sort of a thick, boiled-icing style layer. The dark coffee was poured over ice, then the the egg foam was layered on top like whipped cream. You could either whip it into the coffee layer at the table, or - if you were me - spoon it all off first, then drink the bitter coffee as a chaser. *sigh

Was there any bacon-like pork used in the dishes you tried? There's a kind of ham that has an incredibly rich smoky tang that I'd never had until trying some here. It absolutely makes any dish it's used in. I use it to great effect in corn chowder fairly often, as a matter of fact.

Are we talking tea tea, or any of the other hot drinks generally referred to as "cha"" in Korean? I love yujacha, a hot drink made from a yuzu-like marmalade. We always have a bottle in the fridge for when we have sore throats. My husband is a big fan of yulmucha, a kind of hot cereal beverage made with Job's Tears. And when I see it, I also like to get a cup of dae-cha - jujube tea. It's not summer without a jug of bori-cha (barley tea) in the fridge, either. For "tea" tea, I like nokcha, with brown rice, especially in the morning. I usually had the bags from the supermarket - I've never tried any from a specialty purveyor. In Korea, O'Sulloc was a popular green tea, although I caqn't recall having tried any. I'm going on a short trip to Busan in June, and I'm looking forward to picking some up and comparing it to my local product.

I have a cooking only kitchen, which I like because I'm shy and use it as an excuse to hide during big gatherings. It's big enough for one or two other people to crowd in and pretend like they're going to help me cook. Sometimes it's nice to have a space where smaller conversations can occur.

Fry about a quarter cup of it with some bacon and sesame oil, then use that to fry another cup or so of cold leftover white rice - kimchi fried rice. Top with a fried egg, and it's a meal for one.

I picked up some Big Red Robe oolong on my most recent trip to Shanghai. I have it at work, and I'm not in love with it as much as my tie guan yin. The first cup has a pleasant roasted flavour that I enjoy, but subsequent cups take on a strong celery taste. I hate celery. It also doesn't seem to last as long as my tie guan yin leaves, with which I get a good solid cup of tea all day out of. I'm thinking I couldn't have gotten as nice leaves as I usually do from my local teashop, as I bought them at a touristy shop in Xintiandi. I'll try again, because I do like the roasty taste.

I had some amazing jiaozi yesterday from a local restaurant that specializes in different fillings. I tried two varieties - one with pork, mustard green and cilantro filling; another with chicken, ginger and pine nuts. The pine nuts ones were something I'd never tried before - surprisingly delicious.

Thanks Richard. I knew it wasn't a Yixing, but had no idea what else it might be. I'll put it on my "objets" shelf for now, and read your section on Yixing pots. I'm thinking of getting another (smaller) gaiwan and a pot this month to up my game, so to speak.

Good point. They do fan while they cook the skewers, and I've never encountered an ashy skewer either. There must be some technique at work.

I tried out some more of last year's Tie Guan Yin in my new pot, brewed Gong Fu style; one teaspoon of tea to 60 ml of water, 75 degrees, one minute. Very, well - smoky isn't the right word, but like that, for the first cup. Second and third cups (30 sec.) were floral and sweet. Very nice. I followed those cups with a tall cup of the long jing from last weekend, also 75 degrees, for 30 seconds. Light, grassy and astringent. I really love this tea for waking up my mouth. Very tempted to hit the tea shop to see what new spring arrivals are there. I still haven't tried any silver needle yet...

A student gave me this teapot as a thank-you gift for helping her with college applications. Since I didn't open the gift in front of her, I lost the opportunity to ask any her questions about it. It's clay, I think - it has a rough inside that holds 60 ml. There's an artist's stamp on the bottom; the inside is a light blonde colour clay that seems rather sandy. A google image search didn't turn up much else that looks like it. I haven't used it yet, but I have some oolong I could try in it. Pot: Stamp:

Hum. There are a couple of Dongbei restaurants I've been meaning to try - One in Shanghai, and one here in Suzhou. I'd be interested to know myself, so I'll know what sort of dishes to look for on the menu.

Oh wow, I think we have our own little trend here; add me to the club. I have never nor want to mastered the art of French cooking. Some day I may want to bone a chicken, but really, not in the near future. Much respect to Julia, and everyone who has worked their way through that book, but for me, now....no. I also like duck that's been cooked the whole way through. It's hard to chew, otherwise.

It was really flavourful - and I can't help thinking that the coconut in the sauce was actual minced coconut; not just coconut milk. The sauce had a texture to it. As for the egg tarts being soggy; I completely agree. We brought the box back to Hong Kong at our hostess's request - she's an egg tart lover, too.

Because it sounds like you wouldn't like it? Actually, I'd never tried it either until a year or two ago when my husband took it in his head to try to make it. It's a nice change from pasta. I also commit the unpardonable sin of keeping the leftovers and heating them up for lunch the next day.

That's Fahrenheit, right?

I just popped into my local tea shop (San Wan Chang)after a long absence to re-up on tie guan yin leaves for work. (I usually start with a few leaves in the cup in the morning and brew grand-pa style all day.) Well, while I was in there, the sales assistant told me they'd just gotten in some 2010 long jing tea from Hangzhou (not so far from here). Going at the rate of 1300 RMB/kg I had to try some! She opened up the canister for me to have a whiff and I was sold. The leaves themselves are bright green and have a lovely grassy smell. I have brewed one small cup inexpertly - I was too eager to get out my thermometer and gaiwan - and I'm loving the astringency. I've just finished a late dim sum meal, and this tea is just the ticket for getting out the residual fattiness from the meal. Now - how do I want to brew this properly?

When I lived in Japan and made kimchi, I just left the bottle on the floor where a cold draft could get to it, mainly because my fridge was too small to take it. This worked in the winter, when my flat was quite cold, but I never tried it in the summer. I never took the temperature. Old school in Korea dictates burying your kimchi in a pot in the ground; or at the very least sticking it outside in a kimchi pot. New school leaves their kimchi in special, odor-trapping "kimchi fridges". So a curing fridge would probably be fine. I've only ever seen kimchi made in whole heads, then cut by the lady of the house in the kitchen or at the table into chopstickable pieces. When people make whole heads, the kimchi spice is hand-layered between the leaves, so the whole head gets packed with spicy goodness. Of course, this is when you're making kimchi to last for the next year, so keeping it whole is probably just a convenience. Cutting up fifty heads would be a pain, to say the least. We shall eat no kimchi before its time.

I went to Macau last month for a day trip out of Hong Kong - unfortunately, it was raining so hard the whole day that the entire visit seemed to be an exercise in finding a ledge to stand under. It was the kind of rain that punches you in the head, hits the ground, then bounces back up again to try and grab another chance at soaking you. We only had two goals for the trip: eat egg tarts at Lord Stowe's, and find someplace serving African chicken. After a brief taxi ride from the ferry terminal to the Largo de Senado - that was when the skies opened up on us, so we had to go to the nearest place we could find offering African Chicken. Our guidebook directed us to a place called Sol Mar, which turned out to be a perfectly fine place to wait out the rain with a bottle of wine, a plate of chorizo with peppers, and a dish of African chicken. The place was really old school, with two waiters a table, and suspiciously soft white buns and butter packs tonged onto your plate by the staff. We were the only ones in the restaurant for about a half hour, as we arrived before the lunch rush, but the place had filled up with downtown workers by the time we left, and they had started to nail up their New Year's decorations, too, so it got a lot cheerier. The chicken was stand-out amazing, especially with a bottle of dry white wine. Like, pick-the-bones-up-off-the-plate-and-suck-the-sauce-off-good. Look-surreptitiously-around-the-room-and-spoon-sauce-right-off-the-plate-and-into-your-mouth good. I really need a recipe for this. Chorizo: African Chicken: We slogged through the rain to all of the traditional sights, had egg tarts at as many places were selling them, passed up the pork-chop on a roll due to being still full from the chicken and the egg tarts, and then took a bus out to Lord Stowe's. The village was so much more peaceful and low-key than I had anticipated. I'm only mildly ashamed to say that when we got to Lord Stowe's, we ate two more egg tarts each, bringing the day's total to four each. Then we got a box of them to take back to Hong Kong with us.

A harder icing might be useful, since I'll have to transport them stacked on each other, likely. About how much butter did she start out with? A half cup?