Heidelberg Chicken Rice

Somehow, the mere mention of the words "flu outbreak" have caused me to sniffle. I think I have a sore throat. I'm coming down with a bad case of hypochondria and I need some good chicken-based comfort food. I have frozen chicken breasts, and I want to wallow in my hypochondria.

In a quiet corner of my kitchen, if you look closely, you can find a rice cooker. Rice cookers are one of the few inventions where the low-tech versions are the superior varieties. The programs for various different kinds of rice apparently confuse rice cookers. The beauty in the rice cooker lies in the fact that you turn it on, walk away and a small, inobtrusive click tells you that rice, or dinner, is done. They do all the thinking for you. I think they use some sort of low-tech scale to weigh everything, or maybe there are little rice nomes inside, ready to try rice when they think it's done. Either way, it's super easy. You can even throw frozen chicken in there, and it will come out cooked.

Heidelberg Chicken Rice
1 Tbsp minced garlic
1 Tbsp minced ginger
1 Tbsp neutral oil
salt
2 frozen chicken breasts
2/3c white rice
2 cups water (or according to rice package directions)

Make a paste out of the garlic, ginger, oil and salt. Put paste & remaining ingredients in rice cooker. Turn rice cooker on, walk away. Wait for rice cooker to switch from "cook" to "warm". Fish out chicken breasts, slice. Serve with rice and dipping sauces.


Aparently, if you want real Hainan Chicken Rice, you have to go to Singapore. The immigrants from the Chinese island of Hainan "brought" this dish with them, as much as Italian immigrants "brought" spaghetti & meatballs with them to the US. This is what I've been told. As much as I'd love to go to Singapore, I don't have any vacation days left (yes, I know that it's only May). Also, real chicken rice involves poaching an entire chicken and reusing the stock next time. The chicken itself is cold, and broth is served with the meal. Real Hainan chicken rice is great, but like so many street foods, not reproducable in a regular domestic kitchen (although, I could always devote my kitchen to chicken rice - it's a thought worth entertaining).

Allium Ursinum - Bears Like It (And so do I)

For a gastronome, springtime means a lot of things in Germany. It means the onset of fresh asparagus, fresh strawberries, and it also means the arrival of "Bärlauch", commonly known as wild leeks. Bärlauch means "Bear's Chives" and are apparently thusly named because bears would dig them up in the forests. The Latin name is Allium Ursinum, and I can only believe that the German language used Latin to find a name, because, frankly, there are no bears in Germany to dig the stuff up. In the years I've been here, there has only been 1 bear, Bruno. He caused such a stir that he was shot. Unfortunately, Bruno was only in Germany during the early summer and I think he missed the leeks.

This year, a friend of mine was presented with a 1 Kilo bag of wild leeks. She knew that she had to do something with them to preserve them so she made a kind of pistou - a pesto without nuts or cheese. Normally a pistou is made of garlic, olive oil and basil, but because wild leeks are leafy & have a garlicky flavour, all you need is oil and salt. She opted for rapeseed oil (any other neutral oil will do) and sea salt. After visiting her for brunch this weekend, I was given a jar of the wild leek pistou. I tried it on boiled potatoes & found it heavenly. To be honest, I've just been eating it out of the jar in the evenings after work. She has a kilo of the stuff. I can get more.

Green Golf, Green Asparagus

I must have come across this recipe 10 years ago. I'm not 100% certain, but I think it as in a green VW Golf on the way to Berlin, from some Canadian magazine, but I don't know which one.

My Canadian girlfriend had her parents come and visit and we all spent a holiday Thursday together. I gave the parents my tiny bachelorette apartment for the night and we were all to drive to Berlin the next day in the green VW Golf they had rented. A very simple plan. There was a parking lot next to my building; they would park the car there, we would all meet in the morning and away we would go on the Autobahn for 8 hours. The parents even brough Canadian magazines for us to read - Chatelaine, Flare, Canadian Living; it was a little colony on wheels and we were prepared. The minor glitch was that Friday is market day on that square, and all cars are towed. We all met on a public holiday, a day with such a Sunday feel that we didn't think that the car had to be gone the next day by 5am.

Our departure to Berlin was delayed and the parents discovered another part of my city: the car pound. A few hours and a couple hundred Deutsch Marks later, we were on our way. Thankfully the parents saw it as a fun story to tell when they got back home. And they still talk to me when I go over to visit.

As I've stated, I don't know exactly where this recipe comes from, but I know that this is not the original. The original calls for smoked salmon (to which I am allergic), as well as cream (to which my thighs respond negatively). Nonetheless, you can use salmon instead of shrimp and throw some cream in to make the sauce saucier. I also threw some frozen kale in last night. It made me feel like I was doing something good for myself by eating a big bowl of pasta.


Tangy Farfalle with Shrimp and Asparagus
200 g Farfalle
150g shrimp
1 Tbsp minced garlic
olive oil
1 1/2 Tbsp capers
1 lemon
1 cup chicken broth
200 g green asparagus, cut into 2" pieces
1/4 cup chopped prepared kale
1/2 cup cream (optional)
parsely or cilantro to garnish (optional)

Cook pasta.

Sautee garlic, add shrimp. Grate zest of lemon into pan, add chicken broth and asparagus. Squeeze lemon juice into pan and add cream or kale if using.

Drain pasta, toss with sauce, garnish with parsley or cilantro.

Two-toned Asparagus

I stumbled upon this idea at my foodie friend's website Shizuoka Gourmet. Considering it is still "Spargelzeit", I can get fresh asparagus nearly anywhere in Germany. I opted for Aldi. Yes, there is Spargel at Aldi. Granted, it is 2nd Grade, but I don't really care.

There are many grades of asparagus in Germany, but I believe the most important thing to look for is size. Width matters (please keep any phallic comments to yourself). Width is important with white asparagus because it needs to be peeled and extra diameter in "untreated" asparagus means that there is something left over. Grade 2 asparagus is still large in diameter, it is simply not as straight. I don't really care about this for 2 reasons: 1) I do not believe that organic material should be symmetrical and 2) it all evens out when you peel it.

In this dish, I got to finally try out the 12-year old vinegar I bought over 6 months ago. You don't need to break out a vinegar that has the same per ounce value as Dom Perignon, you can use a balsamico sauce.

This was my first time poaching eggs, and I still have a lot to learn. But I know that I'll be practicing this a few more times before "Spargelzeit" is over.

Two-Toned Asparagus with Poached Eggs
4 stalks green asparagus
2 stalks white asparagus, peeled
2 eggs
1 leaf wild leeks
Olive oil
Balsamic vinegar (or sauce)

Sautee asparagus in olive oil. Poach eggs. Sautee wild leeks. Layer asparagus and eggs. Garnish with fried wild leeks. Drizzle balsamic vinegar over eggs.



Wild Leeks, also known as wild garlic, ramsom or ramps, are another springtime treat. Known under the Latin name Allium Ursinium, they are found in the woods and emit a strong garlic smell. They can be found right now (at least in my neighbourhood) and, like asparagus, should be enjoyed as long as the season lasts!

Japanese Maultaschen (Maulza)

There are many things Japan and Germany have in common. Both are leaders in the automotive industry, both are economic powerhouses of the 20th century that are floundering in the new millenium; the fastest train in the world was built by Germans and is run in Japan. And let's not mention the war. Walking through Heidelberg, one will inevitably encounter a group of Japanese tourists, following their guide who is holding an umbrella high above her head (usually it's a female) . There are signs in the shops, in Japanese, informing shoppers that cuckoo-clocks are for sale inside, and there is a tax rebate available (at least I think this is what the signs say, it's what the English translations would have me believe).

Nonetheless, there is very little Japanese food to be found here, apart from the odd sushi bar. This fact surprises me, not only because of the apparent simmilarities, but also because of the 1 shared dish. Call them gyoza, call them maultaschen, they are the same. They are both not ravioli.

I wanted to make maultaschen last night, but I was missing a few key ingredients, such as bacon. What I did have was maultaschen dough (it's pretty much an average pasta dough), ground pork, ginger, garlic, spinach, soy sauce, green onions, and rice wine vinegar. I'm making maultaschen-gyoza tonight. I'm making Maulza.

Maulza
200 g ground pork
1 Tbsp minced ginger
1 tsp minced garlic
2 green onions, chopped (include the greens!)
1 Tbsp dark, sodium-reduced soy sauce
1 tsp rice wine vinegar
1/2 tsp sesame oil
150 g spinach, blanched
1 package Maultaschen dough (or 32 wonton wrappers)

Mix all ingredients except dough in bowl. On rolled out dough, drop 16 equal-ish amounts of filling. Use extra dough or wrappers as lids on the pockets. Pinch pockets tight.
Steam pockets for 3 minutes. Pan fry pockets. Serve with asian-style dipping sauce.

To the best of my knowledge, gyoza are made with shrimp and were imported by the Chinese, who call them jiao-zi (little pockets). The jiao-zi I have made have been out of pork and usually involve some sort of chili oil and chopped cabbage. Maultaschen, on the other hand, are mild (most German food is) and is often either in a soup or pan fried, served with a salad on the side. The word Maultaschen itself means "animal mouth" and, the story says that it was popular during lent as monks could hide their meat in the pocket of dough.

I don't really care what anyone calls them, but I'm yet to have ravioli like this!

Albino Asparagus Season

Asparagus season is eagerly awaited in the entire nation. Every decent restaurant has some sort of asparagus dish on the menu for a 4-6 week period of the year. Music pumped into supermarket stereos announce "wünderschöne Spargelzeit" and advertise the hollandaise sauce you can buy to put on your asparagus. I don't believe in store-bought hollandaise, and I can't make any at home with a good conscience - the stuff has lots of butter. I need another solution to the asparagus time-bomb ticking in bottom of my fridge.

I just read an entry from Mark Bittman on how he tried Cuisine de Marché in Paris. I was appalled at how he tried to throw white asparagus into a chicken roast. Then he didn't understand why people pay up to 20€/ Kilo for it. No one does "Spargel" (white asparagus) better than the Germans, even without the hollandaise. There's the soups, the salads, just steamed & dipped in butter (think "landlocked lobster"). After living here for so long, I knew I could do better, I just wasn't too sure how.

I opted for a marinade of melted ghee (clarified butter), olive oil, apple cider vinegar, and some bruschetta herbs I have in the cupboard (oregano, parsley, garlic, red pepper, salt, pepper). I peeled the asparagus, let it steam, cooled it immediately in ice water, and poured the marinade on. It wasn't the asparagus that people wait 10 months for (that is the kind that is covered in hollandaise) but at least I didn't finish my meal asking myself why people pay good money for that.

Not so Orthodox Easter

It has been a while since Easter, I know, and while I am not Orthodox, Orthodox Easter gives me the oportunity to share my holiday in a nearly-timely fashion.

I had a wonderful Easter, full of family and food. Really, what more could one ask for? The family kept me busy for the last week, hence the (un)orthodox timing, but it was a wonderful visit. On Good Friday, I found the weather gorgeous and worthy of a Cherry Blossom picnic. As the stores were all closed, all I could do was scavange in my fridge. I came up with a mache salad with orange slices and pine nuts, along with some remnants of goat cheese that was hardening and maturing in my fridge and rolls I picked up at the gas station along the way. It was the way a picnic should be - the food was secondary to the beautiful setting of the cherry orchard in the castle park. Watch out for toddlers practicing soccer and teenagers with badminton rackets.


Easter Sunday meant brunch in Frankfurt. This involved an experimental fritatta, which I did not make. My contribution was dessert. I am not a dessert person. I do not bake. Baking is science, I prefer domestic alchemy. Don't laugh, this has been my fallback recipe for years. Use organic ingredients, make half the original recipe, fail to measure butter correctly, ignore baking temperatures and times & there you go - chocolatey goodness. The frosting came from the supermarket, as did the decorations. In spite of my shortcomings, I made chocolate cupcakes that made a 2 year old happy. Really, what more can you ask for?