Winter Skies, Kitchen Aglow

Some days one cannot but try to recapture the past. I have recently been caught up in wistful reveries since learning of a food blog event hosted by my friend the inimitable Susan of The Well-Seasoned Cook: Pancakes on Parade: A Sweet and Savoury Event. Unless one has issues with gluten, pancakes are the friendliest, most accessible food. Almost always golden and circular, pancakes are like the sun: cheerful, warming, and good for you (at least mentally - and spiritually, depending on your needs for the day). I really had two choices: either my mum's pikelets or a variation on Taiwanese Scallion Oil Pancakes, Tsung yo bing.

My father often begs my mother to make pikelets, which are miniature pancakes (made with self-raising flour, generally), approximately 12cm/5" in diameter. They are common Kiwi fare, typically as a breakfast option, but since childhood, they have been a treasured dessert in my household, topped with a sprinkle of sugar and loads of freshly-squeezed lemon juice from our sole fruit-bearing backyard tree. I decided not to make them for this event because my efforts are not as good as my mother's, and also because I was worried that they would not photograph well.

Tsung yo bing were new to me in 2001, when I moved to Los Angeles County. Being dutiful sons, we made sure that we spent regular time with Eric's mother, often going to lunch, a movie, and grocery shopping together. The first time I had Scallion Oil Pancakes was at a very small restaurant in Temple City, fifteen minutes east of Pasadena. I never saw a temple in the two years we spent having lunch or dinner there or in nearby Alhambra, but every Scallion Oil Pancake I had was a divine experience: crisp on the outside, fluffy inside, full of allium goodness, and caressed with oil. They are sooooo good when nursing a hangover - not that I ever told my angelheart's mom.

Soon after my angelheart Eric's mom moved to Orange County in 2004, we had moved from Pasadena to Long Beach, so it was both easy and convenient to continue our regular lunch dates (the restaurant locales for Taiwanese food, however, switched from Temple City and Alhambra to Cerritos and Huntington Beach). By then it had become a running joke - I would not need to read the menu, my angelheart Eric and his mom ordered my Tsung yo bing and beef with scallions (to gild the lily).

I decided to make scallion oil pancakes because I had never eaten homemade ones, thus I had no family member's reputation to live up to. Also, it was lunchtime. Because this is a submission to a food blog event, I wanted to spice up the pancakes and found a delightful recipe to follow.

After the experience of following the recipe, I have to warn you, reader, should you choose to follow this recipe: try to stick to the amount given regarding the paste to spread on the dough, for the paste is going to squirt when you flatten out your spirals, whether you do so lightly or with a rolling pin. It is a messy job at worst, but the result makes the constant wiping down of the rolling pin and surface area a means to a satisfying end.

Tsung Yo Bing, or Scallion Oil Pancakes
(closely adapted from Michele Cranston's recipe for Spiced Pan Bread in Marie Claire: Food + Drink)

For the dough:
2 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/3 cup hot water
1/3 cup cold water

1) Sieve flour and baking powder into a bowl.
2) Add hot water and cold water in quick succession, constantly stirring.
3) When dough comes together, cover with cling-film for 15 minutes.

For the paste:

1 teaspoon sea salt
1/4 cup / 2 fl. oz olive oil
1/4 cup / 2 fl. oz bran oil
2 cloves garlic, roughly chopped
1 cup sliced spring onions/scallions
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
1/2 cup fresh parsley, roughly chopped
1/2 roasted red capsicum/bell pepper, blistered skin and seeds removed

1) Blitz all ingredents together until a paste is formed.

To assemble:

1) Divide dough into four sections.
2) Roll out one section to a circle of approximately 17cm/7" in diameter.
3) Brush the surface with one tablespoon of the paste.
4) Roll the dough into a long, then form into a spiral, tucking the end under.
5) Flatten lightly with the palm of one of your hands or with a rolling pin. I did mine with a rolling pin, which proved unwise as the circles became misshapen despite my experience handling dough with a rolling pin.
6) In a frying pan/skillet, heat 2 tablespoons bran or olive oil.
7) Cook over medium-heat for 3-4 minutes, or until the underside is golden, and then flip over for the same result on the other side.
8) While cooking the pancake, prepare the next section of dough by following steps 2-5.
9) Add one extra tablespoon of oil before the addition of each section of dough to be cooked.
10) Drain on paper towels until ready to eat.

When I told my angelheart Eric that I had finally made Tsung yo bing, all he asked me was "Were they oily?" I answered in the affirmative, and he said that he was very happy for me. Admittedly the spring onion presence wasn't as great as I had hoped, so if you love touches of allium, I would increase the spring onion/scallion content by 1/4 to 1/2 cup. Of course, one could always make these the traditional way, which is simply to fold loads of spring onion into the dough before it rests - this, of course, also means that you avoid a mess when rolling out sections of the dough. It is a good idea to serve these warm, whether with food (such as stir-fried beef), a sauce (such as one of soy sauce, rice wine vinegar, garlic and fresh ginger) or on their own. Tsung yo bing make for fragrant bites, perfect as a submission to the inimitable Susan's Pancakes on Parade: A Sweet and Savoury Event.

Post-script: Please see Susan's round-up of Pancakes on Parade: A Sweet and Savoury Event.

Labels: Food Blog Event, Michele Cranston, Pancakes, Scallion oil pancakes, Scallions, Spring Onions, Taiwanese, Tsung yo bing

I have been to Canada twice: 1997 and 1999. The first time was largely spent visiting family friends on Vancouver Island in the town of Nanaimo. What I mostly remember of that one month in Spring are eating lots of bagels (the first time was a memorable experience, and I could not get enough of cream cheese with dill) and drinking lots of table wine (what else was a late-teen to do?). I also recall that a friend and I established a reputation as "bar stars" because we'd out-dance the hired dancers on the podiums and "vogue" our young hearts out at the Savoy. Oh, how much I loved Madonna's dance remix of "Don't Cry for Me, Argentina" back then. And I also remember seeing a school of orcas from a ferry as it traversed the North Pacific Ocean between Vancouver Island and the mainland. My second visit was only for a few days with my angelheart Eric. We had the use of a friend's apartment in downtown Vancouver, a central hub from which to meet old friends and check out what the student film scene had to offer. I remember drinking vodka out of plastic cups and the rude Canadian officials at the Canada-US border (the only seriously rude Canadians I have ever met). Fast-forward almost ten years, and I know so much more about Canada, politically and culturally, not just as a pretty holiday destination. This brings me to Jasmine - you should know her as the author of one of my favourite blogs, Confessions of a Cardamom Addict. Jasmine is co-hosting a food blog event that captures the essence of Canadian food: Mmm...Canada. Jasmine is showcasing the savoury entries, and Jennifer of The Domestic Goddess the sweet ones. While not Canadian myself, I am not oblivious to the vast nation's great people, famous produce (particularly its maple syrup, which I know is a cliché to mention but its B grade, deep amber syrups are amazing) and culinary traditions.

In an effort to submit a dish to Mmm...Canada, I sought assistance from good friends: the fiercely intelligent and generous Anita and the pensive, jack-of-all-trades Craig. One lived in Canada for a few years and the other was born and raised in Ontario, so I figured they were a source of knowledge from which I could benefit. They informed me of a Québécois dish that is rich in flavour, deep in tradition and perfect on bitterly cold days.

Tourtière is a Québécois pork pie. According to a Jim Cummings' article at Quilter Muse, the origin of Tortière lies in France, where pigeons and other game birds were cooked in a deep baking dish that was originally named for tourtes (big game birds), until they became extinct. Early in Canada's colonial years, Tourtière was recognised as a fowl pâté, and now it is a pie that principally substitutes pork for game birds. As is typical of meat pies of Western Europe provenance, variations on Tourtière include many a spice to lift and complement the meat, such as allspice, cinnamon, cloves or nutmeg, in addition to onion or garlic.

Tourtière is a favourite dish at Christmas Eve, which is fitting given that it is almost time to celebrate mid-Winter Christmas in New Zealand. While there are recipes for vegetarian versions of this famous pork pie (which, to my mind, means that they are not Tourtière at all but vegetable pies - nothing wrong with that, of course, but there is no relation to Tourtière, except for the fact that vegetable pies can be cooked in in tourtières), I am from a pork-loving nation and am not interested in uninvesting myself from this traditional Canadian dish. Having said that, there are old English recipes for similar pies, but they are usually jellied, a love for which has not passed down my father's side of the family to me. I'll have pork pie the Canadian way, thank you.

As for the pastry, it almost seems that any pie pastry will do, so I have decided on one that uses shortening - for its depth and flakiness (if nothing else, the pastry must harken back to its French background, and most French pastries are buttery and flaky).

The following recipe is perfect for a 25cm/10" springform pan.

Tourtière
(Adapted from Jill Norman's Winter Food)

For the pastry:

2 cups flour
1 teaspoon salt
160g/3/4cup vegetable shortening
20g/3/4oz unsalted butter
6 tablespoons iced water

1) Sift flour and salt together into a large bowl.
2) Cut in the shortening and butter with either two knives or a pastry cutter until a texture of coarse cornmeal is achieved. With two knives, this requires a bit of patience. I did not reduce all the shortening to mere flakes, which results in cavities in the pie top, as seen in the photos. If you're the type to lose sleep for fear of not measuring up to perfection, then I suggest that you get a pastry cutter.
3) Add water, one tablespoon at a time. When moist enough to gather into a ball, stop adding water.
4) Wrap in clingfilm and roll out slightly with a rolling pin to form a disc.
5) Chill for one hour.
6) Leave on counter for approximately 20 mintues to allow pastry to come to a temperature at which it is pliable.

For the filling:

1 large potato, peeled and boiled
8 tablespoons cream
2 tablespoons vegetable or sunflower oil
1kg/2lb ground pork
1 onion, chopped
1/2 tablespoon grated nutmeg
1 tablespoon thyme
1 bay leaf
salt
pepper

1) Mash the potato and soak it in the cream.
2) Heat oil in frying pan and add pork and onion, break pork with a wooden spoon.
3) Season with nutmeg, thyme, bay leaf, salt and pepper.
4) Cook until pork juices have evaporated, approximately 20 minutes.
5) Off the heat, remove the bay leaf and stir in the mashed potato, mixing it well with the pork.

To complete the Tourtière:

egg wash, made by breaking an egg into a vessel, lightly beaten with one tablespoon of cream, milk or water.

1) Preheat oven to 200 C/400 F.
2) Prepare your springform pan (butter and flour it).
3) Lightly dust surface to roll out pastry. Dust your hands and the rolling pin with flour, too.
4) Remove one-quarter of the pastry and leave aside.
5) Roll out the pastry and fit into pan (a large enough circle such that there is an overhang).
6) Fill with cooked pork.
7) Roll out remaing pastry to fit pie top. Fold the overhang over and crimp. You should see before folding the overhang over if there is excess pastry - remove it.
8) Brush egg wash over surface.
9) Cut a hole in the centre of the pie top.
10) Bake until pastry is deeply golden.

The nose knows when this is ready. It is amazing that such simple ingredients can almagamate to a richly satisfying dish. The flaky pastry is a dream - even though it takes a good chunk of time to cut shortening into flour, the texture and flavour make the time spent very worthwhile. Its richness complement the pork, and the few herbs and spices used give added depth of complementary flavours. Served with a dollop of Greek yoghurt and spicy relish on the side, Tourtière is festive and rich without being over the stop.

Those Canadians sure know a good thing when they taste one. Mmm...Canada!

Post-script: Please visit Jasmine's round-up of the savoury edition of Mmm...Canada, and please go here for the sweet edition.

Labels: Canada, Christmas, Food Blog Event, Jill Norman, Pie, Pork, Pork pie, Quebec