All posts tagged: Food

From foe to friend: Spaghetti Carbonara with Poached Egg, Shiitake and Button Mushrooms

The last time I had a spaghetti carbonara was at the Sheraton in Bangkok after a long day at work. The thought of a hearty bowl of piping hot spaghetti with eggs, bacon and cheese was rather comforting. As it arrived, I looked longingly at that beautiful bowl. It seemed to have the right colour. I could see the flakes of crispy bacon. I had the server crack some black pepper over it. It looked perfect. But as the first fork full reached my waiting mouth, I was suddenly reminded of every bad run in with the carbonara. While most had been either too runny, smelly or gloopy; this one was drippy and had the distinct taste of raw eggs. Since then, the carbonara and I have been foes. And thats a sad thing for me because I love eggs; the runnier and eggier the better. I love bacon (who doesn’t). I love cheese. And only a few things are more satisfying to me than a bowl of warm spaghetti. Now, having started this blog and having declared my love for food, it just didn’t feel …

I. Love. Food.

Cooking it. Learning about it. Experimenting with it. Exploring people and cultures through it. And relishing every bite and taste of every morsel that enters my mouth. For me it is a love like no other. My first memory is of me as a 2 year old feeling happy about my bottle of vanilla favoured eggnog, virgin of course. My mum thought it was nutritious and I supposedly thought it was yummy. Growing up, no amount of bribing could get me to read the Famous Fives or Hardy Boys lining the shelves. But my mum’s copy of Tarla Dala’s cookbook got me to read my first book cover to cover. I made Hakka noodles when I was 12. I baked a pound cake in my grandfather’s vintage Wee Baby Belling when I was 13. Every inch of my expanding waistline, at that time, was testament to my love of food. But at 17, when I had an opportunity to do something more with this love, I gave it up. I gave up on an opportunity to …

The comfort of a Fried Egg

I adore eggs. I could eat them any way. But my favorite has to be a warm oozy runny fried egg. Having said that, its a love I’ve grown into. Growing up, a runny yolk would make me squirm. The lingering eggy smell (especially around the rim of a glass or mug I was sipping milk or tea out off) would make my stomach churn. But now, if its a fried egg, I can’t have it any other way. It has to be runny and it has to be oozy. This love was taken to a whole other level when I discovered Nasi Goreng many years back on my first trip to Indonesia. For the first time, I saw my beloved served without toast. It sat atop a steaming pile of sweet and spicy rice, with a side of sambal ulek, fried onions, cucumber and krupuk kulit. I squished the yolk into the rice, let the gooey mess run in and coat every grain. I scooped it up with the crispy krupuk and mopped its …