Uncertainty
And then I question myself, why am I so resistant to change? Firstly, the purpose of it defeats my easy going nature. Secondly, the subject of its manifestation makes me highly uncomfortable given I've have a history of extreme low self esteem. Lastly, it's possible avenue for failure in this avenue just seems so daunting. It's relentless cat and mouse chase prospects discouraging me from having my first dabble. Then again.. it could be a good avenue for a bit of distraction from my other disorders. Golly..
that aside, in the working world, all's fine. Pardon me as I step off a particular cloud named '9' after the high tea episode last weekend. The reservation we accepted very late into the week after a very persistent me barged in on the boss as a reminder for her to confirm the reservation in order to get the production ball on it's way. We were knee deep in preparation work only 2 days into the event, the weight of the weekend crowds bearing down heavy on our shoulders as well. Thank goodness everything went without a hitch. Something I did not expect as it seemed natural for something to go wrong at any point of time in this madhouse. I would like to confess my deep love for my perfect team of colleagues at work for pulling it all together, their professionalism and dedication is thoroughly astounding. Then again, work chemistry is everything and when we're together it's almost like a dream engine running, except that the elements it's exposed to are surely wearing the valve walls down thinly. Jen, you're truly a bitch sometimes. Mind my language, but I'm headed out of there soon anyway. A blessing in disguise I reckon since tolling there has surely taken some years off my life.
Right now, my warm bed beckons for me. I endure a heart wrenching moment, too many memories to swallow. Let's just leave it to rest... with every passing day, it eases away till one day it evolves into a soft tune resounding in the background. I hope...
Choices
In my dilemma, many have told me that if I made the sacrificial move, I would live to regret my choice that I gave up a career prospect that could potentially propel me way ahead of my peers. But deep down aside, I have a residing knowledge that either way,it involves sacrifice. The other fork road would lead to a pathway of lonely living in a foreign country. Something that I see unfathomable at this juncture given my rather blissful living conditions. Picture yesterday for example, I return home from work sick to the bones, after having been throwing up numerous times in the bathroom till my knees went weak. A concerned bf awaited me at the train station, all ready to get my sorry ass back into bed. After stirring from a feverish sleep, the strong streak of vinegar awoken my senses. Vinegar chicken for dinner... a one of a kind electric blanket, personal chef and lover.
On the other hand, lies a job offer and its numerous liberties and learning opportunities. Aside from the lack of guidance, being thrown into the deep end has its pedantic ways. Doing orders, checking stock levels, planning work flows and rosters for the week, working on costings as well as teaching new kitchen staff; all these a belong to a category of tasks that I never expected myself to perform only 5 months into the working world. Not to mention having to deal with the eccentric boss and her sometimes patronizing but 'failure to launch' attitude. Yet here I stand, lucky to be with the kitchen crew, a strong team that I've built up over the weeks. *pats on the back*
Choices choices choices.. if only life was as easy as let's say consuming a stack of Bill's corn fritters. Yeh.. these go down so easy.
A Change of note, these are some things chefs like to do on their RDO. Yeh. more eating.
Corn fritters from Bills. Delish. the sweetness of the corn really shining through in this dish with the fritters assuming the lightness of a tempura style batter.
stuck in reverse
It's deep red jeweled tones enticing me into deep slumber. Work seems to be a consistent battle against my own expectations. My many wishes piling up versus the oddities of my performance. I wish I were faster, I wish I were more organised. I wish I could bring something to the table that no one else at the work place could offer. Yet once and again, I'm beaten down to the ground but my failures to establish my significance. My doings slipping into a mundane drawl of activities.
Upon returning back to an empty house. tiredness lingers in my bones. Yet, I can't sleep. Stuck in reverse.
I confess to my strange habits that reflect a bit of self loathing. Feeding my engines with alcohol, bringing tears to my eyes with the likes of emo films. The notebook, titanic... I suppose it's the hormones kicking in but i'm never too sure.
Whatever it is... I'm back. I wish I had a collection of photos to share. But none.
Don't get me wrong, I've never been happier with the state I'm at, the portion of life that I finally enjoy the most. I just need an avenue for some ranting. Be kind. Look away.
windows of Sydney
Pictures like windows into the streets and hearts of the city. walking around with a film rangefinder. One can't help but feel excited by the notion of perhaps capturing a perfect titillating scene at the turn of a bend or in a split second. This is what I got. Sydney in its reckless moments, in periods of silent stillness, an epitome of jarring split personalities.
Honestly, I miss all that.
pub food impressions revised.
You think you know a scene of an Australian pub on a lazy Tues afternoon when you see one. But be surprised when you step into the ultra cool vicinity of the newly refurbished Carrington. Yeh, so there aren't any hobos (shame on me) in sight nor cheaply dressed staff. Here, you are greeted with smiles and the easy going attitude of the friendly 'bar-maid' who doubles up as a professional member of the wait staff. A room full of ravenous people nursing their bubbly and hoeing down plates of freshly colored goodies. Make a quick trip to the bathroom and chance upon the chefs in the ultra professional kitchens stealing glances at you. From their mosaic tile framed pedestals, this commanded some form of respect from the unsuspecting diners. At this point of time, my ferocious appetite overwhelmed me. Which was a good thing since it made ordering off their lunch menu an extremely pleasant affair for G.
pictured over is the Spicy chicken burger ($15 with a pint of beer/wine). Not the best one I've had yet but I did love the spicy slaw in between.
This though, was an absolute winner. A deduction that was made simply by one look. The Media Noche (Cuban Midnight Sandwich) arrived at the table sans the frills and sauces that came along with the burger. Whispering details of its contents from the melting cheese dribbling off it's toasted sides. Needless to say, we polished this one of it's wooden board, got swept off our feets in the midst by it's complex flavor combination of uber stretchy cheese, triple pork and mustard. By far, the best ham and cheese toasty I've ever had. I wish I didn't have to share, but portions size wise made it berserk to consume in entirety. Pity...
I don't say this often. But you've not seen the last of me yet.
The Carrington
563 Bourke St
Surry Hills 2010
Telephone 02 9360 4714
website: http://www.the-carrington.com.au
Guacamole 101 (as promised)
Well, it could be the grinch at the end of the movie or possibly the hulk for some. But for me, it would definitely have to be guacamole. (p.s. I promised it earlier in another post, so here goes!)
Here's my end of the year post for your guys as well so I'm praying this recipe cuts it. A big bang for the end of a rather strange year.
Dismantle the avocado, de-seed it and scoop out its tender flesh. Mash it with a fork. Work it.
Add in some chopped tomato, finely chopped onions and garlic.
For the heat-seekers, toss in some chopped jalapenos. Seeds intact for the daring only.
Squeeze a lemon. Lime works wonders as well.
Round up a bunch of fresh coriander and chop it up. Look, its a party in there.
Here's a secret, a good cupful of grated Parmesan cheese in the mixture does magic.
So there you go peeps. A quick fire way to avoid paying throngs of money at a mexican joint.
It's the new year in a bit. For me, it means new beginnings. Settling into a new home, a warm nestling of the heart, adventurous placings in foreign kitchens. All a little emotional to say the least.
That's enough naggy talk from me now.
Party hard and I'll catch you on the flip side.
Tonight, we are young.
So let's set the world on fire.
We can burn brighter
than the sun.
sublimity
That my friend, pictured above is a good enough reason for multiple drugged returns to Sinma Laksa House in Kingsford. The Malaysian fried carrot cake as my friend describes it is like a slice of home with every bite (forgive his theatrics, he's on the brink of giving up hope of ever finding a decent carrot cake after 3 years away from home). Done as they would have in Kuala Lumpur, this was a bit too overdressed in my opinion but by every means still very authentic. The rice cakes fried with garlic, chili, dark soy sauce and beansprouts. Oh did I mention prawns thrown into the mix?
My roti canai on the other hand served with a side of chicken curry was what you would describe as sublime, transcendent and divine. Shame to say that the string of vocabulary only applies to the former; with the oil laden chicken curry casting a shadow of doubt over the marriage. The Roti Canai though was close to perfection with crisp ages and fluffy circles of laminated ghee and dough. And as I tore through the dish with mesmerized eyes and a sprinkle of sugar (my guilty pleasure), fond memories of late night suppers and before dawn breakfasts shroud me; the chatter and battering of tea spoons against glass mugs filled with piping hot tea, tucking into prata as pre-preparation for the long arduous expeditions ahead in the heart of a serene Malasysian village.
The not-so-good-for-you factor slowly fading into the background.
Sinma Laksa House
3/391 Anzac Parade
Kingsford 2032
NSW
(02) 9313 7663
To Xanthi and beyond
I would really like to conjure up some useful information about Greek culture now. perhaps throw in a little information about why Greek food and Middle Eastern food share so much similarities because of some grand old Historical colonizing and ole' fashion command and conquer.
But you didn't come here for that information did you? Didn't think so.
So let's talk shop. About Xanthi's food of course.
Word of advice, should you make your way here. Try to make it a lunch appointment or risk a disappointing dinner performance on weekend nights due to over-bookings.
Also, I earnestly urge you to try the Ouzomezedakia. These small mezze platters offer a whole load of flavor in small doses. The large variety available on the menu ensures that the diners get a range of exposures. Some of my recommendations include the Sheftalies ($11.00) - BBQed Cypriot style spiced pork meatballs wrapped in caul fats. These were as delicious as dark and sinister as they looked.
The Hot smoked eggplant dip ($10.00) was another winner with the smoked eggplant puree with a gentle mix of bechamel and grated kasseri cheese, whispering sweet nothings to my ear. The sprinkle of paprika and cumin caressing my tongue. Fresh addition of corainder and lemon juice just giving the dish a slight push towards perfection.
A trip to Xanthi is incomplete without sampling one of the baklava dishes, whether it be savory or sweet. I had the privilege of ordering their Pork Belly Baklava ($18.00), a sweet deal for me since G didn't really appreciate the acquired tastes of the sweet dates combined with the height of crispy pork belly. The sweet and salty combination really pushing certain boundaries for his safe palates. I on the other hand relished in this delicacy. The pastry, toasted and brown, encasing honey-ed fillings of date and pistachio with large chunks of shredded pork belly.
Greek Salad
And at this junction you aren't feeling the slight tug of your waistband yet. Do give the Apo tin souvla, meats from the spit a go. Here we had the lamb ($36.00 for 250g). Good it was, it wasn't anything mind-blowing given it's price. Maybe it comes across as payment for the spectacle of having a whole lamb rotating on a spit through the window as you enter the restaurant. Beats me.
Xanthi
Westfield Sydney
Corner Pitt Street Mall & Market Street, City
Fri–Sat 8am–midnight, Sun–Thu 8am–11pm
Bookings 9232 8535 or manager@xanthi.com.au
website: http://xanthi.com.au/
Birthday sunrises and coffee machines
I'm hoping you wouldn't notice the increment in the number above. But i'm very sure you would have by now.
I'm suffering from mid-20s crisis and the reality hits me like the hidden immensity of sunken icebergs.
G and I decided to bake a birthday cake (albeit a delayed one) to ease me into the 'upgrade'. The boy even threw in a Nespresso machine to sweeten the deal. as quoted in the latest express christmas episode of Modern Family, "everyday is December 16th.". we should impose that as a royal decree.
The cake, a royal spectacle of toppling and slip shod layers of thin crepe and vanilla bean custard, a mixture of creme patisserie and whipped cream. After the assembly, I sighed in deep acknowledgement and understanding of the cake's hefty price tag in bakeries and boutique patisseries. Sure enough, a dedicated crepe pan (*ka-ching*) would help a great deal. A controlled flame (something we're short of in the hostels) would certainly eliminate the prospects of missing finger prints. After 12 crepes and 2 fizzled attempts, we were ready to assemble the cake only to be met with runny creme pat, I can't even imagine the shame that ensues. Perhaps the recipe could use a little revision.
Anyhow, the cake was right up my alley. Peeling back the layers just like you would a rainbow kueh lapis cake. Right, now we've sparked off a new craving. Buggers.
Gâteau de Crêpes
batter from ”Joy of Cooking” and the pastry cream from ”Desserts,” by Pierre Herme and Dorie Greenspan.
For the crepe batter:
6 tablespoons butter
3 cups milk
6 eggs
1 1/2 cups flour
7 tablespoons sugar
Pinch salt
For the vanilla pastry cream:
2 cups milk
1 vanilla bean, halved and scraped
6 egg yolks
1/2 cup sugar
1/3 cup cornstarch, sifted
3 1/2 tablespoons butter
For assembly:
Corn oil
2 cups heavy cream
1 tablespoon sugar or more
3 tablespoons Kirsch
Confectioners’ sugar.
1. The day before, make the crepe batter and the pastry cream. Batter: In a small pan, cook the butter until brown like hazelnuts. Set aside. In another small pan, heat the milk until steaming; allow to cool for 10 minutes. In a mixer on medium-low speed, beat together the eggs, flour, sugar and salt. Slowly add the hot milk and browned butter. Pour into a container with a spout, cover and refrigerate overnight.
2. Pastry cream: Bring the milk with the vanilla bean (and scrapings) to a boil, then set aside for 10 minutes; remove bean. Fill a large bowl with ice and set aside a small bowl that can hold the finished pastry cream and be placed in this ice bath.
3. In a medium heavy-bottomed pan, whisk together the egg yolks, sugar and cornstarch. Gradually whisk in the hot milk, then place pan over high heat and bring to a boil, whisking vigorously for 1 to 2 minutes. Press the pastry cream through a fine-meshed sieve into the small bowl. Set the bowl in the ice bath and stir until the temperature reaches 140 degrees on an instant-read thermometer. Stir in the butter. When completely cool, cover and refrigerate.
4. Assemble the cake the next day: Bring the batter to room temperature. Place a nonstick or seasoned 9-inch crepe pan over medium heat. Swab the surface with the oil, then add about 3 tablespoons batter and swirl to cover the surface. Cook until the bottom just begins to brown, about 1 minute, then carefully lift an edge and flip the crepe with your fingers. Cook on the other side for no longer than 5 seconds. Flip the crepe onto a baking sheet lined with parchment. Repeat until you have 20 perfect crepes.
5. Pass the pastry cream through a sieve once more. Whip the heavy cream with the tablespoon sugar and the Kirsch. It won’t hold peaks. Fold it into the pastry cream.
6. Lay 1 crepe on a cake plate. Using an icing spatula, completely cover with a thin layer of pastry cream (about 1/4 cup). Cover with a crepe and repeat to make a stack of 20, with the best-looking crepe on top. Chill for at least 2 hours. Set out for 30 minutes before serving. If you have a blowtorch for creme brulee, sprinkle the top crepe with 2 tablespoons sugar and caramelize with the torch; otherwise, dust with confectioners’ sugar. Slice like a cake.
Did I mention that G and I made an impossibly early trip to Manly beach just cause I insisted on it being on my birthday wish list? What a sweetie pie.
Some photos after the jump.
Watching Sunrise from the Manly Ferry.
fabulous croque monsieur from three beans cafe @ Manly Beach
