Comfort Food Pt. 1: Mom's Mohingha

It's no secret that keeping restaurant hours makes it difficult to spend time with friends and family. The times when most people are relaxing with their families after a day at work, or sharing a drink and a meal with friends are the times when I am most busy at work. When my fellow cooks and I are finally leaving the restaurant and looking for someplace to unwind with a burger and a beer, my friends and family are all in their pajamas brushing their teeth. My parents are leaving this week for a 10-day vacation to Italy and have been hounding me to have lunch with them before they leave. So this week I decided to spend my day off cooking with my Mom.

Although neither of my parents are ethnically Burmese, they were both born and raised in the capital city of Rangoon, Burma (now renamed by the current governing power as Yangon, Myanmar). They immigrated to the U.S. in the late 1960's and were followed by my grandparents, aunts and uncles. My early childhood memories are of a house full of extended family. The women of the house would sit around the dining room table all morning, gossiping and prepping ingredients for the family's meals. Later the kitchen would be bubbling and sizzling with home cooked Burmese cuisine, as the pungent aromas of ginger, garlic and chiles permeated every room. My aunts would argue over each other's recipes for mohingha, a fish and rice noodle stew, unofficially recognized as the national dish of Burma, let thouk, a salad of shredded vegetables and wheat noodles, which my young western eyes were mortified to see my elders eat with their hands, or ohn noh kauk swe, a dish of curried chicken and wheat noodles similar to the Malaysian dish, laksa.

Truthfully, while growing up, I was usually more excited about lasagne night or Chinese take-out than the weird stinky food of my parents' homeland. It was only after I moved out of state that I suddenly began to long for a steaming fishy bowl of mohingha or the chewy noodles and creamy broth of ohn noh kauk swe. The problem was, I had no idea how to make these recipes. I didn't even bother with bookstores, which were filled to the brim with cookbooks on Italian, French, Chinese, Latin and now even Thai and Indian cuisine. There were no books on Burmese cuisine, and there was little on the internet either. So today I asked my mother to show me how to make mohingha. She was only too thrilled that I was finally taking an interest in the food she grew up with.

I arrived at my parents' house with a bag of onions, four heads of garlic, a bunch of scallions, and a bunch of cilantro. My mother had already cooked the rice vermicelli, and boiled and deboned a whole fish. She explained that typically catfish is used, but that any firm fleshed white fish is suitable. I watched as she retrieved the pieces of ginger she had used to infuse the cooking liquid, saving both to use in the final stew. She diced two of the onions, and cut a third one into wedges as I helped her peel the garlic and more ginger. She chopped a few cloves of the garlic, which she then sauteed with the diced onions. To this she added the meat of the fish, and seasoned the mixture with fish sauce, a little chili powder, and a little paprika for color. She sauteed the mixture a few minutes longer, then we checked the flavor. I took a pinch of the fish meat and tasted it. The brininess of the fish sauce enhanced the flavor of the fish, while the onions added sweetness. The entire mixture was added to the fish broth and as the liquid came to a boil, Mom seasoned it with black pepper. After a few minutes, she added the onion wedges to the pot. These served as a garnish. "The diced onions disappear," she explained, lifting a spoonful of the stew to show me. She also had a bowl of cornmeal mixed with water to form a loose paste, which she added by spoonfuls until the stew began to thicken. She explained that traditionally cooked rice is fried, then ground into a powder to use as a thickening agent but that she found corn meal added the same texture with less effort.

We left the mohingha to simmer while my mother pulled out her blender. She used it to blend the garlic and ginger into a paste. This, she explained was added just as the stew finished cooking. "You don't want to cook it too long after adding the paste," she said, explaining that the aroma would be lost. As the stew continued to cook we prepared the remaining garnishes. I washed and chopped scallions, picked cilantro, and squeezed lemon juice while Mom prepared hard boiled eggs and thinly sliced another raw onion. "Some people like to add the raw onion, some people don't," she said. "But I like it."

Finally the stew was just about ready and at the last moment, Mom added the ginger and garlic paste, and slices of cooked fish cake. We tasted the stew again and Mom scrunched up her nose, saying "Not enough garlic. Your Dad always likes more garlic." Indeed the fresh addition of ginger and garlic brightened up the stew but had not yet imparted much flavor. We let it simmer about a minute more, then Mom tasted it again to find that the garlic and ginger had mellowed slightly and their flavors had further infused the stew. "Now it's ready," she said. "Let's eat." Dad, who is hard of hearing in one ear mysteriously managed to hear her and appeared in the kitchen immediately, bowl in hand. I barely had a chance to take a photo of the table before he started piling garnishes onto his bowl of mohingha and devouring it. Just as Dad was near the bottom of his bowl Mom exclaimed "Oh, I almost forgot!" and pulled out a jar of fried, minced garlic in oil. "Hmm, I didn't even miss it," Dad said. He did however, have a second helping, with the fried garlic.

I myself took a small bundle of noodles and ladled the mohingha over it so that puddled around the noodles. All the ingredients except the onion wedges had disintegrated and mixed with the cornmeal to form a very loose porridge. To my bowl I added a couple spoonfuls of lemon juice, and garnished it with raw onions, chopped scallions, cilantro leaves and some hard boiled egg. With each familiar bite I could now taste how each step was essential in building the flavors of the mohingha. Take for instance the onions: the diced onions carmelized in the first step added sweetness and body, the wedges of onion added to the boiling liquid had separated into soft mild petals which absorbed all the flavor of the stew itself, and the raw thinly sliced onion was cold, crunchy and acrid. The garnishes were a cool fresh contrast to the hot steaming fish flavor, and the ginger-garlic paste and lemon juice not only brightened up the flavors, but imparted the signature aroma of the dish. Sure, as I was watching Mom cook, I saw ways in which her recipe might be improved and how I might try it a little differently (I'm suddenly reminded of a kitchen full of arguing aunties...), but this tasted exactly like I remember. After all, isn't that what comfort food is all about?

Here is a version of my Mom's recipe for mohingha, with a few modifications:

makes about 6-8 servings

3 large catfish fillets, approx. 1-1/2 lbs.
1 6" piece of ginger, peeled and cut into chunks
4 heads of garlic, peeled
2 medium yellow onions, finely diced
1 medium onion cut into wedges
1 medium onion, thinly sliced
thai fish sauce
chili powder
paprika
corn meal mixed with water
1 bunch scallions, washed and sliced
1 bunch cilantro, picked and roughly chopped
4 hard boiled eggs
1/2 c. fresh lemon juice
rice vermicelli

Bring 4 quarts of water to a boil, add salt and cook rice vermicelli as directed on the package. Drain, and toss with some vegetable oil to keep from sticking. Set aside.

Bring 4 quarts of water and half of the ginger to a boil. Reduce to a simmer and add the catfish fillets. Lightly poach the fillets until they are just cooked. Remove the fish and the ginger from the poaching liquid. Reserve all three separately.

Using a fork, break up the cooked fillets. Mince 6 cloves of garlic. Combine the remaining garlic, the poached ginger, and the remaining raw ginger in a blender. Blend into a paste, adding water as needed to loosen the mixture.

In a large dutch oven, saute the diced onions and minced garlic until the onions are transparent. Add the fish meat and season the mixture with fish sauce, chili powder, and paprika. Cook for another 5 minutes until all the flavors have blended. Add the poaching liquid, and bring the mixture to a boil. Add the onion wedges. Lower to a simmer, and stir in the corn meal paste. Season with finely ground black pepper and salt. Simmer gently until the corn meal has thickened and the fish fillets have broken up. Add the ginger-garlic paste and cook for one minute.

Serve over rice noodles, garnished with scallions, cilantro, onions, hard boiled eggs, and lemon juice.


More on Burmese cuisine: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cuisine_of_Myanmar

Apricot Almond Bread, and Customer Service, the Real Deal

Something surprising happened to me today, and the sad part is that it was surprising at all. In my somewhat cynical world view, I had thought customer service to be dead, or simply a policy written by corporate heads, to be followed by middle management in dealing with customer mishaps, often caused by the apathetic minimum wage drones they are supervising. And in truth, for minimum wage, how much would you care about your job? I've also come to expect consumers in the age of the internet, and in this economy, to care more about getting the best deal than the kind of personal, neighborly service that once earned businesses loyal customers.

Anyway, with fall around the corner, and the weather cooling off a bit, one way I like to spend my days off is baking bread. As well as being a cook, I am a self-taught bread baker - no, not with a bread machine, but with my own two hands. Admittedly I do use a KitchenAid mixer to help with some of the kneading, but that's all. Everything else is done old-school, so once I've started, it's an all day commitment.

Today, I decided to bake apricot almond bread.  First thing in the morning, I made a poolish* and left it to ferment while I ran some errands, one of which included picking up dried apricots, almonds, and more flour to finish the dough. I did some banking, stopped at the local Met Foods, and Staples, then came home. When I unpacked my groceries, I realized that I didn't have the apricots. I checked my receipt, and had indeed paid for a giant tub of them, but I couldn't find it anywhere - not in my car, not in any of the bags... and at $9.99 a pop, it was no small loss. I immediately called the store to find out if it was still at the register with my cashier, Diane** but she didn't have them either. So I jumped back into my car and drove back to the store, hoping maybe I had dropped them in the parking lot without noticing. I wasn't optimistic.

As expected, the apricots were not in the parking lot, so I marched back into the store, and brought another tub of apricots to Diane's register. She recognized me and exclaimed, "You have these, I'm sure you took them." I explained to her that I looked everywhere for them, but that I must have left them behind. "Oh well," I said, "I guess my good deed for the day is treating the customer behind me to a $10 tub of apricots." To my utter surprise, she handed me the package and said "Don't worry about it," adding that she honestly didn't remember if I took them or if it was in fact the customer behind me. It wasn't even the store's mistake. I was the one who left the item behind! I was really grateful and thanked Diane profusely before going home to finish my baking.

To understand why Diane's generosity was so surprising, you should know about a very different experience I had at a local trainstop deli. For six months I commuted from a particular train station. And every morning I stopped in the same little deli for a single cup of coffee. It wasn't good coffee, but it was only a dollar and packed the necessary punch. The morning clerk was friendly and gave the impression of being a manager or proprietor. He appeared to know many of the customers by name, chatted with them, and knew how they liked their coffee. On one occassion, a different clerk took my coffee order - milk, no sugar. I got on the train, looking forward to that first sip of coffee. To my dismay that sip was filled with sugar and I had to discard the whole cup. The next day, the usual clerk was back, schmoozing with the customers. When I ordered my coffee, I told him to please make sure there was no sugar in my coffee since I had to discard the one from the day before. He handed me my coffee, apologized for the day before, and took my dollar anyway. It was only a dollar, so I wasn't going to squabble over it. After all, I have been in the service industry enough to recognize, and resent the kind of customers that complain just to get free stuff, a discount, or who return merchandise that is obviously damaged by their own actions. However, as a person in the service industry, I certainly would have comp'ed a cup of cheap deli coffee to keep a customer.

Just like everyone else, I don't want to pay more than I have to for something, but I realized customer service still makes a big difference in my shopping experience. I can't demand better customer service from people who just don't care, but I can allow my choices to speak for me. I often go out of my way, to support businesses care about their customers, and take pride in their products and services. I simply don't return to businesses that have let me down. Shame on Mr. Deli clerk. I decided that day I would not be drinking their bitter brew any longer. You can be sure that I will be a loyal customer of my local Met Foods though, and Diane will definitely get the next loaf of apricot almond bread I bake.

*A poolish, also known as a sponge, is a starter culture made of a small amount of yeast, flour, and water fermented for up to 10 hours. Using a poolish in a final dough lends complex flavor and texture to the bread. A poolish is not the same as a sourdough culture, which is fermented over several days and results in the characteristic sour bite and tang of sourdough bread.

**Persons' real names are not used.

Apricot Almond Bread

I love this bread with butter and a little honey alongside a hot cup of coffee. Try melting some brie cheese on a slice for a truly decadent treat. I also like to add almond flour to the final dough because I find it adds texture and results in a nice dense crumb, but if you can't find it, it can be omitted or substituted with wheat germ.

click on image to view slideshow:

Poolish, or Sponge:
4 oz. water (1/2 c.)
1/2 tsp. dry yeast
4 oz. 20% bran flour* (3/4c. to 1 scant c.)

Final dough:
20 oz. water (2-1/4 c.)
2 oz. honey, dissolved in the water
1/2 tsp. dry yeast
24-32 oz. 20% bran flour* (5-1/2 to 6-1/2 c.)
1 oz. almond flour (optional) (1/4c.)
1 Tbsp. fine sea salt
7 oz. dried apricots soaked in 2 Tbsp. of bourbon (approx. 1 pint, whole)
5 oz. roasted almonds (1 c.)

SOAK THE APRICOTS (24 hours)
Diced apricots won't take as long to absorb the liquor, but I prefer to leave the apricots whole so that you cut through them with each slice. I find it best to even leave the fruit soaking in the fridge for a few days just to make sure they are fully reconstituted.

THE POOLISH AND 1st FERMENTATION (2-10 hours)
Measure out the ingredients for the poolish. The water should be room temperature, about 70 degrees (if you don't have a thermometer, test by touch - the water should feel slightly cool, but not cold). In a large 6 quart bowl, dissolve the yeast in the water. Let it stand for about 5 minutes to let the yeast "wake up, " and the mixture to foam slightly. Then incorporate the flour and stir continuously with a wooden spoon about 2-3 minutes until gluten** strands have developed. The dough will be sticky and difficult to stir. Scrape down the sides of the bowl, cover, and let the dough ferment at around 75-80 degrees F for at least 2 hours and no longer than 10 hours. I used to use either plastic wrap or a damp towel to cover the bowl, but recently have found that a silicone lid does the job perfectly. Once the poolish has doubled in size, usually around 2 or 3 hours, the final dough can be made. However, keep in mind, this first fermentation plays a primary role in developing the bread's flavor, and the longer the poolish is allowed the ferment, the more complex the bread's flavor will be.

THE FINAL DOUGH: MIX AND KNEAD (30 minutes)
Measure out the ingredients for the final dough. Pour the water/honey mixture into the poolish. Break up the poolish with a wooden spoon, or using clean hands by squeezing through your fingers. Start by incorporating 1 cup (approx 5 oz.) of flour and the almond flour into the dough. Then add the salt, and gradually add enough of the remaining flour until the dough forms into a thick, sticky mass that starts to pull away from the sides of the bowl. Turn the dough out onto a floured board or work surface and knead for about 10 minutes, adding more flour as needed. Gradually knead in the almonds, then the apricots, and knead for about 5-10 minutes more so that the fruit and nuts are well distributed. When dough has been kneaded enough, it is smooth and elastic and not very sticky. You can test the dough by either pulling a small mass from it or making an impression with your finger. Either one should spring back quickly.

2ND FERMENTATION (2 to 3 hours)
Shape the dough into a ball place into a lightly greased 6 qt. bowl. Turn the dough to make sure it is fully coated with oil. Cover the bowl and let the dough ferment until it is doubled in volume.

REST the DOUGH (30 minutes)
If the dough has risen properly, it should be doubled in volume, and will not spring back if you poke it, as it did before. Deflate the dough and let it rest, covered for 30 minutes.

DIVIDE, SHAPE, AND PROOF (2 hours)
Deflate the dough again and turn it onto a lightly floured board or work surface. Divide the dough into two or three equal pieces, and shape into rounds or roll into torpedo shaped loaves. If you prefer, you can line bowls, baskets, or molds (couches) with flour dusted towels and place the loaves top side down to proof. I usually just shape the loaves and put them on a heavy baking sheet to proof. Either way, lightly dust the loaves with flour, cover with a damp towel, and proof until they are about 1-1/2 times the size.

BAKE (30-40 minutes)
If you are using molds or couches, transfer the loaves onto a baking sheet. Score the tops and place them in a preheated 450 degree oven. Spray the inside of the oven with some water and immediately shut the oven door to trap the steam. Repeat after 3 minutes, then bake the loaves until they begin to color, approximately 15-20 minutes. Reduce the oven temperature to 400 degrees then continue to bake for another 15-20 minutes until the loaves are golden brown and they sound hollow when tapped on the bottom.

COOL
Cool completely on a wire rack.

FREEZE WHAT YOU WON'T EAT RIGHT AWAY
I like to bake a batch of bread about once a week, but of course fresh homemade bread, free of preservatives gets stale within 3 days. For a family of four, that's probably not a problem since the bread isn't likely to last that long. However for my household of two, I usually divide the batch into three loaves, cool them to room temperature and freeze two of them immediately, wrapped in foil. They take a couple hours to fully defrost, and taste almost as fresh as the day I baked them. This way we can enjoy home-baked bread all week. If I want to warm the bread, I'll throw it in the oven still wrapped in foil at about 375-400 degrees until the center is just room temp (a cake tester or meat thermometer is useful for this). Unfortunately bread that has been rewarmed this way needs to consumed immediately and will not keep until the next day. So I usually just defrost the loaf, then toast each slice as the craving hits me.

*20% bran flour is simply a mixture of 4 parts all purpose flour to 1 part whole wheat flour. Usually when I go the the grocery store, I will buy a 5 lb. bag of all purpose, and a 1 lb. bag of whole wheat. I reserve 1 lb. of all purpose for general baking and combine the rest of it with the whole wheat flour in a large container. I'm able to use all of it within two weeks, since it takes about 2-1/2 lbs. to bake one batch of bread. However, whole wheat flour contains more natural oils and will get rancid at room temperature. So if you don't use it frequently, store it in an airtight container in the freezer and mix it into your all purpose flour as you need it.

**Gluten is the protein found in flour. Working the dough by stirring and kneading develops the strands of gluten which gives yeast doughs elasticity and structure necessary to rise, and gives yeast bread's their chewy texture.

Bye Bye B.B.

Well, playtime is over and I am starting my first job as a line cook tomorrow. After my recent graduation from French Culinary Institute, I was offered garde manger positions at both Restaurant B.B.* where I did my stage, or externship, and at a smaller, lesser known restaurant. After struggling with the dilemma for a good week, I decided to take the job at the smaller restaurant. So this evening, I had to undertake the difficult task of saying goodbye to the chef, and everyone I had gotten to know at Restaurant B.B.

Overall, I my experience at Restaurant B.B. was a positive one, and even though it was not required for school, I am glad to have done an externship there. You see, in our last three months at the FCI, students begin to apply the techniques we have learned by working in the on-campus restaurant, first in the prep and family kitchen, then on the line. Since I had almost no kitchen experience, I wanted to do a voluntary externship as well. So I talked to the career services staff about my specific culinary interests and they helped me refine my resume, and forwarded it to Restaurant B.B. Shortly thereafter I received a call and arranged a trail.

I arrived for the trail with my knife kit and FCI uniform. It was around noon and the restaurant was in the middle of lunch service. I was greeted by one of the sous chefs, who showed me to the women's locker room (which I realize now is a somewhat uncommon luxury). After I had changed, I was given my first task. One of the line cooks set a few cases of broccoli rabe in front of me and demonstrated how to separate the leaves from, and trim the florets of each stalk. The executive chef arrived shortly thereafter and greeted me with a smile and a handshake. Among my other tasks that day were peeling and trimming a case or two of asparagus, and cleaning and trimming baby turnips. From the prep kitchen I had a good view of the line and was able to observe the dinner service. On the line was a sous chef, accompanied by a saucier, a saute cook, an entremetier, and hot appetizer cook. There were also two cooks on the garde manger (cold app) station and a pastry cook plating desserts. During service, Chef sent me a couple dishes from the menu to try, and later called me into his office to chat. We agreed that I would come in two weekday evenings after school, and a full day on the weekend for the next three months or so. I know some students in my culinary program who only do one or two days a week, and others who actually worked up to 5 shifts a week. For me going to school full time and externing 28 hours a week was often really taxing, but was just enough to be really involved in the restaurant without sacrificing my school work.

During my externship, I prepped a LOT of vegetables. The dining room had over a hundred seats, which on a busy night could turn over up to 4 times. Every week, there were many cases of broccoli rabe, asparagus, baby turnips, radishes, carrots and more to be cleaned shaped. Both the executive chef and sous chefs there were really supportive and patiently corrected me if they saw what I was doing wasn't exactly correct. Well, I guess practice makes perfect, and gradually I was allowed to take on new tasks - rolling dauphines, prepping ratatouille, picking literally kilos of parsley for herb butter, blanching vegetables, poaching eggs, prepping ingredients for gazpacho, and making flavored oils. Occasionally Chef would just give me a recipe and instructions for special items, like pissalidiere dough, or squid ink pasta, and rely on me to prep it on my own.

I also spent a lot of time helping out the garde manger station during service, but there seemed to be a lot of new people working there too and sometimes it got so crowded it was better for me just to hang back and do prep. All the cooks were really warm though, and made me feel welcome whenever I was there. After about a month, I became pretty familiar with the plates that were coming out of the garde manger, and was allowed to be more involved during service. By my last few weeks there, the garde manger cooks training me were hanging back to allow me to learn the station. After a while I started to get the hang of producing consistent plates every time, shucking oysters under pressure, and listening for the expediter and sous chef to call fired dishes. Toward the end of service I would find myself working the station alone as the others made prep lists. I knew from this that it was likely there would be a job for me there after graduation.

Admittedly, the kitchen at Restaurant B.B. isn't for everyone. During my externship there, I did see a handful of cooks leave for other restaurants, and have overheard complaints that the amount of prep is just unreal. However, as an extern, it was the perfect place to reinforce basic skills like knife work, speed, and consistency. It was also a good place to get exposure to working service at a restaurant that does a considerable amount of volume while making an effort to maintain a high level.

I probably would have transitioned happily from my externship to a job at Restaurant B.B, but one of the chefs at school happened to be recruiting for a small alumnus-run restaurant in Brooklyn and recommended me. It was such a tough decision, I trailed there on three separate occasions to be sure I was making the right choice before choosing the smaller restaurant. It seemed that cooks there are encouraged to rotate stations as soon as they are able. As a recent graduate, the advantage of this is obvious. So this evening I went by Restaurant B.B. to deliver my news. After they took the time to train me for the garde manger, I was nervous about having to turn down the position. So I was relieved when Chef seemed genuinely understanding, wished me the best, and asked me to keep in touch. It was the middle of dinner service, so I didn't want to linger too long. I briefly said goodbye to the garde manger and pastry cooks, but I hope it's not goodbye for good. Sure, I'd only known them a few months, but I truly hope we'll keep in touch.

*Name of the restaurant is not published. Contact me for additional info.