Hot, sweet, and sticky...

They're cinnamon rolls!

I was stressing Monday when I was going through my human subjects application. I've always found that baking really helps me destress. Plus, I've been wanting to make these suckers for a while now.

I found this recipe on allrecipes.com
I made the full recipe of dough, and rolled them all up into rolls and made the 'slices' with dental floss. I ended up letting one batch rise as usual, and the other half I froze for cinnamon rolls at a later date.

These were best out of the oven, steaming and nutty. What I liked best about these is that the dough was not overly saturated with stickiness. Of course the frosting was sweet and sticky, but the actual rolls still had that nice pastry/breadiness. And the chopped walnuts REALLY stood out in a delicious way against the browned dough. I would definitely do this again.

Cinnamon Rolls

for dough
* 1 cup milk
* 1 cup water
* 1/4 cup butter
* 1 1/2 teaspoons salt
* 6 cups all-purpose flour
* 1 1/2 tablespoons active dry yeast
* 1/2 cup white sugar
* 2 eggs

for filling:
* 1/3 cup butter, softened
* 1 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
* 3/4 cup white sugar
* 3/4 cup raisins (optional)
* 3/4 cup chopped walnuts (optional)

for icing:
* 2 cups confectioners' sugar
* 3 tablespoons butter, melted
* 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
* 3 tablespoons milk

DIRECTIONS:

1. heat 1 cup milk, water, and 1/4 cup butter until very warm (butter doesn't need to be completely melted). (I microwaved it all for 40-50 sec). Place milk mixture, salt, flour, yeast, sugar, and eggs in the pan of the bread machine in the order suggested by the manufacturer. Select the Dough cycle. Press Start. (or use your kitchen aid with the dough hook attachment).

2. Once Dough cycle is complete, remove the dough from the bread machine. Punch down, and divide into 2 parts. On a floured surface, roll each part into a large rectangle. (I think I rolled until it was about 1/2" thick, but it certainly doesn't have to be precise). Smear each rectangle with the softened butter. Combine the cinnamon and 3/4 cup sugar. Sprinkle over the rectangles. Generously sprinkle the raisins and/or chopped nuts over the top.

3. Roll the dough up into two logs starting at the long side. Cut each log into 12 slices. (here is where you can use dental floss or thread to make the slices. Slide the thread under the log, wrap around the log, and pull ends past each other). Place the rolls cut side down into two 9x13 inch greased baking pans (or silicone sheet). Cover, and let rise in a warm place until almost doubled (about 30 minutes).

4. Bake in a preheated 375 degrees F (190 degrees C) oven for 18 to 20 minutes, or until golden. Combine the confectioners' sugar, 3 tablespoons melted butter, vanilla, and 3 tablespoons milk. Frosting should be thick. Spread over baked rolls and enjoy.



x-posted to my blog

The Color Red

The Friday I got back from Australia, Urse, Fuson and I headed down to Santa Cruz to the Mecca of tasty, red-to-the-core, union-labor, organic, $4-a-pint-at-the-market strawberries, Swanton Berry Farm. This has become something of a summer ritual for Ursula and me. I think we've gone down to Swanton for the past 3 years. Sadly, because we went quite late in the season this time, the strawberries were a little sad.

Still, it was wonderful to drive down the California coast. The cool fresh air and sunshine reminding me that I really was back, and that, Mark Twain's possible (bitchy) comment notwithstanding, it really was summer.

Although some strawberries looked like this (still not red to the core, but at least red all over):


Most looked like this:


Perhaps it was the jetlag, perhaps it was my own pickiness (no pun intended), but I ended up only collecting 2 pints of strawberries after about a half hour or so of wandering the rows. Urse and Fuson did much better, collecting about half a flat each:


We stopped in at the farmstand to pay (on the honor system), and to try the strawberry and blackberry jams they had out. They had a cute chalkboard with a paper hand that I don't think was there last year (not sure, though):


I'll leave you with California's gorgeous coastline as seen from the window of Ursula's car:

Ode on a Grecian Bistro

THOU still unpictured dish of greek delight,
Thou foster-child of foolishness and sloth,
Ming, incompetent, though you had in his sight
thought not to photograph e'en the tablecloth:
What leaf-fringed pork loin haunted thy serving dish
of porcelain, of fine glass, or of both,
In Oliver Lane, that's in the CBD?
What herbs and oils are these? What fragrant broth?
What diced root? What strange exotic fish?
What jus and sauces? What rich fricasee?

The fondant cream was sweet, but is, unseen,
no sweeter; therefore, dear blog reader, complain;
Not to my sensual ear, but, far more swift,
whine to my email, through ether send your pain:
Fair squid, you started with, stewed with young leaves
of fennel, suffused with sweet perfume;
Its bold flavor, never, never can we see
presented on this blog, and so we grieve;
We wanted pictures, instead got poetry,
poor poetry at that. Cruel joke, we presume?

Oh crappy, crappy post! that cannot shed
new light in channels red green blue;
And, crappy blogger, when he ate
his dishes, pork loin, squid stew;
Was happy, love! more happy, happy love!
For ever warm and still to be enjoy'd,
for ever steaming, from the kitchen fresh brung
in his memory, but lord above,
not in yours: high-sorrowful and cloy'd,
lacks appetite to moist your parched tongue.

What fine organic pig was sacrificed?
By what green butcher, O mysterious beast,
were'st thou so lovingly carved and stuffed,
and with that silken caulfat so well drest?
What Cretan leeks brought in by air or sea,
or o'er land from local farmers hands,
do dress thy browned form, this afternoon?
But, sticky sauce, thy sweetness needs to be
offset by piquancy, and you could stand
some lemon too. You overwhelm too soon.

O sweet dessert! fair plate of fruit! with piece
of nutty earthy halva, finely wrought,
in a quenelle - cut right through the grease;
Thou, final dish! dost juicy delight brought
As doth Greek coffee: So unusual!
When roasty drink you have consumed posthaste,
then water flavored with the scent of rose
you drink, and leave refreshed. To thouself say'st,
'Beauty is truth, and truth beauty,-that is all
Ye know on earth.' (so don't bug me for photos)

Secret, Secret, I've got a secret!

On Tuesday, I ate at two restaurants, and uncovered two secrets. Well, maybe three. Yu-U's secret is its own continued existence. Flower Drum's secret is the not-on-the-menu menu (and I don't mean the written-in-Chinese-on-the-walls menu either - this menu isn't written anywhere but the memories of the waiters and chefs). The third secret? You'll have to read to the end of the post to find out.

Sadly, I only have two photos of food at these two restaurants. I was just too embarrassed by the idea of snapping photos during a meal. Luckily, I managed to overcome this photo-shame after some wine at Flower Drum. This convinces me that in the future, I must get slightly drunk before I go to restaurants alone or with respectable non-photo taking folk, so that I will have the courage to whip out my camera, despite the stares of my fellow patrons.

Yes, I am neurotic and full of shame. But you already knew that.



Only Yu-U

This is the only sign that marks the entrance to Yu-U. It is about the size of a greeting card. This is in fact the only outward sign that Yu-U even exists. The sign is in a shaded doorway off a tiny alley, which in turn connects only to a minor street. Graffiti covers the door, whose red paint is faded. The handle of the door looks worn.

When I arrived at 11:45 and tried to open the door, it was locked tight. I knocked. There was no response. The place gave all indication of having closed up shop.



I waited anyway.

Exactly at noon, I heard someone coming towards the door from the other side - footsteps ascending stairs. The door opened to reveal two women, who silently and nonchalantly mounted the following sign on the door:



Barely glancing at me, they turned around and the door started to close.

"Can I come in?" I asked, perhaps too loudly.

One of the women stopped, turned to stare at me, and hesitantly asked, "How many?" The other woman retreated down the stairs into the restaurant.

I was the only one in the alley except for two older white women who were obviously not with me (and seemed surprised to see the door open at all - I think they might have been going to Mini, whose entrance shares the alley with Yu-U's. I'll post about Mini next time)

"Just one," I said.

She frowned, as if thinking it over. I smiled what I hoped was a winning smile (in fact, I wasn't going so much for "winning" as "I'm so embarrassed to be imposing on your hospitality, but I really really REALLY want to eat here because I've heard so much about your food, and I know you often fill up quickly, but I got here early, and I'll eat fast and leave, and I'll be SUPER nice to my servers" - I'm sure there's an onomatopeia word for the sound your mouth makes when in that expression)

She stepped aside and motioned for me to come in. I saw her cast a somewhat suspicious glance at the two women who were still waiting in the alley, and then she followed me down the stairs, shutting the door behind her.

And... that's all I'm going to say about Yu-U. Some things a lady ain't s'posed to talk about. You'll just have to find it and eat there yourself when you're in Melbourne. Or hang out with me and ask me all about it.

Flower Drum

I went back to the office feeling quite refreshed by my lunch at Yu-U. A good thing too, as that night I went to Flower Drum.

You might be thinking to yourself: not another restaurant! You just had lunch in Yu-U and now you're having dinner at another fancy place? God, how often do you eat out, Ming?

To which I'd reply, you can eat out Ming whenever you want! Ho ho ho.

No? Too racy?

Anyway. Flower Drum.

Flower Drum is the subject of much controversy in the Melbourne foodie scene. Many who have eaten there say it's all hype, just your standard whiteyfied Chinese food but 3 times the price. Others who consider themselves "in the know" call it the best Chinese food in Melbourne, fine dining at its best.

To borrow an American metaphor, it's like the high school's most popular cheerleader. Is she an energetic, witty, sensitive, loyal, all-round great person? Or is she a mean, shallow, I-don't-know-what-he-sees-in-her, I-wish-she-was-my-friend, willing tool of the establishment? The answer is: both.

Luckily we went to Flower Drum as friends of the head cheerleader. A former food columnist, long time Flower Drum patron, and truly a bon vivant (bonne vivante?), SL is my uncle's friend from college, and I wish I'd met her earlier. She was on a first name basis with the waiter and apparently has had a standing reservation there at Chinese New Year for the past ten years or so. She's been a regular for 20 years.

We didn't order off the menu (really just a decoy for non-regulars, to ensure they never return - In my imagination, whenever some NOOB orders a dish on the menu, the chef just pulls something out of the freezer and tosses it in the microwave, then returns to the real work of making dishes for the regulars, while waitstaff in the kitchen snicker knowingly).

Instead, SL and the waiter (Barney, I think) figured out what we should eat that evening in a conversation far too rapid and far too Cantonese for me to understand. I heard "kai lan" and that was about it. My cousin Justin asked if there was going to be any duck. There wasn't, but it quickly got added. A good thing too - that duck was tasty!

There's really little point in telling you what we had*, since it's likely that they change the recommended food as stuff comes in. However, I feel I must mention two dishes. This is mainly because they were the two I photographed, but also because they were especially memorable, for different reasons.

*For my own edification and to allow your imagination free reign, however, I will list minimal titles of the dishes here:
XO sauce (Dried scallops, chilli, chilli oil)
Crab Xiao Long Bao
Stir fried conch with steamed asparagus and oyster and shrimp sauce
Peking duck
Barbecued Squab with five spice salt and lime juice
Wagyu beef with kailan
Fried egg white rice
fruit platter (watermelon, mangosteen, starfruit, strange variety of persimmon)
Durian sago pudding


I Wagyu. You Wagme. We all Wag-eachother for WAGYU!

The Wagyu with Kai Lan was memorable because it was awesome. You know how seared foie gras is like meat butter? This Wagyu was like beef brie. Caramely on the outside, meltingly soft on the inside. Not an ounce of gristle to be tasted (not even a picogram of gristle, since Australia is metric). Creamy without being greasy, beefy without being gamey, rare without tasting raw. If Aristotle could have tasted this meat, he would have made it one of his virtues.

Yeah, that's right. I paid some attention in Greek Phil after all.

The other dish was a dessert:


Dessert fit for a King (of fruits)

The Durian Sago Pudding was memorable for a quite different reason.

Durian is sometimes called the "king of fruits". I've often thought that if this were true, it attained its position through bloody, vengeful drawn-out wars followed by brutal suppression of dissent.

This is because of durian's (in)famous smell. In the hot and humid weather of Singapore and Malaysia, the durian's scent makes its oppressive presence known. Like the KGB, it invades every room of the house and infiltrates every cavity of your body.

This is fine if you like the smell. As a small child, I loved it. The scent of durians on the car ride home from the stall was sweet promise of custardy delights to come. The lingering durianstickiness in the air after we'd had our fill was a reminder of its rich, honeyed, unctuous pale yellow flesh.

Then, at some point that I don't remember (before the age of 8), I developed a strong aversion to durians, and hence their smell. The merest hint of it in the living room became occasion for prompt sequestering in my room, followed by dramatic gagging noises for the benefit of anyone in my family who cared to listen. I would scream in disgust if someone breathed in my direction after eating it. I'd insist on rolling down the car windows for days after a single durian had been in the trunk (double or triple wrapped). After a durian-eating episode, I'd smell it on everything - ice, vegetables, stationery, and complain loudly whenever I did (or imagined I did). Even durian products, like durian candy or durian cake (much milder than the fruit itself) occasioned anguished howls of protest if discovered in the fridge. I was quite the durian-hating terror.

Upon leaving Singapore for the UK and then the U.S., I was relieved to find I wouldn't have to encounter durians or durian products unless I sought them out. I never did, of course.

When the dessert arrived, I could smell that familiar smell. Not wanting to be rude, I tried some. So that's why this bowl of sago was memorable - it was the first time I'd tasted anything with durian in it for at least 17 years.

And you want to know a secret?

It was okay.

A Run-In With K-Food

Last Sunday my boyfriend ran the second half of the San Francisco Marathon. He did an awesome job (2:07:21), despite initially running with a pace group that ran faster than they had advertised.

My friend Susanne also ran. Her performance was doubly impressive because she single-handedly organized a fund-raising effort around her running. That is to say, she wanted to raise money for The Stop AIDS Project, and so she coordinated with them on her own so that she could get sponsors and stuff. (I think she'’s raised like $2000 so far, and she's still getting money from people.*) It just goes to show you that the actions of individuals can change the world.

Anyway, how does this all relate to food?... Well, after running one is supposed to eat a good deal of protein, I'm told. I guess this is because it's a good source of calories and your muscles are all in need of rebuilding and whatnot. So, post-marathon, Dave and I went for a protein-rich dinner of Korean food at Dong Baek at O'Farrell and Leavenworth.

We found the recommendation on Chowhound, and needless to say we were not let down. We ordered the kal bi and the doon tofu chi gae (Tofu soup). SOOOO GOOD! While I feel like the kal bi was quite tasty, but not overwhelmingly so, the sides it was served with were awesome. The soup, however, was just plain out-of-this-world. It was creamy silken tofu served in a exceptionally spicy beef stock with pieces of beef and whole oysters in it. The oysters were incredible, so flavorful and perfectly tender. There were also mushrooms, which, mingerspice, I will grudgingly admit that I found delicious, as well as a few other minor vegetable accents.

With the check they brought a complimentary cup of a sweet chilled ginger cinnamon drink which was tasty, despite knowing that is was mostly sugar and water.

I can't find any pictures of their food, but their VERY EXTENSIVE menu is here.

* You can still sponsor her. Go here for details.