week 46 - Fire Island - Eleanor Ford

Of the (literally) thousands of things I have cooked for the Ewing, there is only one she hasn't eaten; my beef rendang. Describing it as 'gritty' (I wasn't allowed to use her coffee grinder to grind the spices...) and 'too hot'. She actually cried. Firstly because of all the chillis and secondly as she didn't want to miss out on dinner. 

I must admit, I actually thought it was pretty good and bravely managed to eat my way through it - alongside a large glass of water - but rendang has always been a favourite of mine. I would say since the days of visiting Bali as a child (my Dad was a freight forwarder in the 80s, and worked with Garuda Airlines) but I can't say I actually remember eating it when we were there. Perhaps because it's a Sumatran dish, or perhaps because I was too busy drinking green Fanta and eating banana fritters.

While this disappointing dinner happened years ago, I've never let the Ewing forget it. Mostly by randomly bringing it up out the blue, while dramatically exclaiming that I wouldn't make it for her again while she retorted with 'well, that's hardly a threat'. Of course, I always wanted to make it again - if only to prove to my wife I could make a version she would would like (and yes, of course, because I like it too...).

Enter Fire Islands, another book I accidentally somehow bought while browsing the internet. A purchase I quickly justified at the idea of recreating the foodie memories of my youth, as the book contains familiar satay, roast pork (a Balinese speciality) and a chicken and coconut curry from Lombok - a neighbouring Indonesian island we flew to in a tiny little turbo prop which I remember for the white sands and tropical fish and getting sick and hallucinating in bed while watching a lizard climbing the wall -  that I also wanted to try.

Rendang is slightly unusual as you make it in reverse to the way you most slow-cooked stews. Here you braise the beef (something that benefits from slow cooking, like brisket or shin) in coconut milk and spices until the liquid has completely reduced and the meat begins to fry in it's own fat plus the oil from the coconut milk and the intensely flavoured sauce has become wonderfully fragrant and sticky. 

It isn't hard to make - you could even do the first part in a slow cooker or in the oven, and then finish off reducing on the hob - but you do have to watch over it for the last 20/30 minutes or so - it always takes a little longer than you think - so the meat doesn't catch and start to burn.

The slow cooking means that, if prepared properly until the sauce is very thick, the rendang will last for a week or so in the fridge. Although, I have to report, this was wolfed down greedily by both of us Despite it's richness, we could of happily finished it all in one go but I did manage to stretch it out over two nights, served with turmeric rice and tenderstem broccoli. I think I've finally redeemed myself.

Beef Rendang

Adapted from Fire Island by Eleanor Ford 

2 tins full-fat coconut milk

1kg beef brisket or shin, cut into bite-sized pieces

1 tablespoon dark palm sugar or brown sugar

2 teaspoons salt

2 lime leaves

1 lemongrass stick, trimmed, bruised and tied in a knot

1 cinnamon stick

spice paste

8 small red Asian shallots, peeled (I used one red onion)

5 large red chillies, seeded

4 garlic cloves, peeled

2.5 cm galangal, skin scrubbed (I used more ginger)

2.5 cm ginger, peeled

2.5 cm turmeric, peeled, or 1 teaspoon ground turmeric

1/4 nutmeg, grated

pinch of ground cloves

Roughly chop all the ingredients for the spice baste and whizz to a paste in a food processor or Nutribullet. Add a good splash of the coconut milk to help the blades do their work. Once smooth, transfer to a large wok or large, shallow casserole pan.

Add all the other ingredients to the wok, making sure there is enough liquid to submerge the meat – add a splash of water if needed. Bring to the boil, stirring to stop the coconut milk splitting. Lower the heat and cook at a slow-medium bubble, more lively than a simmer as the liquid needs to reduce. 

Cook uncovered for about 2 hours, stirring from time to time. The meat should be tender, most of the liquid evaporated and the oil will have separated from the coconut milk. Remove the lemongrass and cinnamon.

At this stage, the meat and spices that have been braising will start to fry in the hot oil. At this point take care than the meat doesn't start to stick and burn. For about 105 minutes, you will need to stir gently but frequently over a medium heat until the coconut oil becomes thick and brown. The stir-frying then needs to be continuous for the final 15 minutes or so, until the oil has been absorbed by the meat, which will be a dark brown.

Leave to rest (overnight if possible). Rendang keeps well in the fridge and the flavours only improve.

Pick-up sticks

It’s been a little while since we’ve had a ‘compromise lunch’  - a meal, orchestrated by me, that also involves some sort of bribe in order to secure the Ewing’s participation. As if my company wasn’t quite enough.

This time, however, there was a twist. The Ewing wanted to go to Colindale to pick up her new four season sleeping bag and a new fleece for our camping trip, and promised to take me out for lunch if I came with her. How could a girl (read quickly approaching middle-age lesbian) resist?

I was excited to discover Jakarta was in the vicinity, so after we had finished arguing over folding tables and roll-up mattresses we could celebrate with Indonesian food (they also offer Thai and Malay-influenced dishes), which is still a rarity even in a multi-cultural megatropolis like London. 

I still have a big soft spot for the country, after several trips there when I was growing up (at the time my dad was a freight forwarder who worked closely with Garuda) and several of the carvings, statues and pictures in the restaurant reminded me of things we had bought back from our holidays. Although, sadly, our suitcases weren’t big enough for a giant lizard, like the one next to our table when we sat down.

To drink we both had the Thai iced tea. I'm not sure what gives it the violent orange hue (and I'm not sure I want to) but the milky sweet and fragrant drink was the perfect refresher in the dog days of a north London summer. They also gave us a basket of prawn cracker to munch on, my wife's absolute fave, as you can see in the above pic.

From the, extraordinarily good value lunch menu - £8.50/£9.50 for three courses (an extra quid if it’s the weekend) I started with chicken satay. Now, chicken satay, or any kind of satay, is one of my desert island dishes. The first time I tried it, as a small child on a family holiday to Bali, I couldn’t believe something could taste so exotic, so delicious. Even after a memorable night in my teenage years, when a then girlfriend’s dad made satay – with an excellent peanut sauce – and played us his old 60s records, until I got horribly drunk (and then horribly sick), couldn’t put me off.

My favourite kind of satay (spoken as if I actually eat it on any kind of regular basis) are the tiny little pieces of meat that must take lots of patience, and many more splinters, to thread on to the skewers, before being grilled over charcoal.

These were far chunkier, but never the less good; succulent and a bit smoky. The sauce wasn’t up to my ex's dads, but I not sure if anything will ever compare to that. Possibly because it’s perfectly preserved in my memory, possibly because of the whole jar of peanut butter and vast amounts of beer involved.

The Ewing had the prawn tom yum, (prawns hidden beneath a raft of mushrooms), one of her favourite soups. This one had the familiar lip-puckering sour edge, coupled with a huge whack of chilli heat that built until the beads of sweat appeared on her brow and tears in her eyes. The sure signs of a successful tom yum, but slightly disconcerting for the waitress who cleared our plates away.

Roast duck was served in a gargantuan portion, the soft and yielding meat draped with burnished, sticky skin that had been glazed in kecap manis, an aromatic, sweet Indonesian soy sauce. Some token shredded cabbage and carrot bought some crunchy respite.

The deep fried lamb chops in green chilli sauce didn’t have as much sauce as I hoped, but made up for it by being absolutely delicious. This was the first deep-fried version I have encountered, and hopefully not the last; the fatty, slightly gamey meat standing up to the fierce application of heat. 

What sauce there was comprised almost entirely of green chillies - along with a token bit of garlic and tomato – meaning the Ewing was more than happy to let me eat the lion’s share. Something I was more than happy to do, tempered by a glorious mound of fragrant, slightly sticky, white rice and another scoop of egg-fried rice studded with spring onion.

Pudding was a choice of tinned lychees - bobbing ominously like eyeballs, in a perfumed syrup - and that slightly chalky vanilla ice cream you used to get at a friend's houses if you went round for tea. With a good squirt of Ice Magic, if you were really lucky. Not really my bag; the Ewing, however, was sort of lucky, as I was quite happy to let her eat mine as well, despite her, weak, protestations that she was already full.

Although I didn’t get any dessert, I did manage to pick up a new fleece of my own on our trip to Go Outdoors. Nothing quite like the thrill of some new polyester. Sensible clothing and satay, a very successful Sunday.