I’ve been putting off writing this post because I had promised to write about the answer to the second question my Optometrist asked me :

2) What is your all-time favourite thing to cook

Truth is, I didn’t have an answer for him then, and I don’t really have an answer now. He simply couldn’t believe that I didn’t have a favourite dish. Pretend, he said, that it’s a perfect Saturday afternoon and you’re about to watch the football (he is a Wolves fan, who incidentally have been promoted to the Premier League). The big question is, what is your favourite thing to cook under these circumstances?

Truth also is, that I would bake, because in reality, it would be Sunday afternoon before we got the football here, and usually on Sunday afternoons we have coffee and a bit of cake or a handful of freshly baked cookies. We would sit there picking crumbs off our shirts, while cheering or shouting at the tv.

We’d then spend the rest of the day lazing around, making plans to go cycling but never following through with it. I would slink back into the kitchen again, to bake something. By sundown, no cycling would have been undertaken whatsoever, and dinner would either be bubbling in a pot on the stove, or already laid out on the table. Our dinners rarely feature the same thing twice. I like trying out new recipes or making things up according to what I happen to have at hand. Which explains why I don’t have a ‘signature’ dish, as they call it.

I don’t think I’ve ever made the same dessert twice for B either. Even if it’s just a brownie with some ice-cream, the brownie will be from a recipe I hadn’t yet tried. I dreamt up the pineapple tart dessert above while I was making small pineapple tarts. Making a larger version was my impatient attempt at trying to speed up the whole process. Yes, stuffing each individual pastry is incredibly fiddly and it really tests your endurance, but the end result is definitely worth it.

The large tart contains pineapple jam and a layer of chamomile custard which I made recently after buying a chamomile plant from the markets. This plant (with a scent reminiscent of green apples and pineapple), and a potted lemon verbena, are the latest fragrant additions to my balcony garden. I had to denude the chamomile of all its sweet white flowers in order to make the custard – a recipe based on David Everitt-Matthias’ recipe for a chamomile cream. If you’re interested in making a similar tart, use the cream recipe below, omitting the gelatine and double cream. Serve the tart warm, with a dollop of plain cream or lemon verbena flavoured cream.

(If you can’t be bothered making anything as fussy looking as that, stick to the little pineapple tarts – the recipe by Pichet Ong is provided below (he calls them turnovers). For the pineapple filling, I followed Arfi’s recipe. If you can’t get a hold of fresh pineapple, you can also used the tinned kind. There’s a good recipe for it here, though I would advise erring on the side of caution and starting with less sugar than you think you need, and adjusting the sweetness later.)

Pichet Ong’s Caramelised Pineapple Turnovers:
(from the Sweet Spot by Pichet Ong)

for the caramelised pineapple filling :
2 small pineapples, peeled, cored, and finely diced
180g crushed palm sugar
1 cinnamon stick
1/8 teaspoon salt

for the pastry dough :
300g plain flour
50g custard powder
1 tablespoon dried milk powder
180g unsalted butter, at room temperature
70g icing sugar
1 teaspoon salt
1 large egg

to glaze:
3 large egg yolks, beaten
whole cloves (optional)

To make the pineapple filling : Put all of the ingredients into a medium saucepan, set over low heat, and cook, stirring occasinally, until the sugar has dissovled and all the liquid has evaporated, about 45 minutes. Transfer to a bowl, cover, and refrigerate for at least 2 hours, or as long as overnight.

To make the dough : Sift the flour, custard powder, and dried milk together and set aside. Put the butter, icing sugar and salt in the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment and beat on medium speed until the mixture is light and creamy, about 4 minutes. Scrape down the sides and bottom of the bowl, add the flour mixture, and mix until incorporated. Add the egg and mix just until the dough comes together; it will be quite sticky. Form the mixture into a ball, press it into a 1-inch-thick disk, and wrap tightly in plastic wrap. Chill until firm, at least 2 hours, or as long as overnight.

Line two baking sheets with baking paper. Unwrap the chilled dough and form it into 1-inch balls. Using your fingertips, press one ball into a thin 3-inch disk. Put 1 tablespoon of the pineapple filling in the center of the dough circle, fold over to make a half-moon, and pinch the edges together to seal. Twist off any excess dough, press and gently roll the half-moon shape into a ball. Repeat with the remaining dough and filling. Alternatively, roll the whole disk of dough out on a lightly floured surface to a 1/8-inch thickness, cut out 3-inch circles with a cookie or biscuit cutter, and fill and shape them. Put the filled balls 1 inch apart on the baking sheets, and chill until firm, about 15 minutes.

To bake, preheat the oven to 175’C. Brush the balls with the egg yolks and stick a clove, if desired, in the centre of each. Bake until golden, about 12 minutes. Cool completely on a rack before serving.

Chamomile cream :
(from Dessert by David Everitt-Matthias)

450ml milk
30g fresh chamomile flowers
2 eggs
1 egg yolk
75g caster sugar
50g cornflour
100g unsalted butter, diced
1 1/2 gelatine leaves
30ml lemon juice [I used yuzu]
125ml double cream, whipped

Put the milk and chamomile in a heavy-based saucepan and bring to the boil. Meanwhile, whisk the eggs, egg yolk, sugar and cornflour together. Gradually pour in the milk, whisking to combine, then return the mixture to the pan and cook over a medium heat for 4 – 5 minutes, stirring constantly, until thick. Remove from the heat, place to one side to cool a little, then stir in the butter bit by bit until it has melted. Soak the gelatine in cold water for 5 minutes until soft and pliable. Squeeze out all the water, add the gelatine to the chamomile mixture and stir until dissolved. Stir in the yuzu juice.

Pass the mixture through a fine sieve into a bowl. Cover the surface with cling film and leave to cool. Fold in the double cream and store in the fridge until needed.

Today my Optometrist asked me two questions that I inevitably get asked all the time :

1) Why did you decide to cook

and

2) What is your all-time favourite thing to cook

A few days before, I had what I would consider a pretty perfect kind of day. It was mostly spent with a good friend who I don’t really see much of, ever since she pulled up stumps and moved overseas to work and live. Now that she is back briefly for a visit, we caught up over a movie, a piece of cake and a spot of Japanese grocery shopping, then inexplicably found ourselves motoring deeper into the city, towards more cake (though I somehow managed to not buy anything there). When we finally parted company, she left me with the latest issue of her craft zine, Sharp and Pointy.

Sharp and Pointy, it must be said, is like a tiny chocolate cake : a perfect sampling, that hints at just enough to leave you wanting more. In it, was a quote by Ivan Illich that has been reverberating in my head ever since I set eyes on it :

I believe a desirable future depends on our deliberately choosing a life of action over a life of consumption, of our engendering a lifestyle which will enable us to be spontaneous, independent, yet related to each other, rather than maintaining a lifestyle which only allows us to produce and consume.

–Tools for Conviviality by Ivan Illich.

That quote, my dear, is going straight to the poolroom, Kerrigan-style. Or rather, I want to have it laminated and strung around my neck so that I can always be reminded of it.

Which brings us back to the first question. I cook because I like to eat. My dad says that a common Asian greeting is to ask someone if they have eaten, as opposed to saying Hello. Being able to say you’ve had enough to eat, is considered very important, especially in Chinese culture. This could partly explain my obsession with food. The other part I think, has to do with my fractured childhood, and why I often look to things that have great nostalgic value. True to form, I still remember one of the first things I ever made, standing precariously on a wooden stool in order to reach the stove : flapjacks. Singed and overly crispy, yet strangely so tasty.

I also cook because I want to create and share. I am fearful of falling into the trap of needing to maintain a lifestyle (or a blog), or of becoming a “weapon of massive consumption”, as Lily Allen would say. It worries me that I can’t tell whether I’m succeeding or failing, because I have to consume to create, but I feel (and hope) the balance is tipped in favour of the former.

So please know, when you ask me this, that you’re hearing from someone who wants nothing more than to be doing (cooking, blogging and living (with a fair share of perfect days)) something that retains an element of integrity, passion and creativity. She will never be the prettiest or the most popular, and god help her, her eyesight is pretty bad (or ‘interesting’ as the Optometrist puts it), but hopefully she is managing to live a relevant, uncalculated life, doing something she loves. When she finally disappears, may people not walk right through her, but allow her to own for a brief second that space she once quietly occupied.

As to the second question and a recipe for the pineapple tarts, I will leave that for another day.

Red Bean Slices :
(makes 15-20 squares; from Breakfast, Lunch, Tea by Rose Carrarini)

200g adzuki beans, soaked overnight in 3 times their volume of water
180g caster sugar
2 tablespoons honey
1 teaspoon natural vanilla extract
150g unsalted butter, plus extra for greasing
100g plain flour
100g ground almonds
100g rice flour
pinch of salt

Darin the beans, put them into a saucepan, cover with fresh water and bring to the boil.

Drain them again, put them back in the saucepan with the same amount of fresh water, then turn the heat down and simmer the beans for about 1 1/2 hours till they are very soft. Keep adding water if they start to dry out and skim the surface carefully.

When the beans are completely soft, drain them and put them back in the saucepan.

Add 100g of the sugar, and the honey and vanilla extract. Stir over a low heat for about 5 minutes until the sugar has dissolved.

Put into a food processor and process till smooth, or put through a siece until the beans are paste-like in texture. Set aside to cool.

Preheat the oven to 180’C.

Butter a 20 x 28cm baking tin and line it with parchment paper.

If you are using a food processor, process the flour, ground almonds, rice flour, butter, the remaining sugar and the salt until the mixture is quite crumbly. Otherwise, cut the butter into small pieces, mix the dry ingredients together and rub the butter into them with your fingers. If the mixture is too dry, add a little more butter.

Press half the mixture into the prepared tin.

Spread the adzuki paste evenly over the top and sprinkle with the remaining flour-and-almond mixture (like a crumble). Bake for 25 – 30 minutes till the topping is golden and crisp.

Cool in the tin.

When cold, cut into squares. Take the slices out of the tin very carefully as the topping tends to crumble (because of the rice flour).

[Note : Rose says you can use tinned, ready-cooked adzuki beans instead of cooking your own (which is what I did, because I had some tinned beans to use up). It is also possible to convert this slice into a vegan recipe by replacing the butter with a vegan margarine and using golden syrup (or light corn syrup) instead of honey.]