A New Beginning

To the readers,

I don’t know how many people actually visit my blog, but for those of you who visit here frequently, you might have encountered a blank white page these past few days, instead of the comforting and beautiful food photos (heheh) and my accompanying opinions.

This blog has moved to a new server, http://www.thecocoanut.wanzafran.com/ for practical and strategic reasons. The server is owned by a good friend of mine, and this migration would, hopefully, lead to an expansion of creativity and content, which - given my lack of technical knowledge - would have been limited with blogspot.com.

At the moment, work on the new blog, in terms of design and layout, is in hibernation mode due to exams. As well, content-wise, the blog would be limited to only a few posts (if at all) due to exams (Gee, exams really know how to screw up our lives don’t they?).

To everyone who visits here, those who make their presence known through comments or those who simply come here anonymously, and the odd ‘stumbler’ (“I just happened to come across your website from no where!”), thank you for your support. The blog is still running at http://www.thecocoanut.wanzafran.com/, and I can’t wait to splurge on food once again, to go all out and spend well beyond my means in the quest for the most gratifying meal, and to make you, the reader, salivate.

To those who are fasting, good luck with the last 7 days of Ramadan. To those who aren’t, lucky you.

Selamat Berpuasa, Selamat Berbuka dan Selamat Menjamu Selera.


Akki

Strategic Flanning

I consider myself extremely lucky to be living just a stone’s throw away from one of Melbourne's most loved food strips, the iconic Lygon Street. Although predominantly Italian in flavour, anchored by the likes of Papa Gino’s, Tiamo, Donnini and Il Dolce Fredo, this street has seen a healthy influx (and competition) from new establishments espousing Nepali, Royal Thai, Middle Eastern, Malaysian and Japanese flavours.

A relatively recent addition to this diverse culinary mix is Inkari, a colourfully-decorated and cosy Latin American café. On my first visit here I had their very unorthodox chili hot chocolate, a frothy concoction of cocoa and spicy heat that was a radical change from the normal European treatment of chocolate that favours mild complements such as milk, caramel, praline, or at its most “extreme”, orange.

If there’s one thing Latin Americans are good at, it’s passion. If there’s another thing they’re good at, it’s mixing two items that, to everyone else, seems so outrageously contradictory, but to them, makes perfect partners. And so we have the hedonistic and flamboyant Mardi Gras in the devoutly Catholic nation of Brazil, the fiery ideals of socialism espoused by the medically-trained Che Guevara, and of course, the perfect embodiment of epicurean yin yang, chili and chocolate. No one else would have dared to mix the two together (except maybe Heston Blumenthal who created the bacon and egg ice-cream), but the world is a better place due to the ingenuity of the indigenous Indians of South America.

One dessert that echoes this culinary creativity is the Flan De Queso, a signature dish of Puerto Rico, Guatemala and the Dominican Republic. It is, according to Inkari, a cross between crème caramel and cheesecake. And that is really, the perfect and most basic description for it.

And what a clever combination! The silky-smooth, sugary sweetness of crème caramel is complemented by the dense, slightly sour flavour of cream cheese.

First it was chili and chocolate. Now, it is caramel and cheese. What other refreshing combinations will you enlighten me with next, Inkari?

The Koko Nut

In today’s world of rampant consumerism and infinite choice, food companies continuously compete with one another to entice the customer with the best offer. Too often, the “best offer” translates to the “biggest”, and you end up with oversized cartons of cookies, giant meal deals and super-sized cans of drink.

Increase in size is unfortunately, not accompanied by an increase in quality. In fact, there seems to be an inverse relationship between the size of food and its degree of freshness and taste. The only reason why those cookies sold at convenience stores are so big (wall clock big) and cheap is because, obviously, the ingredients are either artificial or of compromised quality. Similarly, some fried chickens appear so massive because you haven’t removed the ridiculously thick batter.

When I eat these things, I may feel full, but I am not content. People eat not only to refuel their body, but also to feel satisfied. That is why we complain when our food tastes like shit. If food’s sole purpose was to fill our stomach, we wouldn’t have to spend so much effort seasoning and cooking to make it edible.

Humans do not need that much food to maintain their daily activity. The reason why some, no, many people seem to eat so much is because what they are eating is not delicious in the first place, and they compensate this lack of flavour by eating repetitively in the hope of tasting what it is that they were meant to taste.

This happens to me all the time. Whenever I buy dirt-chip chocolate or cookies, I end up shoving one, two, fifteen pieces into my mouth in one go as I desperately search for some semblance of taste in those godforsaken cookies. And I fail each time. I keep telling myself it is better to buy slightly expensive but higher quality food than the bigger but cheaper alternative, because I would feel satisfied and the intensity of flavour means I wouldn’t need that much of it, but the lure of oversized and 2-for-1 packages prove irresistible for my simple mind.

However, this time around, my mind won the resistance. For our bout of chocolate hit, we paid a visit to the cocoa mecca that is Koko Black. Its chocolate menu is well-balanced; not too limited and more importantly, not overloaded with so many offerings to the point that each becomes an anonymous entity. However, I felt its alcoholic menu was over-extensive and I sometimes wondered if I was in a chocolaterie or a downtown pub.

I had the hazelnut crème brulee, which I have long desired after watching Audrey Tautou crack the caramelized sugar glaze in the film Amelie. Its hazelnut custard was very rich and creamy, going very well with the crunchy and warm sugar coating. It was amazing. And although the serving was tiny, the intensity of the flavour was so strong that I really didn’t need much to feel satisfied (nor could I afford to anyway).

Koko Black’s specialty Chocolate Platter is presented in a long, slender rectangular plate, with a selection of chocolate mousse, two pieces of chocolate, shortbread and chocolate cake. Small, yes. Satisfying? Definitely.

People always wonder why the French never seem to get fat, despite their rich and creamy cuisine. The secret lies in their small serving sizes, which are so laden in flavour that they do not need so much of it to be satisfied. Americans, on the other hand, need to super-size their fast food because it tastes of junk.

Koko Black, with its distinctive European ethos and a strong Belgian connection, is a fine example of ‘small but satisfied’ over the crass and greedy habit of ‘supersizing’.

Can You Handle My Bagel

My sudden and unexpected interest in bagels began when I first visited Bagel Station at Avenue K, with its eye-catching orange trademark colour and slick modern décor. Incidentally, Kuala Lumpur’s Bagel Station is the first Asian outlet for the Vienna-based franchise, which prides itself in fresh ingredients and making its products on-site and in full view of customers, which seems to be the trend nowadays for high-quality franchises (think Australia’s Koko Black and Grill’d and Malaysia’s BreadStory)

Bagels have often been given bad publicity by health magazines due to their high refined-carbohydrate content, but we can’t all lead our lives eating wholemeal our multigrain forever. The only thing I wanted is bagels, with smoked salmon and cream cheese – a classic combination!

I headed over to QV one morning for a bagel breakfast at a joint whose name, for some reason, I forgot. I ordered the above-mentioned classic and waited in anticipation. The outcome looked presentable, and it tasted OK. Not great, just OK. It was nice, but there was just something missing in the overall presentation. I wasn’t sure if it was the sun-dried tomato bagel itself, which did not taste like sun-dried tomato, or the light cream cheese, or the smoked salmon that was the problem. The smoked salmon was either too little, or not fresh enough, because I could not taste the whole flavour. Basically, the end product was less than the sum of its parts.

I visited Bagel Station in 2004 and I can still remember the exact details of my first experience – the décor, the very friendly staff, the herbed bagel chips, the modern lighting. This one I visited a week ago, and I hardly remember anything. I now know why I forgot. It’s because I care not to remember.

Market-ing

One of the things which I look forward to in my weekly routine is going to the supermarket/market. A year ago when I was living in a boarding house in Geelong, the nearby Safeway would provide hours for me to while away time, scouring the aisles for the latest baked chips, admiring the range of cheese and amuse myself with the amazing variety of Asian-inspired sauces and tandoori kits. I still do this whenever I’m at the market, however, since I live in a residential college, where food is provided, I don’t really have a valid reason to go and shop there.

Yet I go anyway. The Queen Victoria Market, just a 7-minute tram ride from my place, is a Melbourne institution, famous for its fresh produce, delis, and souvenir stalls. A visit there is always a refreshing experience, as I discover cheese wrapped in smoked salmon, homemade Greek dips, honey roasted macadamias, chewy and crunchy flavoured nougat and the biggest eggplant I have ever seen.

One obligatory purchase from the Queen Victoria Market is the Spanish Doughnut, exclusively sold here in this busy churreria stall. Be prepared to queue, but bear in mind it’s worth every waiting minute!

The Dough Nut

Churros, often called Spanish Doughnuts in English-speaking countries, is a Spanish breakfast snack often eaten dipped in thick hot chocolate as an energy boost for the long day ahead.

The Spanish Doughnut is similar to the Nyonya delicacy ‘kuih kocok’ in that they are both made with flour and deep fried till golden brown, but unlike the latter, the churro feels less oily in the mouth due to its ‘thinner’ shape.

Unlike the common doughnuts, churros are not round, but resemble long, curly sticks. Their texture too, is very different from the soft chewy bite you get from a typical Dunkin Donut. The only reason I could think of why they are called so is because there’s no other word to describe deep-fried flour that’s not quite bread and not quite cake.

Variations of the churro include dusting it with cinnamon, or filling the centre with fruit-flavoured cream or caramel, but the classic plain version sprinkled with icing sugar is hard to beat.

They are easy, fast and more importantly, deep fried! Since the churro satisfies the three fundamental requirements of a Malaysian snack, I’m surprised we didn’t come up with it first.

Sweet vs Savoury

Without wanting to sound over-dramatic (but dramatic enough to get your attention), ice-cream, that frozen confectionary loved by just about everyone, has undergone a major evolution over the years.

When once you were safe in the comfort zone of predictable and familiar flavours such as vanilla, chocolate, strawberry and caramel, nowadays walk into any gelateria and chances are you would be inundated by the sheer variety of ice-cream on offer.

Gone are the days when Mint was the symbol of adventurous taste buds; confectionary eccentricity is now represented by wasabi, green tea, caramel sesame and durian flavours.

However, it is the savoury ice cream that is really making the waves and pushing the boundaries of culinary innovation, exemplified by Heston Blumenthal’s now-famous bacon and egg ice cream. Chefs all over the world are racing with each other to create the weirdest but unsuspectingly delicious concoctions, coming up with such odd tastes like Parmesan, Harissa (a North African spice), green pea and barbecue-flavoured ice cream.

But it is the Japanese, naturally, who have perfected the art of gastronomic insanity. Tokyo recently witnessed the birth of extreme ice-cream, with genuinely dubious flavours such as prawn, octopus, chicken wings, fish and ox tongue.

Does that mean gelato will now be featured in the Mains menu? Or will our desserts no longer be sweet, but rather a frozen version of what we just had for our main course?

There’s also the question of how these savoury ice-cream will be marketed. Just a passing fad, you say? Not according to British commercial giant Unilever, whose €100 million investment specifically targets savoury flavours, which it plans to bring out from the exclusive domain of the chef’s kitchen to the wider audience of enthusiastic consumers.

Currently ice-cream advertising broadly follows two distinctive styles; the fun, careless memories of childhood, or the sinful temptations of a sultry femme fatale licking on a cone of chocolate-topped vanilla. Suffice to say, advertisers would have to alter their promotional formula if savoury ice-cream are going to hit the mass market. Flavours like gorgonzola, black pepper and mango chutney just doesn’t convey the message of fun and joy like chocolate or strawberry does, and neither do they go well with the tantalizing seduction techniques of a devil disguised as a bombshell.

There was a time when the most bizarre expression of gastronomic rebellion was the seemingly impossible deep-fried ice cream. Nowadays, as you stare at your scoopful of balsamic vinegar gelato, you just can’t help but wonder what they will come up with next.

The "Office"

This is where I work, 85 Acland Street, St Kilda. A retro-inspired, minimalist gelato parlour with an ice cream display cabinet that resembles a solarium.

Acland Street is a strip famous for cake houses, funky restaurants and trendy cafes in an area infamous for street prostitutes, used needles, a struggling theme park and a beach with no waves.

What used to be a druggie joint is now a foodie haunt, occupied by, among others, Chinta Ria, a famous Malaysian restaurant in Melbourne, Grill’d, voted by Epicure magazine as one of the best burger joints in town, and 3 ice-creameries, each only a few doors from the other. Can anyone spell C-O-M-P-E-T-I-T-I-O-N?

Two good things to have when you find yourself in Acland Street are money, and a dining partner. Unfortunately for me, I have neither. And so it is that my half-hour breaks would inevitably be spent eating alone by the nearby park, or not eat at all.

Today I packed two oranges intended for break, but I decided to go for some falafels at the nearby Falafel Kitchen, because frankly, despite what dieticians and healthy people tell you, fruits ain’t that great. OK, maybe they are. Nothing else can beat the refreshing buzz you get as you bite into the luscious red flesh of a watermelon. Or a thick slice of a ripe mango, so sweet they hurt your teeth. Strawberries dipped in chocolate fondue or eaten with whipped cream is an enjoyable sin worthy of hell itself. Right now, however, I am just not in the mood for fruits, or any of the antioxidants and vitamins that they’re loaded with.

Falafels are great with dips or rolled in pita bread, or tossed in a salad. And despite my bullshit about not being in the mood for healthy fare, these tasty snacks are full of protein, folate, zinc and vitamin C, courtesy of that superfood, chickpeas!

Falafels are a Middle-Eastern specialty, made from chickpeas, onions, garlic, parsley, mint, coriander and cumin, rolled into small balls and deep fried till brown. They are made famous in Australia by the Lebanese, but it is the Israelis who claim them as a national dish.

I had my 10 balls of falafels heavily dipped in a mixture of eggplant and garlic tahini dip. Tahini is a paste made from unroasted sesame seeds, and forms the base for traditional Turkish dips such as hommus (chickpea dip) and baba ghanouj (eggplant dip).

After that it’s back to work, scooping sorbets and serving customers until my shift finally ends, when I get rewarded with a Big Cup, 3 generous scoops of any gelato of my choice. What can I say, it comes with the job!

Happy Belated Birthday, Malaysia (Where's The Cake?)

Last Wednesday, on August 31 2005, Malaysia turned 48. As Malaysian students abroad reflect on what it really means to be a warganegara, they inevitably turn to the privilege of enjoying some of the spiciest, diverse and relaxed cuisine in the world.

Despite a rich and varied heritage, Malaysian food does not get the same kind of attention compared to other world cuisine such as Italian or French, probably because we lack the intensity and snobbery that lends an air of prestige and exclusivity to the latter two. Malaysian food, by comparison, is genuinely humble and laid-back. There are very few rules when it comes to dining ala Malaysia. No complicated etiquette, no confusing sets of silverware, no bullshit. You can eat with fork and spoon if you wish, or you can eat with your fingers; you can eat on a plate, a metal bowl, banana leaf, even a plastic sheet laced with newspaper will do you fine. The key idea here is to eat and enjoy. And Malaysian food is the better because of it.

The Malaysian obsession with food is legendary. When Aussies go overseas they miss hearing the accent. When Malaysians travel abroad all they can think about is nasi lemak, teh tarik and mamak. We are willing to cross state borders if we know a particular stall in Johor sells the best Nasi Biryani Gam or a Mek from Kelantan makes the best nasi dagang. Distance and increasing petrol prices will not stop a Malaysian from devouring a state’s best-kept secret. Eat and enjoy.

However, this obsession seems to manifest itself only as a love for food, not a love of food itself. We are eager to eat, but we don’t take the trouble to learn and respect our dishes. When Malaysian newspapers review restaurants, they devote more space to promoting the establishment and informing us about the reviewer’s contented stomach rather than critically exploring the finer details of the food itself.

Malaysians do not possess a heritage of haute cuisine like the French or the Royal Thai dishes of our northern neighbour. We are not inventing new food, we are merely preparing the same old favourites. This, if left unchanged, will only reduce Malaysian cuisine to a mediocre set of the same old hawker-style fare, devoid of innovation and fresh ideas.

Pramoedya Ananta Toer, the influential Indonesian author, when asked about Indonesia’s future, replies. “Destruction. I believe that Indonesia has no character as a nation, because national character is achieved through production. Indonesian people don’t produce, we just consume. Without producing we will continue to take the short cut of corrupting.”

Although I am in no position to agree or disagree with his bleak assessment of his country, I would hate if the same situation were to happen in Malaysia. We are not producing new dishes. We are consuming old ones. While Spaniards are enjoying foam dishes pioneered by Ferrand Adria and Australians experiment with savoury ice-cream and East-West fusion, Malaysians are content with the same tired, formulaic menus of local favourites (overwhelmingly Nyonya) or tried and tested Western fares such as fish and chips, spaghetti bolognaise, shepherd’s pie and ice-blended coffee drinks.

A good remedy for this stagnant predicament is the Fruits Festival organized a few years back by the Ministry of Tourism, where hotels and restaurants are encouraged to feature local fruits in their dishes. This provides an incentive for local chefs to experiment and create exciting menus with fruit that extends beyond the classic fruit platter.

The hallmark of Malaysian fare is its boldness. We are neither afraid nor ashamed of using spices and herbs to flavour our dishes. While the Swedes stick to dill and the English remain happy with salt and pepper, Malaysians add taste and colour with a liberal sprinkling of lemongrass, galangal, ginger, garlic, shallots, spring onion, turmeric, tamarind, belacan paste, pandan, ketumbar, pegaga and a host of other herbs and spices. We flavour our rendang without covering the natural taste of the beef, and although we deep fry our fish and chicken without the protective batter, we do so without compromising the tenderness of the meat to give the soft, aromatic sambal Malaysians simply cannot do without.

It is hard to blame our fellow citizens then, for their gluttony and obsession with food. Malaysian cuisine, through a combination of taste, aroma and sight, scream out EAT ME! EAT ME! EAT ME! to the haplessly tempted local. Unlike the cuisines of Japan or Sweden, which are defined by their propriety and minimalism, the concept of Restraint does not exist in the vocabulary of Kamus Dewan Makan. Malaysian dining is a celebration of abundance and plenty. Visit a Ramadan Bazaar and what you see are mountains of ayam percik stacked one on top of the other, bucketfuls of nasi dagang, mee hoon goreng and nasi tomato, and never-ending trays of kuih seri muka, kuih basah and kuih pelita.

We may not (yet) be a wealthy country, but our food and dining lifestyle paints a totally different picture. Happy belated Merdeka Day, Malaysia.

Got Gelato?

I recently got a job as a gelato scooper (official title, Ice Breaker) at the Trampoline Gelato store opening in St Kilda’s Acland Street in September. The induction, which is basically an introductory briefing of the company, was held at its headquarters in Richmond.

As part of the induction, we were given a tasting of the ice-cream we’d be scooping, and our challenge was to name the anonymous gelato. My mysterious gelato was a bright white, the same colour that you would get if you made an icing of caster sugar and water.

It had to be lemon sorbet. No other ice cream was this white. I am a lemon freak. Lemon slice is still my favourite morning tea or supper dessert, and my lemon tarts and lemon meringue pie has always ended up being eaten by only me as no one else can stand the intense, over-lemoned desserts that I make at home.

The best part about making a lemon dish would have to be grating the skin, as you smell the aroma of that very tangy fruit wafting from the grater. The next best part is squeezing as much lemon juice as you possibly can with your hands. Good exercise for the palms.

I took a deep big scoop and piled it into my mouth. No tangy burst of flavour. No intense acidity. No lemon! The texture was really smooth and the taste, whatever it was, was actually really creamy and yummy. But it was not lemon.

“Hmm…I was expecting it to be really intense and tangy. Sorry, but I really can’t taste the lemon. It’s very…subtle…” I could have lied and made a big great squeal to reflect the delightful burst of lemon, but my integrity was at stake. I didn’t want to upset my bosses, but IT REALLY WASN’T LEMONY AT ALL.

“That’s because it’s Caramel Pear Sorbet,” my supervisor noted, clearly unsurprised by my initial shock.

Visit www.trampolinehq.com.au to whet your appetite for more gelato. I’m usually anti-advertisement, but seriously these guys are really good (and I swear I’m not just saying this because I work there). If you’re in Melbourne, this is one place you should mark in your Must Visit List.