This past Thursday, the sweet and savory aromas of Thanksgiving filled my apartment building. Through my bathroom vent, I can usually smell what the neighbors are cooking. Since the kitchen and bathroom vents in the building are conjoined, it often draws in odd yet strangely alluring scents to the apartment by way of the bathroom. Sometimes it’s waffles, bacon and Pantene Pro-V on Sunday mornings. In the evening it can be a medley of pot roast and spicy Thai curry. But it was Thanksgiving day, and most kitchens in the building were already whirring with activity by early afternoon. The familiar smells of sage, pumpkin, cinnamon, and roast poultry were not only coming in from the bathroom, but had managed to slip into the hallway as well, enveloping me with delicious aromas when I opened the door and walked to and from the elevator.

So, what was happening in my kitchen? Although I mentioned in my previous post that this year’s Thanksgiving was going to be an international affair, my sister Kelly and I have a strong attachment to traditional Thanksgiving dishes. Having to forgo the centerpiece of this holiday only meant that we had to compensate with side dishes. My parents, on the other hand, (who happen to conveniently live next door to us) are just not as attached to this holiday. Instead, they saw this holiday as an opportunity to put their culinary acumen to the test. They visualized a tasting menu with delicate portions and artfully plated miniature bamboo boats. Meanwhile, Kelly and I envisioned big plates piled a mile high with an orgy of food. How was Thanksgiving going to work? After some bickering over what was to be cooked for dinner, the four of us came to a compromise. And here was the result..

We began the evening with a fleet of Sashimi-filled small bamboo boats. Within each boat was a duo of Hamachi Sashimi and Tartare

Then came the visually unappealing yet tastefully appealing Calf Liver with Worcheshire Sauce

Seared Scallops with Tomato-Shallot Relish

After the small portions were served, we segued to the traditional segment of the meal with our Cauliflower and Leek Soup. Being a forgetful photographer, I was busy serving the soup and incidentally forgot to document the soup. Thankfully, I have a photo from a previous batch of soup! A recipe for this soup will be for another time in the near future.

The Cranberry, Rosemary Mini Polenta Cakes were first poured into a mini cupcake tin, chilled in the refrigerator, smothered with butter, then broiled in the oven.

Ever since my Middle School principal disclosed his secret to making tasty Brussel sprouts to my mom at a PTA meeting, we’ve been cooking them this way: Brussel Sprouts with Shallots, Bacon and Thyme.  Thanks, Mr. McDermott!  Drizzle chicken stock while cooking to keep the sprouts from getting too dry.

Last but not least, my favorite dish of the evening was the Curried Butternut Squash and Apples with Sage. Props to Mark Bittman for the recipe!

The Thanksgiving side dish spread.

An orgy of Thanksgiving side dishes… oh yeah, there were mashed sweet potatoes too, but those managed to slip past my camera lens too..ooops

By this point in the evening, I was beginning to fade due to my food coma and disappeared into my bedroom to take a post-Thanksgiving dinner nap.   One too many glasses of red wine and sangria may have also been the reason for my fatigue.  While I was in a deep slumber, Suckling Pig and Hainanese Chicken brought by family friends were devoured, as well as a Pumpkin Pie.  You’ll just have to imagine how good those tasted.

Even though it’s been several days since Thanksgiving, you may not have any desire to relive that night. Yet, if you are a fan of sweet and salty, as you probably already know I am from my previous entries, I encourage you try making Curried Butternut Squash and Apples with Sage. I leave you with a recipe adapted from Mark Bittman’s 101 Thanksgiving dishes.

The buttery squash and apples are mingle with a few tablespoons of curry powder, a toss of torn sage leaves, a generous drizzle of maple syrup, and most importantly, pats of butter, thrown into the oven and left to develop a lovely, complex flavor. As the cubes of squash and apples bask in the oven’s heat, they start to bear a similar resemblance. The final result is almost of a uniform golden color, yellowed by curry powder.  Each bite leaves you guessing which cube you’re going to get next.. apple or butternut squash?!

Curried Butternut Squash and Apples with Sage

Ingredients:
1 Medium Butternut Squash
2 Apples (preferably two firm ones of a red variety)
4 Tablespoons of Salted Butter
1/4 Cup of Maple Syrup
4 Tablespoons of Curry Powder
Salt and Pepper, to taste

Method:
1. Dice butternut squash and apples into 1 inch cubes
2. Toss chunks of butternut squash and apples with curry powder, smears of butter, and maple syrup
3. Roast at 350 degrees, shaking the pan occasionally, until everything is golden and tender

If I could live anywhere in Thailand, it would be Chiang Mai.  The old city retains its traditional, square layout, with a surrounding moat and restored medieval gates which lend an atmosphere of history that is absent in most of Bangkok.  Chiang Mai is over 500 years older and the people seem commensurately more kind and relaxed.  Nowhere is it more apparent that Chiang Mai is culturally different than in the wats, or temples which have decidedly less gold and glitter and more delicately carved wood.  Bangkok feels rushed, brash and taxing in comparison.

The laid-back attitudes are more like those of a small town and, with an effective public transportation system of red pick-up trucks that will take you anywhere in the city, life itself is much more accessible.  Within the city walls, one can walk from a spa to a good restaurant and then to the week-end market on the walking street.  It is not unusual to attend an ordination ceremony in the afternoon, go home for some dinner and then head out to a French film festival or concert later.  Three events in one evening?  In Bangkok, that would be a pipe dream.

The best part about Chiang Mai, however, is the food.  Aside from Thai and nouvelle Thai, not only are there award-winning French and Italian restaurants but also Tex-Mex, English pub food, crepes, steak and more.  For all the cosmopolitan fare, however, the greatest cuisine to be had is local.

Unlike central Thai cuisine, which often incorporates coconut milk, northern Thai food is lighter, with an often distinctive, herbal fragrance.  The nam phrik, or salsa-like dips, take precedence over curries and the only coconut-based dish of popularity is the khao soi or curried noodle soup.  Even then, the broth is much lighter than a central Thai curry.  Much of the coconut cream is diluted with soup stock.

The drawback is that Chiang Mai, being far from the ocean, lacks the seafood dishes of central Thai cooking.  Most of the meat dishes here are made of pork or chicken.

The starch of choice is sticky rice.  It is, yes, sticky and much heavier and less porous than long-grain white rice.  White rice tends to soak up sauces and gravies, marrying spectacularly with saucy dishes like green curry.  Because they are braised in water, curries in the north tend to be dryer than in central Thai cooking.

Hung Lay Curry is a classic northern Thai dish.  Yes, the name can elicit an initial giggle but, no matter what the name may sound like to English-speaking ears, it is a rich, complex-tasting pork curry which has been slow-cooked to succulence.

Recently, I was in Chiang Mai and had dinner at the restaurant in Rachamankha, a boutique hotel that recently became listed on the Relais & Chateau guide, where a unique variation of Hung Lay Curry was on the menu: one made with fish.

Unlike pork, which can stand to be braised for hours, fish needs to be cooked quickly or it will fall apart.  The result was a dish that had the flavour of traditional Hung Lay Curry but more the consistency and freshness of bouillabaisse.  It was glorious.

For reservations, please log onto www.rachamankha.com.

Hung Lay Curry

In central Thai curries, the meat is first stir-fried with curry paste and coconut milk is added at the end to make sauce. Hung Lay Curry, however, is slowly braised.  Prolonged cooking is not a good idea with coconut milk-based curries because the oil and the cream separates into a greasy mess, with a thick layer of oil on top and creamy solids burning on the bottom.

A purist will tell you Hung Lay Curry needs to be done in a clay pot on a charcoal burner so that the flavours meld and the pork becomes exquisitely soft.  A clay pot and the slow, steady heat of a charcoal burner surrounds the meat with from all sides with a constant low cooking temperature and allows the evaporating juices to drip back down and baste the dish on its own.

Traditional calls for a combination of pork belly and sirloin — fat from the belly should gradually melt and tenderise the sirloin.  However, I don’t find that this creates a uniformly tender dish.  Not only is the pork belly appallingly bad for you, the sirloin never reaches the same tenderness as the belly.  I prefer pork shoulder, which has enough fat to make the dish tender without hardening your arteries too much.

My recipe is adapted to modern, western kitchens with the use of a large, cast iron pot.  Placed in an oven at a steady temperature, it works just as well as a charcoal burner to maintain a steady, surrounding heat and requires much less effort.

Of the many recipes I’ve come across for Hung Lay Curry, many call for esoteric ingredients, from pickled garlic to fermented chilli paste and even to ketchup, which sounds awful.  Don’t try to substitute Indian curry powder for the hung lay powder.  The ingredients are different and you will end up with something that has an overwhelming taste of turmeric and chilli.

Flouring the pork before browning it is my own addition.  I find it helps the pork to caramelise.  Most traditional recipes call for marinating the meat beforehand but I find a long, slow braise of about two hours is good enough.

All of the ingredients should be available at Asian supermarkets.

Hung Lay Powder

4 tbs coriander seed
.5 tsp powdered turmeric
.5 tsp black pepper
.5 tsp cumin seed
4 cloves
.25 tsp salt

1. Roast all the ingredients in a dry frying pan until fragrant.
2. Grind in a mortar and pestle or spice grinder.

Hung Lay Curry
1 lb pork belly
1 lb pork sirloin or 2 lbs pork shoulder
.5 cup dark soy sauce
1 tbs kapi (fermented shrimp paste)
1 tbs tamarind juice
5-8 dried chillies
2 oz galangal
1 stalk of lemon grass, cut into ¼ inch slices
.5 cup flour
3 tbsp vegetable oil
1 cup (or more) water
1 head of garlic, peeled but not smashed
1 tbs hung lay powder (sometimes sold as hin lay powder)
.25 cup of shelled, peeled peanuts
2 oz fresh ginger, julienned
10 pearl onions
salt, to taste

1. Pre-heat the oven to 275F
2. Cut the pork into 2-inch cubes (If pork shoulder is available in chops, I don’t even bother with this.)
3. Blend the second set of ingredients in a bowl, set aside
4. Toss the pork in flour and brown in oil, remove from pan and set aside
5. Deglaze the pan with water, adding more water, if necessary
6. Add the pork and the second set of ingredients followed by the fifth set of ingredients (The liquid should come up no higher than halfway up the side of the meat.)
7. Bring to a boil
8. Cover and braise in an oven for two hours, turning the meat occasionally (I usually cover the pot first with a piece of baking parchment, pushing it down almost to the top of the meat before covering it with the lid.)
9. Add salt to taste, serve immediately with rice (The staple in Chiang Mai is sticky rice but this dish can also be served with white rice.)