September 24, 2009

Fried Shallots (Bonus Recipe: Shallot Oil!)



Fried shallots: crispy but delicate. Flavorful but not overwhelming. Opaque but transluscent. Like a perfect woman, beautiful and deep-fried. Or something.

These buggers are another example of Vietnamese culinary ingenuity. Use them as a condiment for anything and everything Vietnamese and, sometimes, Thai. Banh mi missing that certain something? Stick ‘em in there. Your labor-intensive Vietnamese salad bowl has no crunch? Throw these on top. Children too fussy? Toss ‘em outside and sit down on the couch and eat these straight while wearing nothing but your underwear and a shirt that says DUKAKIS ’88.

BONUS RECIPE: An inevitable byproduct of making fried shallots is…shallot oil! Use this to fry anything and everything, and it’ll imbue whatever you’re frying with a certain, as the French say, l’ fried shallot-y flavor d’awesome.

And now for an actual, genuine, 100% Voice of Experience moment. Don’t heat up the oil before you throw these guys in, or else you’ll deep-fry them to a crisp before you manage to fumble all of them out and onto the paper towels to drain. Heat up the oil with them in it.

Fried Shallots and Shallot Oil
Adapted from Mai Pham’s excellent The Best of Vietnamese & Thai Cooking.

Ingredients:
1 cup thinly sliced shallots, separated into individual rings
1 cup vegetable oil
cheesecloth (NOTE: do not eat)


I said, THINLY sliced!
Directions:
1. If you are a patient and mature person who donates to charities and doesn’t surreptitiously stare at obese people on the street, spread out the shallot rings in a monolayer on a towel and let them air-dry for 20 minutes.
2. If you are impatient and self-centered and you happen to own something you call “the pokin’ stick,” just toss the shallots into a small saucepan and pour the vegetable oil over them. If they’re not quite covered, add more oil until they are.
3. Turn the burner to medium heat. Depending on the amount of oil needed to cover the shallots, it’ll take 10-15 minutes before the oil starts to bubble slightly around the shallots, and the shallots themselves begin to crisp and float to the top.
4. Stir the shallots occasionally with a chopstick or fork to keep them from frying totally together.
5. When the shallots are golden – NOT brown – and able to keep their shape without flopping when you pick them out with the chopstick, remove them from the oil with a large fork, slotted spoon, or other oil-draining implement of choice. Drain the shallots on a bed of paper towels.
6. Once the shallots have cooled to room temperature, store them in a sealed glass container in the fridge. They’ll keep for a month.


Personally, I don’t see the point to any recipe that doesn’t involve rubber band contraptions.


7. When the oil has cooled down to room temperature (give it a good several hours), strain it through some cheesecloth and store it at room temperature in a sealed glass container.


So.  Awesome.

September 21, 2009

Phad Kee Mao



Phad Kee Mao (aka Pad Kee Mao, Pad Kee Maow, Pad Ki Mo...you get the idea!) is a Thai dish with a name that translates oddly into English: Drunken Noodle Stir-fry. The ‘drunken’ part is a bit ambiguous. I’ve found explanations for it that range from it causing drunkenness – due to the heat being quenched with lots of beer, doncha know – to it being a remedy for drunkenness – due to the, um, mystical hangover-erasing properties of rice noodles. Or something.

But enough intercultural semantics! I suggest a new name: Phad Kee AWESOME.

Phad Kee Mao (Thai Drunken Noodles)
Makes 4 servings
Estimated time: 30 minutes prep, 15 minutes cooking

Ingredients:
8 oz. Thai rice flakes (triangle-shaped noodles), or other rice noodles
2 large shallots, sliced (or 1 medium onion, sliced)
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 head broccoli, cut into florets
1 large bell pepper, sliced*
1 Serrano chili, de-seeded and minced
6 white button mushrooms, quartered
2 medium tomatoes, sliced into eighths (or two handfuls of cherry tomatoes, halved)
2 eggs
4 oz. firm tofu, drained, pressed, and diced into ½” squares
1 cup fresh Thai basil leaves
Canola or vegetable oil

Sauce:
1.5 Tbs white sugar
1.5 Tbs rice vinegar
1.5 Tbs fresh lime or lemon juice (or double the rice vinegar)
1.5 tsp sambal oelek
2 Tbs fish sauce
3 Tbs oyster sauce

Directions:
1. Soak the rice noodles in a bowl of hot water until they are flexible and bend easily if you pick one up (approximately 20 minutes). Make sure the noodles are completely covered by the water, or else they will be unpleasantly crunchy and you will bring shame on us all.
2. While the noodles are soaking, prepare the sauce by whisking together the first four ingredients until the sugar is dissolved. Then add the fish sauce, 1 Tbs at a time, until the sauce is strong but has a flavor you like. Stir in the oyster sauce last and taste again, adjusting the components as needed. I’d recommend dicing, mincing, and generally subduing all of the other ingredients, too, while waiting on the noodles.
3. Drain the noodles well in a colander, shaking to get out as much water as possible. If there’s room in your kitchen, spread them thinly out on a cutting board or kitchen towel to dry. Since you’ll be frying them later, try to let as much water evaporate off as possible, or else the little bastards will splatter all over your precious, precious skin the moment they hit the hot oil (Voice of Experience, out!).


This noodle will kill you and everyone you love if you don't
dry it before throwing it into hot oil.

4. Heat a wok or cast-iron skillet over medium-high heat and add enough oil to evenly coat the sides and bottom (1-2 Tbs worth). Once the oil is hot, throw in the shallots and give them a few tosses around the wok.
5. As soon as the shallots start to smell pleasant (NOTE: not burning-smell!), throw in the bell pepper, Serrano chili, and broccoli. Cook, stirring occasionally, for 2 minutes or until the broccoli is bright green and the bell pepper has softened somewhat. Add the garlic.
6. Add the mushrooms and cook, stirring regularly, until they have started to shrink and brown slightly (approximately 2 minutes).
7. Remove all of the ingredients from the wok, scraping the sides to get out the last bits of shallot and garlic.
8. Coat the wok with a fresh layer of oil and wait about 20 seconds until it has heated.
9. Throw in the tofu and let it brown for about 30 seconds before giving it a stir. Repeat this pause and stir several more times until the tofu is evenly cooked; try to resist the urge to stir it too often (unless it starts to burn!), or else the tofu could begin to break up.
10. Push the tofu to one side of the wok and crack the eggs into the bottom of it. Let them cook until the whites are, well, white, and then scramble them – but without mixing them with the tofu – just until they are done. Then mix them with the tofu and remove the whole mess from the wok.
11. Coat the wok again with a fresh layer of oil and wait until it is heated.
12. Breaking up the clumps of noodles with your fingers, lay them in the hot wok and let them cook, undisturbed, for 1 minute. Flip them and let them cook for another 1-2 minutes, repeating until they are as crispy or soft as you like.
13. Throw in the tomatoes and stir them around until they have softened, approximately 1 minute. Stir in the eggs and tofu.
14. While stirring, pour the sauce in and mix until everything is evenly coated.
15. Add in the cooked vegetables and mix gently until the sauce has coated them. Add the basil leaves and continue to stir for approximately 1 minute, or until the leaves are wilted and everything smells unbelievably awesome.



My wok shines with a righteous light (thank you,
Photoshop!).

16. Turn off heat, and serve.


Resources:
Visual Recipes
Mimi's Cyber Kitchen
Wikipedia
* Bell pepper is a bit controversial in Pad Kee Mao, apparently. This recipe will most likely taste like what you can get in a Thai restaurant in the U.S., as opposed to what you can get in an American restaurant in Thailand. Or something like that.
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