Road Food in Cambodia

I just got back from a three month stay in Cambodia. I spent a lot of time sitting in cars/vans/buses. Here are some of the things I ate.

Milk fruit. Sticky, sappy, sweet.

Banana dessert version of this.

This is how you enjoy a Battambang orange. Lots of seeds, tasty juice.

Nom krok, sort of a Khmer version of takoyaki, but vegetarian. Until you soak it in luscious coconut-y fish sauce.

Ripe tamarind again.

Fresh longan ruins you for the frozen/imported kind in the US.

The last mango from my aunt's tree. Sometimes I ate 3 a day.

Green water apple (also from my aunt's farm) that I mistook for a cashew apple when I first saw it.

Pink pomegranate.

Boiled little taro.

Similar to typical bananas found in the US, but still green when ripe. Not my favorite. 

My very favorite bananas were nam va. I could eat those for days. How I miss their abundance. My family's able to grow them in the backyard, though, so I got to have a few to ease my missing Cambodia. In a few years, I've promised myself, I'll go back. And I'll brave the dry, hot season, because that's also the season for mangos, and mangos are special.

Khmer Snack: Ripe Tamarind

Sweet and sticky, not as tangy as I expected.

How to eat ripe tamarind:

1. Find the fibrous stem and pull down the length of the fruit create an opening.
2. Peel away the brown rind. Might be helpful to give it a rinse so that you don't end up getting dirt on the fruit.
3. Eat them lump by lump or all at once, remembering to spit out the large seeds. 

Late-Blooming Peanut Butter Sandwich Love

In the last year, I've come to enjoy nut butter more than I ever did as a kid. I thought peanut butter & banana sandwiches were weird then. In college, I enjoyed the Nutella & banana combination, but I was always just as pleased without the banana.

Now, I can go through a jar of peanut butter in two weeks.

I think there's some correlation with the amount of time I've been spending outdoors, rock climbing and car camping. And because one of my friends has been arriving at our web series film shoots with a snack of peanut butter and celery. Peanut butter is easy. It feels healthy. In addition to its sweet and snacky uses, it can also be used for savory dishes like gado-gado.

My favorite variation on the PB&J lately is this:

Plump blueberries up close.

Eastern Sierra in the background.

Something I've always found irksome about the PB&J is how the jelly or jam or banana tends to make the sandwich slide apart. During my last camping trip, I inadvertently resolved this issue for myself: I didn't have any jam, but I wanted a fruity element, so I threw on some of the dried blueberries I'd brought for my oatmeal. The slivered almonds were unnecessary ('twas an experiment). I would have used a slightly thicker layer of peanut butter if this hadn't been the very last that I could scrape out of the jar.

Advantages of using dried blueberries instead of jam or jelly in a peanut butter sandwich:

1. The chewiness of the dried fruit gave me more to sink my teeth into, which made the 'wich more satisfying.
2. Dried fruit is lighter than a jar of jam and can also be used in oatmeal or as a snack in itself. Scooping up a handful of jam when you need a sugar boost is not very convenient.
3. No need to worry about getting peanut butter in your jam or vice-versa.
4. The sandwich does not slip apart. 
5. Nothing got drippy. 

I imagine this would be just as good with most other dried berries, but I'll probably stick to these dried wild blueberries from Trader Joe's. A dash of cinnamon is always a good idea. 

Project 365 - Day 12 // My Favorite Khmer Dessert

It involves durian. I don't understand what the fuss is about regarding the supposed scent. Durian has never smelled foul to me. I guess I'm missing that gene? While I didn't always like the texture of fresh durian as a child, I hardly reacted to it the way so many people in popular culture do. 

My favorite Khmer dessert dish involves durian, sugar, coconut milk, and glutinous rice:

The Khmer word for it is something like "sohn-schia." At least, that's the best I can do to anglicize it. The sauce is creamy and sort of aromatic. My mother knows I swoon when she makes this. It's definitely a comfort food for me. One of these days I'm going to attempt it myself. Glutinous rice intimidates me. I'll have to get over it. The older I get, the more I realize I have to really start learning how to cook Cambodian food myself, or I'll have to depend on restaurants whose food will never be quite like (or quite as good) as my mama's.

Project 365 - Day 9 // Do You Polish Your Blueberries?

My friend Claire's favorite way to eat blueberries is to carefully wipe them, one by one, before popping them in her mouth. She was passionate about the difference it makes. It's true!

Shiny blueberry, shiny rings.

Loving effort makes food taste better, or at least more satisfying. This reminds me of the way I used to eat bananas: I'd nibble away the first layer of flesh, then chomp down the center, which I'm convinced is much sweeter. Bananas' center has a nicer texture. While eating them this way may look weird, it makes Cavendish bananas taste much better. The small Asian bananas taste better, too, but their texture is so good and they're so sweet that the difference isn't as significant.

Project 365 - Day 3 // Tangerine, Neat & Clean

A year or two ago I got into the habit of peeling my tangerines & clementines in a sort of star / flower petal pattern.

I like starting at the flavedo end. There's something so satisfying about having that star-shaped peel in my hand at the end.

Project 365 - Day 1 // Gua-cado

The goal: to post a photo a day until June 14, 2013. Today's as good a day to start as any.

Guacamole made in an avocado. A byproduct of how hard I try to avoid washing dishes.

Chopped red onion, salt, lemon

Chopped serrano chile

Mish mash mosh, nosh.

Previous avocado post here.

Five Things Learned in 2011

1. Salsa verde and chile verde are amazingly easy to make. And extremely delicious. Peeling the papery skin off of tomatillos to reveal their sticky, smooth, green skins is so satisfying. Just throw them in a pan with some pricked jalapenos, stick them under a broiler until their skins are dark brown, then throw them in a blender with some onions, garlic, chile, and salt. It's magic. Tomatillo salsa! Then brown some chunks of pork shoulder, pour off the excess fat, and add tomatillo salso to just barely cover it (add water or broth if necessary), and simmer for a couple of hours, or until tender. This is how I ate mine:

Corn tortillas, chopped red onion, chopped red cabbage, queso fresco, and Cholula (not yet applied).

2. I can make my own half-and-half. Why this did not occur to me before confounds me. I mix milk and cream in a little jam jar so that I can shake it up before adding it to my morning coffee. My home-kitchen version of homogenization? The advantage of making half-n-half instead of buying it is that I always have both cream and milk on hand. The disadvantage is that I always worry about one or the other spoiling. But since I make my own chocolate syrup, I can just guzzle hot chocolate with whipped cream in case of an emergency...

3. Toast steel cut oats in a dry pan first to make them cook a little faster and taste a lot better. Well, it tastes better if you like your oatmeal with a nuttier flavor. I sometimes soak steel cut oats in a jar overnight if I need to cook them quickly in the morning, and I found that if I don't toast them first, the finished product is too oozy and almost slimy. I just gently toast the oats (in a little butter if I'm feeling sassy) in the pan until I can smell the toasty-oaty aroma, then add water and simmer for twenty or so minutes. The other day I forgot about the pot on the stove. The edges were burnt and dry, but the 1/3 of a cup left in the middle was salvaged with some jam, almond butter, and cinnamon.

4. Dried sour cherries and dried tart cherries are very, very different. I bought sour cherries from Whole Foods and they were delicious; sticky, sour-sweet, and plump. The next time I went, there were only "tart" cherries. I snuck a taste and it didn't taste exactly right, but I got some anyway. When I got home and tried to eat a few more the next night, they were almost bitter, a bit dry, and miles from the lovely sour cherries that I'd had a week earlier. I was so disappointed in them that I actually went and returned them. Now I will wait until I see dried sour cherries in the bulk section. And I'll taste more than one. Shhhh.

5. Homemade cookies make people happy, even if they're mediocre. At least, I thought that most of my attempts were mediocre at best, but my friends and officemates seemed to enjoy them. I tried out apple cinnamon oatmeal bars, cherry chocolate chip almond oatmeal, and oatmeal chocolate chip almond. None of them had the crisp edges and chewy centers that I want in a cookie, so I guess I have to keep trying. Baking is the area in which I am least confident because I'm not very disciplined with my measurements-- except with brownies. They are forgiving. They do not intimidate me in the slightest. Brownies and I have an understanding that cookies and I have not yet reached. Maybe in 2012.

Ups and Downs in the Summer Garden

So far the perils of my urban gardening include cigarette butts, tomato thievery, and now, an automobile accident.

This little fellow could have become a wild, roving vine growing heavy with yellow patty pan squash. But it was not to be. I planted him in an inopportune location, too close to the curb of my little plot, and it was run into repeatedly by cars parking in that spot. I'm disappointed, but I have a seedling growing indoors right now that I will re-plant safely back from the curb once it sprouts a few more leaves. I will have patty pan squash this year, damn it, even if I have the pollinate the blossoms myself! They are so cute. Cute is a high priority in the garden. And on the plate. And in life in general. Okay, maybe it's not a priority, but it's fun.

Aside from the squash casualty, the garden has been doing pretty well. The tomato plant is still growing and fruiting. I took some to my parents and to my aunt. I have to say it felt pretty damn good to be able to bring them something I grew myself after so many years of only talking about what I was trying to grow. And leaving their house with baskets full of their veg-- of course, that still happens. I also got to gift my mom with a wee strawberry. She was impressed with the sweetness of both. So proud, I was.

The strawberry plant is now sending off runners, which is very exciting! Maybe next season I'll have two ripe strawberries at a time.

Yum.

Strawberries Home-Grown & Strawberries Farm-toxic

I used to walk past a strawberry farm on my way to middle school, just around the corner from my parents' house. I grew up in Garden Grove, a town in Orange County (but definitely not The OC land), where a Strawberry Festival is held every year.

Despite the strawberry farms I grew up around, I hadn't thought of strawberries as a plant for the garden, at least not until I saw an episode of Jamie At Home focused on them. My friend Mary Rose grew Alpine strawberries in her container garden last year and, a few months ago, gave me a plant that grew from runners. (Man, plants are so magical.)

I planted the little guy in my garden, and after a couple of weeks of hand-wringing that it might die, it began to grow new leaves and send off blossoms. Even though I grew up near strawberry farms, I didn't know that they sent up such pretty little white flowers. I suppose I hadn't paid much attention or thought to pay attention.

I'm Growing an Apple Tree

About a month ago, I ate a baby Gala apple and was surprised to find that the seeds within had germinated. (Due, perhaps, to refrigeration during transport?)

Like my aunt, I couldn't resist planting it. In a tiny, tiny pot.

Happy Birthday, Mark Twain

Mark Twain was born on November 30, 1835. Just in time for the tail end of cherimoya season (the fruit he and I both love). My parents sent me home with three of them after Thanksgiving. One of my roommates had it for the first time a few nights agoand described the texture as "buttery."

Creamy, tangy, and sort of chewy all at once. Kind of like Mark Twain's writing. At least what I've read of it.

I confess: I've yet to read The Adventures of Tom Sawyer all the way through. Maybe next year. Maybe I'll venture to one of my favorite used bookstores the next time I go down to Orange County and pick up a copy of my very own. Or someone could lend it to me. Or I could pick it up from the library.

Aside: I think it's time for me to finally become a Friend Of The Library. The library system is seriously suffering these days. From being ignored. Around my last year of high school, I started going to Barnes & Noble to study. I slowly forgot about the library as a resource even though I was practically raised in libraries (mostly Santa Ana Main & Brakensiek Branch). Support your local library. In all likelihood, it's in trouble.


Again, happy birthday, Mr. Twain. I hope you're getting all the cherimoyas you could possibly want in whatever life you're living now.

Honeycrisp Surprise

I bought Honeycrisp apples this week instead of my usual Granny Smiths, mostly because (I admit) I like the name. It's cute.

I'm generally wary of produce with names like this, but I decided to take a chance on these (because, you know, the name is cute).

Where the Grub Comes From

I grew up thinking that everyone had a jungle of fruits and vegetables in their yards where their parents would go and get bits and pieces to prepare meals. Then I got a little bit older, and I thought that all Asian families did this. Eventually I realized that the sheer volume of things my parents grow isn't very common at all, and that my parents are amazing (and a little crazy).

Some snapshots of a few of the wonderful things they grow in their backyard:

Parsley

The stuff that ends up in the Khmer version of scallion pancakes. It's pronounce "kuh-chai" and is sort of green-onion esque, but has thicker leaves and is not as sharp in flavor.

Chinese kale. I think.

The tenderest lettuce leaves you'll ever wrap around a spring roll.

Lemongrass. These will eventually grow into a chaotic jungle.

Lonely sugarcane. I think my dad might have planted these for a lark since I showed envy at the multitude of sugarcane in my aunt's backyard. (Yes, my aunt has this kind of yard, too. The whole family trades their respective bounty.)

Kaffir lime tree. I don't recall actually seeing any fruit on this tree, ever, though the leaves are used often in my mother's cooking. Her delicious, delicious cooking.

Dessert: tangerines! Or whatever variation of small orange citrus these are. They're tangy, and more sour than sweet, which is why I like them. One of my friends suggests that this means I must have a sour disposition. I don't think that's true. Jerk.

Things I left out: banana trees, a lime tree, pomegranate trees, persimmon trees, a guava tree, mint, and many other things for which I don't know the English names.

And this (along with lots of leftovers from family gatherings) is how I survive on $20-40/month for groceries.

The Fruit Mark Twain & I Both Love

This fruit goes by many names: cherimoya, soursop, custard apple, strangealiendeathfruit. My love for cherimoyas is perhaps more intense than my love for mangoes, though less ardent than my love for the available-in-Asia-only mangosteen. (Ah, mangosteen--distance truly makes the heart, and stomach, grow fonder.)

These are widely available in ethnic supermarkets in Southern California; I'm not sure how available they are elsewhere. The one pictured above is actually from my grandmother's backyard. In stores, they range in size from as large as a three-year-old's head to the size of an adult's fist. A ripe cherimoya will usually be dark green (though this is dependent on the variety), have a loosening stem, and give to the touch in much the same way as an avocado. They can ripen on the counter but can also develop bruised and unappetizing spots inside the flesh if left for too long.

Mark Twain claimed that the cherimoya is "deliciousness itself!" and I can't help but agree. When a perfectly ripe specimen is sliced open and the luminous white flesh glistens with its juices, it's a moment to behold, akin to that of witnessing a sunrise or getting to third-base for the first time. I usually cut it into wedges and peel back the skin using my fingers or a knife, and sink my teeth in. The flesh of a good cherimoya is, as one of its names indicates, custard-like, with just a touch of fibrousness that reminds you that it actually is, in fact, a fruit. They can be sublimely sweet but I prefer them when they are still on the firm and tangy side. I particularly love the membrane that surrounds each seed. Yes, I'm weird, and yes, this fruit does involve the dreaded spitting-out-of-seeds process-- believe me, it's worth it.

Ohhh, how it's worth it.

More cherimoya links:

• I wonder if this cherimoya nonprofit is still around: http://www.cherimoyas.org">California Cherimoya Assocation
• A very thorough article from 2003: The Strange and Divine Cherimoya