Aubergine Parmigiana

Today I found out that shit happens.

I mean, I've always known that bad things happen...There's a whole spectrum of bad things that can happen to you, from things that ruin your day like a careless cyclist who hits your car and leaves a tiny dent, to things that can break your heart in the best and worst way that anything can break your heart. You know what I'm talking about. 

I've always known, just by the simple powers of observation, that best friends break up, people die of hunger, businesses go bankrupt and babies die for no reason at all. I know. But somehow I managed to make my way through life for 24 grand years without letting any of the bad things get the best of me. Oh sure, I wept, I got upset, I threw stuff. But I never let these things turn me into someone bitter, or scared, or timid. "Oh wow," you're thinking, "The optimism and arrogance of the youth."

Yeah, I guess. But it was also the naivety of the youth. I'd always been one of those naive children who embraced life for everything that it was. I saw challenges like everyone else, but I'd always thought, "Oh, it'll be fine." And even if it wouldn't be fine, I'd survive and be cheerful again after, like, 20 minutes. As someone once so perfectly described, I "propelled forward through life, hitting bricks and walls on my way, but always going forward nonetheless." Life was a big, bold adventure, and my mind selectively chose to remember the good memories over the bad. There was nothing zen about my upbeat outlook, it was just the pure fearlessness of a child trapped inside an adult's body.

And then life threw me one of those surprises, because that's just what life does. You know what I'm talking about. Total road kill. Heart leaping from a cliff into thin air, then crashing spectacularly into the ground. Heart pulp. Your belief system suddenly not being so believable anymore. Your comfort zone way, way far behind. One of those moments in life when no amount of motivational quotes or Ben and Jerry's or supportive friends can help you.

Shit happens.

And you find out that suddenly you're not so fearless anymore, not so charmingly naive, not so...innocent, perhaps. Suddenly you're a reluctant, scared, worried, and tired adult like everyone else. What's an adult to do? Well, it took a lot of long walks and absent moments spent staring at my laptop screen, but I think the answer is faith. When blind naivety doesn't save you anymore, faith can. Faith requires the patience and wisdom of an adult, which is probably why that was not the first resource I tapped into when I was faced with fears before. 

Faith to me means believing that things will be fine even if you don't know how or why or when. It's believing that there's a just government above who will protect you, love you and guide you when you ask it to...and when you listen. Faith means surrendering to the knowledge that there's no such thing as certainty or total control. It's knowing that shit happens all the time, but that you have it in you to guide yourself through the mess.

Do I feel a pang of sadness about growing up? Oh, sure. Instead of channeling Cinderella as a child (Girl sings with rats and birds, girl mops the floor, girl falls in love with a guy who can't remember what she looks like after dancing the whole night with her?....Come on), I could always relate better with Peter Pan and the Lost Boys. I never wanted to grow up! I wanted to live in a pastel-colored world. But perhaps I'm more like Wendy than Peter Pan -- I must return to the real world where the colors come in a far wider spectrum. But I'm pretty sure I still get to keep a little childishness in me.

And now...eggplants. Because loss of innocence and limp vegetables are TOTALLY correlated.

Aubergine Parmigiana

For 6 servings

Recipe adapted from www.jamieoliver.com

- 3 large firm aubergines
- olive oil
• 1 onion, peeled and finely chopped
• 1 clove garlic, if you can get it, peeled and finely sliced
• 1 heaped teaspoon dried oregano
• 2 x 400g tins good-quality plum tomatoes
• sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
• a large handful of fresh basil
• 4 large handfuls of freshly grated Parmesan cheese
• 2 handfuls of dried breadcrumbs
• a little fresh oregano, leaves chopped

optional:
• 1 x 150g ball of buffalo mozzarella

Remove the stalks from the aubergines and slice them up into 1cm thick slices. Get a dry pan really hot. 

Put 2 or 3 glugs of olive oil into another pan on a medium heat. Add the onion, garlic and dried oregano and cook for 10 minutes, until the onion is soft and the garlic has a tiny bit of colour. If you’re using tinned tomatoes, break them up and give the mixture a good stir, then put a lid on the pan and simmer slowly for 15 minutes.

Meanwhile, grill the aubergines on both sides until lightly charred – you may have to do them in batches. As each batch is finished, remove them to a tray and carry on grilling the rest until they’re all nicely done. When the tomato sauce is reduced and sweet, season it carefully with salt and pepper, and add the basil. You can leave the sauce chunky or you can purée it.

Get yourself an earthenware type dish. Put in a small layer of tomato sauce, then a thin scattering of Parmesan, followed by a single layer of aubergines. Repeat these layers until you’ve used all the ingredients up, finishing with a little sauce and another good sprinkling of Parmesan. I like to toss the breadcrumbs in olive oil with a little freshly chopped oregano and sprinkle them on top of the Parmesan. Sometimes the dish is served with torn-up mozzarella on top, which is nice too.

Place the dish in the oven and bake at 190°C/375°F/gas 5 for half an hour until golden, crisp and bubbly. It’s best eaten straight away, but it can also be served cold.

Indonesian Mild Curry (Opor)

Opor, one of the most beloved curries in Indonesia, is very versatile. The original version calls for chicken, but it works very well with other mild-tasting protein like tempe (soy bean cake), tofu and hard-boiled eggs. It's also wonderful with vegetables -- snake beans and mushrooms are my favorite. I actually like the vegetarian version of opor better. The tofu soaks up the rich sauce very well, as does the tempe, and since this is a milder type of curry, it doesn't mask the subtle taste of the vegetables. And if you've never had  a curry with boiled eggs before, don't turn up your nose -- just keep reading and you'll see why!

Although this is one of our milder curries, it's bursting with flavors. The coconut milk sauce is enriched with an array of spices, and the palm sugar adds an almost coconut-y sweetness to the curry, which balances out the savoury note provided by the chicken broth. It's best eaten with a lot of rice to mop up the sauce!

Start with an obscene amount of spices...And chop up all your ingredients.

Blitz the spices using a blender, and dump on a hot wok with some oil.

After the spice paste becomes slightly yellow and very aromatic, add the coconut milk and the rest of the ingredients, except for the mushrooms.

The tofu is fried before hand, so that it's soft on the inside and crispy on the outside. The hard-boiled eggs are fried briefly until they develop a thin, crackly skin that's very scrumptious. There's something about the creamy egg yolk, the satiny smooth egg white and the crispy skin that pairs very well with the curry.

This recipe also uses snake beans, tempe and enoki mushrooms. These mushrooms retain a good bite even after cooking, which works very well with the sauce. 

Cook the curry on medium heat. Don't worry if the curry looks very pale at this stage, because the color will get darker later.

Let all the flavors marry...

Once the curry comes to a boil, add the mushrooms, and turn down the heat so that the curry is just simmering. Your curry is done after it's been simmering for about 10 minutes and it has no more hint of bitterness. This means that all the spices have been cooked thoroughly.

Indonesian Mild Curry (Opor)

For 8 people

1 block of tempe (soy bean cake), cut into thick strips

2 large blocks of tofu, cut into thick triangles

1 large bunch of snake beans, cut into 4 cm pieces

2 bunches of enoki mushrooms, bottom part chopped off and cut into chunks

8 hard-boiled eggs, skin peeled

1000 cc coconut milk, mixed with 250 cc water

Spice paste:

18 garlic cloves (I'm not kidding with my blog title)

15 shallots

12 candlenuts

3 tbsp coriander seeds

5 heaping tbsp palm sugar, shaved

1 tsp ground ginger

1/2 tsp ground cumin

1 lemongrass stalk, bruised

2 bay leaves

2-3 chicken/vegetable stock cube

white pepper, sugar and salt to taste

Deep-fry the tofu and boiled eggs until they form a thin skin. Drain on kitchen paper.

Grind all the spices for your spice paste using a blender or a food processor until smooth. Add some oil to the blender if it's difficult to blitz everything into a smooth paste.

Heat some oil in a large wok. Add the spice paste and sautee on medium heat until aromatic and the paste turns yellow.

Add the coconut milk that has been thinned with water to the wok. Add your eggs, tofu, tempe, snake beans, ground ginger, ground cumin, lemongrass stalk, bay leaves and stock cube as well. Stir well.

Bring everything to the boil, and then lower the heat until the curry is just simmering. Season with salt, sugar and pepper to your liking. Add the mushrooms and simmer for ten more minutes until the curry sauce doesn't have any hint of bitterness.

Serve with steamed rice.

Spicy Beef and Spinach Stir-Fry

When you were a kid, what did your parents do to make sure that you'll finish your dinner?

Most Western parents I know would just tell their kids that if they don't finish everything on their plate, there'd be no dessert. Or that the kids won't be excused from the dinner table until they gobble everything up. Simple, direct and spot on. Indonesian parents, however, prefer a totally different approach. Either because they don't eat desserts and thus can't use them as a weapon, or because they don't want to be unpopular with the kids, or because of sheer...Indonesian-ness, they choose the scare treatment.

"If you don't finish your food, it will haunt you down in hell."

"Those leftover rice grains will run after you in hell!"

That's actually what my parents said. Or, to be accurate, what my nanny said. And the nanny after that and the nanny after that and the nanny after that. I used to have trouble sleeping at night, images of giant rice grains  running after me, their arms spread out and their little white legs scurrying quickly behind me. I'd pray, "God, please forgive me for not eating those rice grains. I'll finish my food next time. Please don't let them run after me in hell." At that age I was yet to have a clear idea of hell, but I knew that it wasn't a pleasant place, and I was sure that I wouldn't want to have the extra trouble of having food chasing after me. I was also concerned about how stinky the food would be after an eternity of waiting for me to arrive in hell. How I could trouble myself with all these things at the age of eight, I'd never understand.

What do you know...The scare treatment works.

As it turns out, my nannies weren't the only creative ones. My friends, too, have been manipulated by their well-intentioned elders, using all the emotions in the book. Take your pick if you wish to go down this path of parenthood as well:

Guilt: "If you don't finish your rice, Dewi Sri (the goddess of rice in Indonesian mythologies) will cry!" (This one makes me laugh! Which kid cares if Dewi Sri cries?! I was a decent kid, but I didn't give Dewi Sri any thought. I was more scared of the thought that I'd be making some potentially supernatural woman upset. What would she do to me?)

Sympathy: "The rice wants to be eaten by you so badly; if you don't eat it, it will be sad. Don't you feel sorry for them?"

Absolute shocking ridiculousness: "The rice grains used to be big, but because people didn't finish eating them, they became upset and then became small. You have to eat them!"

Something must be said of the effectiveness of this method though...To this day, I still can't leave any rice grains uneaten on my plate. I might leave out bits of meat and vegs that I don't like, but I'll chase those little rice grains before they have any chance of chasing me. 

And now, another form of wisdom that was passed on to me by one of my nannies...Spicy Beef and Spinach Stir-Fry.

For 2 people

350 grams lean minced beef

3 big handfuls of spinach leaves, washed

as much Indonesian sambal as you want 

salty soy sauce to taste

sweet soy sauce (Indonesian kecap manis) to taste

Heat up a little bit of oil on a pan. Sautee the minced beef, breaking them up with a spatula as you go to prevent large chunks of beef. Once they are just cooked through, tip the pan to one side and drain the fat that gathers. I like to drain all the fat -- there will be enough oil added from the sambal later on. Add as much sambal as you like (defrosted if it was previously frozen) and mix well.

Add the spinach leaves to the pan.

Stir everything well. The spinach will slowly wilt.

Add some salty soy sauce and sweet soy sauce to taste, and mix well.

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Don't let the spinach wilt too much before taking this dish off the heat -- the spinach will continue to wilt and cook from the residual heat. Taste for seasoning and serve with lots and lots of rice.

Bon appetit!

Broccoli, Pea and Parmesan Soup

I blame my local supermarket for this soup.

Albert Heijn is the largest supermarket chain in the Netherlands, and there's one conveniently located just around the block. Every week it has items that are on "bonus", which simply means that they are dirt cheap. This is of paramount interest to me and my housemates -- in fact, our menus are sometimes determined solely by what's on bonus. Carrots for 90 cents? Yep, I'd eat that. I'd eat almost anything for 90 cents. The foodie in me might want beef braised in red wine for dinner, but the student in me is so overpowering, the foodie bows down and marches directly to the carrot counter. Gotta love student life in the Netherlands.

There must be a whopping broccoli surplus somewhere in Western Europe, because this item has been on bonus forever. Every time I enter the supermarket, it's a like a deja vu: first you see the flower display upfront, then the tabacco counter with the heavyset lady behind it, the stack of blue plastic baskets, and then, unavoidably, endless rows of broccoli heads, dark green and huge and proud. And almost instantly, you'd be thinking of yet another broccoli dish to cook, although the foodie in you is getting suicidal from too much healthy vegetable.

My housemates must go through the same experience, because when I get home, there's broccoli everywhere. There's broccoli in the fridge and in the freezer and on our kitchen counter and in the book cabinet (no kidding), and, of course, rotting in the dust bin. The question, "What are you making for dinner?" becomes rhetorical. We start saying, "I really gotta finish my broccoli" with a sense of urgency and panic. We also start disclaiming our broccoli. "Whose broccoli is this?"  "Not mine. Must be yours."  "No I think it's yours. Mine has a telltale spot on this side."

And yet come the following week, we never fail to buy yet another head of broccoli.

So one day, out of sheer panic of having my broccoli wilting out on me (a big no-no for an anal eater like me) and out of sheer desire to conquer my big head of broccoli, I decided to chop it up into little pieces and submerge the pieces in hot water and bulldoze them with my handheld food processor.

This soup tastes rich and comforting, and yet it is actually very light and healthy. Clean-tasting, too, and you don't feel weighed down afterwards. The star of this soup is the parmesan. It brings all the different flavours together. Boiling a slice of parmesan rind together with the vegs gives the soup its richness and depth that salt or stock alone can’t do. By the time the vegs are tender, the rind would be soft, any cheesiness would have melted into the soup, and the smell would be incredible. This parmesan rind trick always makes me feel really smug. I can make a rockin’ soup without having to load it with calories!

Another tip is to use as little broccoli stalks as possible. Yes, not even the small tender stalks. You can use as many of them as you like, but the colour of the soup won’t be as intensely green. You can keep those stalks for other recipes – sliced thinly and lightly sautéed, they are a good base for other soups, stews or risotto.

And while we’re on the subject of hearty soups…

How about pimpin’ it up a little?

I can think of so many ways to jazz up this soup that I wish I had multiple stomachs so I could eat multiple bowls of it with different toppings! I think a dollop of crème fraiche or sour cream is lovely, and you can even pimp up the crème fraiche by mixing it with some lemon rind, lemon juice and parmesan. Pimping up the soup by pimping up the topping…How about that?

A dollop of pesto.

Some crispy, herby baked croutons.

Crumbled soft cheese or some parmesan shavings.

Ohhhhh. Yes! Pimp up your soup! Or how about some crumbled turkey bacon?

Creamy Broccoli, Pea and Parmesan Soup

For 4 people

-          3 cups of broccoli, no stalks, sliced thinly

-          1 cup frozen peas

-          1 cup potatoes, sliced thinly

-          1 small onion or half a large one

-          4 garlic cloves

-          4 cups chicken broth

-          1 slice parmesan rind, plus 2 tablespoons grated parmesan

-          2 tablespoons crème fraiche or sour cream, plus more for topping

-          Salt and pepper for taste

-          Olive oil for sautéing

Peel and chop the onion and garlic cloves, then sauté them with the olive oil on a low heat. Sprinkle some salt to prevent the onion from browning.

Make sure the broccoli and potatoes are sliced thinly. This will ensure speedy cooking and prevent the broccoli from losing their vibrant green colour. Once the onion and garlic are softened, throw in the broccoli, potatoes, parmesan rind and chicken broth. Bring to the boil on a medium-high heat.

Once boiling, turn the heat down so that the soup is only simmering.

Check the vegetables after 15 minutes. You want them to be fork tender, or tender but still retaining a bit of a bite. They don’t need to be very tender for you to be able to puree them.

Once the broccoli and potatoes are fork tender, bung in the peas. Simmer for 10 more seconds then turn the heat off immediately. They don’t need to be cooked further. This will keep their vivid green colour.

Fish out the parmesan rind. Puree the soup well with a blender or a hand mixer, and mix in the grated parmesan and crème fraiche. Season with salt and pepper, and some olive oil if you like.

Serve with your choice of topping and some toasted baguette slices.