Chocolate Buckwheat Granola

There is a story from my childhood my parents love to retell over and over again. I don't mind hearing it, I always end up laughing at my childish behaviours anyway. So I used to take gymnastic classes when I was around 4-5 years old. Back then, we didn't have a car yet and it was our first winter in Canada as new immigrants from Hong Kong. You can imagine how much of an adjustment it is to go from a humid city to a place that gets walloped with snow and polar vortex and whatever the cruel Canadian winters can throw on you.

Based on my parents' account, they carried me from home to the community centre in the cold, hiking through thick snow as more of the white stuff continued to fall. They remember it was like -15 degrees, despite being bundled up in layers of clothing, it was cold enough to feel your bones hurt. When we finally made it to the gym, I refused to take my class. I didn't have a legitmate excuse, I was just being a stubborn brat and threw a tandrum, bawling when they tried to take off my puffy coat and coaxing me to go play. I relented and continued to cry. They were pissed. They didn't walk all this way in the brutal cold for nothing.

I find this story hilarious, I really was that stubborn (and still am sometimes). This year has been a harsh winter and I've been thinking about this story a lot. I was in Costa Rica for 9 days. It took me almost just as long to get over my stomach flu when I got back. But rejoice! I have my appetite again and have been eating my favourite foods again, including this granola. I eat it almost everyday with plain yogurt. It's crunchy, nutty and the addition of chocolate makes it even better.

It's full of rolled oats, buckwheat, sunflower and chia seeds, shredded coconut, and chocolate and peanut butter. I do prefer another granola I've made before, likening the sweetness. Still, this granola makes for a quick breakfast or snack and also gifts if you're the giving away type of person.

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Recipe here!

Mustard Glazed Salmon

I'm a liar. My pants are on fire. I promised to share recipes from my cookbooks, but frankly, I haven't toyed with new ideas just yet. Instead, I'm going to share some fish with you.

One of the most popular ways to cook fish in Chinese cuisine is to steam the whole thing, and pour in a sauce, or rather, a mix of heated ingredients consisting of sesame oil, soy sauce, fresh ginger and whispers of green onions. That's all. A recipe isn't even needed, my parents can cook fish this way blindfolded if they wanted to, it's intuitive, unpretentious and easy.

As my fellow Asian friends can attest, the most prized part of the fish are the cheeks. These are meatiest portions and if someone at the dinner table were to pick this for you and leave it in your rice bowl, you were obliged to say “thank you”, lest a slap on the wrist for seeming disrespectful. My parents used to save this cheeky part for me all the time, perhaps I have the answer to my undeniably round cheeks, as my friends always lovingly tease me about.


To the contrary, my favorite part of the fish is the belly. When steamed, the heat vapors seem to transform this ordinary part into meat so silky, its slippery in your mouth, as though the fish has sprung to life. Dabbed in just a touch of soy sauce, the fish tastes even sweeter and nothing completes the meal better than a bowl of long-grain rice. My parents have never been fond of the fish belly, whereas I dig in headfirst (or rather, belly-first) once the fish is set on the table. They do however, remind me that my grandpa used to love the fish belly too, which I makes me glow inside because I miss him.


This recipe is about salmon however, and though there isn't the bright kick of green onions, it's pretty darn good too. My mom has been begging me to find new ways to bake salmon, since it's something we eat once a week, and to be honest, salmon dressed with a few squirts of lemon juice can get old pretty quickly.


I tried this a few times already and knew I'd be arrested if I didn't tell you about it. It's simple and you ought to make it dinner tonight. The fish we buy is salmon steak, a beautiful slab of pearly orange meat, practically glowing in the afternoon light. It's seasoned with a dash of wine, salt and pepper, then smothered with mustard, covered with foil and baked. Meanwhile, you can prepare the rest of your meal, be it rice, pasta or salad, anything will do. In the last few minutes before the fish is done, take it out from the oven, carefully unwrap the foil, brush with honey, cover it up again and allow it to bake a few more moments.


I'll admit, I prefer how the salmon looks when it's still raw, but when it's cooked, oh my is it sensational. The mustard I used is spiked with chives and fennel, a souvenir I bought for myself in Paris (le sigh), and it's wonderful on the fish, adding a creamy flair, kind of like how pinning a flower to your hair, or topping your outfit with a fedora makes you stand out in the crowd. The brush of honey embellishes the fish with a coat of sweetness, heightening the softness of the flesh. And don't forget to wrap the salmon with foil to trap in all the moisture as it bakes, lending the fish a velvety texture throughout.

My favorite part of the dish is picking at the tail ends of the steak, you know, those unattractive narrowed ends of the salmon, lying there innocently. It's the most tender bit of the fish and I love lapping it up with the extra marinade left in a pool on the plate.

We ate the fish with some vegetables and rice, then promptly left the empty dishes behind, so we wouldn't miss this breathtaking view.

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Recipe here!

Ridiculously Rich Ricotta

Homemade ricotta is a dream. Its silky and luscious texture slicks down your tongue, leaving nothing but the richness of dairy. This morning, I spread it on toast drizzled with honey and I dare say it was the best breakfast I’ve eaten in a while.

I first tried ricotta in Montreal. This cheese is a rare find in Shanghai, where I spent most of my life growing up, and if it is sold, it’s too expensive. Montreal (sigh) was like the start of a fun musical where the velvet curtain yanks open, revealing colourful spotlights from every direction and the actors bring you to a world far far away from reality. Living there opened my eyes to so many things, including cheese (Montreal is still my Happy Place, though in the winter, there are no blinding spotlights, just freezing winters).


I don’t recall exactly when I first used ricotta, though I’m sure it was in some pasta dish, like lasagna. I also loved that subtle flavour from plain store-bought ricotta and bought it once in a while to spread on slices of baguette topped with figs or jam. It was my little indulgence.

So my mind boggled when I read Smitten Kitchen’s mad easy recipe for homemade ricotta. Anyone can make this. Even a monkey.

And then last night, I made this ridiculously rich ricotta and now my life has changed. I’m not kidding. In fact, I’m warning you that if when you make this, you will never ever want to buy commercial brand ricotta again. You will scoff at the plastic containers idly waiting for their fate in supermarkets. They're nothing--I repeat, nothing compared to homemade ricotta.


All you need to do is boil whole milk and heavy cream, add lemon juice, let it sit and do its curdling magic, then separate it in a colander lined with cheesecloth. Go do some core exercises (like I did, to uh…better prepare me for the good things to come) and after a hour or so, you will have silky cheese in your hands. I stored my cheese in the fridge and in the morning, it thickened to the consistency of cream cheese. The acidity from the lemon juice gives the ricotta a mild tang, the dairy is unbelievably refreshing, almost floral.



The ricotta is amazzzzing on bread. On carrot sticks. On cucumber slices. On raw peppers. I bet it would even be good if eaten off the floor (but it’s not recommended). Depending on what you’re feeling, try it on bread with some olive oil and balsamic vinegar or with slices of fresh peaches, I’m sure that would be divine. Whatever you eat it with, rest assured you will have a cheese so smooth, so creamy, all you can think is: Where have you been all my life?

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Recipe here!