The name Loy Gaew literally means floating crystals (or gems), referring to the crushed ice floating in clear syrup. Loy Gaew is a very common way of serving fresh tropical fruits as a dessert course in Thailand. Just about any fruit could be cut up and added to sweet and ever-so-slightly salty syrup with a lot of ice. Prepare the Loy Gaew an hour or two before serve since mixture can use a bit of macerating time in the fridge before service.
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Note: If you fancy trying this Kanom Jeen Nam-prik, I will be cooking it at the Asia Society's Off the Menu event, Curry across Asia, next Friday March 30th.
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"I remember the perfume that filled the house when my
grand-mère made her white peach jam every summer", said Alain
Passard as he chewed on a piece of impossibly fragrant dried white peach a farmer we
visited earlier that day had gifted him. "How extraordinary", he
murmured. I wasn't sure if he was referring to the delicious mouthful
of dried peach or his grandmother's jam he was savoring in his mind.
Whichever it was –or perhaps it was both- he was so blissfully lost in
his thoughts that I restrained myself from intruding with a question.
It was a glorious afternoon. We sat basking in the warm California sun
at the garden after a light lunch. On the menu was a taste from my
own lost childhood: Kanom Jeen Nam-prik, an old Thai dish with fermented
rice noodle and a mild 'curry' sauce made with shrimp and coconut milk.
I'd spent the preceding few days planning the menu, or perhaps it was
the preceding few weeks. David and I knew -before his arrival as the guest chef
at Manresa that weekend- that we would host a lunch at the garden for
him. Since the lunch was planned for the day after the grueling series
of dinners, I volunteered to cook
up a little something myself so they could have their deserving rest.
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Some more shots from the Manresa/Arpège dinners last weekend. This set is just the food, ma'am. Just the food. More pictures of the fun inside the kitchen to follow.
I won't tell you how the food tasted. I'm far too biased to be a good reporter on this one, so you'll just have to see what others have saidabout the dinners instead.
Have you heard of the Off the Menu series? It's a series of dinners hosted by the Asia Society in the Bay Area to explore the transformation of Asian cuisines. The first dinner in the series (in November 2005) was hosted by Charles Phan, of the famed Slanted Door, featuring unusual and intricate Vietnamese dishes normally not feasible (or sellable) on his usual menu –hence the title 'Off the Menu'. Subsequent dinners kept to that theme, and have included everything from 'snapping turtle stew' to the relatively normal stuffed pig's trotter, all cooked up by local Bay Area chefs. 7x7 Magazine last year called this event 'the hottest ticket in town'.
There's another Off the Menu dinner on the horizon that I want to tell you about. The theme is 'Curry across Asia'. The menu will feature curries from Indonesia, China, India, and, of course, Thailand, and there will also be a panel discussion exploring the complex flavors, local foodways, and the many faces of what we call 'curry'.
And joining the pros –Alex Ong of Betelnut, Daniel Sudaryanto of the upcoming Red Lantern, Ruta Kahate of Ruta's Kitchen- is yours truly! Crazy, huh? I guess so. I'm not quite sure what possessed me to agree to this. But what's done is done, and come Friday March 30th, I will be doing my take on a Thai curry for the lucky 60 diners at the event. And, true to the off the menu theme, I promise you it will be something you won't find at your corner Thai restaurant.
(If you are reading this post on a RSS reader, you might want to click through to Chez Pim for the slideshow.) Alain Passard was at Manresa this past weekend to cook with David -three dinners for very lucky people who managed to call within 45 minutes of the announcement and got their tables. Three dinners, sixty covers at each one, sold out in less than an hour. The man is a rock star.
I got to hang out with said star this weekend. Yeah, now you can hate me even more. Heh. Or perhaps not, because I took lots of photos so I could share the experience with you. So, hate me a little less perhaps?
Here's the first set in a series. I call at 'At the pass'. The shots were taken around the area called the pass in the kitchen. Hence the name. Yep, quite creative, me.
(If you are reading this post on an RSS reader, you might want to click through to Chez Pim for the slideshow.)Grattons de Canard. Quite possibly the most perfect food. Period.
What is it, you asked? Grattons is normally made of pork fat. Grattons de Canard -or Fritons as they say in Lyon, apparently- is made of, yes, duck. In fact, it's made of duck fat and skin whose fat has been rendered in the process of making confit. The partially rendered skin and fat solids are then ground up and formed into a terrine.
(If you are reading this post on an RSS reader, you might want to click through to Chez Pim for the slideshow.)
This is Madame Marthe Delon. The name is Delon, comme Alain Delon,
she said, flashing a big smile and her one remaining brown, crooked
tooth. Next to her is Kiki, the most recent in the long line of
Kikis. She's a truffle hunter and a pig trainer. Kiki is a truffle
pig. And they are both legendary.
Though looking ever-so-perfect for the part of a French country woman she
could have been cast out of Hollywood, Mme.Delon is hardly a
guileless peasant. She's been interviewed on television and in
magazines the world over. I watched her hold court in front of
journalists and a gaggle of curious visitors, witty and unflappable,
even with Kiki pushing her trying to get into her skirt and apron where
she hid the truffle scented cat food she used to train the piggy.
She's one remarkable woman.
By the time Kate and I arrived, Kiki had already finished showing
off by digging up truffles hidden in the ground. We waited for
everyone to leave and followed Mme.Delon to the house for a chat and
some prunes. I should tell you: this is why I've fallen head-over-heel
in love with Southwest France. Here people don't invite you to their
house for coffee. They tell you to come for pruneaux. And by prunes
they actually mean a little bit of prune soaked in a lot of Armagnac,
or better yet, that positively flammable Eau de Vie.
You might wonder how we managed this visit. By pure luck, I'd say.
Kate and I had lunch at the famous café called le Lion d'Or, where
everyone comes for omelette aux truffes (truffle omelette) before the
Lalbenque truffle market opens. Sitting at the table adjacent to us
were two local men: a nut merchant who also does some business in
truffles and his friend. They are both called Bernard. We call them
les deux Bernards, the two Bernards. We struck up a conversation, and
they ended up taking us around in the market for a truffle-buying
lesson. They told us about this old mamie who trains pigs, and agreed
to take us there for a visit.
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