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Truly Awesome: Moist Banana Bread Recipe

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See those dark purple strands?  That is what I look for in a banana bread.  Sometimes, the most difficult desserts to find are the simplest ones.  Yes there are banana breads around but many of them are too complicated for my taste.  They’re either glazed, have fruit, nuts (or all of the above), some reek of too much nutmeg while others are simple dry and uneventful.

moist banana bread recipe 1

It was my first time to make my own banana bread in the kitchen and can I say, I think I got lucky with the recipe!  I took this photo when I pulled the pan out of the oven.  I just couldn’t wait.  After letting it set overnight, the banana bread now cuts into neat, moist slices.  Best of all, I could have sworn, the bread darkened a tad  bit (no kidding), which is just the way I imagined it to look from the start  🙂

Liz , here’s the recipe!  Let me know how it goes 🙂 Read More

What Is Okonomiyaki? | From The Kitchen

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After a trip to Kyoto, we discovered the wonders of okonomiyaki and searched for places that served it in Manila. Unfortunately, I didn’t have the time to scout around as we had to leave for Singapore as soon as we arrived so I thought I’d continue the search here instead.  The okonomiyaki is pretty much a Japanese pizza / pancake made mostly of vegetables.  It’s tasty, packed with flavors and, if done right, should make for a fairly healthy dish 🙂

I wanted to relive that our Kyoto trip by replicating the meal in my own kitchen and am quite fortunate that all Singapore groceries I’ve been to have an impressive selection of both Asian and Western ingredients.

OKONOMIYAKI RECIPE

1. In a bowl, mix 1 c. flour, 1 egg, 1/4 c.  dashi and 1/2 c water.  Mix into a smooth, semi-runny batter. Set aside.

2. While places can stuff the patties with scallops, beef, shrimp and other yummy things, I chose to keep it lean.  For this recipe, I used only minced chicken.  Marinade the meat in some homemade teriyaki sauce, adjusting the sauce with more ginger for a sharper taste.

3. Finely chop fresh cabbage, leeks then add into the batter along with 4 tbsp of *tempura crumbs.  Again, I didn’t measure but placed enough cabbage to turn the batter into a heavy but loose pancake-like batter.

My proportions of leeks to cabbage would be 2:3 approximately.

*I forgot to buy tempura crumbs and made my own by sprinkling some batter in very hot oil.

4. Heat a large, non-stick pan then adjust to medium fire. Cook the seasoned chicken for a minute then pour batter over it to form into a pancake. When bottom sets, use a spatula and flip. I didn’t have a standard spatula so I improvised by using a large butter knife and a flat slotted spoon 🙁

Adjust to low fire. Keep flipping the okonomiyaki until the sides brown.

5. Turn the fire off then slather with tonkatsu sauce (Bulldog brand) using a brush and top with Japanese mayonnaise.  Note that it’s crucial that one uses the Japanese kind to achieve the right flavor.  And yes, it tastes different.

Top with katsuboshi flakes (bonito flakes) and shredded seaweed.

Slice like a pizza, put onto your plate and enjoy.

Itadakimasu!

🙂

Okonomiyaki

(Reposted from my old blog: isuperlovelife.blogspot.com)

From The Kitchen: Scallops In Lemon Butter

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This is something I prepared for the first time a few months ago.  I keep forgetting to cook this again! I’ve been craving for a seafood-based dish to make lately so I thought I’d post this on the blog to remind myself to make it again soon.  For those looking for a simple but tasty homemade meal to make for mom this weekend, here’s something you can add to your special menu.

Best of all, it’s fuss-free and  shouldn’t take more than 15 minutes to prepare 🙂  I’m sorry if there are no measurements but I really don’t measure most of the time when it comes to cooking.

Happy Mother’s Day to all the moms out there —- and  warm greetings go out to anyone and everyone who nourishes another living being 🙂

SCALLOPS IN LEMON BUTTER RECIPE

fresh/frozen scallop, thawed

coarse breadcrumbs

sunflower oil

butter

small wedge of lemon

vermouth

salt and pepper

dash of paprika

finely chopped parsley

1.  In a pan, combine butter and sunflower oil.  Coat the scallops with breadcrumbs and fry each side, not more than 2 minutes each side over medium-high heat.

2.  Sprinkle a dash of paprika while cooking.

3.  When cooked, remove from heat and set aside on a dish. Using the same pan, adjust gradually with more butter to make a bit of a sauce, simmer with vermouth, and squeeze out the juice of the lemon. Add some of the parsley and turn off the heat.

4.  Adjust with a sprinkling of salt and pepper and scoop the liquid over the cooked scallops.

5.  Garnish with a bit more of the chopped parsley then serve immediately

🙂

The Angst Of A Relatively Angstless Artist

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filipiniana drawing 2b

How long has it been since I’ve made my last, legit and framed commissioned work? It should be around 5 years, thereabouts.  Every time I bump into old friends from the industry, I get asked how my art is doing.  I usually respond with a stiff grin or by stuffing my mouth with a bit more food while darting my eyes in all directions if only to avoid answering the question.

I’ve been in a real, deep creative slump for the last couple of years.  And it’s such an awful place to be.  I have been highly prolific in the kitchen, though.  But my paints have dried up, my brushes have stiffened and my sketchbooks have gathered dust.

I began my art career when I moved to Baguio in 2002 — a mountainous region in the Philippines somewhere up north.  It is cold, it gets foggy and at certain points of the year, it drops to 7 C.  Not bad for a tropical country.  Life was simple, time moved slow and I began to paint.

The art teacher in the  school I taught in took a liking to what I thought were mere doodles:  my work

“Really?”, I said.

I can’t even remember how and why she saw my work.  But it was because of her constant prodding plus the relentless encouragement from her husband (a great percussionist, I must add!) and my colorful flatmate (another creative soul in my life).  Shortly after, I had my first ever art show in 2003.

Later on, I got thrust into the different art circles of the city as I went back to the concrete jungle of Manila.   Somehow, I got lost in the hype of press releases, the need for a detailed CV and the pressure to fit in.

At the core, I never felt that I really belonged in any of the circles.

My work is not profound — and I doubt it ever will be.  It will not spawn an analysis worthy of an analytical essay.  It’s not even something that will make you ask, “Hmmm, what were the artist’s intentions behind the painting?”

 

Me? I looked outside the window and I saw mountains.  So I drew just that while listening to the soundtrack of “Rent”.  🙂

My drawing — it is what it is.  Eventually, because of my style and choice of colors, my work got boxed in.  Then, I, too, felt boxed in.  And that is never a good thing for any artist I know.

Over time, I got different kinds of feedback — what to do, where to study, who to talk to, how to compute the value of my work per square inch, and which editor to approach.

Really, all I wanted was to draw.

I simply got overwhelmed with too many instructions around that it led me to stop altogether.

However, I do have a friend who happens to be a successful gallery owner who carries Sotheby pieces and auctions paintings worthy of royalty across the globe.  Somehow, he has never given up on the thought that I will (and should) paint once again.   He has taught me that one valuable thing that I still carry with me today:

“Please don’t study art anymore.  If you do, your authentic style could disappear.  You already have something that makes you different, and that is sincerity.  Your sincerity, the imperfection — that is your art.”  

His first question every time we meet is,  “When are we having your show?”.   He’s probably been asking me that question since 2004, and I’ve produced nothing more than a lopsided grin.  “You have too many excuses”, he would joke (but I know he really wasn’t completely joking).

I set up this blog early March with hopes of posting brain farts about art and food.  What I didn’t expect was that my work will actually be recognized by strangers across the world.  I put up my old paintings in the posts as a reminder to myself of what I was able to do, hoping that it will motivate me to pick up from where I left off.

It’s been a month since and with the support of some friends from the blogosphere,  I can already tick off two of my blogging goals:  to blog from the heart and to draw inspiration from like-minded people.

I believe now is finally a good time to pick up the brush… and start drawing all over again.

🙂

Kaiho Sushi Restaurant — A Japanese Chef’s Best Kept Secret

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Tucked amidst a cluster of old buildings in a driveway off the Orchard area is a building called Cuppage Plaza — home to one of the best but low-key jewels of Singapore: Kaiho Sushi Restaurant. The building houses a number of karaoke/KTV bars and has that stuck-in-time air to the place.  However, let not the facade nor the ambiance get in the way of plates of thick slabs of melt-in-your-mouth sashimi.

Marbled and buttery salmon sashimi. Oh wow.

My husband discovered this place  when I gave him a challenge to research and find very, VERY good sushi.  Singapore has a lot of them, actually but I can be extremely picky with the texture, taste and freshness of my raw fish.  Stumbling upon Kaiho has been the best find we’ve had thus far, thanks to Chef Bernard’s welcoming countenance and sought-after skill.  And one of our must-haves would be a plate (or two!) of this…

Soft-shell crab maki

and this:

Spicy tuna maki

delectable maki with torched mayonaise stuffed with soft-shell crab and thick chunks of fresh tuna.

Ebi (shrimp) tempura — yes, MORE tempura this side of the world!

There is nothing fancy about this place, really.  In fact, it could look like any aged sushi bar in Tokyo.  The only things  missing are the low ceiling, the hazy lighting from cigarette smoke and men in black suits.  Nonetheless, three chefs have gone to Kaiho upon our recommendation (and left in a totally dreamy state!) — one of them happens to be the humble but lauded executive chef of a US-based celebrity restaurant.

Nigiri sushi

My husband’s favorite is the juicy but fatty otoro (supreme tuna belly):

This piece deserves its own pedestal: otoro sashimi

I don’t think the photo above needs much explanation, no?

Just look at that.

Too bad all we have for this post are iPhone pics 🙁

Chef Bernard is one generous sushi chef who does not scrimp on portions.   I’ve had sashimi in supposedly reputable restaurants that serve disappointingly scant pieces, or barely there slivers.

Also, what I like best about Kaiho is the taste of their hamachi (yellow tail/amberjack) which I typically don’t order in average restaurants as it could have that overly fishy taste you don’t want in your sashimi.

Another thing: what we would pay $70/head for in less-that-stellar restos, Kaiho can give even more for a starting price of $40/head.

If there is one this that Kaiho and all the Japanese restaurants in Cuppage can boast of, it’s the fact that it’s  where Japanese chefs of Singapore dine after work!

That in itself, I think, is the best affirmation any food establishment can hope for and definitely speaks volumes about the culinary treasures of Kaiho.

Note that the place is small so calling in for reservations might be wise: 6738 1315.   Kaiho Sushi Restaurant is located at 5 Koek Road, Cuppage Plaza, #03-01/02, Singapore 228796.

Itadakimasu! (Let’s eat!)

The Amazing Grace Of My Amazing Race In Tokyo

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A couple of years back, I boarded a plane alone for a business trip.No mom to fill out my disembarkation forms, no friend to lead the way to the gates.It was more stressful for mom, who thought her daughter to be clueless with a whacked sense of direction. It peeves her that I get lost around the malls of Glorietta and Megamall. What more when her daughter flies off to a country where she had no contact person, where the average Philippine mobile phones won’t work and a place that barely speaks English — like Japan?
Mom said it felt like sending me off to my first day at kindergarten all over again.

I was surprised that all throughout the plane ride, I didn’t have anxiety attacks as I did as child. I was completely calm. I was at peace with my purpose and actions. As I arrived Narita airport, a floodgate of memories were rammed open. It was my third time to step into Japan —but the first time as an adult.

Alone.

Initially, I was frightened and overwhelmed by the idea of going all by myself for an ocular of a high-end design trade fair. But when my visa was granted on a last minute application in just two days, I knew I was meant to leave. I must admit I had my pre-conceived realities of the culture in the land of the rising sun being very serious, formal and rather impersonal.But as I made that decision to leave, all I had aside from my check-in luggage and my laptop was a staunch heart filled with nothing but courage. I chose to challenge my wits, for the global success of our company and the team players who rally behind each other. That saying, “No guts, no glory” and the theme of Rocky IV snowy-mountain scene were playing in my head all throughout my flight.


Going to the venue of the trade fair was a sight to behold — it looked like a gargantuan space ship that landed by the bay of Tokyo. The three-minute windy and chilly walk to the fair was accompanied by a brisk sea of black-suited men and women. It was overwhelming, I kid you not. Filled with exhibitors from across the planet, it was slightly intimidating at first as I saw names like Minotti, Disney, and other big names in the design industry. After I let that feeling pass, I felt honored to relish in the presence of fantastic and leading talents from all over. It was inspiring.It was amazing.

It took me two days to finish going through all 600 booths. I was left with one and a half days to trot around the city. And gallop at full speed I did.

My hotel was located at the border of Tokyo — meaning it was far from the action of the city. The next hurdle for me to overcome was riding the subway and the monorail. Now see, the only form of commute I do here, aside from driving my own car in Manila, is riding cabs which take me directly where I want to go.

The concierge handed me two maps — a city map and a subway map. The latterlooked like psychedelic noodles printed onto a sheet of paper. The city is mounted on an underground system of moving carriages. My vision blurred for a split-second with all the colors and the symbols and numbers suddenly fusing together. I was terrified all over again. The concierge, Sato and Tanaka, whom I spoke with over the phone, made me a step-by-step instruction and an itinerary to boot ready the next day.

 

The morning I was supposed to board my first subway by myself, I procrastinated. I sat on the bench for a good thirty minutes just watching the people hurriedly go in and out of the underground cars.


Finally, I got tired of delaying so I just ran right in before the doors closed behind me. Let me tell you this — I never had so much fun by myself in such a long time. It was so easy to follow the maps as the color of the lines on the map matched the colors of the actual signs of the stations. It was a no-brainer even for a greenhorn traveler such as myself. What I also got from the rides of my life was the chance to encounter many people in the process of getting lost.

100% of all the people I asked:
1. stopped what they were doing to listen to me talk in English
2. gave me instructions in Japanese plus lots of body language, and
3. changed their minds and said, “Ah! Come. I take you there!.”
It was totally unexpected.

I always thought they would be annoyed at some foreigner getting lost and interrupting their routine and harried pace. But I loved the fact that they smiled when I approached them as I said, “Sumimasen (Excuse me)”. As they gave me directions, they looked actually happy to have a surprise conversation — from well-dressed businessmenreading the daily, to subway attendants signaling the train to leave, to policemen watching the people on the streets, to drugstore clerks, to old ladies punching in for a ticket and to students listening to their mp3’s. Most of the people I talked to folded their cell phones or laptops, left their own ticket queues and walked me to the right train platforms. And I must tell you, it isn’t a near walk.

Even elderly ladies who couldn’t speak English happily showed me how to work the ticket machines and showed me which buttons to press. I also encountered other foreigners who calmly explained whether I was on or off track. I came across this young family whose son took over the conversation and gave me very detailed instructions how to get to the Yurikamone station. His parents beamed at him.

Once during the trade fair, I set out on a dare to myself to point to a restaurant at random on a map and see if I could find my way. Needless to say, after people signaled they couldn’t understand me, or didn’t know the resto, I got lost and was way off track. I found myself in a rather deserted corridor that led to a taxi and bus stand. No diners in that area. Mind you, eating in Japan could be a surprise unto itself because I couldn’t fully understand what my meal was about.. I never perfectly knew what to expect because pictures weren’t always available

At that point, my feet were aching mad in my high heels. I wanted to call it quits and just go to the common areas where all the diners were. Then I saw a tall, well-dressed man (actually, they’re all well-dressed!) with his laptop trying to do wi-fi on the stairs. I took another chance, as I wearily said, “Sumimasen. Do you speak English?”Not only did Shibata speak English, he was also one of Japan’s government volunteers sent to the Philippines in 1991 to help in the Mt. Pinatubo disaster. He regularly shuttles in and out of the country to help in trade relations between our country and his. He not only gave me instructions, but he stopped doing his email, shut his laptop and brought me all the way to that resto I randomly chose.

During my trip, I also made it a point to observe universal kindness.



As an old man in tattered pants hobbled into the subway, I noticed from my peripheral that something fell off his pocket on the platform — his weathered wallet. The woman behind him saw my alarmed face through the window and saw the wallet — she picked it up and ran all the way in the subway to catch the man to hand it back and left without expecting a word.

One time I asked a middle-aged lady with her octogenarian-looking mom about the train to Ueno. She gave me some instructions strictly in Nihonggo. I gathered the meaning, and headed to where she was pointing. Then she chased after me. I realized she gave me the wrong instructions. Both mother and daughter started to give me directions at the same time in a language that sounded to me like nothing but melodies. I started to laugh at my own helplessness, as I said “Wakarimasen (I don’t understand)”. She kept repeating, “Ichi! Ichi!” I knew ichi means one, but I thought — one what?” She signaled to stay by her side. When the train doors opened, she crossed her arms to form an X and said “I-ye” which means “no.” That was when I realized she meant, “Wait for one more train”. When I boarded the train amidst the sea of exiting commuters, I saw her look around and as she spotted me, she gave a nod of approval, and an OK sign.
On a deserted station after 7 hours of racing through the streets and Asakusa temple to the glittery world of techie Akihabara, I just wanted to get home. I had no one to ask except for this lone pretty teenager who couldn’t speak English. I just said, “Train to Ariake?” She signaled that she wasn’t sure. When she saw my distress, she made a gesture to wait, as she rushed into the open doors of the sub. I saw here look at the route posted on the wall, then she looked at me to hurry inside and motioned that it was the correct car. Then she hopped out and the train doors closed and whooshed towards Ariake before I could fully say thank you.

I only had 36 hours, including 14 hours of sleeping, to cover three areas — the shrines of Asakusa, gadget wonderland of Akihabara and wacky Shibuya near Harajuku. It was no easy feat for the feet as I was billeted 45 minutes away from everything by subway and monorails and I also allocated 30 minutes of “lost” time per way.

In my total of 96 hours spent in the land of sushi and Tokyo street-fashion — I experienced a tremendous level of hospitality and warmth not commonly known to many, from people whose names I’ll never know.  Most of all, I experienced the human yearning to reach out and connect— regardless of words, regardless of language.My own, and those of others.

At this point, I felt I had stumbled upon a very, very good secret. 

Truly amazing.