Back in the Galley: Paella

So I'm happy to say that I'm cooking again. I returned to the galley last week when I cooked thit heo kho after seven years; prior to that, the only dish I cooked from scratch in the last six years was that pork adobo two years ago. This week I tried my hand at making paella, a dish that has always intimidated me. I was not sure if it was going to be edible, so I was very conservative with my ingredients (especially the saffron). Well, it turned out better than I expected. The rice was nicely cooked and very flavourful-- not bad for a first attempt. I could think of several things I could've done better-- I should've pre-fried the pork; I should've used a short-grain rice; I should've managed the heat better to get  a good crust-- but overall I'm happy with this dish, and so were my Dear and the Boy. This is a gateway dish for me: plov, you're next. 

Here is the recipe I used today. There are better and more authentic paella recipes out there, but this is the one I made today. It's my #achievementunlocked moment, so I'm saving it. 

Ingredients: 

extra virgin olive oil
1 onion, chopped
1 garlic, chopped
1 tomato, deseeded and chopped
1 spicy chorizo, sliced
1/2 kilo pork ribs, pre-cooked (braised or fried)
1 can chopped mushrooms
2 cups uncooked rice, rinsed (preferably short-grain like Bomba, Calrose, or Koshihikari, but I used long-grain Hom Mali and it turned out ok, quite loose and fluffy like plov)
smoked paprika
pinch of saffron
salt
ground pepper
500 mL chicken stock, simmering
water, simmering

1. On a wide, shallow pan (ideally a paellera), saute the onion, garlic, and tomato in generous amounts of olive oil. When you can smell the aromatics, add in the chorizo.

2. When you have a good saute going, add in the pork. If it's pre-cooked, just heat it up enough and get some good browning; if it's raw, slow down the fire a bit so you don't burn the other ingredients while waiting for the pork to brown. You can also season the raw pork with salt and pepper at this point. In the last minute or two of browning the pork, add in the mushrooms.

3. Pour in the simmering chicken stock and the spices (paprika, saffron, pepper, salt); any liquid you add should be hot to avoid drastic temperature changes in the pan. Bring to a boil.

4. Add in the rice, distributing evenly throughout the pan (you can also take this time to rearrange the ingredients nicely). Bring to a boil, then bring down to a simmer and cover. Do not mix the rice, lest you end up with a creamy, risotto-like paella. This is the part where it gets tricky. Ideally you'd have put enough liquid to cook the rice, but if the liquid runs out prematurely add in some hot water to compensate. I had to do this a few times-- not an ideal situation, but not catastrophic either.

5. Simmer the rice until done (about 15 minutes). Top with remaining mushrooms or fresh herbs and let the latent heat warm them up.

Garnish with lemon wedges or sliced calamansi. We ate this on its own, but you could also serve with some greens to cut the richness. Goes well with a dry white wine.

Paella #2 (a.k.a. plovella):

A photo posted by xsaltire (@xsaltire) on Feb 19, 2016 at 7:27pm PST

Paella #3:

A photo posted by xsaltire (@xsaltire) on Mar 4, 2016 at 7:30pm PST

Paella #4:

paella de chorizos y judias verdes | paella of sausages and green beans #lunch #chorizo #saffron #paella #spanish #homemade

A photo posted by xsaltire (@xsaltire) on Apr 29, 2016 at 8:46pm PDT

Ay, Pottage!

Remember that ginisang munggo dish our moms made, usually during Lenten Fridays? That green, beany, savoury, soupy dish that's the perfect side for plain rice and fried anything? What do you call it in English? Soup? Stew? Porridge? dr.sbdink and I were discussing this recently and, well, we were stumped.

After some research, I can confidently say the answer is pottage, which is basically a vegetable soup or stew and is the root of the word porridge. The granddaddy of this word is the Latin porrum which means leek-- a common ingredient in soups and stews. From there it became the Old French potage meaning soup and then the current English pottage. Pottage and porridge were originally interchangeable terms, both basically meaning boiled vegetables or cereals. In the 17th century, however, the terms started to have the distinct meanings we have today, with pottage keeping its original association with vegetable soups and porridge referring to cereals (primarily oatmeal but also encompassing rice, corn, barley, etc.) boiled in water or milk.

Pottage is actually mentioned in the Bible, in Genesis XXV 27-34 where Esau sells his birthright to Jacob for a bowl of lentil pottage and some bread. The Hebrew says וּנְזִיד עֲדָשִׁים (naziyd 'adash), which literally means boiled lentils, and is translated as pottage of lentils in the King James Version. Esau eventually regrets the trade with Jacob and this becomes the nucleus of their (and their descendants') endless conflict. Jacob, after wrestling with a mysterious man, later thought to be God himself, eventually became known as Israel (literally he who wrestled with God). Thus, Jacob's lentil pottage set the stage for the Arab-Israeli troubles we see today. But I digress.

Therefore, since our munggo dish is thickened by legumes rather than cereals, the precise English term would be mung bean pottage. Hopefully our mung bean pottage won't start any wars.

A Delicious Russian Dish

The recipe is for Russian-style plov (плов) made with chicken, onions, and carrots. Plov, also known as pilaf, is a rice dish of Persian origin which reached Russia and Eastern Europe through Central Asia.

Ingredients:

1 lb chicken breast
1.5 cups rice
1 tbs tomato paste
3 cups chicken stock...

Better yet, just watch the dish's recipe:

Singapore Food Trip

Took a lot of pics, so I'm posting on my multiply. I have two posts:

Hainanese Chicken Rice, Char Kway Teow, etc.

Sha Tin Kitchen- restaurant review

Found Grechnevaya Kasha

A few months ago, I wrote a post about looking for grechnevaya kasha, or roasted buckwheat porridge. Well, I found some during my trip to the Bay Area-- in Safeway Supermarket, in the international food section underneath the Israeli flag beside the matzo. They were only selling one brand of kasha-- Wolff's. Their website is pretty modest, but has loads of information including recipes and tips for cooking.

I got the meduim granulation, which is midway between fine and coarse. This granulation is usually steamed and eaten like rice or bulgur (that yellow circle on the box says "instead of rice"), which is exactly what I plan to do with the kasha. A 13-ounce box (369 g) costs $3.85 (around P150), if I remember correctly-- much more expensive than brown rice which costs P50/kilo-- and I got two boxes. Well, I think it's worth it for a little taste of Russia and Central Asia.

To say that the Russians like kasha is an understatement (or so I hear). They have a saying: щи да каша-- пища наша. It literally translates as, "Shchi (cabbage soup) and kasha-- our food." Now, that may not sound like much, but in Russian it is pronounced as, "Shchi da kasha-- pishcha nasha," which rhymes well. If you're looking for some profound meaning behind this saying, well, there's none. It's just a rhyme about their staple food, something kids can easily memorise and in the process form a national identity.

A Filipino equivalent could be something like, "Adobo't kanin-- ating pagkain." Other suggestions?

Looking for Grechnevaya Kasha

No, this isn't a personal ad for a Russian girl-- there are other sites for that.

Grechka (гречка) is Russian for roasted buckwheat groats and kasha (каша) is porridge, so grechnevaya kasha (гречневая каша) is buckwheat porridge.

I had grechnevaya kasha twice when I was in Dushanbe-- once in my colleague's house (pictured) and the other time on board Tajikistan Airlines. The kasha is the brown-rice-looking stuff on the left side of the plate; beside it are mutton rissoles (kotleta in Russian), some mashed potatoes, and pasta.

Grechnevaya kasha is simply prepared by boiling the groats like one does to rice; in special preparations it is cooked in broth and some onions. It is quite similar in taste and texture to brown or red rice, albeit much nuttier and coarser. It is often topped with some butter and served as a side dish-- bread is the omnipresent staple-- but of course, I took to it like rice and treated the rissoles like my ulam. On the plane, I was served kasha with roasted chicken.

Anyway, I recently found myself craving for grechnevaya kasha and can't find it anywhere. So if you know where to find it, do tell me.