Lemongrass Beef Noodle Salad

Savoured for it's fresh, fragrant and subtly citrus flavour, lemongrass is a penetrating - yet non-overpowering - component of many South East Asian dishes. If you enjoy Vietnamese or Thai food, you'll recognise the flavour straight away.

This noodle salad is loosely inspired by one of my favourite Vietnamese dishes: bun bo xao - stir-fried lemongrass beef served over room-temperature vermicelli rice noodles. Slices of steak beef (e.g. sirloin, skirt, scotch) are normally used, however I had some leftover beef mince in the fridge so adapted the idea to suit.

The salad aspect is also flexible - slices of cucumber, bean sprouts, shredded crispy lettuce, peanuts, crispy fried shallots, and fresh herbs, such as cilantro, basil, mint, small perilla (shiso) leaves are typical; but I used what I had, including thin slices of green pepper and mixed seeds, providing alternative elements of freshness and texture.

What is mandatory, however, are the cooled rice noodles, the Vietnamese dipping sauce/salad dressing, and the lemongrass, garlic and fish sauce beef marinade. 

Lemongrass Beef Noodle Salad

Eating in... South East Asia

El Nido, Palawan, Phillipines

I decided early on during our travels through South East Asia (namely, Singapore, the Phillipines, Hong Kong, Malaysia, Laos and Vietnam) that I'd rather be enjoying the sights and sounds of the places around me, even when there was little to be seen and done but relax, than worrying about updating this blog. These things take time and I preferred the notion of doing it retrospectively when our trip had concluded.  This way, I could enjoy reflecting on our food experiences again, and indulge through recalling all of the amazing flavour sensations we encountered.

Sunset on the Mekong, Luang Prabang, Laos

We have been back in the West for a while now, enjoying the local delicacies of various European locations, but nonetheless I have been missing Asia. Maybe due to the affinity I have with the region, or more likely for the simple fact that, this part of Asia is home to some of the best food in the world.

And there's no doubt: we ate well. The novelty of needing to find something to eat every day for three months never wore thin and I cherished the opportunity to find something new, delicious, and even curious (chicken intestine, anyone?), to savour and enjoy. As you can expect, some meals were better than others, yet there were only two meals that I couldn't stomach (though I did choose not to eat balut, the Phillipines' delicacy of fertilised duck embryo...). But let's talk about the plethora of happy meals we did have.

Barbecue lunch of grilled whole fish and pork skewers, pork belly, salad and rice, followed by juicy pineapple, freshly prepared by our kayak tour guides in El Nido, Palawan, Phillipines

The most incredible baked BBQ pork buns from Tim Ho Wan, Hong Kong

It's difficult to pinpoint the best dish, meal and/or dining experience, for they were so diverse and special for different reasons. Was it the barbecue lunch prepared for us by our guides on a secluded beach as part of a kayaking tour near El Nido in Palawan, Phillipines... or, the Michelin-rated yum cha in Hong Kong that was so breathtakingly good, I don't think I will be able to enjoy yum cha elsewhere, as much, ever again... Or was it the feast of fresh crabs and tiger prawns with extended family in Sabah, Malaysia?  Maybe the home-made Luang Prabang noodle soup we had in Laos, miles away from the throng of tourists... or, the eleven-course meal we prepared with a group of strangers in an excellent cooking class in Hoi An, Vietnam?

Shared Lunches (#1 and #2)

I've started making lunch for work.  Not just for myself, but for the people I work with.  Part I-love-cooking-and-cooking-for-people and part can-I-really-make-food-that-people-would-pay-for?, I'm both excited and nervous to put the money where my mouth is.

For my bosses, I've guaranteed minimal time out of my expected working hours to do this, meaning I have to be thoughtful in what I prepare.  Majority of prep time should be accomplished at home and simple final touches and/or assembly left for the office. I've also limited the number of serves available each week because I need to cart it all in...!

Shared Lunch #1 was: Vietnamese-style Banh Mi with combination roasted pork loin and Chinese BBQ pork with homemade daikon and carrot pickle, pate, cucumber, coriander leaves and Sriracha in an Acme baguette.  As with any good Vietnamese dish, there is a good balance of salty, sour, sweet and spicy (I posted something similar here) and in my mind, you can't beat it.

I bought the Chinese BBQ pork from the biggest local Asian supermarket, that also makes it's own in-house BBQ and pickles, and the pork loin from the butchery around the corner which I roasted in chicken fat (from the soy honey roast chicken I prepared for the previous night's dinner) to a perfect blushing pink. The daikon and carrot pickle was made to this recipe and the cracked pepper pate was store-bought.

(l-r, clockwise) Coriander, pate, homemade carrot and daikon pickle, Acme baguettes, roasted pork loin and char siu.

Desktop lunch: Vietnamese-style vermicelli salad

Currently I'm in a phase of having Vietnamese-style vermicelli salads for my lunch.  Last week, I made traditional-style nuoc cham (dipping sauce) to use as my dressing (thanks to cheap limes) but yesterday I substituted fish sauce and lime for soy sauce and lemon and it worked alright too.

For the salad base:

Vermicelli, quantity depends on how hungry you are - for me, what fits loosely when dry within my thumb and forefinger making an 'o' works nicely.  (This is the only element that requires cooking so while you prepare the below, cover dry vermicelli in boiled water and drain well when it's become white/almost opaque. Alternatively, test for bite.)
Mesclun leaves, small handful of
Cucumber, as much as you like, sliced diagonally and then in half
Carrot, an inch and a 1/2 worth cut into matchsticks
Green onions, two inches worth sliced, I like a mix of white and green
Chinese BBQ pork, again, sliced (or any cooked meat you wish, leftovers are perfect, e.g. Shredded chicken, steak, roast pork, prawns, etc)

For the dressing (which should only be added just before eating)

The juice of 1 juicy lime (around 3 Tbsp)
2 Tbsp fish sauce
1 Tbsp sugar (or, to taste)
1 tsp rice vinegar
1 clove of garlic, minced (optional)
1 Thai chilli, finely chopped (optional and to taste)

There are many variations on nuoc cham but at its heart, it's all about balance.  I like to use the sugar element as the tipping scale so after adding one tablespoon, I'll test and add more if necessary.  I'm also a big fan of the garlic, but understandably maybe not all would be keen to eat this for an office workday lunch! Each to their own.

Assembly

Pour dressing lovingly over salad and combine so the vermicelli manages to intertwine itself with the carrots, and the carrots with the leaves.

Eat and enjoy!

Ode to the Sandwich

There is nothing like a good sandwich.  I am currently home sick from work with a head cold brought on myself by going to sleep with wet hair.  One of my mother's cardinal rules growing up, only to be broken after a late night game of indoor netball.  A mistake I will not make again!  Nonetheless, I thank Buddha for not being sick at my stomach as I still retain my hunger and ability to eat.

As I was too excited and hungry to have foresight, I have no evidence of what I am about to describe, but you can believe and taste with your imagination the goodness of my recently devoured sandwich.  From top to bottom:

A thick slice of fresh sunflower and barley bread

Avocado, smeared on its underside

Torn coriander leaves

Crunchy iceberg lettuce

Sprouts

A swirl of Sriracha

Thin slices of Edam cheese

Fresh cucumber, laid in overlapping slices, and

French herb pâté

Over another thick slice of fresh sunflower and barley bread.

The only thing missing was some carrot and daikon pickle which would have made the flavour combination perfectly reminiscent of a Vietnamese baguette sandwich off the streets of Hanoi.  Punchy and lively yet soothed by the subtle creaminess of pâté and fresh bread.

So, is it the comfort of good bread that makes a sandwich so fulfilling?  Or the right combination of flavours that would sing together in any manifestation?  Inevitably, for the most sublime sandwich, it is both.  But this, I feel, being so easy to achieve, makes the sandwich a food opportunity that we should not relegate to merely an option we take when we run out of time or other 'more exciting' ingredients.  Each to their own for whatever flavour and texture combinations are willing, but I'm sure many are aware that the most satisfying take can simply be a few slices of cheese, melted between two pieces of toasted bread (preferably all heated at the same time).  A perfect example of the great pleasures a simple sandwich can bring.

I'm sure this wont be the last time I talk about the so-called 'humble sandwich' but until then: go to your kitchen and slap together a sandwich with fillings you like and bread you have, and be reminded of why there is nothing like a good sandwich.

Past pursuits

I’d like to give some background to the opening photo collage of my first post.  It collates some, but not all, of my food photos from meals past.  From Mexico, to Japan, San Francisco, Portland (Oregon), Hanoi, Beijing, Paris, New York and Wellington, New Zealand - this celebrates a handful of sites where I have enjoyed both great and not-so-great food. 

While I hope that I will encounter nothing but the best, I have on occasion found myself making bad food decisions after following dated advice or wisdom from those who don’t share the same cravings as myself. One such regretful breakfast was at Mama’s SF in, you guessed it, San Francisco. A spot renowned for its breakfasts, I had seen this name pop up in many San Francisco guides so thought it was a must-do.  After waiting in line for over an hour, during which I remembered I wasn’t big on ‘traditional’ breakfasts, I hoped to find something tantalisingly savoury on the menu.  For whatever reason, I chose the blueberry pancakes.  Bad decision.  Long story short: Lively vibe, okay pancakes, standoffish service and a feeling that they want you eaten and out asap.  After all, there are 50 people waiting outside.  I wouldn’t recommend it.  But I’m learning.  

Mama's SF blueberry pancakes, San Francisco

Pho Bo, Hanoi, Vietnam

Green tea soba noodles and tempura vegetables, Shizuoka, Japan

Epicurious tourists live by the common adage that you don’t know a place until you eat with the locals and on every trip I learn again and again that it’s certainly true. The character of the food often parallel’s aspects of a region’s culture and this is what I find so enthralling about travelling by eating.  For example, I found that Mexico is a place of flavours over texture whilst Japan is pure and fresh or an adaptation of foreign cuisine.  Hanoi has bite, kick and lively hits while Paris is a stronghold of tradition and best enjoyed with another (there are too many petite bites that one could possibly consume on your own).  

Observations easily equatable to an understanding of place, I feel. Perhaps less exciting than the there-and-then, the unarguable experience of authentic flavours means it’s easier to attempt their recreation at home.  Of course, Google and region-specific cookbooks help jog the memory or unlock key combinations as well, and this is something that I love.  The ability to allude to those memories of travels past by eating and tasting the same flavours as you did when… sitting low to the ground on a plastic chair, under a makeshift blue tarpaulin roof opposite locals as you slurped up a pho bo (Vietnamese beef noodle soup) made zingy by a squeeze of lime, and spicy with a big spoonful of chilli sauce swirled into the rich clear broth; or, sitting outside the Musee d’Orsay amongst hungry pigeons and chatty teenagers, while loading a baguette tradicional with terrine de canard (duck) and a local Camembert cheese the guy at the deli recommended, and chomping into it as bread crumbs dropped inevitably to the ground. 

I'm constantly awaiting the next opportunity to either recreate the memories or create new ones to be remembered in future meals.  Hopefully I won’t have long to wait.  In fact, tonight I will be visiting a local Japanese restaurant where I’ll hope to be brought back by the chimes of “irrashaimase” (“welcome, please come in”) by the restaurant staff to all of my experiences of dining in Japan.