A Different Sort of Laksa

The bowl of soup shown above isn’t the prettiest thing in the world, but let me assure you that it is in the running for one of the most nourishing, most comforting foods ever.

This is laksa – at least, this is how laksa is done in the provinces surrounding Laguna de Bai. Unlike its Nonya namesake in Singapore and Malaysia, coconut milk and fat rice noodles do not come into play in this particular dish. Instead, sotanghon – springy-textured mung bean vermicelli – is cooked in a clear broth with shredded banana blossoms [puso ng saging - lit.: banana heart] with ground pork, onions, and garlic.

This can be served as a first course; the broth is mild yet flavorful, just the right thing to whet your appetite. At our house, though, this is considered more of both a main course or a heavy side dish. The pork, noodles, and shredded banana blossom are fab over a good plate of steamed rice.

Weekend Breakfast: Danggit and Longganizang Lucban

The thing about Sunday breakfasts is that they make for lovely memories on Monday morning and even lovelier things to look forward to throughout another week of drudgery.

Yesterday’s breakfast, in particular, was absolutely savory.  Fr. Jeff’s recent trip to Bacolod for the thanks giving Mass of the newest member of the Clergy of Paranaque (Congrats, Fr. Topher!) yielded numerous treats specific to that part of the Visayas.  Among the varied edible delights that came our way was a pack of a delicacy much missed on our dining table: danggit. 

Danggit (rabbitfish, spinefoot, or sleek unicornfish) are small saltwater fish from the Southern provinces that are butterflied, salted, dried, and usually served fried to a crisp.  You eat these crunchy little fishies whole – bones, heads, eyes, and all – dipped in sukang kinurat, rice or cane vinegar where chili peppers, garlic cloves, and peppercorns have been soaked for a long time.

At our house, the rare appearance of danggit does not call for the scrambled eggs or onion frittata that usually accompany such fried dried fish as dilis (anchovies) or espada (needlefish).  Instead, these salty fish go best with the highly spiced, incredibly savory little sausages known as longganizang Lucban.

As the name suggests, these sausages originally came from the town of Lucban in Quezon province, the same place that hosts the glorious Pahiyas Festival year after year.  Longganizang Lucban are classic examples of longganiza de recado or savory sausages, certainly worlds apart from the hamonado – ham-cured or sweet – sausages of either Pampanga or Bulacan in Central Luzon.  In these links, fatty pork is highly spiced with pepper and crushed garlic while a shot of vinegar is thrown into the mix for some extra bite.  Paprika is optional, but when it’s used, the oil exuded by the sausages during frying turns a vivid red.

Vinegar – preferably spiced vinegar – and garlic fried rice are the usual accoutrements for such a meal.  We, however, prefer to savory the dusky saltiness of danggit and the savory flavors of the longganiza against the blandness of plain boiled rice.  Our vinegar is sweet rather than spicy: all the better to temper the garlicky fire and the salt.  Lola Conching’s Vinegar with Wild Honey (available at such shops as Gourdo’s and some major supermarkets) does the trick quite beautifully.

Believe me: it’s the sort of breakfast that makes for weekend bliss.   

Sweet-and-Sour Pork at Home

Homemade Sweet and Sour Pork

Sweet and sour pork has long been a favorite dish at our house, but our version of it is not the vividly orange-colored dish seen at so many Chinese [and faux Chinois] restaurants.  As a matter of fact, sweet and sour pork at our house is brown, but that’s because of the addition of soy sauce, brown sukang Iloko (cane vinegar from the northern provinces), and brown sugar.

The resulting flavors are not as nose-piercingly sharp as those in commercially-prepared dishes.  Instead, the play of sweet and sour is more subtle and palatable.  It definitely goes down a treat with rice, though. 

On Love and Katsudon

Katsudon, that surprisingly simple donburi where a breaded pork cutlet sits atop a bowl of rice, was made romantic when Japanese author Banana Yoshimoto used it as a focal element in her award-winning novella Kitchen. 

In the story, the heroine – Mikage Sakurai – chances upon a beautifully-done katsudon at a small restaurant.  The dish is so good that she impulsively decides to share it with her friend – possibly her lover – Yuichi Tanabe who has fled to Izu in deepest mourning.  As she hands the katsudon to Yuichi and watches him eat, Mikage realizes that their relationship has reached the point where it permanently changes from mere friendship to a full-blown romance.

In my personal opinion, I can’t think of any literary moment that is as sweet.  Then again, I’m a foodie and I believe romance should be accompanied by a good square meal!

I was re-reading Kitchen for the nth time recently and was toying with the idea of actually preparing a katsudon for the wonderful Mr. W.  Of course, as usual, we all know what a major coward I am in the love department, but I still think it’s worth a shot at doing.

The following recipe is adapted from the one posted by About.com’s Japanese food expert Setsuko Yoshizuka.  It has, of course, been tweaked based on what I had available in my kitchen the first time I attempted this recipe.

Katsudon
For the tonkatsu:

• 4 pork cutlets, each pounded to about 1/2 an inch thick
• flour
• 1 egg, beaten
• panko [Japanese breadcrumbs]
• oil for deep frying
• salt and pepper

For the sauce:

• 1 white onion, peeled and sliced
• 1 sachet dashi-no-moto [instant dashi stock], dissolved in 1-1/4 cups hot water
• 1/3 cup soy sauce
• 2 tablespoons mirin or sweet Chinese cooking wine
• 1 tablespoon granulated white sugar
• 4 eggs, beaten
• 4 cups cooked rice

Season cutlets with salt and pepper; allow to marinate for about 10 – 20 minutes.  Dredge each cutlet in flour, dip in the beaten egg, and roll in the panko till well covered.  Deep-fry till golden brown.  Set aside.

Over medium heat, combine the dissolved dashi-no-moto with the soy sauce, cooking wine, and sugar in a saucepan.  Allow to simmer for a couple of minutes.  Slice the fried cutlets and add to the sauce; bring to a boil.  Add the four beaten eggs, spreading them evenly over the cutlets.  Lower the heat and cover for a minute or so.  Turn off the heat.

Place the rice in four deep bowls.  Divide the tonkatsu mixture evenly over the rice. 

Serves 4.

Now, if you’re not exactly confident about your skills in the kitchen, you could always do what Mikage did in the story and just buy a katsudon from a reputable Japanese restaurant.  (The one pictured here is from Teriyaki Boy; always a nice choice!  )  After all, it’s the thought that counts.

However, I am of the opinion that nothing says “I love you” more passionately than fixing your beloved a good meal.  Then again, that’s just me. 

Improvisational Cooking: Involtini alla Cacciatore

Sorry for the dark-ish picture on the right.  I really either have to get a better camera or invest in better lighting options for my kitchen!  :p

Anyway, on the same evening I prepared the pasta con funghi I adapted from the book Let Us Eat Cake, I also prepared a dish based on a recipe from another book: Giampaolo Fallai’s Mama, Si Mangia? (“Mama, are we eating?”).

These are my involtini alla cacciatore – hunter-style meat rolls.  These are pork cutlets pounded till thin and rolled around a stuffing made of mashed Vienna sausages mixed with a generous dash of rubbed sage and sliced cheese.  The rolls are then simmered till done in a savory-tart tomato sauce with a splash of robust red wine.

I’ll be honest at this point and admit that I’ve taken numerous liberties with this dish as several ingredients aren’t usually available in Philippine supermarkets.  Really: I have yet to find proper veal scaloppine (cutlets) even at the most reputable butchers’ shops.  Prosciutto isn’t exactly the most reasonably priced of deli offerings and most mozzarella sold in this country already comes grated and blended with either provolone or – shudders! – American cheddar. 

Nevertheless, despite this litany of culinary transgressions, I didn’t hear any complaints from my family the night I served this dish and the pasta with mushrooms.  I suggest that you try this out on your own family.  I am pretty sure they’ll love it. 

Involtini alla Cacciatore

For the rolls:

• 2 pork cutlets, halved and pounded to about 1/2 – 1/4 of an inch
• 4 pieces Vienna sausage, mashed with 1 teaspoon rubbed sage
• 2-inch thick slice of cheddar cheese or processed cheese food (Magnolia Quickmelt works fine here), quartered
• flour for dredging
• 3 tablespoons cooking oil
• salt and pepper
• 1/2 teaspoon rubbed sage

For the sauce:

• 250mL tomato sauce
• 1 pork or beef bouillon cube
• 1 medium red onion, finely chopped
• 3 cloves garlic, crushed, peeled, and minced
• 1 tablespoon Italian seasoning
• 1 tablespoon flour dissolved in a solution of 1/4 cup red wine and the liquid from 1 can of mushrooms
• grated Parmesan cheese, to garnish

Once the cutlets have been pounded, season with a generous pinch of rock salt, a dash of black pepper, and the 1/2 teaspoon of rubbed sage.  Set aside for about ten to fifteen minutes.

Spread 1/4 of the sage-sausage mixture onto a cutlet.  Place a piece of cheese and roll up; secure with a toothpick.  Do the same with the rest of the cutlets.  Dredge ihe rolls in flour and fry until browned.  Remove from the pan and set aside.

Saute the chopped onion in the remaining oil until softened.  Add the minced garlic and the Italian seasoning; cook till the garlic has browned at the edges and the herbs are fragrant.  Add the mushroom-wine-flour slurry and the bouillon cube.  Cook over medium heat whilst stirring continuously until slightly thickened.  Add the tomato sauce and bring to a boil.  Lower the heat; add the pork rolls and cook for an additional 10 – 15 minutes.  Sprinkle the grated Parmesan over the rolls and sauce and serve immediately.

Serves 6.