Flavor Boulevard

Tag: homemade

  • Sizzling crepe


      It’s been a while, I know. One time I asked my advisor about his hobby, his reply was “I used to read a lot when I was an undergrad, but now I just don’t have time anymore, all hobbies are gone.” He went on warning that I should devote some time to my hobbies now while I still can, because graduate school and later business (such as postdoctoral positions, if I can get some) will devour all of my time (and probably my soul, but he didn’t say that). Well, guess what, I don’t even have time now. On the positive side, you don’t get to sleep much, so it’s unlikely that you would have insomnia.

      But sometimes you would wish you had insomnia. Now that the tests have receded and won’t come back for some time, I can (and must) stay up late for homework. So I just had a refill of energy, which at the time seemed light and even not enough, but is now weighing down on me with such concentration, unfortunately in the stomach and not in my head. It would make a great weightwatcher meal. Guess, anyone? It’s a Vietnamese pancake, i.e. banh xeo.

      Recall that we’ve had several posts of banh before, it is no surprise that this one is also made of flour (rice, in this case). Here’s a quick list of ingredients my mom uses:
      – prepackaged flour to make banh xeo (sold at Asian markets),
      – soy milk (to dissolve the flour),
      – ground pork (to be browned)
      – celery
      – shrimp
      – sugar, salt
      A great and experienced cook herself, she follows no recipe and provides none. The measuring cup doesn’t exist in her kitchen. She seasons the flour-soy milk mix, so that one doesn’t need to eat her banh xeo with any form of sauce. You won’t find this sauce-free business in any banh xeo shack you ever drop by, simply because traditionally people wrap their banh xeo in a huge lettuce leaf, roll it up, dip into nuoc mam pha, and somehow manage to put the busy bunch into their mouth. (A regular banh xeo is about 20cm (7 inches) in diameter.) They do it utensil-free. If soy milk makes one shudder, reason of which is a mystery to me, then one can use cow milk (whatever percent), coconut milk, or water. Likewise celery can be replaced by bean sprout or some form of long crunchy veggie (or no veggie?). Do away with the shrimp and pork if you’re a vegetarian, and go tofu. Basically, do what you like. As long as you throw the stuff into a hot skillet, pour a ladle of batter, and hear a sizzling sound (a “xeo!“, hence the name), you’ve got a pancake. A liberal, easy going pancake.

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    • The texturous wonder of stewed pig feet


        Today has been good to me, and despite the common attitude of Americans toward anything but “common meats,” I think it’s time to talk about one of the most tasteworthy albeit shunned part of a pig. They package and sell it at the Super Walmart in Humble, they’ve been eating it with banh canh (a Southwestern Vietnamese udon-like rice noodle soup) probably since the Southwestern delta became part of Vietnam. (And no, it is not because meat was rare that they had to eat everything, the Southwestern delta region is the most prosperous piece of land of the country.) It takes some work to cook, a strong hand to rub salt and wash, many hours of stewing on a stove, but the result never fails your satisfaction. Yes, it’s the foot of a pig.

        It looks chubby, but if it’s cooked well, it takes almost no effort to rip the edible part off the bone, and even less to chew. It is a layer of thick skin with tendon and very little fat, extremely tender, but not too tender to lose the firm texture. It’s good because it’s firm and tender. It’s not dry and fibrous like a piece of pale chicken breast. It doesn’t need a knife to cut like a chunk of steak, it just comes off the bone. It is washable with salt water before cooking, unlike a snail. It doesn’t need a handful of spice or a skillet of oil and batter to buff up the taste like a fish fillet. You can keep it as simple as boiling in a pot of water, and the natural sweetness from its bone marrow will make it good on its own. My mom doesn’t cook it with banh canh either (for those who are interested in banh canh gio heo, here’s the recipe). She lets it sit on the stove for a while, then throws in vegetable of choice, usually potato, carrot, and broccoli, and a couple of eggs, to make a soup. Her most recent creation is pig’s feet stewed with artichoke, or “gio heo ham atiso“.

        A recollection here. During lunch break in high school, some kids usually go out to a noodle shack outside the school gate to get a bowl of banh canh gio heo. They have lots of those in Saigon, where it can be anything from a house transformed into a small eatery indoor, or a few plastic chairs, a small folding table, and a noodle cart on the sidewalk. In those bowls you can see at most a slice or two of pig’s trotter, but never the whole thing. It’s expensive for the work put into cooking it, for its texture, and for its scarcity. One pig has only 4 of those but a ton of meat, and no dummy would raise a pig for its feet, so only when there are tons of pork sold that pigs would be killed, and pig’s feet would be available. Keep buying pork, guys!

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      • Mom’s cooking

          Pork meat ball with tomato sauce (seasoned with sugar, salt, garlic, and onion), thin omelet (just egg and green onion), and marinated cha lua, on French bread.

          Pork chop, marinated with salt, sugar, onion, and garlic. Very simple. To the left is xoi dau xanh (mung bean xoi), and canned green beans (OK, I added the green beans).



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        • Lunch log

            Lunch today, at Pie Are Square:


            Yes, that was my lunch in its entirety (minus a bite).

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