Bitter Melon Soup

I'm finally coming through on my promise to post about bitter melon soup. My roommate and I made a team effort. I played sous-chef since she had actually made it once before.

For the filling:

Broke vermicelli noodles into 2-inch pieces and soaked in warm water:

We seasoned the ground pork with garlic, fish sauce, ground white pepper, and chopped shitake mushrooms, then added the noods.

Tending to the bitter melon:

We blanched the bitter melon in boiling water:

Sliced into 3-4" pieces. One of them had dark red-orange seeds because it was a tad over-ripe. Looks pretty cool, though.

Scooped out.

Stuffed and simmering in some home-made chicken broth we had in the freezer.

The finished product:

It was good, but could have used more simmering, maybe in less liquid. Like most soups, this is one that's supposed to be better a day or two later, after it's been cooled and re-heated. We were on a time limit though since our friend was coming over for dinner. She approved, though, so 'tis all good.

Notes for next time: more fish sauce, mung noodles instead of vermicelli noodles, less liquid, longer simmering.

My dad has a big trellis (like this one) that squash and melon grow on every year. I love walking beneath it in late spring as the green tendrils start working their way in and out of all the slats. Until next summer! I'll have another bitter melon recipe then.

There is a National Sunflower Association

And they taught me how to harvest the seeds from the "Mammoth Sunflower" I grew (I received a great bounty of seeds from my sweet Secret Santa last year, including sunflower). I started this sunflower in a pot so its growth was stunted-- it only got to 4-ish feet tall when this variety can grow to 10-12 feet tall. I can't wait to plant some directly in the ground next season and have a whole army of these things. And then I can throw a harvesting party.

Here's my Sunny. His head got super-droopy in July:

You can see the bald spot where I plucked off sunflower seeds now and then for a taste. Raw sunflower seeds are nice.

 I beheaded him and brushed off all the florets:

 All those tightly packed seeds. Magical.

The sunflower was about nine inches across.

This is what was left of the stalk:

 I found that it was pretty sturdy after pulling it out of the ground, and have since stripped off the leaves and turned it into a support for my tomatoes. After waving it around like a weapon a few times.

 The shucking process took a bit longer than I expected. 

About half of the seeds I collected proved to be empty after a squeeze (I guess the bees were not so busy this spring), but I had a good couple handfuls of the seeds. After cleaning them and soaking them in salt water per the National Sunflower Association's instructions, I dried them. Didn't get a chance to roast them before gifting them to my friend Claire, but she seemed to approve of them as they were.

It was worth the effort of the last few months. Enjoyed a pretty sunflower, then got tasty seeds and a new pole for the still-going tomato plants to hang onto. All good.

Say Peas // Google Cuteness, Again

I love it when Google is cute with food on their homepage. Today's graphic is in honor of Gregor Mendel's birthday. Remember learning about him and his peas in grade school biology?

Yeah, I don't remember much other than something about dominant and recessive genes. But I do like peas.  And I'm very fond of Jamie Oliver. In honor of Mr. Mendel, peas, and Jamie Oliver, I share with you this video from the 'Peas  &  Broad Beans' episode of Jamie At Home.

I would never have thought to pair peas with mozzarella before seeing this. Nom.

[There's an archive of all the Google Doodles! Of course there is. I didn't know they had different ones in each country... behind the times much? Yep.]

Google, You're So Cute

Did anyone else notice that you could hover over each of the dishes on the Google homepage and click for recipes of each of the items?

Nicely played, Google. I like ya. Now, please, be good. You know everything about me.

Leftover Crab, Part Deux: Crab Fried Rice

Ah, the fate of the rest of the leftover crab:

I could not pass up the opportunity to make crab fried rice-- it's one of those dishes I always order at a Thai or other Asian restaurant that always seems promising but often ends up with a disappointing crab-to-rice ratio. This would not be the case in my version.

The adventure in crab fried rice entailed:

• A solid half-hour (probably closer to 45 minutes) of breaking shells and picking at tiny cavities for every last morsel of crab meat.
• Sautéeing of diced carrots, then onions in butter (yes, butter). The carrots ended up being slightly more than slightly burned, but I happen to enjoy the flavor of carbonized carrot, so no harm done, just some dignity lost.
• Addition of cooked white rice, a tiny sprinkle of cumin, some white pepper, salt, and some of my mother's magical garlic dipping sauce for a balancing sweetness
  
• Once the rice took on some color from the carrots and seasonings, I added the crab and scallions (sliced on the bias), and cooked through just a minute or two longer.
  

I would have liked to use curry powder in my recipe, but somehow the simplicity of all of the ingredients worked wonderfully. It tasted even better the next day for lunch at work than when it was completely fresh-- I couldn't stop eating it and ended up having it for dinner, lunch, then dinner. Addictive, it was.

Shrimp Tacos & Messy Fingers

It all began with this recipe from the Pioneer Woman. She does a spicy broiled shrimp that is drowning in butter, hot sauce, pepper, and lemon. I happened to have limes and was inspired to eat the shrimp in tacos. (I've been eating mostly rice and pasta for weeks and a change of carbohydrate was in order. A diverse diet is a happy diet. A happy diet is a happy human. A happy human is a happy universe. A happy universe is happy.)

In the beginning, there were shrimp. De-veined with the shells on. I left the heads in the pan to add flavor to the final juices that I'd end up soaking up with tortillas. Crustacean brains are delicious.

In the pan:

• 7 large shrimp
• 1 tablespoon of butter, cubed (it might be just slightly more than 1-- use your best judgment)
• Juice of 1.5 limes
• kosher salt
• many grinds of black pepper
  

I didn't have all of the components for a proper pico de gallo, but enough of them to fake it. It came close enough. I chopped:

• 1/2 of a jalapeno
• 1/2 of a plum tomato (had to conserve, only bought one!)
• 1/4 of a small onion

I mixed these with the juice of another lime. Bless my parents for their prolific lime tree, for I am rarely without.

The shrimp were done after about 7 and 1/2 minutes under the broiler, a flip half-way through. Some were a bit more charred than the others and their shells had crisped enough to eat without peeling. Almost.

I got into a shrimp-peeling and taco-assembling groove and devoured it all in one sitting.

The consumption of this meal required only two or three paper towels. I am quite proud of myself for that.

To be honest, though, I am not a huge fan of shrimp tacos; the only seafood tacos I wholeheartedly, helplessly enjoy are the fish tacos from Los Cotijas on Euclid and Chapman in Garden Grove, California. That place has rendered me incapable of enjoying any other fish taco. Do not go to this place unless 1) you are visiting from way down south where "Ensenada Style" fish tacos are just called "fish tacos," or 2) you don't mind being disappointed by every fish taco you taste thereafter. Perhaps you will not be as blown away by them as I am -- it's your risk to take. Just don't come crying to me when Rubio's and Wahoo's tacos taste like bland mush afterward.

A guide for those who will venture there despite my warning (or because of it):

1. Order only one fish taco, and the beverage of your choice. Do not order more than one at a time; these are at their absolute best when they are so hot that you can barely hold them. If you are still hungry after the first one, you can always go order another. Trust me on this, please.
   
2. Be generous with the salsa from the squeeze bottle. I also like to squeeze more on each bite as I eat, but I'm a fiend.
   
3. Once you pick the taco up, you've made a commitment. Putting the taco down will likely confuse and frustrate you as you attempt to pick it back up. Forget about using the taco hand again until you have consumed the entire taco.
   
4. After consuming the taco, sit for a moment. Contemplate what you've just done, what you've just eaten, and whether you really want another. If you conclude that yes, you are still hungry, repeat steps 1 through 3.
5. These tacos are great to-go, but you are doing a grievous disservice to yourself if you do not eat it for the first time fresh and hot inside the restaurant.
   

If you go, please take me with you.

Pauper's Pumpkin Soup

After neglecting this blog for two years of insanity at university, I find that I once again have the time and energy to post my culinary antics again. I am now a college graduate who is two months into the terrible reality of repaying student loans. I'm reviving Grocery Fanatic in order to record the culinary creativity that comes from empty pockets and good-natured gastronomic desperation.

---

Since I'm trying to save as much money as possible, I've been forcing myself to really use up all of the odds and ends that my mom piles onto me when I visit instead of going out and buying lots of groceries-- I did, however, have to go to the market downstairs to fetch a couple of onions for my pantry.

Two weeks ago my mom gave me a tiny pumpkin from my aunt's garden. I think I was supposed to steam it with a chunk of palm sugar on top (which she also gave me), but instead I decided to make pumpkin soup.

So here's what what I had in my kitchen:

• Diced and sauteed half of an onion in a tablespoon of butter, with a half-pinch of kosher salt until softened.
  
• Added some diced ham to the pan and cooked over medium-low heat.
  
• Laboriously split, seeded, and peeled the small pumpkin, chopped it into 3/4" chunks, and added it to the pot.
  
• Allowed everything to cook together, stirring occasionally, for eight or ten minutes, added a tiny dash of cinnamon, a few grates of fresh nutmeg, a few grinds of black pepper, a half-pinch of red pepper flake.
  
• Once the pumpkin was soft enough to partially mash with a spoon, I added a can of chicken broth + a 1/2 can of water.
  
• Simmered everything over low heat for about thirty minutes while I ate rice with leftover roast pork. (Thank you, Lunar New Year feasting!)
  
• Used a potato masher on the already-falling-apart pumpkin, then realized that pumpkin soup just has to be pureed, unless it's a component in one of the Asian soups my mom makes.
  
• Pureed the hot soup in the blender, half at a time, holding the top with a cloth.
  
• Tasted it, decided to add-- yes-- about 1/3 cup of condensed milk to the entire batch. Lovely. Trust me.

Ingredients break-down:

• 1 small pumpkin (about 1.5-2 lbs)
• 1/2 medium onion
• 1/3 c condensed milk
• ~4 oz ham (will cut back on this next time)
• 1 14-oz can chicken broth
• 7 oz water
• ground cinnamon
• fresh nutmeg
• red pepper flake
• salt & pepper

I would break down the cost of this soup but it was virtually free considering I would have most of the ingredients around anyway. I did have to pick up onions, though, which came out to 70 cents.

Ah, soup-- cheap, delicious, (generally) nutritious, and perfect for the winter.

Comfort food, Khmer style.

It has been a tough month so far, in terms of emotions and money.

Thus, we find a place for rice porridge. Not the seasoned congee, loaded with bits of chicken and garlic and onion, but just rice boiled in a lot of water until pleasantly mushy, and ultimately comforting.

I've been poor, lazy, and busy, so I found myself eating the porridge with just pepper and soy sauce this morning. It's a bit pathetic, so here is the plan:

Comfort food, slightly more sexy-fied.

- Boil chicken thighs in chicken stock (from the many quarts I'm sure are in the freezer, anticipating)
- Mince about half a head of garlic and fry in oil until golden brown (drain the oil off, use for sauteing fish!)
- Add a touch of both soy sauce & fish sauce to the broth to taste, and salt/pepper if you don't go for the fish-ness
- Chop a bit of cilantro, slice some lime, slice scallions
- Cook vermicelli rice noodles (the traditional) or flat egg noodles in boiling water and drain
- Ladle broth and chicken onto noodles, add a spoonful of fried garlic, and sprinkle with cilantro, lime, and scallions

Simple and satisfying.