Mille Feuille

A thick layer of whipped cream and a layer of jam sandwiched between puff pastry all covered with sweet, gooey icing.

This is one of the best things I have discovered ever since I started living [and eating] in London.

And probably one of the worst as well, if you would take a second look at the first sentence.

Anyway, this is what Tesco calls it:

when it is actually Mille Feuille, but missing a layer.

An actual mille feuille from Patisserie Valerie

Mille Feuille, also known as Napoleon, is a French pastry dessert which looks like the one above but with another layer of pastry in the middle. Seems like Tesco just got lazy. But I'm not complaining, because it is still a delectable combination of cream, pastry, jam and icing.

There is no way to eat this without making a bit of a mess. Whether you slice or bite into the pastry, you will be greeted with whipped cream oozing out of the sides while the pastry stubbornly stays in one piece. I have not yet discovered the true technique of cutting into the mille feuille, but I will get it with, um, regular practice.

Everyone must try the mille feuille at least once in their life. Unless you're me, you'll probably find that once is enough – if otherwise, you'll be addicted to the guilt-inducing but extremely luxurious pastry dessert.

Assa (Korean food)

Before coming to London, Korean food was just something I had never encountered or bothered to try, maybe because I assumed that Korean dishes were nothing more than thrown-together variations of Kimchi, or because of their long, complicated names. Also, I was probably contented with my Japanese food obsession, and felt that Japanese food was the only other type of Oriental food I needed in my life. I don't know if this is a good comparison, but it's like if you took up French as your second language and went around rambling 'comment allez-vous' and plus belles phrases en français, I don't think you'd be in a hurry to learn Danish and greet someone with 'hvordan har du det' anytime soon.

Anyway, it was a busy Saturday night in Soho, and all the restaurants were piling up with people. Thank god for Chinatown, which has several rows of Asian food-places. My friends and I settled on Assa, a Korean restaurant on Romilly Street, and we got in after about 15 minutes of waiting time.

Google images helps the lazy blogger

As one of my friends pointed out, it was one of those places which would make your hair reek – one would inevitably leave the restaurant smelling like a walking Kimchi stalk. Nevertheless, the place was filled with the warm, happy and comforting aroma of Asian food which only served to entice our appetites.

Like many other cheaper Asian restaurants in London, you are there for the food, and not the atmosphere. The tables were small and rectangular, and the place was noisy and busy – not an ideal place for long conversations or catching-up, something in-common with most Asian restaurants in London. You are rushed in, you are served, you are shoved out via implying stares from waitresses.

A must-try in Assa is the Kimchi fried rice. (Kimchi 'Bokumbop') We had two plates of those but I would've been happy with two more. It is served with a fried egg atop, yolk still runny, and sigh-inducing when leaked and eaten with the fried rice. The rice was made tasty with the kimchi, and had a lovely smoky taste that all good fried rice dishes have.

Then we had Kimchi noodle soup and a Kimchi hot pot which seemed like nothing but a whole lot of Kimchi to me, but filled me up decently.

We then got a Kimchi pancake, (kimchijeon) which was Kimchi and who-knows-what-else deep fried in a golden tempura-like batter served with tempura sauce. (Or the Korean equivalent) It was crispy, warm, tasty and absolutely yummy.

After the dinner, we hung out at Starbucks until they chased us out onto the streets with the partygoers and drunken people at 11pm. Central London in the night is satisfying in a strange way whenever you are out with friends.

ASSA
23 Romilly Street
London
UK W1D 5
020 7734 9050

Shortbread

One of the things which gives me cheap thrills here in London is the ability to eat on the train. In Singapore, there is the penalty of a monetary fine if you are ever caught eating on a train. This results in very clean public transport facilities, but also starving commuters. (I doubt it's just me who would suddenly be overcome with hunger during a 20-minute train journey, yes?)

It is rare to see a picture on this blog without a bite stolen out of impatience

I gleefully picked up this Chocolate Chunk shortbread from Marks & Spencer's in Richmond station yesterday while on the way to Central London to meet my sister for lunch. I usually have the impression that M&S is where all the rich people do their grocery shopping, but my friend Emily had to go grab a sandwich for lunch, so I followed her into the shop and chanced upon the bakery section. This shortbread was 62p per piece, and I always knew that Marks & Spencer's would never disappoint when it comes to shortbread. I had it on the train and it was really good and satisfying. The shortbread was light yet sweet, and the sugar on top was a treat, and the milk chocolate chunks were just right.

More M&S shopping with my sister resulted in this purchase. 

Shortbread is one of the things that really makes me wish I wasn't going through the abnormal-appetite teenage phase. After having one, you just can't help yourself to another. But shortbread is so buttery and sugary – by the time you gobble up your third, you can feel your stomach double in size.

But, heck, shortbread cookies are on the top of my gluttonous list, alongside stuff like chocolate-coated digestive biscuits and eclairs. And for as long as I stay in the UK, I don't think they'll be escaping my wrath anytime soon.

The Great British Bake Off

In BBC's The Great British Bake Off, sometimes you are greeted by this shot:

Followed by some of these:

I mean, what could you possibly not like about a show like that?

The Great British Bake Off is a competition TV show by BBC which is filmed on-site in a big white tent where contestants are given three challenges per weekend, which they have to bake and present to judges Paul Hollywood and Mary Berry. (How apt is her name?) In each episode there is a 'Star Baker' (i.e. the person who's absolutely blown the minds of Mary and Paul with their dessert) and some poor chap who gets eliminated because they messed up the pastry or murdered the recipe.

Although it is a competition, there is a light-hearted atmosphere in every episode with Mel Giedroyc and Sue Perkins providing some British witty humour, and judges who are honest and straightforward, yet do not verbally abuse the contestants. coughgordonramseycough The contestants are a pleasant bunch – nobody steals nobody's flour and nobody tells the guy behind the camera that they're the best. Nope, none of that America's Next Top Model shit.

In every episode, I look forward to seeing the creative ideas of the bakers, and their mouth-watering desserts. I get so inspired to

But unfortunately I'm not allowed to cook/bake in the Cs', lest I ruin the kitchen. (In my own home, I once tried a 2-minute microwave brownie which actually blew up. The entire house reeked for a day.)  This pretty much sucks because it means that I have to wait for three more weeks until I get back to Singapore, then bake frantically for twenty days before flying back to London. NOOOO.

Alternatively, I could go over to one of my friends' places where they are allowed to cook/bake. But there's just something better about baking on my own... I am in complete control of the whole process, and, whatever the outcome is – whether they are perfect little macarons or flat and tasteless soufflé cakes – I know that it's the result of my effort, and that I can reward myself afterwards in the form of cake/pudding/tart without a voice in my head going, "Ah damn, she didn't beat the egg whites enough," or "Argh, I told him – brown sugar, not white."

There isn't a better way to end off this blog post than a few screenshots from season 3 episode 3 of The Great British Bake Off.

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Rice pudding

Dinner – or as the English people call it, 'supper' – at home is usually technically a 3-course meal. First is the salad bowl and bread basket, or sometimes soup, followed by the 'main course' which sometimes comes in two parts, then the dessert – or, again, as the English have named it, 'pudding' – which can vary from melon to trifle to eclairs.

Rice pudding was one of the first few 'puddings' I had when I came to London. Ever since moving to a new country I was determined to be courageous with my food. (Just last night I had mint choc chip ice cream which I usually hate, because it tastes like toothpaste. But now I don't hate it -- I just dislike it.)

I'm glad Mrs C makes rice pudding because I am absolutely in love with it. When she doesn't make rice pudding, I get this from Tesco:

What? My table, messy? No...

Müller sells yogurt and rice pudding in supermarkets here. The rice pudding comes in several flavours: original, strawberry, apple strudel and vanilla custard. You can have it hot or cold – rice pudding is supposedly a hot dessert but it's fine cold as well.

This isn't the most good-looking picture of rice pudding around, I admit. The brown stuff is Nutella – I heated up the rice pudding in the microwave before adding a blob of Nutella into it which softened and added a nice flavour to the dessert. Mind you, this is acceptable because the original flavour is simply plain rice pudding with a hint of vanilla. The other ones have their flavourings at the bottom of the pot – strawberry sauce, vanilla custard and apple strudel – which makes the whole thing taste heavenly after stirring.

If you haven't had English rice pudding, to try to find some way to get hold of it.

Bonfire night

I was told that something involving fireworks would occur early November, but I had to get the full story through many very international-student-like questions.

So basically, sometime ago, this guy called Guy Fawkes tried to blow up the parliament, (i.e. Big Ben and the golden building around it) but he got stopped, and at this time every year, people celebrate the fact that they didn't get blown up, by releasing fireworks and having bonfire parties.

I wasn't too sure of who this person was until I did a quick Google search.

Just a little bit creepy. Just.

Of course, that isn't actually Guy Fawkes, but it is the mask featured in the movie V for Vendetta (which I have to admit I haven't actually watched and should probably get round to doing it) which was inspired by, er, his face.

Anyway, Mr C brought us round to the house at the end of the street, together with some cheddar and feta cheese, bruschetta (which were burnt in the oven, thanks to Fuyumi and I, but saved, thanks to Mr C) cucumber, breadsticks, and salami slices. It was a mini garden gathering on a very cold night, but it was all pleasant thanks to the bonfire and extremely powerful patio heater.

Fuyumi and I nicked some food from the party despite knowing that there was pasta waiting for us at home. I made ourselves a wrap containing veggies, salmon, chicken tikka and yogurt. Sounds dodgy but actually made for a pretty interesting flavour combination. We also had some thick omelette which I initially mistook for quiche, and a few sausages as well as a roasted marshmallow each. The whole atmosphere was lovely, with stars blinking in the sky and fireworks blooming like flowers occasionally, across the neighbourhood. We fired some from the garden as well, going "oooo" and "wooowww" every time one shot up.

I wish there was a bonfire night every month, it's such a nice way to experience the English suburban nights.

When we got home, we had a tiny portion of pasta (rigatoni and penne mixed) alla something-with-tomatoes-and-meat-in-it-probably-Bolognese-but-i'm-not-so-sure with grated parmesan on top, which is always comfort food.

Hm, I think I'm actually going to try to develop that salmon and chicken tikka wrap combination one day.

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Mr C's Aglio Olio

It is day two of Mrs C's holiday, and, this evening, Mr C has done it again.

It was pure delight gobbling down this place of Aglio Olio, and this time, I had the delight of witnessing it being made in the kitchen! There was no fancy hocus-pocus involved, just mostly kitchen ingredients and, I guess, some special Italian instincts.

Aglio Olio (translates to 'Garlic Oil'. Mr C makes a point of telling us as much as he can about the food that's being made)

for 3 people

Ingredients:

1. Faux Italian instinct:
This recipe is going to require a little italiano voice in your head going "a little bit more of this," "how about we add this in," "this should do" and some "mamma mia!" for good measure, as the quantities stated here are pretty much estimated and figured out. But don't back away now, it's your chance to feel like an actual chef instead of using recipes like textbooks.

2. Oil
Mr C picked up different bottles of oil which were conveniently placed beside the stove as well as a mini jar of chilli pepper oil. I just went back to check, and they are a) extra virgin olive oil and b) sunflower oil. The chilli pepper oil was home-made – the Cs simply dunked a few hot chilli peppers into a jar of olive oil and apparently the taste spreads after four days. You also will need a bit of oil from a jar/bottle of anchovy fillets.

3. Three anchovy fillets
Bottle says: 19% extra virgin olive oil with garlic and... something. I've been down to the kitchen twice and I'm not going back a third time to find out what the last component is, because I'm simply lazy, but Google tells me that the anchovy fillets from Sainsbury's are in extra virgin olive oil with garlic and herb. I'm guessing that's the one. These anchovies will get mushed up in the process so they're there for the taste, really. You will hardly notice them.

4. Three cloves of garlic which are 'quite big'
Chopped, diced, blended, grated whatever you like, as long as they are little tiny pieces for sautéing.

5. Bacon

Sliced into little fingernail-sized squares, and not too much to make a salty, oily mess, but just enough to divide sparingly between three people.

6. Broccoli

This ingredient really helped out the recipe and the overall texture of the Aglio Olio, and I'll tell you why in a minute. A bit like the bacon, just get a fair amount to be divided between three people, but you can be a little bit more generous with this one.

7. 1/2 packet of spaghetti

Finally! An ingredient with actual, precise measurements! If I were you I wouldn't know exactly what defines the size of one "packet," but just take it as something slightly bigger than a dancer's forearm. This is as accurate as I can get – everybody's forearm is different. What if you happen to be a rugby player? Or an anorexic? Or a chubby person? Or a highly intelligent gorilla?

8. Mini eggplants, halved

This ingredient is a guess. I spotted some sort of sweet vegetable in the dish. It had a dark purple skin and soft, juicy brownish insides, and it was cut lengthwise. Just a few of these, not too many.

9. Grated parmesan cheese

A must for every pasta we have at the Cs'.

10. Salt

You probably need it.

11. Soya sauce

You need a little bit.

12. Anything else you fancy

Mushrooms, tomatoes, onions, gummy bears – I don't know.

Method:

1. Sautée the bacon, eggplant and garlic in olive oil in a normal frying pan. Be generous with the oil and add sunflower oil when you feel like it. Drizzle chilli pepper oil over it, as well as the oil from the anchovy jar. All these shouldn't be drowning the ingredients like in a deep-fry, but enough to cover the pan and coat the ingredients. Like a thick puddle. (I do hope these explanations aren't putting you in a fix. Calm down and let the Italian instinct take over.) Er, I think you have to add salt as well. Also, add about a teaspoon of soya sauce. After you are done, set this aside.

2. Fill a pot with water and put the spaghetti in, moving it around to let it soften and sink in. Once it's all in, throw in the broccoli and leave it for about 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. Oh, you have to add in some olive oil to prevent the spaghetti from sticking to each other or to the pan. I have a feeling that one of those doesn't actually happen, but I'm hoping that you are as clueless as I am. Add salt too, about two teaspoons.

To check whether the spaghetti is al dente, (firm but not hard) bite into a strand and make sure there is no whiteness in the noodle. And while you are chewing it you can probably tell as well. Don't worry if it's a teeny bit chewy, it will have a nice and crunchy (in the pasta sense and not the biscuit sense) texture once on the plate.

3. Drain the spaghetti and broccoli once they're ready.

4. Heat up the other stuff in the frying pan if you wish, and pour the stuff over the spaghetti. (Doesn't matter if it's in a serving bowl or the pot) Mr C used the spaghetti to swipe off the remaining oil in the pan to prevent wastage. Mix it well.

5. Serve it with grated parmesan cheese on the top.

If you completely skipped the recipe because you have no interest in cooking, here's where you should resume reading.

I have to tell you the interesting bit about the broccoli. First of all, I should let you know that I particularly like it when I can feel the mushy parmesan particles in my pasta instead of it all disappearing into the sauce. The little buds from the broccoli which disseminated into the spaghetti made this similar effect, and I thought it was a really great touch. And if all this doesn't make sense to you at all, I understand completely.

The end product is an extremely tasty and aromatic warm spaghetti Aglio Olio. The spaghetti is just right, and the different oils used make for a delightful taste spectrum, especially with the touch of anchovies. Mr C's estimation skills also ensured that the spaghetti was neither drowned in oil nor dry and sticky – at the end of the meal, there were no puddles of oil left on my plate, something that often happens with Aglio Olio.

I can't wait for the next dinner. With all this Italian food I'm probably going to turn half-Italian by the end of the week.

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