Bali and Your Belly - A Religious Experience

We arrived at Tanah Lot. En and I walked barefoot over the slippery ocean rocks to get to the temple where I prayed and we were blessed by the priest. The priests are inside the temple under the rock.

This was one of the most spiritual experiences I've had. The spring of water is said to come from God when the staff struck the rock. I understand this is not how things likely went down, but it is considered a holy Hindu temple, and you could feel it and I was happy to receive the blessings. All our travel companions were happy to do so as well.

Where God told the man to strike the ground with his staff; Tanah Lot, Bali

After the temple experience we walked the grounds and went to the restaurant (the only restaurant) that has very limited seating. I'm sure this was all arranged by the agency. We were able to select from a limited set of seafood and fish (as I said, limited seating, limited selection) and En and I were lucky to select the last two crab. They were sized nicely and very active. Once cooked, they were seasoned with chili oil and we ate all fresco at the side of the rock cliff. Life doesn't get much better than this.

2 sea crabs, alive just moments before we ate them.

How is a band related to the temple...?

Dal Toro Ristorante @ Palazzo in Vegas

Dal Toro Ristorante
3355 S. Las Vegas Blvd. Las Vegas, NV, 89109
(in the Palazzo)



There are a few restaurants I would have loved to check out, but being locations I would enjoy with my husband or close friends, I didn't have high hopes. I was more interested in enjoying time with my coworkers at a venue that was more affordable. Jen and Henning have been to Dal Toro before and suggested it, which was a wonderful idea. It was an interesting setting and not too pricey.

This image of the lobby was shot through a glass panel with translucent gray linear patterns. The decor set it apart from the regular seating, not to say that there wasn't enough kitsch to go around for both areas.


I ordered the seafood linguini. Surprisingly it was delicious. It's easy to be disappointed by seafood pasta dishes, but everything was tender and the flavour was not wanting. It wasn't spectacular, but it was well done food. I had a gin and tonic, Henning also had a drink (scotch, I believe) and Dany, a glass of red.

Jen and Henning told me to go check out the sink in the washroom. I didn't think it would have surprised me - restaurants that try to be upscale tend to glam up their washrooms and I had seen a few. But this was really funky! I mean, you've got this disk spouting water and your hand's go right there! I know it doesn't seem this way from the picture, but it really was interesting. Too bad it didn't drain well.





We did manage to take a group shot to commemorate the moment.Who knows when we would all dine together? Left to right: Dany, Henning, Jennifer, Me, Modupe, Nicola.



There is a showroom displaying some beautiful cars - I took a ton a photos, but here is one of the restaurant's namesake - the Lamborghini.

Sweet to Hot - Pepper Jellies

I was watching Anna Olson's show >"Fresh" on The Food Network the other day and saw a recipe for Red Pepper Jelly. Jellies have always seemsed so complicated; to concentrate the flavours and the excessive amounts of sugar was all so inconceivable to me. Worst of all, what if I didn't get the colour right? I mean, with jellies it's naked to flaws of hue. If it's not spot on, it looks unapetizing at best. And then I saw the trick. She used (gasp) food colouring.

It's hard to think about food colouring as good for anything other than frosting, but it does have it's uses. And if Anna Olsen uses it to give a visual pop to her jellies, then dammit, it's good enough for me.

With the possible 'wow' for a dinner party, I figured I could take down the recipe and try it. Why not? I felt this way only because I saw the options for a savoury jelly, and figured it would be so interesting to try this to serve with a meat. Or even if I substituted the peppers for mint (which my parents have growing like a weed), or any other sort of herb. This could get interesting in application.

I'm capturing the recipe here, although it can be found on the Food Network website, I'm keeping it for my notes.

PepperJelly (courtesy of Anna Olsen)

In a pot on med-high heat, add...

• 1 2/4c white wine vinegar
• 1 1/4 c water
• 2 sprigs rosemary

When liquid comes up to heat, add...

• 2 c sweet red pepper
• 1 c hot pepper (Seeded)

Bring to boil
Reduce to simmer (covered) 15 min
Strain to remove solids (liquid is yellow-orange)
Strain with cheesecloth (2 cups)
Return to pot

• 5 c sugar

Stir on med heat. Add...

• red food colouring
• 1 pk liquid pectin

And maintain bare simmer (until there is a bit of thickening pull)
___________________________________________________

PostScript:
Since this post, I have tried to use galatine to thicken a chipotle concoction that would somehwat mimic a taco hot sauce. I used chopped chipotle, 1 part lime juice, and 4 parts water. Bring to a boil and add gelatin. I think I added too much gelatin. What is '1 package'? I need to better understand the ratio of gelatin to liquid so I don't once again create chipotle jello. Should I have used a pectin instead? If I could 'find' pectin around here, then maybe I could start experimenting.

Pho Vietnam

I could dedicate many posts to this elixir called Pho. There are few places that do it right - I'm not talking about doing it authentically, I'm talking about creating an addict out of me. My favourite pho dealer deserves a post all to themselves, but another place, not far from home, creates such a wonderful broth, and really, if you have anything less than a great broth, your entire dish might as well be dishwater.

Pho Vietnam; 1280 Kennedy Road, Scarborough Ontario

Fried Rice
My husband likes fried rice. Growing up on the Guyanese version, I could do without it. But once in a while, it's nice to have a few bites, because it still is delicious.
Pho Vietnam's fried rice was steamy hot and flavourful. Unlike some places where the douse it in soy sauce, this is delicate, fluffy, and the peas are not rock hard half frozen pebbles. They're soft. Fresh. It was the first thing to come, so me and my hungry self had a few bites.





Pad Thai
I find Vietnamese restaurants offering more of this dish. The Vietnamese have a similar dish, which they call Saigon Noodles, but, eh, I can understand from a business perspective that most diners are not going to squeal "ooh! Saigon Noodles!" hence, we have Pad Thai on the menu. And that's what I ordered. I should have known better.
It wasn't horrible, but my pet peeve about bad pad Thai is that it tastes like rice noodles bathed in ketchup, with 'stuff' mingled throughout. Now, the 'stuff' - which comprised of shrimp, chicken, tofu, and the rest of the accoutrement, were cooked perfectly. Tender, firm, flavourful. Their ingredients were great. It was the execution where, maybe a heavy hand in the 'vinegary-sweet' department, made the dish pedestrian. Now, if they had Saigon noodles, I would be all over it (Saigon Noodles, from what I understand, are also not intended to be predominantly tangy).

And then, there's the pho.


Pho Ga
Look at that. Can you see that body behind the table? That's my husband. A Man. And he ain't no scrawny man either. That's a medium sized serving of Pho before him. Your mind cannot fathom the size of a large serving. I could swim in that bowl of absolutely comforting broth that is my saviour on a rainy day. You can't see it in the picture, but the bed of flat rice noodles, grilled chicken (beef, in true pho) are absolutely piled inside. There is a perfect ratio of solids to liquids. And the fish sauce, lime, thai basil, and sprouts are always on the side for me to add.

The thing about pho is that it does for me what chicken soup does for most. Anyone who loves pho will understand exactly what I'm saying. the feel of rice noodles slurped and the savoury spicy bone warming broth can wash away a month's worth of worries. And this bowl, when brought home, is the perfect way to end any cold or rainy day. Ask my husband. Bringing this home can wrap me up away from any troubles. Are you reading this, darling? :-)

Communism Bad for Cuisine

I mentioned that I would post about our trip to Cuba, and I have been slacking. It's been over two months now, but I find that is the amount of time it has taken for my digestive system to recalibrate itself and find it in it's gut to forgive me. For I have heaped atrocities in the form of near-spoiled and much-stale food upon it, and it is no surprise my stomach held a grudge.

I'm not saying all food in Cuba is bad; on the contrary, we ate some delicious lobster at a restaurant called Barracuda (I read some tourist reviews after our return) at a restaurant on the beach. The owners, the musicians, all attentive, all smiles on their faces, and from what I gather, really enjoying themselves, this, their home, their livelihood, and they indeed made it beautiful.

But the day fear strikes you to your bowels is the day you eat on the resort. Again, not all resort food was bad, BUT...

When at the omelet station, I asked for capers and smoked salmon in my egg whites, he dumped a hunk of matted salmon, two spoonfuls of capers in their brine, more brine than capers, and tossed it into my half cooked whites and slid the whole sloppy mess onto my plate. This was not an isolated incident - at a restaurant in Havana, a tourist trap our Cubanos 'friends' wanted us to visit (for the kickback, we realized after being seated), the meat was tough, the dining room empty (except for one other table, our friends, who were also taken by the same group of Cubans), and the service, well.... what service?

The 'chain' workers, the ones who are there for a job, they do exactly that - the job. They do not care how the food is presented, only that it is presented. Follow the instructions as quickly as possible. Taste, presentation, quality - these are not concerns that plague the chain worker. This is not their fault either; they need a job because they need money, so if this is the job they can get to suit their needs, by all means, take it. It's our own faults for patronizing their establishments, isn't it? If we want good food, it's up to us to seek it out.

That's why, one day, walking through Veradero, with my husband and our friends, I saw a little restaurant, a couple locals walking out, and the menu was unpretentious but interesting enough to make me say, 'this is where I want to have lunch.' And the friends all followed. And though they messed up our order, the food was still good. I had to share my plate with my husband for how big the portion was. But what got me was the portly owner behind the counter, sheepishly bending over backwards to get out the missing dish (which I declined, come on, when I'm hungry I get pissy; who doesn't?), who took such pride when he came over to ask how our meal was.

People say love makes the food better. I don't expect a stranger to love me. But if your livelihood is in part feeding people, care about your food. Because it doesn't take hate to ruin someones stomach for weeks. Only neglect.

I'm sure there are many wonderful little restaurants in Cuba, which is unfortunate, because I would have liked to have seen them while I was there. As you surely can guess, H and I will not be making a return trip. The only location where my final meal could ever be bread, while, olive oil and cheese should be Italy. And that, hopefully, will come sometime in the next few years...

Ricely Restoration

Congee.

It doesn't look like much. Most people wouldn't give it a second thought. So why is it a staple amongst my Hong Kong friends? For those of us who don't have this hereditary treasure on our dining room tables, we leave the home and seek out one of the specialists. Fortunately for me, I have my pick of a flavourful lot.

It's something on a menu that I would bypass for other more protein heavy offerings. I mean, in theory, it's one of the most carb-heavy items you could get, yet this pale velvety smooth elixir
does wonders for the body. It's no wonder that, when suffering a prolonged bout of gastro-intestinal discomfort after my Cuban trip, my doctor (yes, himself an HK native) prescribed a diet consisting mostly of congee.

Along with some other rules (a few doses of probiotics, no grease, caffeine, acids or spice) he said congee would provide the nutrition I need, be easy on my stomach while it recalibrate, and will fill me with little discomfort. You can't make the same claim for a bowl of plain steamed rice (though a fresh forkful is simplistic deliciousness).

Right after my visit to the doctor I called my father and met him at a restaurant we frequent for dimsum. The first thing I ordered was that bowl of congee, containing shredded meat, some herbs, and crisped shards of crackerlike bread (named after a much hated Chinese General). It appears bland but explodes with flavour. It's warming. It's healing. A complete meal in one bowl. I can see how the doctor could turn to this simple dish, and I respect him for doing so, rather than prescribing antibiotics.

More often than not food affects our well being; making us ill, helping us heal, or stabilizing our physical body so our systems can take over and get to work at making us better. Sometimes it makes us uncomfortable, sometimes it wraps us in a blanket of comfort. But for all the things it can do, I'll never again will I underestimate the expert of camouflage - a simple bowl of congee.

The Adaptable Muscle

The tongue.

I'll be posting about my vacation soon, but for now, I wanted to put in writing how vivid the flavours of our first meal upon our return - a breakfast of dimsum - could explode in our mouths. We literally had to take pause and allow the sensation to dissipate. It was as though our tongue was thanking us for returning it to wonderful food.

It's amazing how quickly the tongue can succumb to the food available. It's even more amazing how short a time without intense flavour, it's return can jolt us so deeply.

That's when I turned to my husband and said, "I'm so glad we live in Toronto."