Tag Archives: Food

Conjuring Up Christmas One Cookie at a Time

At my bridal shower 17 years ago (!), Tony’s mom gave me a book of recipes for some of his favorite dishes. I nearly collapsed with laughter, barely able to blurt out, “Oh, you don’t really expect me to cook for this man?!”
Actually, I did try to cook for him in those early days, but we both felt a great sense of relief when Tony patiently wiped away my tears of exasperation and gently released my grip from the pot full of unidentifiable burnt crustiness. We knew the kitchen was no place for me. Since then, I’ve whipped up the occasional fried eggs or Campbell’s Soup Infused Casserole, and I do make good use of the George Foreman Grill. Otherwise, the kitchen is Tony’s domain.

However, there is one recipe from Catherene Anne that makes an appearance every Christmas: Peanut Butter Blossoms. I know these are common cookies and probably don’t seem very exciting to most people, but for Tony and me, they fill the house with the smell of Christmas and remind us of his mother, who was truly a brilliant cook.
So there we were – in Laos, recipe in hand, on the hunt for very un-Lao ingredients. Luckily, we live in Vientiane, a capital city with embassies from around the world and markets happy to cater to the expats who work here. At the little mini-mart across the street from our house, we found the easy items: white sugar, butter, flour (there were three kinds, all labeled in Lao, so I just closed my eyes and picked one), milk, eggs, and surprisingly, vanilla. I almost bought a bag of MSG, mistaking it for sugar, and fortunately I noticed the small graphic of a shrimp on a bag of tempura breading before using it as flour. Fishy peanut butter cookies? Hmmm … that might be popular here…
Tony rode the motorbike to another swankier shop to get the rest of the ingredients. There were no Hershey’s Kisses to be found, so he bought a couple bags of Hershey’s Nuggets. In all, one batch of cookies cost us around $50.

Saturday morning, I plugged in the iPod and turned on some holiday tunes while I searched in the kitchen for bowls, spatulas, cookie sheets and the rest of the paraphernalia. (When you don’t visit the kitchen very often, it’s rather frustrating to suddenly take on a big project such as this.) I soon found that Daeng had scrubbed all the Teflon off my cookie sheet, but no worries, I used a lasagna pan instead. Mixing flour into the peanut butter mixture is back-breaking work, and the fact that our kitchen was designed for midgets started to grate on my nerves. The counters come to my upper thighs, so I nearly had to double over to hold the mixing bowl. The Christmas songs also began to irritate me after just a couple minutes. They felt out of place in this tropical weather. I switched to some soothing classical stuff. I needed soothing.

Finally, I had a pan full of dough balls ready to pop in the oven. Except I didn’t know how to turn on the oven. I summoned Tony, who solved the mystery. He discovered our oven has a knob with two settings: Off and Max.

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Not one to deviate from a recipe, I pulled out the first pan after exactly 10 minutes and smushed a Nugget in the center of each ball. As I always tell my students, we must make mistakes or we’ll never learn. I learned that 10 minutes wasn’t long enough, and a whole Nugget is a whole lotta chocolate. I left the rest of the cookies in for 15 minutes and used half a Nugget on each one. Perfect! Well, perfect enough.

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The cookies met with resounding approval (if not some skepticism over who baked them) at our school’s Christmas party last night, and even the Lao staff enjoyed them. As Tony said this morning after gorging on the few remaining cookies, “I feel like Courtney Love, and Peanut Butter Blossoms are heroin.”
Here is Catherene Anne’s recipe. Enjoy!
Peanut Butter Blossoms
1 cup sugar
1 cup packed brown sugar
1 cup butter
1 cup creamy peanut butter
2 eggs
¼ cup milk
2 tsp vanilla
3 ½ cups flour
2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
2 packages Hershey’s Kisses
Pre-heat oven to 375°F, assuming you are lucky enough to have an oven that tells you the temperature.
1. Mix together sugars, butter and peanut butter.
2. Fold in milk, eggs and vanilla.
3. Add flour, baking soda and salt.
4. Roll into small balls. Roll the balls in sugar.
5. Bake on an ungreased cookie sheet (or lasagna pan) for 10 minutes.
6. Unwrap Kisses while cookies are baking.
7. As soon as cookies come out of the oven, put a kiss in the center of each one.
Yum!

Restaurant Review … or Not

When I got home from school today, I found Tony lounging on the sofa and our dinner waiting on the table. Daeng had prepared a concoction of stir-fried veggies, cashews and pork with steamed rice. Tony begged me to box it up for tomorrow’s lunch and go out to dinner instead.
Vientiane has a shocking number of restaurants for such a small city, but I’ve found that most online restaurant reviews and guidebooks focus on the same few. I decided it would be fun to venture off the beaten culinary path to check out – and report on – some lesser-known eateries. I was mulling this over in my head when Tony exclaimed, “I don’t want Lao food. I don’t want rice. I don’t want thinly sliced meat in broth. I don’t want vegetables I can’t identify. I want a burger!”
So, for now, the restaurant reviews are on hold. Instead, we’re heading out for burgers at Khop Chai Deu, a popular backpacker restaurant in the heart of town. Its menu features touristy gimmicks, such as insect appetizers. The food is mediocre. But they do have an upstairs deck with twinkly lights, and I am a girl who likes her twinkly lights.

Thanksgiving – Lao Style

It is American Thanksgiving … in Laos … which is to say it’s just like every other day.
I’ve tried in vain to find a restaurant in Vientiane with a special holiday menu shouting out words like “turkey” and “cranberry” and “stuffing.” At school today – oh, did I mention we had to work on Thanksgiving? – there were no fixins’ on our plastic cafeteria trays. The other North Americans and I decided we would join forces for an American-Canadian Thanksgiving next year at Full Moon Café, a local restaurant owned by an American guy and his Lao wife. But we waited too long to collaborate on a 2009 holiday meal, so Tony and I hopped on the motorbike and headed to town for a traditional Italian Thanksgiving at a new restaurant owned by a fifth grader’s dad. After enjoying some lasagna and another pasta that I’d never heard of (bucatini), we popped in to Joma, a café serving … wait for it … PUMPKIN PIE!! Halleluiah!
Here are a few things I am thankful for today:
• I am thankful for a family that laughs at ourselves, scoffs at pretense, revels in the spotlight, holds nothing back, values eccentricity, shares in each other’s celebrations but also in the burden of struggles and regrets, and doesn’t get worked up about a phone bill.
• I am thankful for a husband who once scored as my polar opposite in every category on the Myers-Briggs Personality Test but who has stayed the course for nearly 20 years, keeping me grounded and safe when I’m inclined to whirl out of control.
• I am thankful for the title of Aunt Sharon, two snuggly little boys, and the squeaky giggly voice that yells, “Sherrrrryyyy!” when I ask, “Who do you love?”
• I am thankful for the beautiful, strong, supportive, hilarious women in my life. Most of you are way too far away geographically, but I feel so lucky to know you. How would I get by without my BFFs?
• I am thankful for the temples, mosques, cathedrals, monasteries, castles, palaces, fortresses, bridges, cities, villages, mountains, beaches, coral reefs, rivers, jungles, ancient ruins, natural wonders, historical settings, man-made phenomena, museums, galleries, handicraft workshops, art studios, exotic animals, unfamiliar fruits and vegetables, myriad modes of transportation, and the gracious, kind, generous people we’ve encountered in our overseas adventures.
• I am thankful for incredible and fascinating friends around the world, whom we rarely see but truly treasure. The international teaching circuit is a tossed salad of nationalities, and although we may flit in and out of each other’s lives, we know people (from casual acquaintances to dear lifelong friends) in 24 states and 19 countries.
• I am thankful for Skype, Vonage, Yahoo, Facebook, WordPress and every other avenue of interconnectedness that keeps everyone close.
• I am thankful for a career that zings between painfully frustrating and deeply rewarding but offers up something new, without fail, every single day and allows me to give the gift of communication to little people from every corner of the globe.
• I am thankful for the Asian mini-bananas that are golden in color and so much sweeter than any banana that has ever immigrated to America. And if I’m going to get sappy about Southeast Asian fruit, then I have to express my deepest gratitude for Daeng, the young lady who makes sure my fridge is stocked every day with peeled, cut up fresh watermelon, papaya, pineapple, mango, apples, or whatever is in season. I love her.
• I am thankful for the availability of red wine here in Laos, and I can’t help but notice that the more I sip, the more I’m thankful for! How beautiful is that?
• I am thankful for a roof over my head and a big comfy bed … and that’s just too enticing to resist. So off I go.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

MMM...PIE

Taste of Laos

When the lunch bell rings at school, Tony and I usually eat leftovers from the previous night’s dinner or we purchase meals from our canteen, which is operated by a local restaurant owner. Recently, the VIS receptionist, Paramy, started providing lunches prepared by her husband and delivered to school – at a third of the canteen’s price.
Yesterday, we had a special treat. Paramy’s mother made our lunch!
“This is real Lao food,” Paramy said. She pulled off the soup pot’s lid to expose clear broth with pale green chunks. “That’s baby cantaloupe soup,” she said. (Actually, she said “cantalook,” but we eventually figured out what she meant.)
Then she handed me a little tub of steamed rice with a banana leaf packet on top.

Paramy with my Mok Dhok Khae

She removed the toothpick holding the packet together, unfolded the banana leaf and pointed to the contents. “This is a flower from the south of Laos,” she said, explaining that the flower comes from the Dok Khae tree in the rainforest. Her mom spotted these at a market and decided to prepare today’s delicacy.

Inside the banana leaf

Soup, chili sauce, and Mok Dhok Khai

Minced pork, bits of fish and delicious spices were stuffed into each blossom, and then the whole packet was steamed. The flower itself had a slightly bitter taste, but a few drops of chili sauce gave the dish a fiery kick.
Paramy claims the Dok Khae tree has many medicinal benefits. If I understood her correctly, the flower helps to regulate your metabolism.
As I noshed on Mok Dok Khae and chatted with my Lao and foreign colleagues, I had to smile. You can’t get much more authentic than a Lao mom whipping up lunch in her own kitchen.

Lao Starbucks

We are so thrilled to have two of our favorite people visiting this week – Tony and Rand! They were in Hong Kong for business, so they popped over to Laos to hang out for a few days. Yesterday, Rand mentioned his desire for traditional Lao coffee, something I had also been eager to try. I knew there was a coffee stall right in front of my house, but I had never been brave enough to check it out. The lady working at the stall had lots of business in the schoolkids on lunch break, who were buying iced juices. I ordered three “kaa-feh boh-laan,” and then we watched her cook up some black sludge in a small metal pot. In three coffee-stained glasses, she measured out about two fingers of sweetened condensed milk, a layer of coffee sludge, and several spoonfuls of powdered creamer. She stirred it up and poured the heavenly concoction into ice-filled cups. Delicious!! She may just be my new best friend. (That’s our house right behind Tony, so you see how convenient it will be for me to get my fix!)

Sunday Outing

When Whetu asked whether I wanted to go to the local zoo, I shuddered. Asian zoos are notoriously unpleasant with cramped cages and sickly critters. However, I hate to miss out on anything, so I said, “Sure!” With her gardener serving as driver for the day and his cousin tagging along to translate, a group of us packed into his van this morning, and off we went.
The zoo was small, and some sections featured the usual depressing concrete pens, but it was much nicer than I anticipated. Most animals had roomy enclosures with shade and thick vegetation. The jungle setting had no real organization (gibbons were next to bears, etc.), except for an area that had been funded by an Australian organization (or the Aussie government, not sure) and highlighted animals from Down Under, including kangaroos, emus and cassowaries. The latter looked like a cross between a turkey and a velociraptor. Wild.
As we left the zoo, our driver and his cousin, Gail, told us about a “beautiful waterfall” that was only about three kilometers off the main road. We decided to check it out. Unfortunately the “road” was more of a muddy collecton of craters and ruts, so it took us about 30 minutes to reach the “waterfall,” which was really more of a watering hole. Lots of Lao families were picnicking along the banks or playing in the water fully dressed. Nobody wore a swimsuit; kids frolicked in their undies. The water flowed over interesting rock formations with holes deep enough that children could stand in them with water up to their chests. We all agreed it would be a fun way to spend the day … except for the flesh-eating parasites we keep hearing about. Better sort that out first.
Back on the main road, we headed to the floating restaurants. We walked down a rickety gangplank to a collection of thatched-roof dining areas on the Namnim River. A hostess led us to our own boat, where we sat on cushions around a low table and ordered a collection of delicious Lao dishes – fried rice, chicken lap (spicy minced meat), seafood, very spicy noodles, fried chicken, steamed fish, chicken curry, and more. After the food arrived, a guy came aboard, started up the motor and took us for a little cruise. We didn’t go far before he cut the engine and let the boat drift.
We all pushed back from the table, got comfy on the cushions and enjoyed the tranquility and good company. Very nice and less than $10 each!

Farewell China Tour – (Usually) Yummy Sichuan Cuisine

China recognizes around eight distinct regional cuisines. The food in Shanghai is a bit oily and bland, but the food in Sichuan Province (home of two stops on our trip – Lijiang and Chengdu) is notoriously spicy and delicious.

Crossing Bridge Rice Noodles
In Lijiang, Cath and I asked Li Qiong to take us to one of her favorite restaurants. She took us out for Crossing Bridge Rice Noodles, a meal and a unique cultural experience! First, the waitress brought each of us a massive bowl of boiling chicken broth, a big pile of rice noodles and many small bowls with portions of pig liver, intestines, stinky tofu, spring onions, a raw egg, chicken, bamboo shoots, white fish and bean sprouts. We dumped those small portions and the noodles into the broth and left it alone to simmer for a few minutes. Another plate had tiny servings of pickled vegetables, spicy mushrooms, cashews, deep-fried pork and spicy vegetable salad, so we picked at those tasty morsels in the meantime. Oddly, another side dish was a bowl of “black chicken” soup full of chicken skin and bones. Not my favorite.

Confusing sign that explained what we were eating:

From Crossing Bridge Rice Noodles

Vegetarian Yummy-ness
Another culinary highlight of our time in Lijiang was the Tibetan Vegetarian Restaurant, where we ate twice. Among our favorite dishes – puffy steamed buns filled with sweet cheese, salty green beans, and tofu “meat” with mashed potatoes. Bonus: the owner and the waiter taught us some Tibetan phrases that came in handy when we got to Lhasa.

Chilling with Li Qiong and the restaurant owner and waiter:

From Tibetan Vegetarian Restaurant

Sichuan Spicey-fest
One of the most memorable experiences of our whole trip involved eating in Chengdu. We had just visited the adult panda dorm at the Ya’an Panda Conservation Center when our guide, Deng Li, told us it was lunchtime. Originally, his plan was to drive all the way down the mountain to a restaurant that catered to western tourists. However that would have wasted a couple hours of our day, and I think he realized that Cath and I weren’t too fussy about our food.

“Our driver wants to cook for you,” Deng Li said. We exited the panda center, crossed the street, and walked up the steps to a Chinese guesthouse. We followed Deng Li to the kitchen, where our driver, Luo Shifu, stood in the light of an exposed bulb with flies all over his shoulders. He grinned at us and proudly gestured at his meal in progress. The counters were littered with greasy dishes and chopped vegetables. The wok bubbled with an oily concoction of pork and lots of spicy chili peppers. Cath and I exchanged looks of horror. We couldn’t decide which was scarier: the utter lack of sanitation in the kitchen or the fiery food’s potential toll on our unsuspecting intestines.

Luo Shifu in the kitchen:

From Luo Shifu

We shuffled mutely out to the concrete patio, where plastic tables and chairs were set with grimy bowls and chopsticks. The guesthouse owner brought us beer, which we happily drank from the bottle. Unfortunately, Deng Li noticed and graciously tracked down some dirty glasses for us. Cath and I waited nervously for our lunch.

Luo Shifu emerged from the kitchen and placed the bowl of spicy pork in the middle of the table. When the oily steam made my eyes water, I couldn’t imagine what would happen when I took a bite. Tentatively, I raised the chopsticks to my mouth and took a nibble of the pork. The juice nearly melted my lips, but the meat was delicious. Gradually, our driver filled the table with some of the most scrumptious food I’ve ever eaten. In addition to the blazing hot pork dish, he whipped up another pork-and-veggie delicacy, battered eggplant in a spicy sauce, and asparagus stalks. The guesthouse owner also brought out tofu and rice. Although he didn’t speak any English, Luo Shifu clearly appreciated our gushing praise of his culinary creations.

After the feast, I pulled tissues out of my bag to mop my sweaty brow while our driver cleared the table. When he returned, he brought two flowers plucked from the guesthouse garden. To his amusement, Cath and I stuck the flowers in our hair.

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Local (very local) Fare
After playing with the baby pandas, Luo Shifu drove us back to our hotel at the base of the mountain. Our “four-star hotel” featured lots of marble and gilding, but also mildew, faded carpeting and bugs. I had to talk Cath off a ledge when she spotted a roach in our room, but we flushed the little guy and then headed downstairs to eat dinner at the hotel restaurant. In the lobby, Deng Li intercepted us to say the driver wanted to take us to a local restaurant. We found it odd that the driver seemed to be calling the shots a lot during our visit, but we had to admit he seemed to know a thing or two about food.

We drove to the restaurant, where the driver dramatically ordered for us. Soon waitresses delivered the dishes: a whole smoked duck, an enormous fish in a sweet-and-sour sauce, a platter of fried spicy green peppers, twice-cooked pork, and tofu soup with mushrooms, meatballs and bamboo shoots. The meal really was an example of brilliant ordering. Each bite complemented the bite before with a tantalizing mix of flavors and textures.

While we enjoyed the meal, we noticed a group of men at a nearby table who were having even more fun. They pulled their shirts up to their nipples to cool off, chain smoked, spit out their duck bones on the floor, passed around a bottle of rice wine, and howled with laughter at stories we couldn’t understand.