Categories

Showing posts with label rempah. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rempah. Show all posts

Thursday, February 6, 2014

Birthday Gift

Tomorrow is his birthday.

He doesn't like making a fuss.  A few years ago, I threw him a surprise party.  When the first guest arrived, he looked at me in shock and horror- What is R doing here at this time in the afternoon?

Oops.

This year, especially with distance, I thought I had best cement myself deeper into his consciousness, by cooking the mother of all Peranakan dishes, the Ayam Buah Keluak, for him.

Every Peranakan family cooks it their own way.  I am cooking in my Popo's shadow. The recipe can be found on pages 23-25 of my first book, A is for Achar, L is for Love (publisher- Ethos Books,
http://www.ethosbooks.com.sg )

My cousin B kept some nuts (buah keluak) for me.  She also gave me a packet of a tamarind paste (assam) to make the tamarind juice.

So the journey into Buah Keluak land needs to begin with first soaking the nuts for at least 2 days to rid it of soil/dirt.

1.  After 2 days, scrub them nuts, break them open with a small hammer, scoop out the meat, put aside.

I strategically chose to do this on the night that he was home.
This sight of his wife put him in a very good mood.  I was interrupted with hugs and declarations of love.  He then asked me to make him my curry as well.  
My Curry?  No problem.  Advantages of being jet lagged & availability of fresh coconut shavings!
2.  Add sugar and salt to the nut mixture and pound it up.  Then roll it into a ball shape, cover it with cling wrap and store away in the refrigerator.

 3.  One or 2 days before the actual meal, re-fill the nuts with the mixture.

4.  Prepare the rempah (spice paste)- this is the bit I dread the most.  It requires a lot of slicing and pounding, which ruins my manicure, hurts my hands and my back.

I think of the rempah as the foundation for the dish.  You can't exactly cheat on this.  The finer you cut the ingredients up, the easier it will be to pound.
(Rempah-  chillies, blue ginger, turmeric, shallots, buah keras, and lemon grass (use only the white bits).
The packet on the bottom left corner is tamarind.  You need to sift it through water to create tamarind juice.

Many prefer using a blender to prepare the rempah. But the archaic pounding way is the only way that draws out juices.  The blender can be employed later.
5.  Marinate a chopped chicken and some pork ribs while doing the above.
6.  Start cooking.  Fry up the rempah.  
7.  Add the chicken and pork ribs, add the assam/tamarind juice, add salt and sugar to taste.
8.  Add a dash of belachan, add all the nuts, keep on cooking.  
9.  After cooking on high heat, and just as the meats are about done, lower the heat, and allow to simmer for about 3-5 minutes.
10.  Once everything is cooked, allow to stand untouched for a while.
11.  And then I remove the meats and nuts, and I pour all the stew/broth into my blender to whip every bit of remaining spice into sheer liquid form.
12.  Next I return the meats, nuts and broth back into my pot.

13.  Allow it to cool, store in refrigerator, only to be served, tomorrow.

The dish looks like this.

There is a tangy, sweet-sour spiciness to it, as well as an underlying rich flavour.  I think the Japanese word is umami.  It tastes of distant lands.  It tastes of memory.  It tastes of time.




Tuesday, June 25, 2013

Tuesday: Love, Box-ed Up

Bruno and I visit Popo this afternoon.  I love the easy banter and silences that unfold as we sit together.  My grandmother is a very expressive woman.  She holds my hand, kisses me, tells me to take care of myself.  She chirps like a little bird at Bruno.

Outside the sky is ghostly orange, then dark grey.  The faint sound of thunder is heard.

U-jan, my grandmother says in Malay.  Ia akan hujan.
Rain.  It is going to rain.
Bruno is exploring Popo's kitchen.  How I love the tiles of the kitchen floor, cool to the touch, and rough with memories of homework at the dining table, hair being braided for school, hide-and-seek with cousinS, and always the pungent, sweet smell of rempah pounded and then fried up.

At 4pm, Popo insists on seeing me out her house, takes unsteady, determined steps down her driveway, and waits for me at my car.  There is an unexpected sadness rising like a tenacious tide, claiming.

What are you cooking tonight?  Popo asks me.

I twist the key to get the engine started.  I think of last night's bento dinner prepared, and will the tears away.  I wave and smile at my grandmother.

Buta no Shoga Yaki.

I think, this is how it feels- Love, box-ed up.