I'll Be Home(made) for Christmas

Saltine Toffees

Not so long ago, I looked for the most vivid sights and cheeriest sounds of Christmas in the shopping mall: colorful merchandise displayed in store windows, the swish of a credit card followed by the beep-boop-boop of the cash register and the crackling of shopping bags as they're jostled in the crush of holiday gift-hunters. No virtual shopping for me: I preferred being in the climate-controlled coliseums of consumerism, plunging headlong into the herd of shoppers, purse slung over my shoulder and sharp elbows at the ready. Think the running of the bulls in Pamplona is crazy? Try Christmas Eve shopping at the Mall of America. Buying gifts was nothing less than a thrill . . . until it wasn't anymore.

Well before the recent economic recession, crappy housing market and a self-funded relocation across the globe whittled our Yuletide budget to less than zero, I had begun to feel anxious about Christmas gift-buying. As the list of giftees continued to grow each year, so did my worries: Will she like this? Is that what he wanted? Did I spend too much? Or too little? I fretted over not putting enough thought into picking one present, then fussed about overthinking the choice of another. Most of all, I wondered: what am I actually giving my family and friends?

Can't Buy Me Love?

We give gifts throughout the year, whether or not there is a specific occasion. Our generosity is often by choice but we are also spurred by cultural traditions and social obligations, and for reasons varying from affection to reciprocity to entirely self-serving motives. With each presentation, there is a message: Thinking of you. Thank you. I love you. I owe you. You owe me... The message, like the gift, is personal and yet, it can also project beyond its giver and receiver, and signal outwardly to others an image of the lives of and relationship between the main participants. This is not lost on marketers and advertisers, who fill airwaves and glossy pages with ad campaigns depicting rapturously happy people exchanging luxurious presents, in hopes that viewers might be persuaded to emulate them through their purchases. At the very least, they have succeeded in convincing many people (myself included) that the highest value gifts can only be found in the marketplace.

That's not the Star of Bethlehem guiding the most famous gift-giver of all

What's wrong with that? Only that I sometimes feel as if I am not giving a gift so much as I am simply a conduit for these marketers, who slyly 'suggest' that the best way to show we care is with their products. One past commercial offered up diamonds as a way to "say everything without saying a word." Yet what is more expressive than the straightforward words 'I love you' and costs nothing to boot? Another recent advertisement for a car company dismisses simple gifts, scolding "Let's be honest - no one ever wished for a smaller holiday gift". Well, doesn't that make me feel like a thoughtless, tightfisted Scrooge for not parking a cherry red sports car in the living room for my husband...

Perhaps it is the height of selfishness, but I hope that there is something of me in the presents I give, whether it is store-bought or hand-made. I would like my gifts to reflect a value that I share with others, not one that is assigned by retailers and advertisers. For the past few years, I have been making items - knitted hats and scarves, homebaked treats - to give as presents on holidays and special occasions, and I continue to do so this Christmas. These gifts are tangible, to be enjoyed by taste or by feel, but they also hold intangible wishes for even more cherished things that I hope we all receive in abundance. With just three days left before Christmas, I'd like to share some of these gifts within gifts with you.

Not Quite Gold, Frankincense and Myrrh . . .

Upending the adage that it is better to give than to receive, I was fortunate to have received in order to give! Thanks to fellow food bloggers who shared favorite holiday recipes, I found sweet little ways to hold some big gift wishes for us all this Christmas.

The Gift of Time

There never seems to be enough of it during the holidays, but these Saltine Toffees should help. With just four basic ingredients, they are a snap to make, leaving you time to read Christmas cards, watch a classic Yuletide movie or just put up your feet and relax. When they're ready, I guarantee that you'll find the time to indulge in their sweetness. But be warned: this combination of crisp crackers, buttery toffee and rich chocolate is so addictive, it's also known as Christmas Crack. And it just might stop the clock altogether.

For the complete recipe, please visit Chef Dennis at More Than a Mount Full, where he chronicles his adventures as the chef and director of dining services at an all-girls Catholic high school. With such a tough crowd to please, you know his recipes are not to be missed!

Also known as Christmas Crack for its addictiveness

The Gift of Knowledge

Data, facts, information, wisdom, common sense, learning, experience . . . no matter what it's called, knowledge is infinite and priceless. We can know so much and still not know everything, but the more knowledge we gain, the more we can share. Now that's a gift that keeps on giving! I learned about these confections, known as Les Quatres Mendiants au Chocolat, from writer and historian Cynthia Bertelsen, who shares her extensive knowledge of food history and culture at Gherkins & Tomatoes. Knowing the rich story behind its origins turns these treats of chocolate, dried fruit and nuts from simple candy into a taste of history. For the complete recipe and origins of Les Quatres Mendiants, please visit Cynthia's blog for an all-you-can-learn buffet!

Les Quatres Mendiants au Chocolat

The Gift of Carefree Moments

Having a roadmap is often the only difference between staying on track and driving off the cliff. But once in a while, stepping off the beaten path can lead to something new and fun. For instance, I started to worry about having enough goodies to give away, so I planned to make a large batch of cookies. I had a recipe printed out and all the ingredients on hand when I spotted a can of sweetened condensed milk, some uraro (arrowroot) biscuits and a bottle of rum . . . When the cocoa dust finally settled, the cookies had turned into these soft and crunchy rummy-fudgy bites. With just that bit of spontaneity, what was in danger of becoming a chore became an instance of fun. It's not a monthlong vacation on the beach, but such small carefree moments can be more than enough to revive your energy and spirit. So, for those inevitable days in the New Year when worries start to weigh you down, rip up the recipe and dump everything into the bowl. You never know what sweet surprise might come together.

Chocolate Thingamabobs

This is the treat with no name, borne of a spontaneous amalgam of hazelnut chocolate spread, sweetened condensed milk, biscuit bits, nuts and rum. Though it requires some time in the refrigerator and a food processor would help, there's no need to turn on the mixer, stove or oven. You can even make it your own by sticking to the basic idea but changing up the specific ingredients. It's a carefree Christmas confection . . .

Ingredients

1 1/2 cups uraro biscuits, crushed finely (or any other biscuit/cookie: vanilla wafers, graham crackers, etc.)
1 cup walnuts or nut of your choice, coarsley chopped into small pieces
1/2 cup hazelnut chocolate spread (such as Nutella)
1/2 cup sweetened condensed milk

1 Tbsp butter, melted

1 tsp brown sugar

2 oz rum
Cocoa powder

To make:

In a small bowl, thoroughly combine biscuits, nuts, chocolate spread and condensed milk. Separately, stir butter, sugar and rum together, then add to the biscuit mixture and stir to incorporate. Resulting mixture should have the consistency of a soft cookie dough. Refrigerate for at least one hour or until dough is firm. Form spoonfuls (however much you prefer) into balls and roll in cocoa powder*. Refrigerate to set.

*For my next batch, I plan to dip them in chocolate to make simple truffles.

Wishing you a joyous, wondrous and meaningful Christmas!

Stars of wonder, stars of light
Parols (Christmas lanterns) adorn a garden

Fork in the Road: SoCal Strawberry Cupcakes

Slow-Roasted Strawberry Cupcakes

The Noodle transition from Minnesota hotdish to Philippine palayok is nearly complete! Our stuff has (mostly) arrived, the dog has grudgingly accepted the small balcony that is now our only outdoor space and I'm getting the hang of my half-sized stove and oven. In the few weeks since moving to Manila, I've been exploring the local foodscape and have already found so much to inspire both my cooking and my blogging. So, with the boxes unpacked and the contents tucked into their proper places, I turn my full attention to reviving Tangled Noodle and eagerly look forward to sharing these inspirations with you.

But first, let's pick up where we left off with Fork in the Road, a series of posts in which I recount the places we've been, recreate the most memorable meals we've enjoyed, and rehabilitate the ones we'd otherwise rather forget. Before our big move to the Far East, Mr. Noodle and I embarked on a tour of the Great American West, where we indulged in local fare, such as Navajo frybread in Flagstaff, Arizona. When twinges of homesickness struck, we found the cure by heading into the sunset, toward the Pacific Ocean and the comforts of a family home...

After an exciting yet tiring day of exploration, I want nothing more than a pleasant dinner and a comfortable bed. But when you're on a budget roadtrip, as Mr. Noodle and I were, such small pleasures can prove to be tall orders. For every dish of savory posole at a hidden gem of a restaurant in New Mexico, there is a bowl of microwaveable udon noodles from the Walmart just off a Nebraska interstate highway. For every bed & breakfast suite with a tranquil view of a moonlit Colorado mesa and a serenade of muted calls from wildlife in the distance, there is a ground-floor motel room with curtains tightly drawn against prying eyes and walls too thin to muffle the ecstasy of an amorous couple next door.

I shouldn't complain: after hours spent behind the wheel, staring down an endless ribbon of asphalt while surrounded by the crumpled remains of Goldfish cracker bags and other travel detritus, any hot meal eaten at a standstill and a chance to rest in a horizontal position seem like luxuries. That is, until dawn's early light exposes their inadequacies and magnifies a sudden longing for the comforts of a home that's nearly 2000 miles away. Thank goodness, then, for a home away from home!

Sunset at Redondo Beach Pier

I'm Going Back to Cali, Cali, Cali . . .

Better known as my sister's place in Redondo Beach, just south of Los Angeles, it's where my husband and I found rest and relaxation from our roadtrip R&R, immersing ourselves in everyday life in the midst of vacation life. As with past visits, there are no formalities when Mr. Noodle and I knock on L's door - we know where to stow the luggage, where to find the towels and where she keeps the breakfast cereal. Soon enough, we slip comfortably into their regular routine which, for a few days at least, become our own. We join them in cheering on Nephew at his flag football games and share their pride in Niece's graceful form during ice-skating practice. While my husband accompanies his brother-in-law for a workout at the local gym, I tag along with L to the neighborhood grocery, then help put our purchases away in the freezer, fridge and pantry (to be raided later by me in full make-yourself-at-home mode).

Best of all are the boisterous get-togethers at the house when my other sisters join us - baby sister P and her husband (and occasionally, her stepkids), and eldest sib M, who can be counted on to bring abundant good eats, from pizza to sushi, for whatever the occasion. One such recent illustrious event (ahem) was my birthday, which Mr. Noodle and I had already celebrated a few days before in New Mexico. But how could I possibly disappoint my lovely siblings by turning down a small fête in my honor, especially when it involves cupcakes?

Birthday Sprinkles

The cupcake craze may be on the decline, but true to form, I'm chasing after the bandwagon as it rolls downhill. It's not that I was oblivious to the trend; after all, my meet-up spot of choice in Minneapolis was a bakery/café called Cupcake. Quite frankly, I find paying close to $3 apiece a tough crumb to swallow. But if someone else is treating . . . well, that's a whole 'nother bowl of batter.

(Photo credit: Rachel Kramer Bussel)

After months of emails and tweets from M dangling the temptations of LA's famous Sprinkles Cupcakes, she made good on her promise to provide said goodies when Mr. Noodle and I returned to Redondo. True to her word, big sister brought an assorted dozen of the cupcakery's most scrumptious flavors: milk chocolate, strawberry and red velvet. And they certainly lived up to their hyped reputation - the cake was satisfyingly moist and substantial while the thick frosting was sweet without being sugary and so velvety smooth. I could even be persuaded to pry open my purse for more of these treats, if I hadn't found an economic and equally satisfying alternative on hand.

Roadtrip Dinner Redux: Better-Than-Sprinkles Strawberry Cupcakes

My favorite among the aforementioned flavor trio was strawberry, of which I would've ordered a dozen for the road if only Mr. Noodle, spooked by the thought of me, twelve cupcakes and the resultant sugar highs (and lows) in an enclosed vehicle, hadn't nixed the idea. Back in Minnesota, I went into an extended pout upon learning that the closest Sprinkles location was in Chicago, until I came across a recipe for these very same strawberry cupcakes from none other than the company's founder, Candace Nelson.

To tangle a venerable proverb: If Noodle can't go to the cupcake, let the cupcake come to Noodle.

Decorated by Niece and Nephew

The icing on this cupcake story is that I had the priceless opportunity to make them at my sister's house with my darling Niece and Nephew at a particularly bittersweet time. Mr. Noodle and I had just packed up all of our worldly goods, sold our dream home and left behind dear family in Minnesota to begin anew in the Philippines. At a time when we were in limbo, without a home to call our own for the time being, I baked these in our home away from home. It was a joy to make them with the most terrific kids in the world and to share them with the people I love best. These are small pleasures, now forever treasured.

Slow Roasted Strawberry Cupcakes

I don't consider it a redux if it isn't just a bit different from the original experience. So, while these cupcakes adhere closely to the recipe shared by Sprinkles' Candace Nelson, they are given an extra intensity of flavor courtesy of Adrienne at Gastroanthropology and her recipe for Slow Roasted Strawberries. The additional time required in Adrienne's process is worth every minute as these simply sweet cupcakes achieve a depth of strawberry-ness that may be lacking from plain fresh or frozen berries. The purée made from the slow-roasted fruit is used in both the cake batter and the icing, but the flavor really shines in the latter. Happily, the frosting recipe yields more than enough for a dozen cupcakes, so lay it on thick or eat it by the spoonful - either way, it's pink-hued bliss!

Slow Roasted Strawberry Purée

For complete ingredients and instructions, please see Adrienne's recipe at Gastroanthropology.

Melted butter and vanilla extract are mixed together, then spread evenly on the bottom of a glass baking dish. Whole hulled strawberries are then tossed with brown sugar and placed cut side down in the dish, to be roasted in a 'low' oven (about 200°F) for several hours until the strawberries, as Adrienne notes, shrivel and 'slump into what looks like a Hershey kiss'. After cooling completely, the roasted strawberries can then be processed in a blender or food processor until achieving a smooth purée.

Strawberry Cupcake and Frosting

For complete ingredients and instructions, please see Candace Nelson's recipe for the cake and the frosting online at Martha Stewart Living.

For the cupcake:

In one bowl, all-purpose flour, baking powder and coarse salt are whisked together, while in another bowl, whole milk, vanilla extract and slow-roasted strawberry purée (see above) are combined. With an electric mixer, unsalted butter is whipped until light and fluffy, to which sugar is gradually added until well combined. Then, a whole egg and egg whites are added, followed by half of the dry ingredients, the milk mixture and finally, the remaining dry ingredients. After baking, the cupcakes should be cooled completely before being frosted.

For the frosting:

Unsalted butter and coarse salt are beaten together until light and fluffy. At a lowered mixer speed, confectioner's sugar is gradually added, followed by vanilla extract and roasted strawberry purée (see above); the ingredients are well-blended but not overmixed. According to the original recipe, the frosting should be result in a texture that is 'dense and creamy, like ice cream'.

Use It or Lose It: Cooking on the Move

The BBLT - a beefy take on a classic sandwich

They say you can't take it with you, but when it comes to foodstuff and cookware, they can't stop me from trying.

With just four weeks to pack up our house before the big move to the Philippines, I've been cramming as much of my kitchen as will fit into the few boxes already stuffed with our worldly goods bound for Asia. Given such limited space, I had to make some tough choices - a stick blender, mini food processor and handheld mixer made the cut, but my ice cream maker, crock pot and Kitchen Aid mixer did not. The last was a particularly painful sacrifice soothed only by Mr. Noodle's promise to purchase a new one some time* after we've settled in Manila. *Actual duration unspecified.

Before the Great Pantry Raid

On the other hand, foods that had accumulated in my pantry proved much easier to pack. I managed to stash an assortment of dried chiles, beans, and herbs, as well as a variety of spice mixtures such as Ethiopian berbere, Moroccan ras el hanout and Japanese shichimi togarashi. Among these global flavors, I also made room for my favorite local Minnesota products, like hand-harvested manoomin from Scenic Waters Wild Rice Company and creamed honey from Ames Farm. But for all that I was able to bring, so much more would have to be left behind.


It was a disappointment of my own design, thanks to a pitiless compulsion to amass food for their potential as future posts, not for any immediate or specific need. As a result, jars of obscure fruit preserves languished in the cupboard, odd cuts of pig or cow hibernated in the freezer and product samples loitered in the pantry as they waited for dormant inspiration to awaken and turn the blog spotlight on them. But I postponed using this trove of novelty ingredients, holding out for perfect occasions that never seemed to materialize.

Well, what could be a more worthy event than moving pup and parcel to the other side of the globe? So, in between endless hours of packing and cleaning the house, I resolved to use good food that might otherwise have been discarded. The ensuing dishes were often made without benefit of a recipe as I simply tossed together ingredients that I hoped were complementary. Happily, the end results were on the tasty side of edible.

A Parade of Empty-Out-the-Pantry-'Cause-We're-Moving-Out Dishes

From specialty meats to a cannonball of Filipino cheese to jarred vegetables and canned beans, there were ingredients in my refrigerator and pantry that I simply couldn't bring myself to give away or throw out. Behold, then, the fruits (and sandwiches, stews, frittatas. . . ) of my labor:

BBLT - Beef-Bacon Lettuce and Tomato Sandwich

Bacon purists may scoff, but one bite of these non-porky rashers will have any naysayer mooing with delight. Thinly sliced brisket is smoked to flavorful perfection by the Wemier family at Bar 5 Meat and Poultry, resulting in Beef Bacon that is worthy of a place in this classic sandwich.

Cannellini with Lamb Bacon, Marinated Artichokes and Roasted Piquillo Peppers

Bacon madness doesn't end with the porcine and the bovine. Say hello to the agnus - lamb, that is. Once again, Bar 5 is bar none when it comes to strips of smoky meat goodness. It was love at first sight when I spotted lamb bacon at the Minneapolis Farmers' Market; it became an obsession when I used it in Spaghetti alla Carbonara. Chopped and sautéed, the last carefully hoarded package served as the flavor base for a hearty stew of canned cannellini beans, marinated artichoke hearts and roasted piquillo peppers, perfect for our last Minnesota autumn meal.

Lamb Ragu

Lamb. Tomatoes. Pasta. Need I say more?

Teriyaki Goat Chops

Knowing your grower helps to assure the quality of the food you are buying and to support the continued success of local producers. Best of all, you will meet the most fascinating people. Such was my experience with Darryle Powers of Blue Gentian Farm in New Richmond, Wisconsin, where he and his family raise hormone- and antibiotic-free heritage breeds of cattle, sheep, pigs, poultry and goats. During a visit to Darryle's stand at the Minneapolis Farmers' Market, I couldn't resist picking up these Boer goat chops. With equal parts mirin (sweet rice cooking wine) and organic soy sauce, I made a simple teriyaki sauce to marinate and glaze these grilled cuts. For an accompaniment, I topped steamed rice with a sample of Crisp Onions sent to me by Seneca Foods, for an extra bit of flavor and crunchy texture.

Crab Frittata

What to do with a big ol' can of crab meat? Grab some eggs and make a frittata! In a cast iron skillet, I sautéed diced onions until soft, added the crabmeat, then poured a mixture of half a dozen eggs well-beaten with milk, a couple of tablespoons of flour and seasoned with salt and pepper. That, in turn, was topped with diced tomatoes, chopped basil, and some grated queso de bola (see Cheesy Apple Chip Muffins below). Popped it all into the oven at 350° for 7-10 minutes and out came a satisfying meal.

Important note: Do not make a seafood dish the night before a scheduled showing of your house unless you're well armed with air freshener.

Tako Tom Kha

Before making this dish, I made sure that no potential homebuyers would be coming through our doors for at least 24 hours. A package of frozen tako (baby octopus) was intended for making the popular Japanese dumpling snack called takoyaki in my aebleskiver pan. By the time I remembered it in my freezer, said pan had been packed away for the Philippines. Instead, I gently boiled the little suckers, then added them to a coconut milk sauce made with a packet of tom kha mix, and served it with a generous scoop of long grain sticky rice. This was Mr. Noodle's favorite of all the improvised dinners.

Cheesy Cinnamon Apple Chip Mini Muffins

There was a lot going on for such tiny muffins, but then again, I had a lot of ingredients to use up. To a basic muffin recipe from King Arthur Flour, I added ground cinnamon and skipped the usual streusel topping for one made with crispy Apple Chips (again courtesy of Seneca Foods) and some grated queso de bola, which is the Filipino name for Dutch Edam cheese. This red wax-covered ball of cheese is de rigueur for a proper Noche Buena (Christmas Eve) feast in the Philippines when it is traditionally served with hamon (a dry-cured glazed ham), and pandesal (a soft, slightly sweet bread roll). But its sharp flavor also enhances the taste of baked and steamed rice delicacies like bibingka and puto bumbong and seemed just the right touch for these quick apple and spice muffins.

Last but not least . . . 

Sweet Cornmeal Cake

Given the long search all over the Twin Cities to find masarepa, a pre-cooked corn flour used in making the South American flatbread called arepas, I wasn't about to ditch the unused portion left over from my Arepa Dumplings foray. For my last baking hurrah, I settled on a version of Bolo de Fubá, a Brazilian breakfast cake made with a very fine cornmeal flour called fubá, for which masarepa seemed an appropriate stand-in. By this time, my kitchen was almost entirely clear of food and cookware, so I made use of what remained, necessitating some minor changes* to this basic recipe (or click on the link above for a super-charged coffee-and-caramel version from Natasha of 5 Star Foodie). The result is a moist yet delicately crumbly sweet cake - perfect with coffee, tea or a side of warm chocolate sauce.

Ingredients

1 cup butter (2 sticks), softened
1 cup granulated sugar
2 eggs*
1 cup masarepa*
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup evaporated milk*
1 teaspoon baking powder
*Denotes ingredient or quantity substitution from original recipe.

To make:

Preheat oven to 350°F.

Cream the butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Add eggs one at a time, beating them well into the mixture after each addition. While mixer is running, add masarepa, flour, milk and baking powder, and beat well. The resulting batter will be much like a soft cookie dough. Spoon the mixture into a greased and floured loaf or 8-inch square pan, smoothing it into the corners, and bake for 30 to 40 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the middle comes out clean. Serve warm or at room temperature*.

*I found that leaving the cake in the pan and covering with tin foil keeps it well for a couple of days, while refrigerating tends to dry it out. If this happens, microwave servings for 10 seconds on high power.

A Final Note on My Minnesota Kitchen

I consider myself a proficient cook, skilled enough to put together satisfying meals each day, but I owe much of my confidence to the dream kitchen in which I had the pleasure of cooking for three filling and fulfilling years. It was more than just stainless steel appliances, granite surfaces and cherry cabinets. It was the space in which I felt most competent and creative, nurtured and nurturing; where I could stir a simmering sauce in solitude, or share a bottle of wine with Mr. Noodle while he waited in hungry anticipation for dinner. As I wiped down the counters and turned off the lights for the last time in that wonderful kitchen, I thought of all the nourishment it had provided me and Mr. Noodle, and I could manage only a whisper: Thank you.

Of Doomed Mooncakes and a New Noodle Bowl

Mighty Mooncake

Carpe Luna - Seize the Moon

Or should I say, seize the mooncake . . . This week, Mr. Noodle and I shared a single, solitary mooncake in celebration of the Mid Autumn Festival. The paltriness of our pastry was not for lack of trying: we had planned to feast on a quartet of these hefty traditional treats, carefully carried all the way back to Minnesota from Malaysia. But they were no match for the determined vigilance of the United States Customs and Border Protection agency, and its bureaucratic fears about avian flu.

Petronas Towers illuminated
Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia

We had found the precious pastries quite by accident as we wandered around Kuala Lumpur in search of Imbi Market, which had been highly recommended by Robyn Eckhardt of Eating Asia for its outstanding fresh and prepared food offerings. Looking for directions, we stepped into Yee Hup, a bakery/store specializing in crispy, puffy biscuits with a sweet filling called hiong piah (or heong peng) and other traditional baked goods, including mooncakes. The salesperson was exceedingly welcoming and quite generous with her sample platter, which I couldn't resist. A few bites and some nibbles later, Mr. Noodle and I trundled out of the store with directions to our original destination, a large bag of hiong piah and a box of fist-sized mooncakes.

How I wish we'd eaten them as soon as possible! Little did we know that our choice of mooncake fillings - specifically, those with salted duck egg yolks in the center - would be crustulum non grata (unwelcome pastry) in the eyes of U.S. Department of Homeland Security. Upon our arrival at Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport, we declared the edible souvenirs from our Asia travels on the required customs form and were promptly directed to an agricultural inspection section. There, an agent briskly, though not unkindly, quizzed us on what foods we had packed, asking specifically about pork products. Nothing porcine, I assured her, just some Filipino cookies, candies and coffee, and a box of mooncakes. Uh-oh . . .

Is This Some Kind of a Sick Yolk?

One is the loneliest number...

In short order, our bags were sent through the x-ray machine, opened up for inspection (note to self: pack neatly for the return home, too), and our precious box of mooncakes extracted. Before we could protest, all but one of the pastries were unceremoniously dumped into a large garbage bin that undoubtedly contained even more of these confiscated confections. The reason for such a merciless seizure? Unless they have been mixed directly into the batter, egg yolks in mooncakes from countries with outbreaks of avian flu are considered 'agricultural hazards' and are therefore prohibited from entering the United States.

The irony is that on the same day we enjoyed the lone non-yolked mooncake survivor, a congressional panel on the recent nationwide outbreak of salmonella illnesses from tainted eggs heard abject apologies from one of the country's largest egg producers for his company's role in causing the health emergency, while the president of another agribusiness invoked his 5th Amendment right and refused to answer any questions. It would seem that there is a more immediate danger from egg yolks found closer to home than from baked pastry that has traveled halfway across the world.

But this is cold comfort - the mooncakes are now long gone and the experience of eating them lost. We would simply have to wait until the next opportunity to be in Asia during the Mid Autumn Festival, when mooncakes are as abundant as stars. And as our lucky stars would have it, that opportunity has come sooner than expected . . .

Lone survivor: White Lotus & Black Sesame Mooncake

From Minnesota Casserole to Philippine Palayok

'Internet Café Now Open'? Hmmm...

As you may have noticed, it's been a month since I last posted fresh material and published/replied to new comments on this blog. During that time, my husband and I were in the Philippines, where inconsistent Internet access made it difficult for me to keep up; instead, we spent most of our time visiting with family and traveling to Singapore and Kuala Lumpur (more on those adventures in upcoming entries). But it wasn't all about leisure - Mr. Noodle has been pursuing job opportunities in Asia and much to our delight, he received an offer of employment just days before our return to Minnesota.

My dear friends, I am pleased to announce that the Noodles are moving to a new bowl - Manila, Philippines! We are so thrilled about this fresh chapter in our story. Although I was born in metro Manila, I have spent most of my life in North America, so life in the Philippines will be as new and unfamiliar to me as it will be for my Midwestern husband. But we look forward to meeting the challenge together with excitement and enthusiasm.

There is little time for relaxed transition, however, as our relocation will take place in less than 6 weeks. As a result, I may not be posting as often as I'd like while my energies are focused on packing up our belongings and getting ready for our move. I hope to put up some entries that are already in the pipeline, although they may not be as detailed (read: long-winded) as my usual posts, as well as to share some details about my new old home.

As I bring Tangled Noodle back to my birthplace, please join me in a rediscovery of my cultural heritage, a deeper exploration of a beloved, vibrant cuisine and the hope of creativity inspired by new and delicious adventures!

Here's a sneak preview . . .

While Makati City, Metro Manila shimmers beneath the clouds . . .

. . .  El Nido, Palawan shines under blue skies.

An International Incident: Scones Gone Wild!

Wild Rice & Candy Cap Mushroom Scones 

Dainty teacups and delicate saucers. White linen and lace doilies. Clotted cream and sweet jam. Genteel, elegant and civilized, they make the perfect setting for tea and scones. But there comes a time when a proper young baked good needs to escape the stuffy parlor and roll free in the great outdoors . . .

Such was my inspiration for this month's International Incident Party: Scones, hosted by the tremendous trio of Penny at Jeroxie, Anh of A Food Lover's Journey and Cherrie of Sweet Cherrie Pie. To flavor these popular quick breads, sweet ingredients have been found in fruit orchards and flower beds, while savory elements are drawn from vegetable patches and herb gardens. But why not venture a little further afield, into the woods and along lakeshores and riverbanks?

Where the Wild Things Are

I was recently reminded of the wonderful qualities of manoomin, better known as wild rice, by Scott Burns of Scenic Waters Wild Rice Company, who offers his hand-harvested grains at the Minneapolis Farmers Market. Light in color, quick to cook, and so flavorful - earthy, slightly nutty with a hint of green - truly wild rice is still collected by the Ojibwe using a generations-old method of floating among the tall grasses growing along the banks of Minnesota's northern lakes and rivers, and beating the plants with sticks to knock their grains onto the boat. Though laborious to harvest, native manoomin is far superior to the commercial, paddy-grown stuff usually found on grocery shelves.

I've made a heavenly porridge straight out of Hell's Kitchen and a sinangag (fried rice) à la Midwest with local bacon and dried cranberries, but Scott also encouraged me to try wild rice in my favorite pancakes and baked goods as its chewy texture and earthy flavor adds another dimension to these favorite foods. With the approach of the International Incident Scones Party, I found the perfect opportunity to do just that.

I might have ended up with a scone version of the aforementioned Mahnomin Porridge, chock full of wild rice, dried fruits and toasted hazelnuts, then topped with cream and maple syrup, if the last ingredient hadn't sparked a recollection of something special in my freezer. A couple of months ago, I received a treasure box of ingredients from specialty foods purveyor Marx Foods, courtesy of Natasha of 5 Star Foodie, who had invited me to participate in her Makeover Summer '10 Special. Among the samples of aji amarillo and flageolet beans was a small bag of brown, wrinkly dried fungus - none other than the extraordinary candy cap mushroom.

Candy cap mushrooms (Lactarius rubidus and L. rufulus) grow wild within the coastal forests from Northern California to the Pacific Northwest and are abundant during the winter months. Their unusually sweet flavor and fragrance put them in a most unusual situation for a mushroom - as an element for dessert, such as this Candy Cap Persimmon Flan by Christo of Chez What? blog.

I had read about them, wondered about them, wished I could get my hands on them. And there they were. Everything that is said about their aroma, redolent of maple syrup, is absolutely true. It's a heady, crave-inducing but all-permeating fragrance, which necessitates storing in the freezer to best preserve it and to keep from infusing the rest of your pantry with its sweet scent. The moment I spotted it in its double-bagged storage (it really is a strong aroma), the oven light switched on and my scone was born.

Wild Rice and Candy Cap Mushroom Scones
(Basic scone recipe adapted from King Arthur Flour)

Leave the white gloves at home and loosen the corset strings - these scones will leave you wanting to lick the buttery crumbs off your fingers and then reaching for another one. Unlike some scones whose added ingredients like chocolate, dried fruits or seasonings may peg them squarely as either sweet or savory, these little breads walk on both the wild and the civilized sides. The chewiness of wild rice contrasts well with the airy cream and gelatinous jams of traditional scone accompaniments, while the sweetness of candy cap mushrooms is an equally delicious counterpoint to smoked fish and cured meats. Or else, just enjoy them plain and natural.

The candy cap mushrooms were steeped in heavy cream, then chopped to be added into the dough. Cooked wild rice maintained its firm texture through the baking process, while 'dropping' the dough by the spoonfuls gave these scones a more natural, rustic look.

Makes approximately 18 round scones

Ingredients

1/4 to 1/3 cup whole dried candy cap mushrooms

1/2 cup to 2/3 cup heavy whipping cream, heated (plus extra 1/4 cup)

2-3/4 cups all purpose flour
3/4 tsp salt
1 Tbs baking powder
1/2 cup cold butter, cut into pieces
1 cup cooked wild rice (approximately 1/3 cup uncooked)
2 large eggs
2 tsps vanilla

To Make:

1) In a small non-reactive bowl, cover dried mushroom with heated cream and let steep for about 20-25 minutes. When done, remove softened mushrooms, reserving the infused cream, and chop into small pieces. Set aside while making the dough;
2) In a medium bowl, sift flour, salt and baking powder together; add butter pieces and work into the dry ingredients with pastry cutter, fork or hands, until mixture is evenly crumbly. Add cooked wild rice and mushroom pieces and stir to combine well;
3) In a separate bowl, whisk eggs, vanilla and cream, then add to the flour, rice and mushroom mixture. Stir until just moistened and a soft, slightly sticky dough begins to form.
4) Line a cookie sheet with parchment paper and using a spoon or ice cream scoop, drop 2 to 3 Tablespoons of dough onto the baking sheet, with at least 1/2" of space between each. Using a piece of parchment or wax paper, slightly flatten each scone. It's alright if they are not perfectly round.

5) Brush tops with extra cream, then place the baking sheet in the freezer for 30 minutes while the oven preheats to 425°F.
6) Bake for 20-25 minutes or until scones are a golden brown. When done, remove from oven and cool on the pans. Serve with your favorite jams, marmalades and preserves, with cream or butter, and with smoked fish or cured meats. Or place in an airtight container and freeze until ready to eat.

WARNING: Your kitchen will smell deliriously of delicious maple syrup! Do not open the windows or turn on the fans - just enjoy breathe it in . . .

Are you now jonesing for some scones - sconesing, as it were? Then check out the rest of the International Incident Scones Party:

Of Thin Skins and Filipino Food

Lumpiang Sariwa

How much do I love Filipino food? Very much. So, please forgive me for being giddy with pride that this cuisine in which I find great pleasure, satiety and comfort seems to be on everyone's lips, if not immediately in their bellies.

Last week, the San Francisco Chronicle's SFGate.com posted an article heralding Filipino food as possibly the next big dining trend. It has certainly been gaining momentum: fellow food bloggers Nastassia of Let Me Eat Cake and Marvin of Burnt Lumpia, launched their food truck juggernaut, Manila Machine and are storming LA's streets and Twitter's stream, while in San Francisco, the Asian Culinary Forum's 2010 Symposium in May highlighted Filipino Flavors: Tradition & Innovation, featuring such cooking luminaries as IACP winner Amy Besa. If anyone can speak to the prospects of Filipino food joining the ranks of other national cuisines in capturing the American palate, it's Besa and her partner Romy Dorotan, who have demonstrated with their restaurants Cendrillon (now closed) and Purple Yam, that Pinoy cookery has the sophistication to stand among the best in New York City's dining scene. And Filipino food can now be found in the vast expanse between the two Coasts, including here in Minneapolis where Subo ("To feed" in Tagalog) has enjoyed success with its small-plate versions of Filipino classics such as lechon kawali (deep-fried pork belly).

Pork Quartet (clockwise from top left):
Crispy Pata, Sizzlig Sisig, Tokwat Baboy (Tofu & Pork), Pork BBQ skewers

It's an exciting time for a cuisine belonging to the 2nd largest Asian subgroup in the US, but has yet to step out from the shadow of its better-known Thai, Vietnamese and Korean counterparts. I am rediscovering it myself and finally developing a greater appreciation for its flavors and the connections to home and culture it creates. In early blog posts, I shared how eating Filipino food helps me maintain my identity as a Filipina and I continue to explore the ways in which we use food to express our cultural, social and ethnic affinities, both as individuals and as part of a group.

But I've learned that the mirror has two faces: while our food choices reflect back to us our sense of self, they may also serve as signals for others to use in forming judgments about us. When I enjoy food from other culinary traditions, it often sparks questions about the people and the culture from which they originated. Why is a dish cooked in a particular manner? Are the ingredients indigenous to the land, and if not, how did it get there - by trade, conquest or immigration? Is it everyday food or festival fare? Peasant cookery made elite or fancy dish brought down to earth? Occasionally, the question is, Why in the world would anyone eat this stuff?

Hopefully, the last query holds a genuine interest in understanding the reasons why certain foods that I might find unappealing figure prominently in a national cuisine. And I hope that I do not make a summary judgment of an entire culinary tradition (and by extension, its native diners) based on a few dishes, as some have recently done, much to my pained dismay.

Sticks and Stones May Break My bones, But Words Can Cut as Deeply

Judging by the comments posted on the SFGate.com article, it would be an understatement to say that many readers were largely unimpressed by Filipino food. While some people expressed their enjoyment of it, others thoughtfully yet pessimistically opined that it would ultimately fail to catch on, due to unfamiliar flavors or perceived unhealthy qualities. But a significant proportion of comments were not simply negative - they were downright vitriolic. Words such as disgusting, gross and nasty peppered the entries. Worst food on the planet, wrote one. Could barely keep from throwing up, said another. Statements perpetuated beliefs that Filipino food in general is 1) either totally bland or too sour/salty/sweet; 2) visually unappealing; and 3) greasy, fattening and unhealthy. As proof, readers who offered these conclusions based on personal eating experience named the same five dishes: lumpia, pancit, adobo, dinuguan and balut.

Quartet of Filipino Classics (clockwise from top left):
Shrimp & Vegetable Lumpia, Pancit Bihon, Fried Bangus (Milkfish) Belly, Dinuguan

Common sense tells me to ignore these comments as mean-spirited, ill-informed and likely deliberate to get a rise out of some thin-skinned Filipina, yet I couldn't help but feel their sting. It's no salve to say that the comments were not personal when they so effectively hit close to the deeply personal. Filipino food is important to me as a connection to my heritage, making such criticisms quite painful to read. Tell me what you eat, and I will tell you who* you are, Brillat-Savarin so famously wrote, but in this context and by these opinions, such an assessment is less than flattering. Perhaps I am rising to the bait, but I can not let it go without addressing some of these misperceptions.

Filipino food is so much more than the aforementioned five dishes, which are constantly trotted out either as an easy-on-the-Western-sensibilities introduction to the cuisine, or as a Fear Factor-esque gastro-challenge. And it certainly deserves more respect and understanding than these terse, pitiable comments would suggest. This is what I would like people to know about 'my' food:

Sinigang na Lapu Lapu

Filipino food is flavorful. One of the cuisine's best attributes is its embrace of all five tastes - bitter, sour, salty, sweet and savory (umami). Many might consider the first two quite unpleasant, but as challenging as they are to the palate, they enliven the tastebuds when done right. Hot soup in a tropical clime is actually refreshing when it's Sinigang (sour soup), with its tartness coming not from acidic vinegar but from the sweet-tempered sourness of tamarind and other native fruits. In the dish Ginisang Ampalaya (sautéed bitter melon), the acrid flavor of the vegetable combines with sweet onions, pungent patis (fish sauce) and fluffy eggs to soften the bitterness. Filipinos love contrasting flavors that others may find jarring, but the principles of which should be familiar; for instance, dried salted fish (tuyo) heightens the sweetness of a bowl of champorado (chocolate rice porridge), much like how sea salt magnifies the flavor of dark chocolate or caramel.

Pancit Palabok

Filipino food is colorful. The Infamous Five (lumpia, pancit, adobo, dinuguan and balut) share one unfortunate trait - an appearance of varying shades of brown, ranging from greyish-beige to deep chocolate. If this is all one has to go by in judging the visual appeal of Filipino food, then one might be forgiven for pegging the whole as muddy-looking. In truth, there is vivid flair to this vibrant fare, thanks to fresh fruits, vegetables and a variety of spices. Atsuete (annatto) lends an orange brightness to Pancit Palabok (noodles with shrimp sauce), while turmeric bathes Guinataang Sugpo (prawns in coconut milk) in a sunny hue. From tropical fruits in their natural skins to handmade candies gaily wrapped in cellophane, Filipino food is a delicious kaleidoscope.

Minaluto
with kangkong (water spinach), shrimp, crab
red salted egg and braised pork over rice

Filipino food is not entirely unhealthy. It's a rather limp defense, I know, but there's no denying the undeniable - Filipinos' fondness for fried food, requisite steamed white rice at every meal and the fatty parts of the pig leave the cuisine teetering on the edge of nutritional purgatory. Thankfully, there is plenty of lighter fare to keep it in healthy equilibrium. Steaming is a favorite cooking method, from sweet rice cakes to one-bamboo-bowl meals, such as the vegetables and seafood in Minaluto. For every pulutan (appetizer) of sizzling Sisig, there is Kinilaw - fresh raw fish 'cooked' in a vinegar, garlic, ginger and chili pepper marinade (which may also include coconut milk). If Crispy Pata (deep-fried pork leg) is a bit too rich, then Inasal na Manok (grilled chicken) - marinated in a garlic, lemongrass and coconut vinegar mixture, and tinted a warm orange by atsuete/annatto oil - is a tasty alternative. But lest you think it's all protein, Filipino food is also green: Ensaladang Pakô (fiddlehead fern salad) is a simple toss of tender leaves, onion, and tomatoes in a vinegar dressing, while Ensaladang Latô (seaweed salad) offers bursts of briny flavor.

Ensaladang Latô

An Edible and Indelible Story

A nation's cuisine is the story of its people, writ in spices and seasonings, fruits and vegetables, fish and fowl. It is characterized by which edible resources are abundant or scarce, and which are indigenous or introduced from the outside. It tells of traditions, customs and methods that have been adopted through millenia of mutual trade or imposed by centuries of conquest, then blended with those that are unique and original to the land and the people. This is Filipino food.

Colorful food:
Bright calamansi, pineapples & array of dishes

We can learn a lot about a culture from its foodways, but to make a judgment of its entirety based on a single experience or a handful of dishes is like declaring that an epic novel is fully read after glancing at the summary on the inside flap of the book's jacket. While this post falls far short of demonstrating the depth of variety and complexity of Filipino cuisine, I hope that it is enough to encourage those of you who may not have had the best first taste, to try again, and those of you who have yet to try for the first time, not to be put off from doing so.

Please visit the links given for the dishes mentioned above - they will lead to some of my favorite Pinoy food bloggers all over the world. I also highly recommend following @filipinofood on Twitter for all the latest in Filipino food goings-on. And be sure to check out Siegfred, alias Mr. Kitchenero, whose site myfilipinokitchen includes links to even more blogs in North America, Europe, Australia and Asia, and offers historical background and thoughtful musings about Filipino cuisine.

Refreshing drinks made with only fresh fruit, water and ice:
Grape, Dalandan (Sweet Orange) and Green Mango

Lumpiang Sariwa

Lumpia, particularly the small, meat-filled kind known as 'lumpiang shanghai', is one of the most popular and well-known of Pinoy dishes. However, it is not always deep-fried: sariwa refers to 'fresh' lumpia (which is to say 'not fried'). These spring rolls differ from the Vietnamese and Thai varieties in their wrappers - whereas the latter use translucent rice paper wrappers, lumpiang sariwa are made with an egg-and-flour crêpe** and are most often compared to Malyasian and Singaporean popiah.

Lumpiang Sariwa with Sweet Sauce

Along with my interest in learning to cook Filipino food, I am also trying to make use of the wonderful seasonal produce here in Minnesota. The idea of incorporating local ingredients into a global recipe has inspired me to be more creative with my cooking. So, when I was recently asked to do a cooking demonstration at the Minneapolis Farmers' Market, I thought about introducing a Filipino recipe that would make use of the market's current bounty - lumpiang sariwa fit the bill perfectly. A simple sauté of meat, vegetables, garlic and onion, is rolled in lettuce leaf and delicate crêpe, then topped with a sweet and savory sauce. I used locally-raised pork and summer's-peak carrots and green beans, but feel free to switch it up with shrimp or ground chicken and autumn parsnips, or go all vegetarian with meaty portobello mushrooms. Contrary to what some have said, this dish is a delicious example of Filipino foods' lovely, fresh and versatile side.

**Correction 10/19/2012: Karen, a Filipino food and culture researcher and author of The Pilgrim's Pots and Pans, kindly pointed out via Twitter that lumpiang sariwa is not characterized by crêpe-like wrappers:

"[C]rêpes are lumpia wrappers for special occasions…For everyday fresh lumpia, the regular eggless wrapper is used…"

Thank you for the clarification, Karen!


Makes approximately 10-12 rolls

Sauce

2 cups chicken broth
4 Tbsps brown sugar
1/2 tsp salt
1 Tbsp soy sauce
3 Tbsps cornstarch
1/3 cup water

In a small saucepan, combine all ingredients except cornstarch and water. Over medium-high heat, bring the mixture to a gentle boil. Dissolve cornstarch in water, then add to the broth mixture, stirring slowly as you pour the slurry into the saucepan. Reduce heat to low and cook, stirring continuously to keep the sauce from clumping or sticking to the bottom. When the sauce has thickened, remove from heat and set aside until ready to serve.

Filling

2 Tbsps canola or vegetable oil
2-3 cloves garlic, minced
1 small onion, diced small - about 1/2 cup
1" piece of ginger, minced
1 lb fresh ground pork
1/2 cup finely shredded carrots
1 cup thinly sliced green beans, cut on diagonal
Salt to taste

Heat oil in a wok or large sauté pan over medium-high heat. Add garlic and onions and quickly stir-fry until they are fragrant and softened, but not browned. Add ginger and stir, then add ground pork, using a spatula or wooden spoon to break up the meat so that it is crumbly. Stir-fry until the meat is cooked through. Add carrots and green beans, and continue to stir-fry until the vegetables are soft but still a bit crisp. Add salt to taste. Remove from heat and set aside until ready to fill the wrappers.

Wrappers (crêpes)
(recipe adapted from Flavors of the Philippines by Glenda Rosales-Barretto)

1-1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 tsp salt
1/4 cup vegetable or canola oil
3 eggs, well beaten
2-1/2 cups water

Sift flour and salt into a medium bowl, then add eggs, oil and water, and whisk briskly until batter is smooth. Its consistency should be thinner than pancake batter but not too runny. Heat a 10" to 12" nonstick pan over medium heat and add a scant 1/3 cup (approximately 3 Tbsps) of batter, tilting the pan in a circular motion so that the batter spreads out to form a round. Cook until the top no longer looks moist and is dry to the touch. Unlike pancakes, the batter will not bubble on top and it cooks very quickly. Using your spatula, gently slide the crêpe out of the pan onto a platter. Repeat with remainder of the batter.

Be careful: hot crêpes are quite delicate and can tear easily. Stack finished wrappers on top of each other and allow to cool before assembling the lumpia.

Ground pork with shredded parsnips and napa cabbage

Assembling Lumpiang Sariwa

Wrappers (above)
Mix of spring or baby lettuce leaves, or whole lettuce leaves
Filling (above)
Sauce (above)
Optional: crushed roasted peanuts or cashews

Place one cooled crêpe on a plate or flat surface. Arrange a small handful of leaves (or one leaf, rib removed) down the center but not all the way to the bottom. Spoon about 2 to 3 tablespoons of filling mixture on top of the lettuce, lengthwise. Gently pick up bottom edge of the wrapper and fold upward. Then, pick up edge of one side and fold over the lettuce and filling, tucking it gently under the filling. Pick up the opposite edge and fold over; the crêpe should cling to itself to form a seal. Carefully arrange the lumpia on a platter or dish, seam side up, and spoon sauce over it. For a traditional presentation, sprinkle with crushed nuts.

Kain na Tayo!

[Let's eat!]