Other Malaysian Eats

Let's start with breakfast. We were totally addicted to roti canai, a flaky bread served with a curry dip, varying in spiciness. We craved this daily, and washed down with a frothy teh tarik (tea made with sweet condensed milk) it was an ideal start to the day.

Banana leaf curries were common. Walking along a busy main road, we ducked inside a grimy-looking cafe, only to be served one of the best curries of the trip. Sweet sticky chicken drumsticks, dolloped with a ladle of spicy curried green beans, lightly spiced cabbage and rice served from long silver containers. I was less impressed with the lizard that ran up my leg, causing me to scream like a total girl.

Murtabak, eaten here at the night market in Kota Bharu, were egg-laden treats. We watched mesmerised as the maker flipped out the roti dough nice and thinly, and on it went to the hot plate to be spread with whipped eggs and a curry mixture, folded, folded and folded again until hot and crisp.

It sounds like a rude word, but in fact Popiah are like a cross between spring rolls and the Vietnamese summer rolls. Amongst the best street food we sampled, I watched as the lady warmed up a wafer-thin crepe wrapper, spread it with a hoi-sin like sweet sauce, before piling on shreds of daikon and some scrambled tofu.

Chilli sauce seasoned each mouthful, and it was a delight to chow down on a mixture of soft wrapper, crunchy vegetable and piquant and sweet sauces. To my distress, they seem almost impossible to replicate at home unless you're a master of dough. I am not.

Desserts came in the form of small bowls, often flavoured with coconut and riddled with beans or jelly-like textures. The most famous, Cendol, was made with shaved ice, coconut cream, caramel, threads of flour-based noodle flavoured with pandan and sweet kidney beans. It was icy and surprisingly refreshing.

Weirdest dish of the trip was perhaps 'Tandoori Kashmir Chicken'. A naan bread, topped with tandoori chicken and watermelon, banana, apple, and cashew nuts. Like a big chickeny fruit salad.

Noodles in Penang, Malaysia

Penang was, at times, a struggle. There were so many dishes to try and almost not enough meal times to fit them in. Relatives of the friend I was travelling with were perfect hosts; they stuffed us full of delicious dishes at any opportunity and in two afternoons, we slipped off to have second, third and fourth lunches before coming home, greeted by a table groaning with curries and rice.

After a quick curry, we headed straight for Gurney Drive Hawker Centre. Dozens of food stalls all in one place were perfect for our snacking need. Chee cheung fun, above, were slippery buggers.

Prawn mee were 'so prawny it's almost as if it's not real'. I liked the mixture of egg noodles and thin vermicelli rice noodles. Three or four other dishes later, I faded into a sweaty mess and retreated to a nearby McDonald's for air conditioning and to groan in a lady-like fashion.

Elsewhere, on Jalan MacAllister we encountered another cluster of food stalls. A char kway kak dish, made with thicker chunks of rice cake was full of the smoky flavour the Chinese so praise, 'wok hei' - the breath of the wok. Crisp pieces of pork fat were interspersed in the bean sprouts.

Roast pork and wonton noodles were ordered with the broth separate; my friend prefers his noodle dishes dry - imagine! Pickled chillis added piquancy, the noodles were springy.

My friend pointed at a little white pot and asked what it was, when the lady added it to our Hokkien mee (above). "Pork fat. Lard." No wonder they were so moreish.

Curry mee were mild in curry flavour, but underneath the innocent surface lurked wibbly, wobbly chunks of pig's blood, tofu-like in texture. Tiny little cockles swam about in the broth, while spongy tofu puffs soaked up goodness. This was one of the more challenging dishes (apparently - I have no problems with blood) and also a favourite.

We ate in classier joints too (i.e. ones with a roof). This place did only char kway teow and Asam laksa, a sour and spicy noodle soup made with fish and a speciality of Penang.

Nothing was over £1 per dish. Everything was utterly delicious. I doubt we even touched upon the surface of noodlism in our 3 days in Penang.

Airport Ramen

Airport ramen

I've just spent the last two weeks travelling across Malaysia, finally culminating in Bangkok. We ate so much it'll take me a good few days to recover and to collect my thoughts, but meanwhile I'll leave you with my 6am bowl of ramen at Bangkok airport, devoured after 8 hours of boozing and one hour's sleep.

The flight home was interesting. To say I resembled and smelt like a drunkard would be an understatement.

Purple Seaweed, Tofu & Pickled Mustard Green Soup

Often when I have a great dish out I attempt to recreate it at home. Fortuitously, immediately after I had this soondoobu jiggae at Koba, Meemalee's Kitchen posted a recipe for it. I hot footed it to the Korean shop and made it with great success.

I had some lovely extra soft tofu left though and wondered what to do with it. Various websites told me to make vegan mayonnaise. Bleugh. Instead, it went into this soup.

Pork bones were simmered slowly, with a few chunks of winter melon thrown in. Winter melon is one of those vegetables that don't taste of much at all, but it's cooked flesh is juicy and soft, yielding a textural element. Purple seaweed tastes... seaweedy, as you might expect, and chunks of extra soft tofu broken into it are jelly-like. Pickled mustard greens provide that essential contrasting crunch to the slimy delicate wobbliness of it all. I've made that sound very unappealing, and perhaps it is if you're squeamish with textures, but if you're not, get cracking with it. After a serving my stomach claimed it was full, but I couldn't resist another bowlful.


Purple Seaweed, Tofu & Pickled Mustard Green Soup

Serves 2

500ml pork bone broth
100gr winter melon (turnips of daikon would also work well)
1 carrot
A handful of dried purple seaweed (you can buy this at your local Chinese supermarket)
2 tsp chilli bean paste
100gr extra soft tofu
4 tbsp pickled mustard greens, sliced finely
2 slices of ginger
Soy sauce to taste
2 spring onions

Soak the pickled mustard greens in water to remove some of the saltiness. Heat a scant tablespoon of oil in a saucepan and fry the chilli bean paste until fragrant. Add the broth and simmer with ginger, chunks of melon and carrot, chopped to even sizes, for 15 - 20 minutes. Soak the seaweed in cold water for 5 minutes and then drain. Drain the mustard greens and add them. Simmer for 5 mins, then add the seaweed and the tofu, breaking the tofu into chunks carefully. Add soy sauce to taste and then serve with the spring onion chopped and scattered on top.

The Invasion of The Drapers Arms

I think it's pretty important to do your bit for charity; whether it's donating money or donating time, I try and do something once a year. It started off with The Macmillan Coffee Morning, which led to The Blaggers' Banquet, and most recently helping out with my friend Helen's Big Lunch in a marathon 2 day cooking binge.

So when Ollie and James said they were running the London Marathon for Action Against Hunger, I was pretty impressed. 26 miles! To raise some extra money, the lovely Nick Gibson, owner of Islington's Drapers Arms suggested we use his gaff to try and raise some money for their Marathon fund. Ollie, James, Helen and I will be manning the kitchen for the upstairs dining room, a total of 55 diners to feed.

So, on Wednesday 20th April at 7pm, we will be serving up at 4 course meal with ingredients we have blagged from lovely PR and food producers. There will be wine (and those weird things call soft drinks). There will be canapes, and a welcome cocktail.

Hints at a menu are pointing towards a terrine of sorts, followed by hogget and a nice springtime pud. £40 per person and all proceeds go to Action Against Hunger.

Buy your tickets HERE.

Big thanks to @full_beard for designing us our lovely logo.

Wafuu Pasta

Japanese fusion, or Wafuu pasta is a concept new to me, first introduced by MiMi of Meemalee's Kitchen. I was fascinated by it; it seemed wrong, but right. Italian style pasta was popular in post-war Japan and some time in the 70s, people started to experiment with Japanese flavours. Anything that usually went on top of rice was mixed into spaghetti and other pasta shapes.

I decided on pretty specialist ingredients. Enoki mushrooms, ikura (salmon roe) and shiso leaf were to be the main flavours. Shiso's citrussy metallic tang is a flavour I haven't found anywhere else; I suppose a peppery herb like rocket could be a substitute, but not a very accurate one.

When combined, the savoury notes of the toasted nori complemented the fishy, salty bubbles of roe. Shiso, spring onion and lemon worked together in bringing the dish lightness, while a lump of butter did the opposite, balancing it well.

Ikura, Enoki & Shiso Spaghetti

Serves 2

250gr spaghetti
2 handfuls / clumps of enoki mushrooms
2 spring onions
170gr ikura
2 shiso leaves
1 tsp wasabi paste
1/2 a lemon
1 tbsp soy sauce
1 tsp mirin
2 tbsp olive oil
1 knob of butter
Toasted nori
A little ginger

Put the spaghetti on to cook. Combine the lemon juice, wasabi paste, soy sauce and mirin in a bowl. Slice the spring onions and the shiso finely. When the pasta is nearly done, heat a non-stick pan and add the enoki mushrooms, frying on a high heat until they release their juices. Add the sauce mixture along with 3 tbsp of the pasta water, add the butter, stir to combine and take off the heat. Drain the pasta and add to the mushroom sauce. To serve, top with spring onion and shiso and scatter the ikura in generously. Garnish with strips of toasted nori and a little grating of ginger.

Toot Toot

That's the sound of me blowing my own trumpet. Turn away now to avoid some shameless self-promotion...

I'm in April's edition of Red Magazine for their '20 Women to Watch Under 30' feature, out now.

I'm in some pretty illustrious company - god only knows why they asked lil' ol' me to be in it, but buy the magazine to see it in full colour glory. And to read about some interesting 20-something year olds.

(Picture taken from their online edition.)