Afternoon Tea with a Russian Flavour

Posted on 22 January 2012 by sheg4184

I must confess, I had never heard of the Russian Tea Room until last December. My initial plan was to organize afternoon tea at the Plaza, but unfortunately for us, Eloise, the Plaza’s most significant resident, had got in first and the Palm Room had long been fully booked for her private tea party.

My sister-in-law recommended The Russian Tea Room as a suitable alternative. With half a dozen girlfriends on stand-by, I took the plunge and booked the venue.

Tucked away between 6th and 7th Avenue, on West 57th Street, the RTR has an interesting history. Founded by former members of the Russian Imperial Ballet in 1927, it became a second home for Russian expatriates, the intellectual elite of New York and the entertainment industry. Over 85 years, the Russian Tea Room has maintained a modernist Russian style decor, and continues to host New York’s elite.

It has also featured in several movies such as Tootsie, When Harry Met Sally and Woody Allen’s Manhattan. Madonna worked here as a coat check chick before she threw the coats aside to bare all – well almost – in her music videos.

Today, the Russian Tea Room claims a reputation for continental fine dining, the finest selection of vodkas and an elegant high tea.

First, I have a bone to pick with this title. It is a bone I often chew on, but I was truly surprised to find the misnomer attached to such a reputedly high class establishment, and can’t resist commenting.

There are, according to food historian Colin Spencer, two types of tea: afternoon tea and high tea. Almost the only thing they have in common is the beverage: tea.

Historically, High Tea, for all the elegance of its name, is, not about delicate china and morsels of cake served on tiered plates. High Tea, an expression of British origin coined in the early nineteenth century, was, ironically, a far more substantial affair, eaten by the working classes at around 6 o’clock in the evening. It consisted of pies, stews, cold cuts, cakes and bread – a wholesome meal for the labourers and miners returning home from a hard day’s work.

Afternoon tea, on the other hand, was a dainty snack for the ladies, a light meal that filled a gap between midday luncheon and a late, eight o’clock dinner, originating in England in the late 18th century. Tea, then recently introduced to Europeans, was the drink of the wealthy. Highly taxed, tea was a luxury item, a sign of affluence and respectability, unaffordable to the lower classes. Traditionally, a cup of tea was accompanied by tiny sandwiches filled with cucumber, egg and cress or smoked salmon. Scones, served with jam and clotted cream, and tiny cakes and pastries provided a sweet alternative.

Yet I have recently read that since the 1950s, and in the RTR’s defence, the meaning has altered, particularly outside the UK, where High Tea was thought to have a more elegant and formal tone than afternoon tea. Subsequently, High Tea has become a popular form of afternoon entertainment in luxury hotels, often served with optional Champagne.

So enough of the history lecture, let’s move on to the tea. Five girlfriends, and two teenage daughters had landed in New York for Christmas. The boys had come along too, but they were elsewhere, playing basketball, watching basketball, drinking beer. It seemed only fair to have a bit of girl-time too.

The Russian Tea Room offers what I would deem an afternoon tea: morsels of cake and petites fours; snippets of sandwiches; a wide selection of teas, and an optional glass of bubbly, served between 2.30 and 4pm. Undeniably, the sandwiches are significantly superior to a Subway’s offering, if not as filling. Putting semantic snobbery aside, perhaps the term High Tea is more fitting after all, and bear in mind these are sandwich fillings:

 Curried chicken salad with raisins and pecans; shrimp salad with rémoulade (a spicy, tartar sauce-like mayonnaise); Smoked Scottish salmon with chive cream cheese and cucumber; artichokes with red pepper and a sun-dried tomato goat’s cheese; smoked ham and turkey with truffle; croque monsieur(a miniature toasted cheese sandwich); N.Y smoked sturgeon with dill and sour cream; Roquefort and pear with walnuts, and a soupçon of two American caviars on Blinis (a plateful would have been better, they were delicious!).

Sadly, the menu doesn’t list the sweet items individually, and by then a few Australian bubbles had passed my lips, so I have only vague recollections of some rather tasty truffles, some neat and tiny cupcakes or friands?… Amelia? Help?

 The list of available loose teas was positively daunting, for a single-minded drinker of English Breakfast tea. Ceylon,Darjeeling, Chamomile and Peppermint were familiar, but Formosa Oolong and Mint Verbena, not to mention Rooibos Chai (apparently a South African red bush with Indian spices) left me gasping. I am now quite inspired to become a tea connoisseur. And I loved the descriptions. Try and match them together with the tea: brisk; delicate sweet notes….

On a chilly winter’s afternoon, the plush red furnishings were just right, if a little overbearing for my taste. The service was very friendly and welcoming, although we were all a tad put out at being interrupted by our young Eastern European waitress asking us to sort out the bill mid-way through the tea so they could balance the till. Our sommelier, however, more than made up for this slight faux-pas. A lovely, enthusiastic New Yorker, she was delighted to find a table full of Aussies, as she had studied in Australia ten years earlier. And she had studied not only in Australia, but in my home town, Adelaide. Aaaaand… wait for it… she had studied for her Masters in Gastronomy, of which there is a mere handful of graduates world wide – and of which I am also one! The reunion was full of inappropriate shrieks of delight, distraction and discovery. (It also distracted me momentarily from the enormous service charges and taxes Americans like to add to any restaurant bill. Aussies Beware! And Be Prepared!).

Still, we got all we could have wanted in the way of a self-indulgent afternoon of lady-like chat, cake and champagne. There was a three-tiered cake plate. And the Russian flavour of the High Tea actually made an interesting change from the usual colonial English Afternoon Tea taste… although I did miss the clotted cream.

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The Toastmaster’s Apprentice

Posted on 19 January 2012 by sheg4184

‘Toastmasters’ is an international club that was first established in 1924, designed to create competent and confident communicators. It currently has over 270,000 members and 13,000 clubs worldwide. The Asian Development Bank in Manila has its own Toastmasters club which is open to all ADB employees and their spouses. The club began well over ten years ago, since when there have been almost 650 meetings. Its mission statement claims to ‘promote personal growth by providing a mutually supportive learning environment in developing leadership and communication skills.’

When I first joined  Toastmasters, I was encouraged to attend the club meetings regularly. Then, as soon as I felt ready, I could prepare my first short speech, an icebreaker, to be presented to the other members. Participants also have the opportunity to give impromptu mini-talks (Table Topics), develop skills in timekeeping, grammar and language analysis, conduct meetings and learn about parliamentary procedure. Thus the experience we gain in public speaking can develop into leadership development.

There is no instructor at a Toastmasters meeting. Instead, members evaluate each other’s presentations and provide feedback. Current chairperson Marissa Wenceslao suggests the KKK or ‘Kiss, Kick, Kiss’ method of constructive evaluation, although her ‘Kicks’ are generally too gentle to bruise even the thinnest skin.

Toastmasters gives you the skills and the confidence to rise to any occasion, be it as Master of Ceremonies at your sister’s wedding, to simply voicing an opinion at a staff meeting. Recently one member tagged us with the title: ‘the club where winners are made’ due to the number of awards our members have been collecting in various Toastmasters’ competitions. We are such a talented bunch!

I first heard about Toastmasters from the spouse liaison when we had just arrived in Manila. At the time, inundated with information and opportunities, I put the pamphlet at the back of my desk. Six months later I had cause to go looking for it again. I had just presented a paper at the 2011 Gastronomic Symposium in Canberra, and had rediscovered the sheer terror I felt about standing in front of a room full of my peers. Give me a group around a dinner table and I am perfectly at ease, but a podium and a large audience? Help!

I watched several more practiced speakers, including my friend Tammi, smiling confidently through their respective papers, barely looking at their notes, never struggling for words or hiccupping on ‘umms’ and ‘ahhs’. Dry mouthed and shaking, I took my turn, and thanked God for a reasonable Power Point presentation, that gave the audience something other than me to look at. Nonetheless, I was still incredibly wary of taking my eyes from my notes. As for smiling, I couldn’t have managed even a quick grin if my life had depended on it.

So I came home to Manila, rummaged in my desk, and rang Angel. Please could I join up? I needed a sponsor, apparently, but she was happy to be mine, and so the following Wednesday I stepped bravely into the meeting. I started gently during the following weeks with a couple of simple table topic speeches. These impromptu presentations are based on a moral or life philosophy picked from a hat. Topics may include such wisdoms as:

Always be yourself, because the people that matter won’t mind and the ones that mind, don’t matter.

With only 30 seconds to prepare, and no more than three minutes speaking time, the Table Topics are short and sweet, but they help build confidence to face that first ‘proper’ speech.

When I took the plunge at last, I again found my mouth dry and my hands shaking. Seven minutes seemed to last a lifetime, but I did it. And I have done five more speeches since. Each time it gets a little easier, and the support and encouragement of the club is invaluable. I am hoping that by the time I attend another Symposium I will have completed the basic training of ten speeches and be as breezily confident as my friend Tammi, will no longer um and ah and will at last be able to find a smile for my audience.

making speeches can be challenging, but it is also fun, and it is fascinating to learn about other people’s interests and experiences. Toastmasters has also proved to be a very different way to make some interesting new friends.

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The Gold Line to Old Pasadena

Posted on 15 January 2012 by sheg4184

I arrived in Los Angeles determined not to be entirely swamped by Disney, Universal Studios or any other Hollywood theme parks. I wanted just one day to absorb a little local culture, other than the virtual reality of the movie world.

Realizing that I might not be able tempt the kids away from the theme parks with ‘culture’, I thought ‘food’ might do the trick, and found “Melting Pot Tours, Los Angeles” on the internet.  Sadly, they don’t run tours in January, but their website gave me the idea of heading out to Old Pasadena and devising my own.

The subway in Los Angeles is not as extensive as it is in New York. Rumour has it that a conglomerate of motor related companies were responsible for the demise of the tramways , replacing the  intricate tramway system with buses. LA now has a car culture, and public transport is consequently under-used. However, the relatively new subway system went where we wanted to go, and the cleanliness and lack of crowds was, for us, an unexpected advantage.

Old Pasadena is located eleven miles east of downtown LA at the foot of the San Gabriel Mountains. Proud to be the second oldest city in California, Pasadena reminded us of an Australian country town, with its enormous blue skies, slow-moving residents, low level buildings and broad streets.

Once a large Mexican-owned Ranch, the name Pasadena is actually a Chippewa name meaning ‘of the valley.’ With its clean air and mild, dry climate, Pasadena became popular as a winter resort for wealthy Easterners. Now it is renowned for for holding  the annual Rose Bowl Football Game and the annual Tournament of Roses Parade. It is also the home of many scientific and cultural institutions, boutiques and restaurants.

This peaceful town was a welcome relief after three weeks of New York City crowds boiling feverishly over the pavements with Christmas holiday enthusiasm. If we had arrived 2 days earlier, however, we would have struck the traditional Rose Parade, an extravagant New Year ’s Day procession of flowery floats that attracts almost a million tourists each year. We arrived two days later and everything was calm and unruffled again. Wandering out of the subway station we were immediately confronted with an impressively domed building at the top of the road. It seemed like the obvious starting point.

The Pasadena City Hall was completed in 1927, and claimed as one of the finest examples of the Californian Mediterranean style of architecture. It is listed in the National Register of Historic Places and the architect was inspired by three other famous domes: St Paul’s Cathedral in London, Les Invalides in Paris and the Basilica Santa Maria della Salute in Venice.  Graceful and imposing from the front, it secretes a serene cloistered garden behind its austere façade.  We climbed the curved staircase to the upper cloisters, and leaned over the balcony to admire the cool beauty of the neat flower beds and a central fountain burbling soothingly in the flickering sunlight between two large, shady trees.

The local resident of the information booth grudgingly handed me a brochure on the city. There is a lot to do in Pasadena, apparently, but without a car and only a day to explore, well, it was hardly worth her exerting the energy to describe the possibilities! Of course she could direct us to the older part of town, but – sighing – we would have to walk. The insinuation that it would be a good day’s hike proved exaggerated, but the two short blocks became six longer ones, until we realized she had sent us the wrong way. Bad directions notwithstanding, we eventually found Old Pasadena, and Bar Celona, an unexpected culinary gem we came across as we scanned the street for lunch. Modern Spanish and tapas, we felt, was the perfect accompaniment to the Spanish flavour of the town’s curved terracotta tiles and square campanile.

We ordered a selection of tapas and dug in. A small flatbread pizza arrived first, topped with basil and mint pesto, cheese and… grapes! The menu said figs – they must have run out – but the grapes added an interesting note of sweetness to this savoury bite. This was followed by a mixed platter of empanadas. If you haven’t met one before, it usually looks like a mini pasty, with any number of possible fillings. These ones were a mix of sweet potato and slow cooked beef, but wrapped in a flaky filo pastry, instead of the heavier pastry we were used to.  A Tortilla Española – Spanish omelette filled with potatoes – was surprisingly light and airy, but a little bland. The selection of olives was quite the opposite, as the olives had been tossed in a spicy, olive oil marinade that we gobbled up, calling for bread to wipe out the bowl once the olives were all gone.

The charred lamb sausages with cannellini beans and salsa verde were superb. I could cheerfully have warded off the competition and eaten them all myself, but the boys were faster. We had the same response to the dish of moist albondigas (meatballs) stewed in saffron, allspice and tomato. That’s the only problem with good tapas – there’s never enough to go round more than once!

Full and sleepy, the kids headed back to the hotel, while my husband and I decided to do a circuit of this picturesque old town.

It wasn’t a long walk, but round the corner we found a quiet, leafy street aptly named Green Street. On the corner of Green and Raymond, stands Castle Green, a beautiful Mediterranean-style apartment block, originally part of the Green Hotel, completed in 1898. It was converted into apartments in 1924. Pretty balconies overlook shady, verdant lawns that spread across into neighbouring Central Park.

By now the tapas had settled and dessert required further thought. We were spoiled for choice. Two doors down from where we had eaten lunch, we found a small gelateria, where everyone was struggling to choose less than half a dozen flavours from a delicious display of twenty four. My coconut and lemon waffle cone was a perfect combination of zesty and creamy.

Further down West Colorado Boulevard was a local chocolate shop. The chocolates are made on site and in typical super-size-me tradition the truffles were huge and the slabs of chocolate fudge were bejewelled with M&Ms, Oreos, peanut brittle and other childhood favourites. The kids would have loved it.

Around the corner ‘lette  macaroons had filled their windows with silver branches decorated with macaroons of pastel pink, chartreuse, lemon yellow, tangerine and raspberry. The counter held a tempting display of twelve different flavours (pistachio, chocolate, raspberry, passionfruit…) that were presented to us, beautifully boxed for the meager price of US$19.90 per dozen. (I say meager as a recent and besotted convert to macaroons who would happily pay any price, and then lock myself in the bathroom with the box to avoid sharing!)Old Pasadena is choc-a-block with restaurants, cafes and wine bars, whose buildings have all been lovingly restored over the past decade.  It also has some great boutiques, art collections and antique shops. Pasadena was a popular area with 20th century millionaires. There are several grand houses on the outskirts of town that are open to the public, built by such wealthy individuals as David Gamble, the Proctor & Gamble heir, and railroad magnate Henry Huntingdon.   I began to see why the cheerless woman in the information booth thought we should stay longer, but we were only there for the food, so by now, our hunger totally assuaged, we headed home.

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A Gateway to India in Santa Monica

Posted on 12 January 2012 by sheg4184

Anthony Bourdain once wrote about a game he played with fellow chefs called the Death Row Game, where each player must choose what  would behis or her last meal on earth. Against all expectations they often chose their favourite home cooked meal over any highfalutin fourteen course degustation menu.  ‘The word Mom usually comes up. Bread and butter… and a bowl of pasta are popular answers.’ So when at death’s door, comfort food wins over gourmet cuisine every time.

It made me think about what would be my last meal. And the answer came to me recently at a restaurant in Santa Monica: Indian.

I first introduced our three small children to Indian cuisine in Broadway, a small town in the Cotswolds where my husband and I had got married several years before.  My husband was aghast. What was I thinking? But the kids were hungry and the pubs were closed and we were miles from an acceptable chain restaurant. The kids were thrilled with their first foray into sub-continental cuisine and have never looked back. Since then, Indian has been their unanimous cuisine of choice for birthday dinners, special occasions and Friday night takeaways.

So when we found ourselves in Santa Monica with a democratic debate rapidly disintegrating into a family squabble about where to eat, the discovery of ‘Gate of India’ felt heaven sent. Authentic Indian cuisine was being served beneath a canopy of coloured fabrics. It had been listed in the Zagat Guide in 1999. It was open.

It may be that we were hungry and therefore extra appreciative, but we were unequivocally delighted with our lunch. We ordered old favourites and unfamiliar new temptations. We then proceeded, greedily and appreciatively, to empty every pretty copper bowl, only just stopping short of licking them clean.

Apart from one overly mild and rather dreary chicken tikka masala, all the dishes were warmly received by someone. The fish tandoori was tender but firm, marinated in a fresh ginger sauce and served on a sizzling platter.

I encouraged the kids to try all three vegetable dishes and they all obliged me with mixed success. The boys generally demur on anything green. However, my husband, my daughter and I gleefully devoured the okra bhuna (improved by pairing it with a sophisticated homemade mango chutney), the eggplant bhorta and the daal makhani: a tasty concoction that used five kinds of lentils cooked in spices and tomatoes.

But the number one winner (well I refused to allow the vote to go to the butter chicken, despite the kids enthusiasm – it’s not my favourite at the best of times and this certainly wasn’t one of those ah-ha moments) – was a lamb karahi.  Slow cooked and spicy, the sauce rich and smooth, it melted in the mouth and left my taste buds regretting its passing.

I am really sorry the Gate to India is not just around the corner, but it has certainly confirmed that an Indian banquet with my family will be number one on my Last Supper Wish List. And at least I can rest assured they will all come!

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Nothing could be finer than to be in Ellen’s Diner…

Posted on 10 January 2012 by sheg4184

A first visit to New York should always incorporate a meal at a themed restaurant. Our son’s best mate obliged us by choosing  Ellen’s Stardust Diner in Times Square for his birthday dinner, and inviting us to the party.

Despite queuing for an hour in the freezing street, Ellen’s was a true-blue New York experience: a 1950s retro restaurant with famously crooning waiters and a kitsch New York menu. (Please note: you can’t reserve a table here and they wouldn’t seat us until our whole party of ten had arrived.) The doorman, with obvious physical qualifications as a bouncer,  was inclined to be officious, but we were great friends by the end. Well, he had been watching us slowly freeze to the footpath for an hour – he had to show us some sympathy eventually!

We finally staggered inside to a rendition of Mama Mia and a vision of two gravity-defying waiters somehow balancing on the bar between the booths and singing at the same time. We were delighted.

Singing waiters, burgers and sangria – what more could you ask for? It was loud, but the atmosphere was palpable, and the kids loved the milkshakes and thought the whole experience was ‘awesome’. Our servers were enthusiastic and friendly, and gave the birthday boy more attention than you probably really want at fourteen.

New York Magazine called it ‘a tribute to that archetype of mid-century American Gastronomy’. I’m not sure I would classify it as my greatest gastronomical experience ever, however, given the old adage that it’s either quality entertainment or quality food but never both, it was certainly better food than I would have expected. And it was well priced, if you consider the entertainment as part of the package. Our food came briskly to the table once our order was taken, and the waiters were keen and as quick as they possibly could be when the restaurant was packed to the gunnels and they had to take and deliver orders between acts.

The staff certainly had some talent. As we thawed out, we were given back-to-back performances of Broadway show songs and popular music from the 50s, 60s and 70s – and even a bit of opera from one classically trained diva, which made an interesting contrast.

The earnest New York menu included such delights as Sock Hop Loaded Fries – ‘mounds of waffle fries’ – Hot Diggity Dogs, Blue Suede Burger and an Empire State whose description needed an Anglo-American dictionary to translate it. My own The Walter Cronkite hamburger was supposedly a favourite, and was certainly a step up from the average chain store hamburger, but perhaps not as spectacular as ‘the finest beef in the world’ deserved. Sundaes of every imaginable variety dominated the dessert menu, but we had to leave room for the birthday cake.

It was one of those ‘must do’ moments, and the perfect place for a birthday celebration.  It was also the perfect place to embarrass the kids by joining in enthusiastically with the singing. Well, it was so loud, no one could really hear me… much… and at least I wasn’t dancing on my seat like the extroverted Granny behind me. I guess she was loving the sangria too!

PS Look out for a cameo performance from Ellen’s Stardust Diner in the new movie – another cheap imitation of 2003 Christmas romcom Love Actually –  ‘New Year’s Eve.‘

 

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Ahoy! All Aboard for a Food Tour in New York City

Posted on 9 January 2012 by sheg4184

New York City: The Chrysler Building and Central Park; The Empire State and the Plaza Hotel; the Met and the New York Ballet; Fifth Avenue and Broadway; the Brooklyn Bridge and Ground Zero; Staten Island and the Statue of Liberty; Food…?

We had checked out Dean & Deluca’s and the Food Hall at the Plaza. Both were terrific, very trendy and five star groceries. We had been in an Irish pub and a themed diner. We had located our favourite local coffee shop. We had eaten pizza until we couldn’t eat another slice. Now it was time to head downtown and see what was happening south of Washington Square. “Ahoy New York Food Tours were offering food, fun, history and culture in a walking tour of Little Italy and Chinatown. Perfect.

I set off early with our older son to walk down Broadway from our apartment in the East Village to Lower Manhattan. The rest of the family, a little slower to rise, would take the subway and meet us there. It was too early for the shops to have opened and the pavement was strewn with rubbish from the night before. Pedestrians were few and far between. Well-known stores such as Gap, Bloomingdales, Victoria’s Secrets and Forever 21 trailed behind us as we walked briskly through the chilly morning.  It was all familiarly western until we hit Canal Street, when we were suddenly thrown through a worm hole and found ourselves back in Chinatown, Manila. The pavement was full of street vendors trying to sell us handbags, watches and left-over Christmas decorations. The shop and restaurant signs were all in Chinese. White westerners were almost non-existent.

Our tour group was due to meet outside a Chinese grocery store at 10.15am. Arriving early,  and feeling somewhat obtrusive,  we wandered inside to explore shelves of Chinese snacks, dried herbs, spices and plants, herbal medicines and make-up, while cooking pots of breakfast noodles scented the air with delicious waves of flavour. Choosing some seaweed snacks for later, it felt decidedly surreal to have the woman at the check-out ask me in American English for American dollars. I realized I had been waiting to hear the amount in pesos in a heavy Filipino accent.

Alana was waiting on the pavement when we came out. Another surprise.  I had anticipated a local Chinese or Italian tour guide, and Alana was a blonde, blue-eyed migrant from upstate New York who ‘lives, breaths and EATS the city’. Without further ado she marched us off across Canal Street and into Mulberry Street, the main street of Little Italy. Here Italian restaurants and cafes jostled for position on the narrow street.  Alana ushered us into a small church forecourt beside a full-sized manger scene for introductions. With a maximum capacity of twelve, six of them being our family, introductions were speedily made and Alana moved on to a potted history of the area.

Now immersed in Lower Manhattan, Little Italy was originally on the outskirts of New York City, now the financial district at the tip of Manhattan Island. The largest influx of Italian migrants occurred from 1880 to 1930 and the area was a thriving Italian community until the Black Hand began to take over the streets. This mafia operated extortion racket drove many migrants to move on again, to set up in the Bronx, Brooklyn, Queens, New Jersey and beyond.

A few stayed on, however, and today some of the local businesses here have been in family hands for generations, such as the Alleva Dairy on Grand Street. A fifth generation family business, Alleva Dairy is  reputedly the oldest Italian cheese store in America. Here we were given wafer thin slices of prosciutto to taste, wrapped around wedges of creamy mozzarella. While I missed the added sweetness of the melon we usually pair with prosciutto, it was an interesting combination of salty ham and soft spongy cheese.

Plates emptied, we then crossed the road to the Ferrara Bakery and Café. We peered eagerly upon shelves of Italian pastries: Italian Napoleon (vanilla slices), torrone (nougat) and pignole (almond cookies), while Alana prepared us a tray of mini cannoli. A traditional Sicilian dessert, cannoli are crispy, fried pastry tubes filled with ricotta or sometimes mascarpone cheese, mixed with a number of possible additives: vanilla or a dash of cinnamon; chopped pistachios, chocolate chips, candied citrus peel or cherries . The name comes from the Latin, canna, meaning reed. It is a delicately flavoured snack that would have gone well with a splash of espresso coffee, but we were on the move again.

Our guide enthusiastically herded us through the neighbourhood, telling tales of mafia murders on Mulberry Street and a factory fire during which 146 women and girls of Italian and Jewish descent were trapped and died on the fifth floor of a clothing factory in 1911. It was New York’s worst disaster until 9/11. The tragedy created a strong rallying point for women’s rights advocates, while local unions seized the opportunity to fight for better conditions and greater safety standards.

Crossing back over Canal Street was like crossing a national border. As the scene changed suddenly from Italy to Asia, I was tempted to pull out my passport. The first Chinese migrants arrived in California in the 1790s. Within fifty years many had made their way across the country to New York. However, further migration was rapidly stymied with the introduction of the Exclusion Act in 1882, a law that prevented the wives and children of existing Chinese migrants joining them in America, and refused citizenship to any Chinese already living there. This act was not lifted until the 1960s. Since then, the Cantonese in particular have taken over the area, swallowing up large parts of Little Italy. There is also a number of other South East Asian nationalities in residence, to which the number of Indonesian, Korean and Vietnamese restaurants testify. For lunch we went to Thailand, directly opposite Columbus Park.

Apparently this corner of Chinatown was once a den of iniquity, a meeting place for thieves and villains immortalized in the 2002 movie Gangs of New York. There is no sign of such Dickensian grimness now. All is calm and peaceful in Columbus Park, where locals gather around checker tables, practice tai chi and kung fu, and play baseball, watched over by the benign presence of China’s national hero  Lin Xe Zu. But we couldn’t stop to play. Lunch beckoned.

The Pongsri Thai restaurant has apparently been in the family for 25 years. Their food is tasty, if not traditionally Thai, and we all dug in with enthusiasm to fried chicken in orange sauce, noodles, tofu and broccoli. Those who could, wielded chopsticks – although not, I should add, traditional Thai implements, but presumably there for the benefit of a largely Chinese clientele.

After friendly conversation with our fellow foodies, always part of the fun of a tour, we were encouraged back into the street by our ever-buoyant tour guide. Standing outside a nearby tenement building with its infamous iron fire escapes, Alana drew a gruesome picture of life in the tenements in the first half of the twentieth century: three interlinked rooms; no bathroom; no running water;  a communal lavatory out the back, and tightly packed family groups of up to fourteen people. I though of our airy Manila apartment rather guiltily…

Uncertain of having room for any more food, we found it surprisingly easy to squeeze in a delicious bite-sized pork dumpling dipped in soy  sauce and vinegar or chili sauce. Freshly made, lightly fried, then steamed, they were favourites for many in our group.  Tasty and healthy, they make a cheap, easy snack.

Our final stop was at Aji Ichiban – a sweet shop, now an international chain, that originated in Hong Kong. We have one in our local mall in Manila, although not as well-stocked as this one with its broad selection of dried fruits and flowers, meats and fish, all laid out for tasting, which we did with interest. The kids, of course, dived to fill bags with more familiar candies like Skittles.

It was a sweet finale to a tasty and informative tour. We met some really interesting New Yorkers, and I came away with a long list of books to read the fascinating history of this area in greater detail. Despite being a little touristy, we loved the area, with its winding, narrow, cobbled, densely packed, hustling, bustling, multi-cultural  streets. It had such a very different flavour from the more spacious, ostentatious upper reaches of Manhattan.

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Dashing Divas

Posted on 11 December 2011 by sheg4184

A report on expatriate life in Manila would not be complete without a tale about a Filipino beauty treatment. Dashing Divas is a small, girly-pink nail bar in Power Plant Mall that I visit from time to time. Manicures, pedicures and occasionally, when my own nails are split and peeling, stick-on nails – or Virtual Nails as I discovered they were called today.  (And let me tell you, when you don’t know the exact expression, yelling ‘you know, stick-on nails,’ five times in case they are deaf gets you nowhere!)

An hour and a half in a beauty salon or nail bar is time well spent, and not only for the obvious pampered self-indulgence. Retreating from the madness of a pre-Christmas shopping mall, I spent a fascinating hour or so discussing Filipino food with Ness and Lorna while they clipped and polished my nails, soaked and scrubbed my feet, wrapped them in cling film (???) and generally made me feel a million dollars. It turns out one of the girls had done a Hospitality Course at university, but as is often the way in the Philippines, convenience and availability has kept her at Dashing Divas. I know another university graduate – with a degree in archaeology of all things – who earns better money working 4 days a week as a housekeeper. Apparently this is all too common in Manila.

Anyway, to return to the foodie discussion: Ness asked me if I had ever eaten balut. For anyone unlucky enough never to have experienced this taste sensation, join the queue. Balut is a fertilized duck egg, old enough to be visibly duck-shaped, but young enough that the bones don’t crunch when you bite into it. Boiled and eaten in the shell, it is apparently an aphrodisiac (that kind of sex I can do without!) and is a popular, nutritious street food in the Philippines. Ness loves it. Lorna doesn’t. I’m with Lorna.

It was, however, a good distraction from the loofah tickling the soles of my feet. That experience normally sends me into orbit.

We moved on to discussions of their favorite foods, how to cook it, and what I must try. This included pinkabet (p’kbet in shorthand) which is a green vegetable dish topped with fish paste. I was pleased to be able to say I had tried this before, and the salty bagoong (pronounced bagu’ung) is an interesting addition to a bowl of steamed veggies.

Paksiw pata is a stew now on my ‘to do’ list. Ness tells me it is made with loin of pork (she explained this by pointing at her thigh) cooked with vinegar, soy sauce and banana. It is her favourite, so I have promised to look out for it.

Sinigang, they agreed, is one of those dishes into which you can throw just about anything, but they both prefer theirs with pork and gabi (taro), white radishes, sitaw (local beans, like extra-long strands of spaghetti), sampalok (tamarind), eggplant and okra. I have found this recipe by googling it, so I will try cooking it one day soon and get back to you.

We then discussed traditional Filipino Christmas fare, but for these girls it was more about volume than any particular dishes. Puto bumbong, however, is a must-have at Christmas, and apparently I can try it at Via Mare. A dessert or merienda, it is made from ground rice coloured with purple yam and steamed in bamboo tubes. When removed from the bamboo tubes, it is spread with butter and sprinkled with sugar and niyog (grated coconut). It can then be wrapped in banana leaves to keep it warm and moist until you are ready to eat it.

This led to a discussion of colours (I knew yam was ube in Tagalog, which also means purple) and so I was able to show off my extensive understanding of their language which consists almost entirely of nine colours that I was taught by the boys at the orphanage. Let me share them with you.

Purple/violet = u-bay/lee-lah

Orange = cah-hill or dalandan (also a fruit)

Red = poo-lah

Brown (beige) = murang cah-pey

Black = itt-im

Blue = boo-how/ah-sool

Yellow = di-laow

White = poo-tee

Green = ber-day (from the Spanish verde)

I have written them phonetically, partly because I have learned them by ear and have no idea how to spell them, but also so you can practice them and be assured of a warm welcome when next in Manila and able to show off your fluent Tagalog. Then the girls taught me rosas. Pink of course. Although that is not the colour of my nails, but I am yet to learn the word for bronze or copper.

Posted in Food & Wine, Local Culture, Philippines | 2 Comments

In Cavite without a Compass

Posted on 8 December 2011 by sheg4184

Tagatay City, in the Luzon province of Cavite, is famous for its breath-taking ridge views of Lake Taal and the volcano in its centre. It is one of the country’s favorite destinations for locals and expatriates alike.  In November, members of the British Women’s Association were invited on a full day tour along the lesser known roads of Cavite: a magical mystery tour that took us far from the madding crowd, in a four-car convoy.

The Cornerstone Pottery Farm in Silang

We took a rather circuitous route to the Pottery farm that eventually came to an end at the top of a muddy farm track, where thick jungle seemed in danger of closing in on us. Here we met EJ, who happily gave us a tour of his rustic factory.

Adorned in large, ungainly heaps of unglazed pots and mugs, bowls and teapots, the factory itself is a simple, spacious, open wicker shed. Three large modern kilns stand squarely in the centre, and can apparently reach temperatures of over 1000’C. Someone suggested they could also be used for roasting pork – but only if you like your lechon incinerated!

Two smaller sheds display the finished products, which include many beautiful one-off pieces as well as an array of more practical products, such as chunky coffee mugs, candle holders and wind chimes.

EJ set up the business when he returned from the States in 1996. Pottery is his passion, but he also wanted to do something for the community. Until recently he employed four people part-time to cater to the tourist trade, but recently, thanks to Fair Trade and a deal with a European retail company, he has been able to train four new staff and provide full-time employment for them all.

Before we left, EJ mounted the old-fashioned manual potter’s wheel in the garden in order to demonstrate how to throw a pot. His description of balancing the clay after he had thrown it, to stop it “dancing” on the wheel, was positively poetic. We all admired his skills at  turning the wheel with his foot while creating a lovely fluted bowl with his hands. It was quite hypnotic to watch, and EJ told us that it can also be a very therapeutic activity for the potter!

The Ilog Maria Bee Farm

Our next destination involved another narrow farm track, on which we were at constant risk of losing our wing mirrors to the encroaching hedgerow.  The Bee Farm is apparently renowned as the best apiary in Luzon and even has a cult following.  A number of small white hives announced our arrival, lining up along the middle of the field like a guard of honour.

The Bee Farm grows imported Italian bees from which the bee keepers harvest honey, beeswax, pollen, royal jelly and bee venom.  Honey is not only very nutritious, they told us, it also has medicinal and healing properties, it is good for stress relief and it builds up resistance to disease. Applied immediately, it is even good for burns. You name it, it seems honey can cure it… even acne! Thus, in a small shop at the front of the farm, there is a wide selection of honey-based soaps, honey cider vinegar and honey for sale, as well as a honey throat spray, honey hand sanitizer, and a honey ointment for beestings. Beeswax had been used to make candles in all shapes and sizes – there was even a beeswax Nativity. Behind the show room we found a CR (Comfort Room or toilet) in the shape of a beehive. Built in the round, this novelty ‘throne room’ was decorated with hanging baskets, the ‘throne’ mounted on a low dais in the centre. A truly unique experience!

Bawai’s Vietnamese Kitchen

By now every stomach was grumbling. So it was with hungry enthusiasm that we headed off to find lunch.  Bawai’s Vietnamese Kitchen is actually situated in the home of the cook, Yong Tatlonghari.  Bawai is Vietnamese for granny, as Yong was born in Vietnam, but settled in the Philippines after marrying her Filipino husband, Virgilio. This small, home-grown restaurant is tucked away down yet another country lane: Hernandez Street, Purok 5, Bucal, Silang.  It is truly a hidden treasure. BVK is cash payment only and is normally open only on Fridays and weekends (it may be safer to make a reservation well in advance), but we made a special mid-week group booking and were warmly welcomed.

On a tight schedule, our efficient guide had wisely taken our orders earlier in the week, and it wasn’t long before we were grazing happily on a banquet of fresh and fried spring rolls, a delicious watercress and seared beef salad (goi rau muong), noodle soups, grilled pork rib with Vietnamese omelet (com suon cha), and spicy tamarind prawns (tom rang me). Yong says she only uses fresh and authentic ingredients imported from Vietnam. Seated on the top floor of their country house, overlooking a coconut grove, it was like coming home for dinner, and the meal was exceptional.

The Flower Farm

From Tagaytay City, the Flower Farm can be found in Barangay Guinhawa, a short 10-minute drive from the Aguinaldo Highway.

Begun as a hobby twenty five years ago, the Flower Farm now covers seven hectares of hillside, where black netting ‘green-houses’ cover quarter acre blocks full of chrysanthemums and gerbera, anthuriums, lavender, chillis and herbs. Several of us commented on the joys of wandering through this park-like farm – the trees, the grass, the fresh air – and decided it was the perfect spot for a Devonshire cream tea and a picnic rug. Many of us took a little piece of this Eden home with us in the shape of pots of lavender, basil, mint or red chillis.

Yoki Farm

Our final stop was a hydroponic lettuce farm. Here the lettuces are grown in nutrient-filled water that is transported to the plants in lengths of PVC piping. Hydroponic gardening is far less labour intensive than traditional soil-based gardening and it also allows for multiple harvests each year as it relies less on the weather. They grow several varieties of lettuce there and some herbs as well, providing this produce for a number of local restaurants.

The owner is also an obsessive collector of – well – anything! A giant laughing Buddha greeted us as we wandered down the drive: shiny, gold and ENORMOUS. Apparently it is good luck to be photographed with this vast personage, but I personally found him daunting and kept my distance. He was waited on by at least a dozen miniature versions of himself in yoga poses at his feet. Behind these Holy relics is a vast warehouse overflowed with bronze statues, Singer sewing machines and billiard tables (we counted more than twenty) on which is displayed, amongst other things, 3 large jade galleons floating on a sea of deodorant balls. I am not kidding. Broken gym equipment, vases, chandeliers, exotic birds… the list goes on and on. I was sure that somewhere there I would find the mountain of odd socks and biros that disappear down worm holes in everyone’s house. It provided an eccentric and amusing finale to our brief escape from the confines of Metro Manila.

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Aussie Cheese Please!

Posted on 5 December 2011 by sheg4184

Here’s good news:  Aussie cows are happy cows!

Unlike their disadvantaged European cousins, our cows are not shut up in crowded barns and fed silage, but are left to graze freely on green grass and fresh air. Thanks to such a decadent lifestyle, Australian cows are not only happier, but healthier. Thus they are able to provide richer, creamier milk for cheese making. As a result, Australia is gaining world recognition for the quality of its specialist cheeses.

So says Australian Master Cheese maker and Cheese Grader, Neil Willman. Willman is an eminent cheese educator and consultant with over 40 years of experience in the Australian Dairy Industry. He also judges at many national and international dairy competitions.

“Australian Cheese Please” was organized by Australia Unlimited and the Australian Government to promote Australian cheeses abroad. Sponsored by Dairy Australia and hosted by Enderun Colleges at McKinley Hill, the event was held in Enderun’s light and spacious atrium.

The evening began with a casual wander past several tables exhibiting a wide selection of Australian cheeses available for tasting. There were products from popular supermarket brands such as Bega, Coon and MilLel, as well as a number of boutique cheeses, such as the best cheddar EVER (in my humble opinion)  from Warnambool, NSW and a glorious range of soft cheeses from Woodside, in the Adelaide Hills.

Styles included: hard cheeses (parmesan and pecorino); fresh cheeses (ricotta, feta, haloumi, paneer); goat’s milk cheeses, and mould and surface rind cheeses (blue vein, camembert and brie).Eventually we settled down to a talk from Mr. Willman. While Willman discoursed on the joys of cheese, we were handed a glass of cold, crisp Sauvignon Blanc to accompany a selection of cheddars. As we sipped and nibbled, Neil talked about the different styles of cheeses, from processed through blue vein to washed rind cheeses. We discussed their shelf life and got tips on preparing a classy cheese platter:

  • Excepting soft cheeses, remove cheese from refrigerator at least an hour before serving so they can be eaten at room temperature. In the meantime, cover it with a clean, damp tea towel to prevent them drying out.
  •  Offer your guests an artistic array of textures, tastes, shapes and colours.
  • Don’t let accompaniments out-flavour the cheese!
  • Use an unusual presentation platter: think wood, marble, or even a mirror.
  • Use different NON-SERRATED knives for each cheese to avoid mixing flavours.

Willman also enjoyed dispelling a few urban myths about cheese. Apparently, Cheddar cheese after meals does NOT harm teeth, but actually PREVENTS tooth decay. Research also suggests that eating Cheddar and semi-hard cheeses WON’T increase cholesterol. And wonder of wonders, cheese has high calcium levels that are really good for bones and burning off fats. Finally, for  the lactose intolerant, hard cheeses have little or NO LACTOSE. So feel free to enjoy them.

And of course we were given some ideas about wine and cheese matching. The main question is ‘does it contrast, complement or clash?’ The answer is to provide a complementary balance of flavour and texture. A good cheddar is strong enough to work well with a Cabernet Sauvignon, Chardonnay or port.  If you like sparkling wine, Sauvignon Blanc or Riesling think fresh, unripened cheese.  Experiment with your own preferences and create your perfect partnership between wine and cheese.

*with thanks to Dairy Australia for the photographs

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Corks & Forks Forever!

Posted on 29 November 2011 by sheg4184

Corks & Forks: a catchy name for the inaugural international food and wine fair organized to celebrate ANZCHAM’s 30th birthday.

ANZCHAM –the Australia & New Zealand Chamber of Commerce – is an organization that cooperates with the Philippine Government to promote investment opportunities and business relationships between Australia, New Zealand and the Philippines. It also works actively ‘to create a community’ by hosting social events such as the Corks & Forks Bubbly Brunch, Oztangi Day, a number of sporting events,  and the Jazzfest, another new event this year. Both the Australian and New Zealand embassies are close allies, and AMZCHAM also cozies up with ANZA to help organize and sponsor the ANZA Ball.

As the global food and beverage industry continues to grow exponentially, Corks & Forks was designed as a way to promote Australian and New Zealand food and wine products in the Philippines.  This country is not traditionally a nation of wine drinkers, but as interest grows, it makes sense to introduce them to the fine wines of their antipodean neighbours.

The event was not confined to Australian and New Zealand exhibitors, however, but included local, Australian-owned businesses such as Chocolate Fire and The Wine Depot. The event also showcased local Food and Beverage magazines such as Yummy and Appetite, and Manila culinary schools Enderun Colleges and Treston Colleges, plus partner hotels such as The Marriott, where the event was held.

Entering the Ballroom at the Marriott Hotel, we chose a glass of wine before stepping into the crowd to sample the specialist products at the exhibitors’ stands. Taste-testing was encouraged, so we ambled happily amongst the various cheese stalls – some very tasty cheeses from New Zealand’s Fonterra – topped up our glasses at the numerous wine outlets, such as  Tanglewood Wines and Craggy Range.  We also  sampled hot chocolate from Max Brenner’s and truffles from Chocolate Fire.

Apparently there were cooking demonstrations and guest lecturers that I will have to visit next year, but by then I was entrenched in the dining area set up at the rear of the ballroom, enjoying the Bubbly Brunch where the bubbles were all too freely flowing. If I had been organized, I would have booked in advance and made up a table with friends, but instead my husband and I elbowed our way in at the last minute, tempted into upgrading our ticket by the wonderful smells and laughter coming through the wrought iron screens. Thus a table in the far back corner was probably our just desserts – except that it turned out exceptionally well, as we found ourselves sitting with a really interesting group of strangers who rapidly became friends.

Although brunch always strikes me as one of those meals that can’t quite decide what it is supposed to be, this one was a splendid affair. Muesli & yoghurt layered in a cocktail glass like a breakfast version of halo halo; platters of fresh fruit; hors d’oeuvres of salmon on blinis; New Zealand roast lamb and Australian beef with asparagus and chargrilled vegetables; and the pièce de resistance: a silver tureen filled with crushed ice and bejewellled with shellfish: crab claws, oysters, prawns and a pearly tiara of calamari. And the individual dessert platters were suitably self-indulgent.

We had planned to pop in for an hour or so. But I have vague memories of fond farewells and a luggage trolley as we poured ourselves into the car four, or was it five hours later? I forget. But I do remember that we not only got to meet some great wines, but we also made a lot of lovely new friends and tasted some really delicious food. Thanks ANZCHAM. Please do it again next year!

*with thanks to Caroline Edgington at ANZCHAM for the photographs.

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