The Greasy Spoon | Food & Culture

Hong Kong Foodie

 

Green Silver Shads outside the Peninsular Hotel, Kowloon

 

Hong Kong in the Seventies. If there was ever a natural habitat for the International Man of Mystery in his later incarnation, this has to be it. Think "The Man with the Golden Gun" (1974)- the guiltiest of all guilty pleasures: Brown Suede and Kung Fu. Golden Buddhas and Jade. Priceless Antiques (often Fake). Sam's Tailors and The Dragon Boat Bar at the Hong Kong Hilton. The Royal Hong Kong Police (Sam Browne Belts), Cathay Pacific and Suzie Wong. I last visited Hong Kong in the spring of 1997, just before the handover to Communist China, and loved the place from first landing; struck on my first day by the thrusting young tai-pans of Jardine Matheson in their all-wool, English cut bespoke suits- cool as cucumbers in the sweltering humidity of the Hollywood Road. I have no idea if they're still there, for I'm told that the former colony has now changed, some say for the better, many for the worse.

There was also a rather naff aftershave called Mandate, which, I think my Mad Man father advertised (although he consistently denies it), shamelessly championing the ersatz cause of sinful luxury, and with brilliant 70s packaging which, like sunken baths and golden dragon taps, for some reason reminds me of Hong Kong during that glittering decade: the gilt font set against simulated marbled cardboard in decadent chocolate brown.

 

The Man with the Golden Gun (1974): "A guilty pleasure if ever there was one..."

 

I suppose that alongside The American Bar at The Savoy and Harry's Bar in Venice, The Captain's Bar at The Mandarin Hotel (now Oriental) has to be one of the most famous watering holes in the world. It first opened its doors in the 1960s, and the decoration was decidedly clubby, as it more or less remains to this day: red leather banquettes, draught beer served in silver tankards, tropical palms, nautical nick nacks and chess-themed glass screens. By 1997, it had, perhaps, fallen on hard times and lost some of its former allure: I spent several evenings there, with a lonely Dry Martini as company- for it's very much a Greasy Spooner's kind of place, and the select clientele over that time numbered: Yours Truly, a Chanel-clad tart, two Alan Whicker types in double-breasted blazers, and a bowl of salted peanuts.

 

The Captain's Bar, Mandarin Hotel, Hong Kong, circa 1969

 

And it was in Hong Kong that I acquired my love of Dim Sum- those never-ending, bite-sized snacks, served from a trolley and taken as brunch; steamed and braised chicken's claws, a sweet, glutinous treat; shrimp dumplings and pan-fried turnip cake. Browsing our over-stuffed bookshelves this afternoon, I rediscovered a small hardback I had almost forgotten. It's called "A Taste for Music- Recipes from Hong Kong Kitchens", published in 1977 in aid of the Royal Hong Kong Philarmonic; one of those charitable cookbooks to which various well-heeled Society types contributed. My parents must have brought it back from one of my father's business trips. The first recipe is from a Mrs Frank Pong, and I like its utter simplicity. The second recipe is for those rather exotic looking marbled "tea eggs" and comes from Mrs Kitty Siu Hon Sum:

 

Drunken Chicken (Chicken in wine sauce, Shanghai) Recipe from Mrs Frank Pong, A Taste for Music, The Hong Kong Philarmonic Society, 1977

1 chicken, about 3 Ib

3 tbsp salt

2 cups dry sherry (or Chinese Wine)

Wash and clean the chicken. Wipe dry. Rub the inside and outside of the chicken with salt evenly. Let it stand for at least 5 hours. Place the chicken in a deep plate and steam it over a high heat for 40 minutes. Remove the chicken and let cool.

Cut chicken into six pieces. Place these in a deep bowl. Mix the drippings with the dry sherry. Pour the mixture over the chicken and cover the bowl tightly. Put it into the refrigerator for at least 12 hours.

When serving, cut into small pieces about 1/2" wide and 1" long. Serve hot or cold.

 

Tea Eggs (Recipe from Mrs Kitty Siu Hon Sum, "A Taste for Music", 1977)

12-18 eggs

3 tbsp black tea or 6 tbsp used tea leaves

2 tbsp salt

1 tbsp star anise cloves

3 tbsp soy sauce

Hard boil the eggs starting in cold water over a medium fire. Then cool the eggs in cold water for a few minutes and make cracks on the eggshells by rolling them gently on the table or a chopping board. 

Place the cracked eggs in a saucepan together with the tea, soy sauce, salt and spice and simmer for about one hour.

The eggs may be served hot or cold. The eggs should not be shelled before serving as the eggshell will keep the eggs moist. This is a good dish for picnics.  It is also an attractive hors d'oeuvre if prepared before quails' egg, in which case the eggs must be peeled before serving. In the case of the quails' eggs, it is not necessary to cook for as long a period of time and particularly gentle care must be taken when rolling the eggshell.

 

 

Stock Around The Clock

 

 

 

Good cooking, I’ve come to learn, is very much a matter of mastering simple techniques. It’s one of the reasons I’m so keen on Richard Olney’s brilliant Time Life Cookery Series. Stock making is a case in point; in my salad days I would chuck a few chicken bones, a carrot or two, onion and a sprig of parsley into a large pot of water and call it ’stock’. The finished brew (cooked on a rolling simmer for about half an hour) was okay-ish; Up to a Point Lord Copper, but lacked that certain something. Far too cloudy for a start, and slightly greasy too. Probably better than one of those over-salty factory produced stock cubes you buy in the supermarket, but definitely not one of Mr Aitch’s better efforts. Cinq Points. So back to the drawing board I went.

 

 

First stop was that culinary bible, the Larousse Gastronomique. It breaks the different types of stock down into four: White Stock, Brown Stock, Fish Stock and Vegetable Stock. To quote: 

White stock is used as liquid in white sauces and stews and for poached poultry. Brown stock is used as a liquid in brown sauces, for braising large cuts of meat and for dark stews. Fish stock is used in the preparation of special fish sauces, such as Normandie sauce, a white wine sauce or a thin white sauce to be served with fish.

 

 

Richard Olney gives a recipe for a simple chicken (ie white) stock in his excellent Good Cook’s Encyclopedia:

You place a chicken carcass into a large pot of cold water and bring it very slowly to a near boil (this might take up to an hour). Foamy scum will appear on the surface as albuminous proteins in the meat are drawn out and float to the top.

Carefully remove the scum with a ladle. Now if you allow it to boil, the turbulance, apparently, prevents the scum forming on the surface so just before the liquid starts to boil add a dash of cold water. This will bring the the temperature down, to just below the boiling point and will allow more scum to rise.

When you’ve removed all the scum and white froth, you should have a clear-ish liquid. Now is the time to add the vegetables: carrots, onions (one stuck with three cloves), a whole unpeeled head of garlic and a bouquet garni (bayleaf, thyme and fresh parsley tied in with a piece of leek and a celery stalk).

And now is the time to add salt. No pepper, notice. Richard Olney adds a relatively small amount of sea salt to the mix, as the salty taste will concentrate as the stock reduces.

Bring the stock back to the near-boil, skimming as before. You’re looking for a ‘near simmer’, so that the surface, as Richard Olney rather poetically puts it "is rippled only by a continuous gentle murmer of bubbles”. Cook for two hours, skimming off any surface fat from time to time. 

The stock is then strained off through a colander, and then strained again through a muslin cloth. 

The final stage is a cinch. Put the stock into the ‘fridge and leave it there for eight to twelve hours. You’ll end up with a lovely, very professional looking light brown jelly, with a layer of white fat on the top. Scrape this off with a spoon, and dab away the last particles of fat with a cloth. Finis.

And that’s how to make a proper, authentic, bona-fide white chicken stock. Remember- add cold water to stop it boiling, don’t add the vegetables at the beginning, go easy on the salt, and leave the finished stock in the ‘fridge for several hours. And before I forget, there’s another technique I read about in Robuchon, which funnily enough Olney doesn’t mention. When you’re bringing the stock to a near boil, place the pan to the side of the heat and let the scum form to the side of the pan. Oh, and take an afternoon off work. If you’re interested I might cover making a brown stock in a subsequent post. But that’s for another day.

 

Highland Fling: Balmoral Chicken with Whisky Sauce

 

 

 

 

Scotland in August!  Heather. Haggis. Single Malts. Stalking. Tartan. Fingal's Cave. Deep Fried Mars Bar. Midges. And here's another find to add to the list: Balmoral Chicken. Strangely- for a Scotophile, I had never come across it before, only learning about it very recently from someone I ran into at a Scottish Love In. At a Pop-Up in Darkest Vauxhall- of all places. It's a very Greasy Spoon dish.

Before I reveal the recipe, a little bit about its history. There isn't any. Or not much to speak of. Like tartan, I have strong suspicions that it's a relatively modern affair. 

 

 

Making the thing is simple enough. You take some chicken breasts and make a deep incision along the side to create a pocket, leaving a centimetre or two at each end. You then take a spoonful of Haggis, squash it into a sausage shape and stuff it into the chicken. 

The breasts are then wrapped in back bacon, seasoned with salt and pepper and brushed with melted butter, before being sealed with tin foil (much as you would do with Haggis) and cooked in a pre-heated oven at 200° C for half an hour. Ten minutes before the end, the foil is opened up to allow the bacon to crisp up.

To make the Whisky Sauce, add a generous slug of Scotch Whisky ( I would use a decent peaty Single Malt such as Laphroaig) to a hot pan. Flambé it (you'll find it goes up with quite a whoosh). Add some double cream (double rather than single, otherwise it will split). Reduce to a medium consistency and season with salt and pepper. 

To serve, slice the Balmoral Chicken across the width, arrange on the plate and pour over the Whisky Sauce.