Wednesday, January 30, 2008

Suþest off Tatarie

Sin þe tyme off mi laste poste, wher Y shared þe deliʒts off "Chai Dou Gwei", þe Marquis off Est Launcinge has ofered mi, Gareþ Peregrinius, hys patronage too wryte aboute mi travailles inne þe londes Suþest off Tatarie. Mi journeyinges wil bi writ an prynted bi Wynkyn de Wyrde atte hys moost magyckal WyrdePress: http://southeastoftartarie.wordpress.com.

Soo, gentil rederes, com rede off mi travailles!

Sunday, January 27, 2008

se cayk þe heþen in lond Est of Tartarie namen ...

Fyrst, takke se cayk of turnepe, cold as ise, an place ilke cayk withinne þe gynn off fyre þat hit mai þauen.

Next after, wyþ kichene kniʒf sharpe, sklice cayk inne pieces sclendre.

Forsoþ, whan þilke cayk preparated ys, place hit wiþ grese ouer fyre to fryen.

Eek lift hit not to leit ons otheir sie, ne allouen hit ybrent be.

Frie se cayk til-unto hit ben crisp, þan tourne hit ouer.

Nou, fful hastyli, unto se crisp cayk ffrerely poure egges twein, liʒtli ibeten.

Lik-wise, kest ishiled praines unto se cayk, an continuen foþ to frien þe mete fful welle.

Wiþ sause off fish, and wiþ peper off good colour, and wiþ salt a Jeue mai eten, finish þe mete.

Þan verrayly þou shelte habben se cayk þe heþen in lond Suþ-Est of Tartarie namen "Chai Dou Gwei."

Friday, January 11, 2008

Strange Tales

Here are two snippets that are somewhat related (as analogues) to one of the romances that I'm working on now. I tried my hand at translating the Latin, so that I could get a clearer sense of how these analogues compare to the work that I'm working on. The Latin excerpts are from a relatively dated article (written in the 1940s) and yes, in those days, articles would quote in a 'foreign' language at length without translation or even setting up the context properly, assuming that anyone bothering to read the article would be fluent in a range of languages.

From Gilles Le Muisit's Chronique et Annales, recording an event of 1337:
Miraculum autem tale fuit: rex predictus habebat plures concubinas; fuit autem inter eas una, quam rex pre aliis diligebat, que erat christinana; dictus autem rex plries precibus, minis et terroribus requisivit ut christianitatem abnegaret et legi, quam tenebat, se subderet; illa autem semper restitit et fidem christianam obsevavit. Accidit vero quod rex eam cognovit et illa, concipiens puerum, edidit masculinum; fuit autem illa creatura a latere dextro alba et a sinistro latere nigra nimis; et rex, hoc cognito et visa creatura, fecit expellere, precipiens ut nunquam compareret; mater autem per interpositas personas rogavit regem ut de infante suam posset facere voluntatem; habita autem super hoc a rege licentia, fecit illum baptizari et incontinenti post baptima nulla nigredo comparuit. Rex autem, ut audivit et vidit miraculum, citius quam potuit fecit se baptizare.

My clumsy translation:
Moreover, such a great miracle occurred: the aforementioned King had many concubines; however, it happened that one among these, whom the King esteemed above the others, was a Christian. While the King commanded with many requests, threats, terrors, and laws, which she was placed under, seeking that she give up Christianity, this concubine always stood firm and observed the Christian faith. In truth, it came to pass that the King came to know [in the Biblical sense ...] her and she conceived a child and gave birth to a boy; however, it happened that that creature was white on its right side and exceedingly dark on its left flank. When the King became aware of this and saw the creature, he disowned it, and warned that at no time should it come into his sight; however, the mother intervened and asked the King that she be allowed to make a good wish regarding the infant. During the time which the King thought over the matter, she had the child baptized and after the baptism no blackness was in sight. Meanwhile, the King, on hearing and seeing the miracle, had himself baptized as quickly as he could.

And here's another similar tale ...

Miraculum de flilio cujusdam Tarari
Eodem anno, Rex Tartarorum ab urbe Ierosolomitana expulit Sarracenos. Frater hujus Regis Tartarorem ex filia Regis Armeniæ genuit filim hispidum et pilosum; quem cum pater cremari juberet, mater sibi dari infantem petiit; quem fecit illico a presbyteris baptizari. Quo baptizato, cecidit statim tota villositas, et puer ille apparuit levis et pulcher. Quod miraculum cum pater vidisset, credidit ipse, et domus ejus tota.

Again, my translation ...
A miracle concerning the child of one of the Tartars
In the same year [supposedly 1299], the King of the Tartars expelled the Saracens from the city of Jerusalem. The brother of this King of the Tatars and the daughter of the King of Armenia gave birth to a hairy and shaggy son; who the father, on seeing it, commanded it to be burnt, but the mother herself begged to dedicate the child, and immediately brought it to a priest to be baptized. Being baptized, all the tufts of hair immediately fell from the child, and that boy appeared smooth and beautiful. As soon as the father saw this miracle, he himself believed, and so did all their household.

With all that recent food blogging, I figured I had to raise the cultural dignity of this blog by a teeny bit. I guess miracles of translation fit the bill ...

Thursday, January 10, 2008

Level Zero - 1/10/2002

I am a vegetable. Turning toward the sun hurts my eyes cause I'm so used to looking inside myself. I wonder about the properties of liquid nitrogen when desiring that my kin are preserved in something more exotic than salt water - I am a vegetable.

I am a mother seal. Looking for her pup to suckle. I swim in the salt seawater with the mackeral and fast silver fish. I open my mouth as a dish to net what I'll serve upon a plate for dinner. I am a mother seal.

I am a CD case - I was misplaced by the Grandfather who felt his children's children were being cheeky and were ignoring him. He chucked me behind the old Peranakan style wardrobe with the awful hard brown carvings. They've searched all over for me, but dare not go near Gong Gong's dangerous wardrobe with its jewel eyed monsters making strange procession over frame and handle. I am a CD case.

I am the dance. When music runs about the heels and turns still beings into motion mills, I plan and strategise the next surmise of movement. When I come down, the ladies frown a curtsy and the men hurry to meet me. The names used to greet me - Fadango, Salsa, Ballet, Jazz - I come to own, muscle and bone become fluid with me. I am the dance.

I am the sound of squishy toes. After they ran through the garden mud on the pretext of hosing down their feet, they decided to linger on the garden swing, fleecing time with rhythmic ups and downs. Toes mingled with mud, playing footsie with other toes. I am the sound of squishy toes.

I am the baby made. After passion and naked tenderness, what is left? I am the baby made.

I am the photo frame that was given. I was first given as a gaudy sea shelled gift on a birthday as remote as the exotic exoskeletons that line my border. Through a succession of "Oh No"s and "It's horrible"s, I passed from birth to death, from wedding to anniversary, from the altar to the garage heap. I am the photo frame that was given.

I am the word that was written. Before I appeared in blue black or multicoloured ink, perhaps I lingered at the corner of his mind. Perhaps I snickered when I danced away as he grappled furiously to pin me down. I gaffawed as when stars burst as his typing fingers failed to stroke me into existence. I skipped like pebbles dancing upon the wave lined surf. Then, sank onto the page. I am the word that was written.

Friday, January 04, 2008

Shoulder to Shoulder

So -- with John here for just a few more days, I couldn't resist the opportunity to cook more meat. A recent entry in the NYT column "The Minimalist" showed how easy it is to roast a whole shoulder of pork. So that's what we set out to do.

The first problem was finding a whole shoulder of pork. I did locate one but it was the day before we'd decided to commence with the roasting. So I let that go. And by the next day, we weren't able to locate a whole shoulder at the two supermarts that we got to. We ended up picking out a portion of shoulder that still had a substantial amount of bone in it and some skin on top. It ended up being a fortunate thing -- the cut we got was about 6 and a half pounds, substantially smaller than the original shoulder I located and we're still eating it after three days. The shoulder was actually amazingly affordable -- at a dollar a pound, it only cost us $6.50!

So -- the seasoning. We pureed half a large white onion and a red pepper. And just threw in some garlic, five-spice powder, salt and pepper, smeared it all over the meat, and just left the roast in the oven set at 300 F and let the low heat work its magic.


So the shoulder goes in at 3.10 pm.













And here's what it looks like after two hours. We took it out for its first watering and turning over.










And at about 6.15, we take it out again for another turn and watering. It's getting nice and brown now.












The final deal. We take it out at about 8 pm and let it rest a bit before slicing into it. The caramelized colors are just wonderful to look at.










We cut into it and serve it up with roasting new potatoes and carrots.

John and I ate significant portions (with snow chilled bottles of Heineken).

Edna, of course, didn't touch any of it, and ate fish sticks instead.

Tuesday, January 01, 2008

Sinfully Singaporean

This blog has seen just about everything: the blues, attempts at literary and cultural criticism, frustrated rants, ecstatic verbal experiments, nasty comments, and even ruder rebuttals, flurries of readership, no readership, strange ideas, funky pictures, and even songs about dogs. But nothing will prepare you for what is about to be unveiled.

Since John is visiting from Chapel Hill, where he hasn't had much of an opportunity to eat Singaporean food (and faces half a year more of meal-plan fare when he goes back), I became obsessed with the idea that we should make something sinfully Singaporean. While he's been here, we've done Hainanese Chicken Rice, regular Chinese stir fry stuff, Assam fish curry, herbal chicken soup, and a range of different noodles .... So it only seemed natural that we cook the ultimate male-Singaporean fantasy: Kong Bak Pau.

The run up to the Kong Bak Pau. Under Edna's directions (and a phone call home to her mom), I decided to stew the thing overnight. So the Kong Bak project became strangely tied into the Bak Kut Teh he had the night before. I cooked both simultaneously, but the photos really concentrate on the Kong Bak.

The Bak Kut Teh:
Easy and yumy. Just tossed in lots of garlic with the packaged mixes and spare ribs. We tossed in chicken (for Edna, who was thoroughly disgusted with all the pork being processed for consumption ...)and some taupok squares. We managed to find Yu Teow (which were packaged as "chinese doughnuts") at the Oriental Mart and though they were a little dense, they worked nicely with the Bak Kut Teh.









The Kong Bak.
So, the pictures pretty much speak for themselves. I had a great time cooking it, especially grossing everyone out with how much fat there is on belly pork. I managed to hew away quite chunk, and also scooped away lots of fat that coagulated on the stew. The seasoning was easy -- some dark soy sauce, cloves of garlic, two cinnamon sticks, and a splash of five-space powder. And the thing just stewed ...



















Preparing the sum jium bak. And soaking the dried mushrooms.
Sourdough swooning over the possibilities ...










The Kong Bak after several hours of stewing and refrigeration. The white stuff is all coagulated lard that needed scooping up. I think it looks like Chai Dao Kway.













Scraping away yet more fat. John getting ready to dig in -- or is it really a look of apprehension and fear of clogged arteries? Kong Bak Pau!

Songs from the Sourdough

Here's another installment of "Songs from the Sourdough". Listen to it and you'll get a pretty good idea of the kinds of mischief Sourdough gets up to daily.

Rusty Tongue

My dog's got a rusty tongue
My dog's got a rusty tongue
My dog's got a rusty tongue
She's gone and licked up all
The strings of my guitar
My dog's got a rusty tongue

My dog's got a salty mouth
My dog's got a salty mouth
My dog's got a salty mouth
She's gone and eaten all
The cheese from the store
My dog's got a salty mouth

My dog's got crunchy teeth
My dog's got crunchy teeth
My dog's got crunchy teeth
She's gone and chewed up all
The dried and frozen leaves
My dog's got crunchy teeth

My dog's got a cold wet snout
My dog's got a cold wet snout
My dog's got a cold wet snout
Into snow she's burrowed deep
With her hands and feet
My dog's got a cold wet snout

My dog's got a stinky nose
My dog's got a stinky nose
My dog's got a stinky nose
She's gone and sniffed up all
The socks left in their shoes
My dog's got a stinky nose

My dog's got furry paws
My dog's got furry paws
My dog's got furry paws
She's gone and hoovered all
The dirt from the carpet floor
My dog's got furry paws

My dog's got a wriggly butt
My dog's got a wriggly butt
My dog's got a wriggly butt
When she tries to dance
She bounces on her bum
My dog's got a wriggly butt

My dog's got tired eyes
My dog's got tired eyes
My dog's got tired eyes
She's gone and read up all
The books of medieval lore
My dog's got tired eyes

My dog's got real bored ears
My dog's got real bored ears
My dog's got real bored ears
All she ever hears
Are tunes from this guitar
My dog's got real bored ears

My dog's got a rusty tongue
My dog's got a rusty tongue
My dog's got a rusty tongue
She's gone and licked up all
The strings of my guitar
My dog's got a rusty tongue