Salted Egg Shrimp

Each year in May,  soft-shell crab season hits and these delightful little crustaceans show up at seafood purveyors all over the city,  lined up neatly in little boxes.  Inevitably,  my father-in-law shows up in Brooklyn with a hankering for them.  Emails fly back and forth between us for weeks beforehand - we discuss ways to cook them,  we discuss ingredients.  He makes trips to the many Chinese,  Vietnamese and Indian groceries that have popped up all over his town and the neighboring townships in Massachusetts.  I list ingredients he's never heard of or had the need for before. I've never personally seen him at one of these stores but I believe he is like a kid in a candy store simply because it's such an adventure to him.  Tamarind!  Galangal!  Fresh turmeric,  please!!  Curry leaves!  He sets out for these as if he were on his own personal quest for the Holy Grail,  then dutifully reports back to me by email - Galangal: yes  Curry leaves: no.

Last year,  we made Soft-Shell Chili Crab - you know that dish that is claimed equally by Singaporeans and Malaysians as their very own invention?!  I'm not in the mood for an argument,  so we'll call it Singapore Chili Crabs for the sake of world peace.  Usually made with giant mud crabs,  we decided we would adapt it to suit the season and chili up those soft-shells.  I'll have to rescue that blog post from my previous blog so I can share it with you here.  They were spectaculicious!  I wish I had enough for the whole block!  This year we decided on a salted egg yolk sauce - butter,  the yolks of salted duck eggs,  spicy bird eye chilies, curry leaves and milk.  A brilliant creation of some unsung Malaysian-Chinese chef and available at most fine seafood establishments back home. 

Last Saturday,  Dad-in-law arrived with bags of groceries for me (he never arrives at our door without a giant bottle of Sriracha!)  On Saturday night,  we went out to dinner as we always do at Michael's Restaurant in Brooklyn.  We spotted soft-shell crabs on the menu and nodded with satisfaction that they were indeed available.   On Sunday,  after brunch we went to my favorite seafood place.  No soft-shells.  We were incredulous!!  What?  We tried a second place.  No soft-shells.  On our way to our third stop,  we did something we've never had reason to do together before - we had our fingers crossed.  Two people from completely different backgrounds, religions, ages, genders, and from absolute opposite corners of the globe were united with one mission. Sadly however, no amount of togetherness and kumbayah-ing was going to help us.  NO SOFT-SHELLS! Our hearts fell ever-so-slightly in unison.  We then discussed our next steps.

We could have had crab,  but that was much too close to our original thwarted plan.  Instead,  we opted for jumbo shrimp.  They would be deep fried just as the soft-shells would have been,  then coated with a spicy butter and salted duck egg yolk sauce.  Not soft-shell crabs,  but it would do!

Father-in-law: How many lbs?

Me: One

FIL: One?  I want leftovers for lunch tomorrow!

Me:  Okay then... two?

FIL:  You're not eating leftovers for lunch tomorrow?

Me: Okay, three!

Here's the recipe.  Of course,  if you find soft-shell crabs at your local seafood place,  you should make this recipe with them.  Just don't break my heart and tell me about it.  Oh okay,  DO tell me about it.  Take pictures.  Blog about it. 

Salted Egg Shrimp (serves 4 - 6)

3lbs jumbo shrimp

1 cup cornflour

1/2 teaspoon powdered turmeric

1 teaspoon chili powder

Peanut oil for deep frying

4 tablespoons butter

4 large cloves of garlic - chopped

5 - 8 green bird eye chilies - chopped

Small handful of curry leaves

4 salted duck egg yolks - beaten

1/2 a cup of evaporated milk

Salt and pepper to taste

In a Ziploc bag,  combine cornflour,  powdered turmeric,  and chili powder.  Add salt and pepper to taste.  Wash and dry shrimp and add to the flour mixture.  Zip it closed and give everything a good shake to coat the shrimp evenly with the flour mixture.  You may have to do it in batches unless you have a huge Ziploc bag.  I did it in a large bowl,  but the bag method is less messy.  

In a large work,  heat enough oil to deep fry the shrimp.  Depending on the size of your wok,  add 8 - 10 shrimp at a time and fry until golden brown and slightly curled up.  The curl tells you when the shrimp is cooked.  Don't let your shrimp come to a tight curl as you don't want to overcook them - nothing worse than rubbery shrimp,  right?  Once cooked,  remove from the pan onto paper towels to drain some of the oil.  Repeat with the rest of the shrimp,  adding oil and letting it come up to frying temperature as needed.  Once all the shrimp is fried,  dump out all the oil from your wok and clean the wok with a couple of paper towels.  Please be careful with hot oil - don't get any water near it or you run the risk of it spattering everywhere.  

Over medium heat,  add the butter, garlic,  bird eye chillies and curry leaves.  This is heaven in a wok!  Seriously.  Let this cook until fragrant,  about 3 minutes.  Add the beaten salted egg yolk,  stirring constantly for about two minutes until the yolk is cooked which happens very quickly.  Add the evaporated milk,  and salt and pepper to taste.  I like a lot of freshly ground pepper - it adds another layer of "heat" to the bird eye chillies and chili powder.  Give this a good stir to combine,  then add the fried shrimp back into the wok.  A couple of good turns to coat the shrimp with the gorgeous, creamy, salty, spicy sauce and it's time to eat.  Don't make the mistake of letting the shrimp cook in the sauce for too long ie: 3 minutes is too long.  You risk losing that deep-fried crunch.

Serve immediately with white rice and simple blanched or stir-fried greens.  If I knew who created the incredible combination of ingredients that make this dish I would kiss them!  

A note on shrimp:  This dish requires whole shrimp - this means heads,  tails, shells, everything.  I do take the time to chop off the eyes and beards with a very sharp cleaver,  however in Malaysia shrimp are always served whole and either eaten that way or peeled by each individual.  Because the shrimp in this recipe are deep-fried,  I eat them whole - nothing like a yummy shrimp head that's soaked up all that delicious sauce.  The only part I do not eat is the tail shell as it remains too tough.  Here's a picture I took on our travels back home last December.  This dish was part of our dinner at a Chinese banquet-style restaurant called East Ocean Restaurant in Ipoh,  a VERY famous food and foodie town.  People in Ipoh really know how to eat well!  As for this picture - see what I mean?  The shrimp in the foreground on the right is looking directly at you! If this turns you off or gives you the heebie-jeebies,  I'm sorry to say that this dish is not for you.  Shrimp cocktail, anyone? 

Tapioca Pearls with Cantaloupe & Coconut Milk






Even though it's only May,  we enjoyed a little taste of summer last weekend here in Brooklyn.  80 degrees and sunny both Saturday and Sunday - who could ask for a more perfect weekend?  The warmer weather inspired me to make this light dessert that I've been thinking about and craving all week.
In Malaysia,  this dessert is made with sago pearls.  Since it's near-impossible to get sago pearls here in the US,  I decided to give it a go with tapioca pearls.  Sago and tapioca are interchangeable in most recipes,  however I did find one major difference.  With sago,  as the little pearls cook and lose their opacity,  one finds a lot of extra starch in the pot.  When my mum cooks sago,  as soon as all the pearls become clear,  she transfers it into fine-mesh sieve and runs it under a cold tap while mixing it with a wooden spoon to wash away all that extra starch.  If this step is omitted,  what you end up with is a dessert that is much too....... starchy, for lack of a better word.  Ok,  I'll try a little harder - gluey,  sticky,  and lumpy!  I can't imagine anyone wanting a mouthful of glue with their dessert,  can you?  Tapioca pearls, on the other hand,  cook without releasing much, if any, additional starch,  and all one is left with are the dainty little tapioca pearls.  I still rinsed the cooked tapioca with cold water,  but this was primarily to stop them from cooking further and turning into mush.
Back home,  this dessert is usually made with honeydew melon.  You can imagine my dismay when,  after going to every fruit vendor in Chinatown and in my own neighborhood in Brooklyn,  I realized there was not a single honeydew melon to be found anywhere!  Time for Plan B - I noticed lots of beautiful ripe cantaloupes everywhere I went.  I wondered if it was possible to make this dish with cantaloupe instead of honeydew?  After all,  a melon is a melon,  right?  Right,  but somehow I just couldn't imagine this recipe working with watermelon - much too high water content and just not enough flavor.  I decided to give it a try with the cantaloupe.  If it didn't work out,  at the very least I would know not to be so reckless with my melons in the future!
It turned out perfectly and left me thinking about what other fruit I could use in this recipe.
I hope you'll make the trip to an Asian supermarket near you to get the tapioca pearls and try this dessert.  It's a perfect sweet for the coming hot summer days, and a lovely,  light, refreshing end to a spicy meal.  Try it with honeydew and mango as well.  And here's a bonus - it's gluten-free!

Tapioca Pearls with Cantaloupe & Coconut (serves 10 - 12)

2 cups water
1 cup sugar
2 pandan leaves,  knotted (optional)
One can coconut milk (or 2 cups if you have fresh coconut milk)
A pinch of salt
1 cup small tapioca pearls
1 ripe cantaloupe

Combine the water, sugar and pandan leaves in a medium pot.  Bring to a boil and stir until the sugar is melted,  about 2 minutes.  Here's a picture.  The ingredients list above calls for the pandan leaves to be tied in a knot - see how decidedly unknotted my pandan leaves are?  Somewhere in Malaysia,  my mum is shaking her head at me!  I believe the reason for tying them in a knot is merely to make it easy to remove them once they have served their purpose.  What is their purpose,  you ask?  Pandan imparts a distinct, sweet, unlike-anything-else aroma to Malaysian favorites such as coconut rice,  desserts and egg jam.  Egg JAM?  What's THAT?  That's yummy material for another blogpost!
Turn the heat down to low, add the coconut milk and a pinch of salt.  Cook on low for another five minutes,  then set aside to cool.
In a large pot,  bring a quart and a half of water to a rolling boil.  Add the tapioca pearls,  and stir gently to make sure they don't stick to the bottom of the pot.  Continue to cook,  stirring constantly for about five minutes.  Turn the heat down to medium low and cook for an additional fifteen minutes,  stirring frequently.  The goal is to get the pearls to turn clear.  Here's a picture of my tapioca pearls half-cooked - see all the ones that are still opaque?  That tells me that I need to keep this cooking.

Once most of the pearls are no longer opaque,  transfer the tapioca into a fine-mesh sieve,  and run cold water over it so that it cools down and stops cooking.
You want cooked tapioca pearls that still have a pleasant bite to them and that are not just falling apart in your dessert.  It's just like having al dente pasta instead of overcooked pasta!

Slice cantaloupe in half - using a melon baller,  make as many little melon balls as you can (or if you prefer,  cut half the melon into little chunks).  It doesn't matter if you end up with one cup of these or two.  I ended up with about three times as many as you see in this picture.  Scoop the remaining cantaloupe out of the rind,  and purée in a blender until liquefied. 
Once the syrup and coconut mixture is fully cooled,  remove the (hopefully knotted) pandan leaves and combine all the ingredients in a large bowl. Serve in small cups - your guests will come back for more!  Happy cooking!  

Cooked and rinsed tapioca pearls - no bothersome opaque ones!

* Here in NYC,  frozen banana leaves and pandan leaves can be bought at Bangkok Center Grocery,  104 Mosco Street in Chinatown or online here.

** Small tapioca pearls can be found at pretty much any Asian supermarket and even from most health food stores manufactured and packaged by Bob's Red Mill.

Mum's Chicken Curry

A few weeks ago,  I wrote this post about roti jala and promised to share my mum's chicken curry recipe.  I looked back at that post and saw that it was from about six weeks ago -  WHAT?!  How time flies.  Every week I said to myself "time to post that curry recipe" and every week it just got away from me.  I made roti jala with chicken curry two nights ago for a visiting food journalist who was here to write a little profile piece on me and as I sat down to dine with her, it weighed heavily on me that I still hadn't posted this recipe.  In fairness to myself,  what you must all realize is that none of these dishes have "recipes".  My mum never cooks from a recipe - unless she's trying something new and foreign to her,  like macaroni and cheese!!  Rich curries,  divine rendangs,  flavorsome spiced rices,  fish cakes (we call them cutlets), and enticing vegetable dishes are cooked by feel,  sight and smell drawing from years of experience in the kitchen.  Mum still lives in Malaysia,  so here's a typical phone call between us:
Me:  Ma,  how do you make that Indian green veggie,  you know - the one with the coconut?
Mum: Oh,  ok - first you put oil,  then garlic, ginger and onions.  Also put some mustard and venthium (fenugreek seed) and if you want also put dried chilly. Then you fry fry for a little while.
Me: (Writing furiously) Ok....... ok and then?
Mum:  Then you put the veggie in - must cut small small, ok?
Me: Ok.
Mum: Then...... fry a bit,  then add some water.  Put some kunyit (turmeric) and some coconut.  Mix and close.  So easy!!
And that's pretty much how she passes "recipes" on to me.  The crucial part is the "so easy!' at the very end - mum has always been wonderfully nurturing and supportive of young cooks - perhaps that's why my two brothers and I all have a great time in the kitchen and love to cook!  Thanks to all those years I spent in her kitchen watching,  learning and doing,  it is easy.  For the purposes of a recipe though - haha,  can you imagine what this dish could look like if one had no idea what it was supposed to look like? Is it a stew?  Is it dry?  Is it mushy?  Should the greens be crunchy?  There is great potential for kitchen disasters,  tummy aches and budding chefs' disappointment and despair. 
Back to the topic at hand.  I wrote this curry recipe out sometime last year for one of my cooking classes.  Here's my mum's chicken curry - the one that goes so well with roti jala, or over some plain white rice with a yummy vegetable dish on the side.  Hopefully not the veggie dish described above!!

Mum's Chicken Curry  (serves 4 - 6)
1 whole chicken cut into small pieces (or 2 whole boneless breasts cut into pieces,  if you prefer)
3 tablespoons coconut oil
6 large garlic cloves - chopped
2-inch piece of ginger - julienned
1 large onion - sliced
2 cinnamon sticks
5 cardamom pods
Small handful of curry leaves (optional)
1 can of coconut milk (or 2 cups if you have fresh-squeezed coconut milk)
4 large potatoes - peeled and quartered
3 tablespoons curry powder*
1 tablespoon chilli powder (or to taste)
Salt and pepper to taste

 In a deep saucepan or dutch oven,  heat the coconut oil (or oil of your choice) over medium high heat.  Add the garlic, ginger, onions,  cinnamon, cardamom, curry leaves and half a teaspoon of salt.  Stir until fragrant and the onions are translucent. 
Add the cut up chicken and stir well to combine.  Keep stirring to make sure nothing sticks to the bottom of the pot - if you let the bottom get sticky now,  you'll have all sorts of problems later and end up with a curry that has that not-so-lovely burnt flavor!!  Cook for 5 minutes.
In a separate bowl,  combine the curry powder,  chilly powder and enough water to form a thick paste.   (Please read my notes at the end on curry and chilly powders.)  Add this paste to the pot and stir well working to coat all the chicken with the paste.  Keep stirring for 10 minutes - the curry paste will release its rich, savory, pungent aroma and bring your neighbors to your door.  Don't answer your doorbell now - you need to baby this curry so it doesn't stick to the bottom.  In my mum's words "scrape the bottom of the pot so it doesn't stick".  This is especially true now - all these dry ingredients could burn and stick really easily at this point.
Add the coconut milk and half a cup to a cup of water, depending on how thick you like your curry gravy.  Stir to combine, and now you can answer the door,  make yourself a drink and stop for a breather.  Let it cook for about ten minutes or until it comes to a slow boil.  You never want a curry to come to a rolling boil ever - especially if you're cooking with coconut milk.  Boiling at too high a temperature will make your coconut milk separate and curdle - not a good look!

Add the potatoes,  turn the heat down to medium low, cover the pot and let it simmer.  Check the pot occasionally to make sure the bottom is not sticking.  
In about 20 minutes check the potatoes for doneness.  When you can cut through a piece easily with a knife,  your curry is done. Taste the curry, add salt and pepper to taste. 


A note on curry powders:  There isn't one standardized curry powder - rather,  every region of India has it's own variation of this wonderful combination of ground spices.  Before large spice mills came into being,  most households had their own unique recipe for curry powder - this is what makes eating curries in different homes such a lovely adventure.  No two curries are alike and even among my mum and her sisters,  the curries are different.  The main ingredients are cinnamon, cardamom,  cumin, cloves, nutmeg, fennel and turmeric.  West Indian curries tend to be more yellow and include allspice - a spice I never encountered as a child in my mother's kitchen except for the little red and white can of McCormick Allspice which she used for her annual Christmas fruit cake.  Kalustyan's has a wonderful array of curry powders to choose from,  as does Whole Foods.  Regardless of what curry powder you have on hand or where it comes from,  this recipe delivers a beautifully flavorful and delicious curry.

3 tablespoons of curry powder is a good place to start for one whole chicken - as you gain experience with cooking this curry,  you can adjust the amount to suit your taste.  More curry powder will result in a thicker,  gravy-like curry.  As for the chilli powder,  start with one tablespoon and adjust for your needs - if you like it hotter add more.  If you like spicy but not hot,  use less.  Personally,  I love a gorgeous red curry,  the sight of which tells me I'm in for a good hot dish!

Laksa!

I threw a laksa party last Friday night. Here are a couple of pics - we have house-guests, so no recipe today. I will add to this post during the week, but couldn't resist sharing these pics ASAP. A great big thanks to my dear friend, Lila Yomtoob for these pictures.
Laksa is a popular Malaysian hawker dish.  It's traditionally made with two kinds of noodles,  beansprouts,  shredded (or curried chicken), fish balls,  fried tofu puffs,  , quail eggs, shrimp and blood cockles.  Blood cockles are not available here in NY,  so I used mussels instead.  A fragrant coconut curry broth is ladled over everything and the dish is served with a spicy sambal condiment.  This is my version from last Friday night:

This is a shot of the kitchen counter with everything laid out on it and ready to be assembled into individual servings.  From bottom to top - yellow noodles,  rice vermicelli noodles,  shrimp, fish tofu, fish balls and fish cakes,  quail eggs, beansprouts,  mussels, flowering chives and shredded chicken.

Here's a short video of a famous laksa shop in my hometown of Seremban called  Laksa Asia - the woman who runs the stall is my laksa inspiration if only for the fact that she has been serving consistently delicious, mouth-watering laksa at the same location for over thirty years.  A true laksa goddess - I wish I had the guts to go up to her and give her a hug!
In the second video,  you get a better look at what's inside her steaming cauldron - tofu puffs floating in the broth soak up all the yummy goodness of the curry broth.

And finally,  here's a picture of the laksa served at this famous local spot.  On the right,  there is a whole hard-boiled egg.  In the middle,  near the top,  is a slice of fish cake.  To the left of that are a couple of those mind-blowing fried tofu puffs - my absolute favorite!  In the foreground,  to the left are a few blood cockles - a shellfish found primarily in Asia.  In Malaysia,  these are called kerang.  I find that folks either love them or hate them - I LOVE them.  While the name "blood cockle" is off-putting,  it's just a description of the beautiful deep red color of these clams - there's nothing actually "bloody" about them.  I think we need to work on the branding of these delicious clams - perhaps if we called them "yummy cockles" instead,  more people would be inclined to taste them.  If you love clams, mussels and oysters,  my bet is that you will love these.  We can't get these here in Brooklyn so I sadly substitute with mussels instead. Back to the picture - see how the sambal is served? In a tiny little side dish perched on top of the soup spoon - brilliant!  Rice vermicelli and beansprouts are in the foreground to the right,  and yellow noodles can be seen peeking out of the broth at the very top of the picture next to the soup spoon.  Aaaahhhhhh,  all this describing of this bowl of laksa is making me crave a bowl right now - I need a reason to cook up a giant pot of laksa for another feast - who's hungry?                                                                                                                                                                                   

AMK's first cooking class at Skillshare & a recipe for Lepat Pisang

I'm so excited - I taught my first cooking class at Skillshare HQ in Soho yesterday.  It was actually my second class with the Skillshare team,  but my first at their gorgeous, spacious headquarters on Broome Street in Soho.
I arrived there at 1pm yesterday and met my lovely and talented assistant Angie as I stepped out of the elevator and she came bounding up the stairs.  No wonder she's so fit - you know when you read those articles about how to squeeze exercise into your daily routine and one of the tips is to take the stairs instead of using the elevator?  Seriously now - how many of us have actually done that?  Not me.  Ever.  And it shows.  But there was Angie,  Ms High Energy herself singing "hi!" as she literally came running up the stairs to the 5th floor!  Maybe I'll do that someday.  Maybe.  Okay - probably never. 
We set up all the ingredients I had brought and moved things around in Skillshare's kitchen to suit our needs.  At minutes to two,  two lovely ladies showed up - our first students.  Pretty soon,  every one else had arrived and we began.
We started out making the mixture for the Lepat Pisang.  What is lepat pisang?  It's the gorgeously silky,  indescribably delicious Malaysian lovechild of banana bread and pudding, as described by Joshua M. Bernstein in his blog post about my cooking.  Wrapped in banana leaves and steamed for 30 minutes, the result is what you see in the picture above.  The Malay words "lepat pisang" translate to "wrapped bananas" - perfectly simple and so on point. We mixed up a batch (which took all of ten minutes),  covered the bowl and popped it in the refrigerator to let the flavors mingle and get to know each other.
Then we moved on to my mum's famous spiced ghee rice.  The smell of the the spices and ghee sautéeing in the pan had everyone ooh-ing and aah-ing.  Everyone took turns at the stove - stirring the ingredients in the pan.  Someone volunteered to wash the rice.  He did an amazing job!  We put everything in Skillshare's rice cooker and turned our attention to the centerpiece of our class - a Singhalese-style chicken curry.  I know,  I know - I need to post that recipe ASAP.  It goes so well with the roti jala recipe here.
Next,  I shared a super easy recipe for greens - we used mini (not baby!  there is a difference) bok choy.  The greens are blanched,  then a simple sauce of oil, garlic and Vietnamese seasoning sauce is poured over them.  So easy,  so tasty and so versatile - you can substitute any tender greens with this method.
The most fun part of the class was wrapping the lepat pisang mixture in the banana leaves.  I showed them how to prepare the banana leaves - then each person was set up with a banana leaf,  a piece of pandan leaf and a heaping tablespoonful of the mixture.  I did one quick demonstration of the folding technique and they each wrapped the most perfect little parcels ever.  Such a bunch of pros!  Everyone got one more turn at wrapping a parcel and the pretty little envelopes were placed in the steamer.
While waiting for the lepat pisang to cook,  we sat down to a delicious lunch.  I was so happy with this class - a great bunch of adventurous souls,  eager to experience something new and such a lovely, diverse group of people.  I enjoyed getting to know a little bit about each one of them - their backgrounds,  how they learned to cook and what brought them to NYC.  Now I'm seriously looking forward to teaching my next class - would anyone like to suggest a menu?
Here's my recipe for lepat pisang.  You can Google it and find lots of different recipes for it. Some recipes call for cornstarch.  Others only use all-purpose flour.  Some omit the shredded coconut and substitute water for the coconut milk.  This is my recipe for lepat pisang - the result of various trials with some of the substitutions mentioned above.  I find this to be the absolute best combination of ingredients for a silky smooth,  melt-in-your-mouth,  bursting-with-flavor lepat pisang.

Lepat Pisang (serves 6 - 8)
3 cups mashed overripe bananas *
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup rice flour
4 tablespoons palm sugar (jaggery)
1/2 cup coconut milk
3 tablespoons shredded coconut
A pinch of salt
18 pieces of banana leaves,  about 8" x 8" (run each piece under a hot tap,  to soften) **
2 pandan leaves,  cut into 1" pieces **

Combine the mashed bananas,  flours and sugar.  Add the coconut milk bit by bit,  to moisten the mixture enough to achieve the consistency of runny oatmeal.  Add the shredded coconut and salt,  and mix well to combine.   Don't worry if the mixture seems lumpy - this adds wonderful texture to the finished product.
Bring a large pot of water to boil for steaming.
 Lay a piece of banana leaf down on your counter and put a piece of pandan leaf in the middle.  Spoon a heaping tablespoon of the mixture right on top of the pandan leaf.  Fold the top and bottom closed,  being careful to keep the mixture in the middle of the leaf - then fold the left and right sides down to create a little envelope of the mixture.  Repeat with the rest of the mixture.  You should end up with about 14 - 18 packets,  depending on how generous you were with the mixture in each leaf. 
Arrange the envelopes in a steamer,  making sure not to crowd them.  It's ok to have them on top of each other,  just remember to leave space in between them so the steam has room to move.
Steam for 30 minutes.  Serve warm.

* I like to use the mini bananas (aka finger bananas or bananitos is Hispanic markets),  which can be found at most Asian produce markets.  In some Caribbean neighborhoods,  you can find these at bodegas as well.  Remember to buy them ahead of time and use them when very, very, very ripe.  Yes,  that's three "verys"! If you use regular bananas,  again, just make sure they are overripe. 

** Here in NY,  frozen banana leaves and pandan leaves can be bought at Bangkok Center Grocery,  104 Mosco Street in Chinatown or online here.  To prepare the banana leaves for wrapping,  first cut the hard middle spine of the leaf off.  Cut into the appropriate size.  Then wash each piece really well under hot running water - the hot water softens the leaf so it is easy to fold.  If you omit this step,  you'll find the leaves crack as you try to fold them up.

The Coconut Chronicles

I've been in the US for twenty years now, and all this time I've cooked exclusively with canned coconut milk.  It has its pros and cons - its a super convenient way to get that beautiful coconut-ty creaminess into dishes,  without all the hassle and mess of scraping fresh coconuts and extracting the milk yourself.  Unfortunately,  freshness is exactly what you lose in using the canned stuff and what you gain are preservatives and things like BPAs.  Yuck!  So,  here's my family's journey back to the hassle and mess - and back to gorgeous, tasty, fresh coconut milk.
The story begins with my husband lodging a complaint with the kitchen (me!) regarding the use of canned coconut milk.  He claims that while able to scarf down all manner of curried goodness back home in Malaysia without problems,  here in Brooklyn my curries with canned coconut milk made him....uhm, less than happy.  You figure out what that means.   Because of these issues,  I've cut way back on cooking with coconut milk and have been humoring him with Caribbean-style curries,  which do not use coconut milk.  On the rare occasion that I did cook with coconut milk,  it was usually because we had guests and he would refrain from indulging in the delicious curries.  The poor thing.  Over time,  a conversation began about figuring out a way to get fresh-squeezed coconut milk here in Brooklyn.  I've been very resistant to the idea because I know just how difficult and time-consuming it can be to scrape or shred a coconut so that the milk can be extracted from it.  Back home in Malaysia,  you can get freshly scraped coconut at any market and even at local neighborhood grocery stores,  then take it home and squeeze it for fresh milk.  How civilized!  When I was a child,  we had three coconut trees in our backyard and occasionally when my Mum forgot to get scraped coconut from the market,  we would get one off the tree.  I was inevitably given the tedious job of scraping the coconut - which meant pulling out a little apparatus that looked like a low-to-the-ground bench with a jagged metal blade that was used to shred the coconut into a little bowl that was placed on the floor. Highly undignified and it took forever.  Remembering all this made me very unhappy at the thought of scraping coconuts in my kitchen here in Brooklyn.  Anyway,  while we were home in Malaysia,  we tried to find a solution to the coconut scraping problem - the husband talked about it at every family dinner and with all my parents' friends.  I sullenly proclaimed that I would NOT be scraping any coconut in my kitchen in Brooklyn unless we had some sort of machine to do it.  The husband countered my brattiness with "I'll do it,  I'll do it - it'll be worth it to have fresh coconut milk." The whole community jumped into action to help us figure out a way to get fresh coconut milk - folks were suggesting places to go to find mechanical scrapers,  electric scrapers,  manual rotary scrapers. Phone calls were being made.  Heated discussions were had about what would be our best bet.  Someone suggested using a blender and was quickly shot down with a chorus of "Noooooooo,  it's too difficult to get the flesh off the shell". All the aunties were animated - Aunty Khim, Aunty May, Aunty Irene and my good friend Francisca.  Someone suggested a store on Singapore Street in Seremban and we went there with a quickness to find our elusive scraper.  We decided that the husband should wait in the car,  so we wouldn't be given the "white boy price" (yes,  that DOES happen!)  Mum went deep into the back of the shop and asked for a manual or mechanical or electric coconut scraper, while I milled about nonchalantly perusing the various woks and ladles.  She emerged with a beautiful rectangular box - my heart leapt,  I thought we had found something.   She then opened up the two sides of the box,  and out of the middle of it a very familiar looking jagged metal blade folded out - ugh,  it was a modern-day version of the coconut-scraping bench I used to use when I was a kid, only this was a "designer" one where the blade could be folded neatly into the body of the bench so it looked like a pretty little box when not in use. 

Mum was trying to convince me to get it, but my childhood coconut-scraping memories had me running out of there so fast I almost drove off without her. On our last day in Malaysia,  Aunty Irene showed up at our house with these hand-held scrapers.  Thank you Aunty Irene!
They're basically a hand-held version of the little bench scraper,  so at least you're not sitting on the ground.  It wasn't the electric or manual rotary one we had in mind, and it would still be a lot of work,  but at least you would maintain your dignity.  Or so I thought. 

Back in Brooklyn,  our journey continued with a trip to Chinatown in Manhattan,  where I picked up these beautiful babies.  In selecting coconuts for milk,  look for a deep, brown color,  a good heft and a nice sloshing sound when you shake it vigorously.  These are signs of a mature coconut.  Young coconuts are lighter in color,  and don't slosh as loudly - maybe because the flesh inside is still soft and are not good for milk.  No slosh,  no good.  Inspect the coconuts carefully for fine cracks as that will be an indication that the coconut has probably gone bad and will only bring you heartache when you get it home and pop it open to find a pinkish flesh inside instead of pure white and a disgusting, rancid smell.

The next step was to crack one of them open.  I've seen this done a million times - in Malaysia,  when you go to a neighborhood grocery store for shredded coconut,  they crack one open right there in front of you.  I tried doing this with a cleaver - it's much harder than it looks.  You need a really strong left hand to hold that coconut steady while you smack it hard with the dull side of the cleaver.  I tried this a couple of times and quickly got the sense that it wasn't going to work.  Plan B - I got a couple of empty plastic shopping bags,  an empty cup (to collect the delicious coconut water), a kitchen towel and got down on the floor.  The coconut was placed on the kitchen towel and inside the plastic bag (as I didn't want coconut water all over my kitchen floor.)  A couple of good thwacks with the cleaver and it was open.  Success.  See all that beautiful white, creamy coconut flesh?  Now for the hard part!
Since the husband had boastfully proclaimed that he would gladly scrape coconuts for fresh milk,  I set him up with a bowl,  a scraper and the open coconut.  I made myself busy with "kitchen clean up" and sat back to watch what I knew was going to happen.

Two minutes into the operation - "Wow,  this is hard."  Five minutes into the operation - "Is this thing working? Is this how it's supposed to go?"  Clean-up done,  I moved into the livingroom to play with the preschooler.  Ten minutes into the operation - "Hey!  I didn't sign up for this!!"  I walked into the kitchen to find a man stripped of his prior coconut bravado.  The coconut had won this round.  So much for maintaining our dignity.  I didn't say "I told you so", but I just typed it here in this blog post,  didn't I?  I picked up a second coconut scraper and jumped into the trenches with him.  Perhaps with a little teamwork,  we could get it done.  Twenty minutes of hard work later,  and with our forearms on fire, we had a good amount of scraped coconut but there was still white flesh in the shell - I remembered that back home when I used the bench scraper,  Mum would never let me get away with leaving all that coconut in the shell.  You scraped until you hit the brown of the shell,  or else! Mum wasn't here with us,  so we wrapped up the operation,  patted each other on the back for a job almost well done and called it a day.
I knew then and there that that would be the last time the husband would ever pick up one of those scraper thingies.  Two days later he sent me a link to a newspaper article "Man kills relative with coconut scraper."  A fate worse than swimming with the fishes.  Srsly!
I managed to get two cups of thick, creamy, FRESH coconut milk from what we had and cooked a beautiful chicken curry and some roti jala with it.  At the end of the day,  I have to admit - the husband was right.  There really is a huge difference and it definitely is worth the trouble.  Out of convenience and neccesity,  I had grown accustomed to using canned coconut milk,  but that day as I cooked with our hard-earned fresh coconut milk,  my kitchen was filled with a heavenly aroma never before smelled in our 107-year old house.  Zero preservatives,  zero toxins - 100% natural, yummy goodness.
In two days,  I'm going to be cooking a big meal that requires coconut milk for a special group of people - there are two beautiful coconuts waiting in my kitchen.  I've been looking up other ways of processing coconuts for milk and have found a few other ways of doing it on this blog.  The writer shares her way of doing it,  but if you also read the comments,  her readers share their ideas as well.  I may try prying the flesh out of the shell and using my juicer - I wonder how that will work.  Have any of you got your own coconut milk stories to share?  The coconut saga continues...

 

 Update (March 19,2012) - My husband gifted me with this beautiful contraption. It scrapes the meat out of fresh coconuts for squeezing.  It's still a lot of work for a spoiled tropical babe who is accustomed to snapping her fingers (well, not really, but you get the idea) for the freshest coconut milk and having it brought to her on a golden platter by four young, loin-clothed men..... Auria! snap out of it. And there you have it, a glimpse of what goes on inside the mind of someone who still misses the convenience of going down to the neighborhood corner store or the wet market for beautiful fresh coconut milk. This actually does the job very nicely so when fresh coconut milk must be had, it's right here at my fingertips. 

Update (January 12, 2013) - Here's an article in the NY Times about how anyone can make fresh coconut milk at home.

Roti Jala

My dear husband experienced roti jala for the first time in Malaysia at the home of a longtime friend in January of 2010.  He's been singing the praises of roti jala since then and they've been falling on deaf ears here. When we were there this past December,  he once again came upon the elusive roti jala at a hotel breakfast buffet in Penang where he also got to see how it is made - with something called a roti jala funnel.  He instantly recognized it as something that we have in our kitchen - "Wait... don't we have one of those at home?"  Uh-oh - nowhere to run,  nowhere to hide! The matter was settled as amicably as possible, with me trying to distract him with the buffet's magnificent display of dragon fruit and promising to provide roti jala on a regular basis once we got back to Brooklyn. So,  two nights ago,  we had our first roti jala adventure - made with freshly-squeezed coconut milk,  which is a whole other blog post. Let me just tell you that while it is normal to use only fresh coconut milk back home in Malaysia,  here in Brooklyn it's completely unheard of and we went to great lengths to make some. 
Roti jala is a quintessentially Malaysian dish - a combination of Malay and Indian influences,  it is a wonderful example of the fusion of cultures that is uniquely Malaysian. The batter is poured into a hot pan with the aforementioned funnel, resulting in a lacy,  crepe-like, melt-in-your-mouth bread that is prefect for soaking up a spicy curry gravy. As I write this,  I'm wishing we had leftovers. Perhaps we'll have to make it again this weekend?

Roti Jala (serves 5)
3 cups all-purpose flour  - sifted
3 eggs
3 cups coconut milk
1 1/2 cups water
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp turmeric powder
Coconut oil - to grease the pan
In a large bowl, beat the 3 eggs.   Add the coconut milk,  water, salt and turmeric powder and whisk well. Slowly add the flour and stir to incorporate the wet and dry ingredients, until the batter comes to a smooth consistency. Strain the batter through a fine sieve to remove any lumps - this step ensures that the batter will pass through the funnel's multiple tiny outlets instead of clogging them up.
Heat up a flat griddle pan or large nonstick frying pan and then turn the heat to medium. Grease the pan lightly - I use coconut oil whenever possible,  but your choice of vegetable oil will do just as well.
Fill the roti jala funnel about halfway and let the batter drip onto the heated pan.  Beginning on the outer edge of the pan,  move the funnel in circles to create a lacy circular pattern.  My first couple of attempts at this were kinda miserable - the strands were thick and did not resemble the delicate roti jala we enjoyed back home.  It's all in the technique - with a little bit of practice, I managed to re-create these to perfection.  The trick is to keep that funnel moving quick - the slower you move,  the thicker the strands are.  Here's a video from that breakfast buffet in Penang to show you how it's done:

Here's a picture of the funnel - see the five pointy things on the bottom?  If you can't get your hands on one,  but are determined to try this recipe,  have someone who is handy with a hammer and a nail punch 5 small holes in the bottom of an empty can.  Make sure to hammer down any sharp edges and be careful.  If you absolutely MUST have one of these funnel thingies,  email me at auriasmalaysiankitchen@gmail.com and we'll try and get one to you.
And finally,  here's a pic of the roti jala served with my mum's incredible chicken curry - recipe to follow shortly.  I hope you'll make this and share it with your friends and family - it's really super easy and you'll look like a genius in the kitchen.