Out & About #987 | Marbled + Jacked Up Banana Bread, Steamed Red Bean Bun + Shrimp Farfalline in Rosé Sauce

3/22/2024

There seems to be some misconception that those that enjoy food can also eat copious amounts of it. This is not true.

I've always been equipped with a fairly small appetite. As the years go on, the capacity has diminished further, with difficulty consuming liquids and solids at once without feelings of discomfort. Hence, the traditional breakfast layouts have always perplexed me: a platter of eggs, bacon or sausage, toast, fruit, and coffee is an extravagant North American take often viewed as the equivalent of two meals.

Needless to say, there appears no need to dine out for the first meal of the day: Why relinquish hard-earned funds to be served sustenance I could cook myself with ease and in bulk? A single slice of toasted Challah from COBS Bread dressed with homemade pineapple jam and a cup of cold brew is more than sufficient to start the day.

Wrist pain has been undeniable (985) as of the past week. That said, the desire to bake is also one that cannot be stifled, simply due to physical setbacks. Braving the persistent discomfort, I powered through to re-purpose eight spotty bananas into banana bread. Two loaves could be constructed from the medium-sized fruit.

1) Marbled and Jacked-Up Banana Bread

The marble is no newcomer to the household, however my coworker's introduction to Jacked-Up marked a banana bread revolution. Additions of salted butter and rum contribute impressive complexity, boasting an entirely different unique profile from its marbled neighbour.

Remnants of the toasted, finely chopped pecans from the Carrot Pound Cake were utilized to differentiate the loaves, simultaneously bestowing an element of crunch to the alcohol-infused treat. Another aspect of note was the use of Kirkland vanilla extract in the Marble and homemade vodka-based vanilla extract in Jacked-Up, which, if you ask me, were absolutely appropriate decisions. Although less concentrated in hue, the DIYed edition was far more aromatic in comparison.

Both loaves were savoured with glee and shared with those in proximity. About four slices of each were then frozen for later enjoyment.

2) Steamed Red Bean Buns

The impromptu encounter with Bao House's Red Bean Buns had my mind whirring. In short, I hadn't been pleased with their $3.99 trio. For an establishment priding themselves in Chinese baos, the order had drawn disgrace; the buns could have been fluffier, but the filling was, without a doubt, the worst part of it all. And perhaps the average person would have sampled the texture-less monstrosity, reviewed the associated the price tag, and deemed it passable. Well, suffice to say, I cannot classify as "average" in my quest for good food.

Homemade red bean buns would constitute a two-part project that, unfortunately, would not commence until the early afternoon hours due to schedule conflicts. First up was the red bean filling. In order to speed up the process, I turned to the Instant Pot. It was neither an appliance I had ever used previously, nor was it mine to start.

Diving in head first, I'd skim Just One Cookbook's advertisement-laden recipe page instead of reading the manual. She would categorize red bean paste into two categories: tsubu-an and koshi-an, respectively referring to chunky and smooth variations as well as their applications. My heart yearned for a textured rendition, thus I adhered to the formula for tsubu-an.

The pressure cooker edition specified the following:

300 g azuki
5 cups/1200 ml water (bean-to-water ratio of 1:4)
300 g cups sugar (bean-to-sugar ratio of 1:1 - equal weight)
pinch of salt

My attempt would involve 325 g of red beans instead, for I had been keen to empty the second-last container in my inventory. Other ingredient amounts of scaled up accordingly. It wasn't until that the unwashed beans and water had been inserted and locked within the Instant Pot that I realized the omission of dried tangerine peel, 陳皮. It was a pivotal ingredient in accentuating the profile of Chinese Red Bean Soup (紅豆沙) that I wished not to exclude. Consequently, I'd run the Instant Pot on the Bean/Chili setting for an additional fifteen minutes after the prescribed twenty-five minute first round.

Often do I express hesitation towards unfamiliar tools, especially when testing new recipes. Had I been operating on the manual stovetop mode, last-minute ingredients inclusions and modifications could have been made easily, without halting the process or investing extra time. Troubleshooting assumed another tedious procedure. The recipe hadn't specified the geyser-like eruption that would unfold with the quick release button. As the first round of cooking came to a close, I flipped the knob on the lid and watched in horror as a forceful gust of red bean-tinged steam shot to the ceiling, spurting broken bean skins and yellowy droplets on the oven hood, which then cascaded onto the walls. The pressure was unstoppable. Mouth agape in shock for at least a few seconds, I quickly reached for a towel and tossed it on top of the spout. Nearly instantaneously, the towel was flung back onto the counter by the pressurized steam. Folding the cloth in half somewhat assisted in concentrating its weight, but reality was that post-steam explosion cleanup was inevitable.

The second round proceeded much smoother than the first, with shorter durations of preheating and cook time, along with a pressure release outburst prevention mechanism in place. While the beans appeared intact at first, poking at them would confirm removal of the skins from the flesh. Opting not to drain the bean liquid as the recipe had directed, I summoned my immersion blender and added in sugar and salt. When the soupy mixture proved too sweet, I streamed in a few drops of orange extract and a glutinous rice flour slurry, then used the Sauté function to finish. My first-ever pressure cooker trial yielded a loose red bean filling overwhelmed by the presence of citrus. Cooling the paste allowed it to solidify to a spreadable consistency. In the meantime, I'd prepare the dough.

Drawing inspiration from my earlier Steamed Lap Cheong Buns and a seemingly straightforward formula from Bake for Happy Kids, the dough was assembled using my new OOMOMO dough scraper and kneaded by hand for about 12 minutes.

The modified recipe would be as follows:

Ingredients:

265 ml water
25 ml oil
50 g sugar
500 g HK flour *substituted for unbleached AP
1.25 tsp baking powder
1.25 tsp yeast

Directions:

Knead + proof 1h
Shape into smooth balls
Flatten to fill with tsubuan
Place bun on baking paper
Rest for 15 mins in warm mist
Steam for 10-15 mins or until cooked

In review of our household conditions, the dough was allowed to proof for about 3 hours, as other doughs had required a similar timeframe to double in size. The round was impressively smooth and sustained indentation - an exhibit of both adequate kneading and fermentation. Aiming for the same size as Bao House for comparison purposes, about 11 portions could be formed. (Though, feedback received urged consideration of smaller portions for ease of consumption.)
Instead of resting the buns in warm mist for the second proof, I transferred them onto a Silpat-lined cookie sheet and restored them to their position in the oven - cold, of course. About three hours would pass before I could tend to them again. They had risen minimally during this time, but enough to adhere to the edges of the adjacent mound. Noticeable was the distinctive yellowy tint of unbleached AP flour, which explains the choice of "HK Flour" (bleached all-purpose) in the original recipe.

The next step was to fill the buns with my now-cooled red bean filling. Notoriously known for over-filling, a deep breath was taken in preparation. Lucky I was to learn of the bun's pliability; the dough's edges could be easily elongated and pinched to seal even the most excessive quantity of filling. In hindsight, I could have used even less.

627 g of filling remained after the experiment, a portion of which were frozen in packets of 171 g, 113 g, and 183 g.

Steaming the buns was the easiest step. The buns would be cooked in trays of four for 10-12 minutes, then allowed to cool on a wire rack before serving. Visuals were better than expected, for the surface neither shrivelled nor did the buns explode. Moreover, they appeared to filled quite uniformly, with the filling neatly lodged at the centre of each bun. Phew!

The buns themselves were quite plush, but hadn't risen to the coveted extent of fluffiness. If sealed prior to cooling, it would also exude an undesirable gummy consistency. The filling boasted my ideal viscosity, with faint shreds of red bean skin peeking through. That said, the essence of tangerine peel overwhelmed the entire composition, distracting from the bun and innately beany qualities of the filling. Should a second attempt at Steamed Buns be made, I'd look in the direction of mantou for the dough (for improved stringiness) and at least 25-30% less 陳皮 in the filling.

Alternative uses of the red bean paste include red bean soup and Anko (Salted) Butter Toast.

3) Shrimp with Farfalline in Rosé Sauce

By no means do we regularly invest in seafood or crustaceans. Firstly, the protein source is far pricier than that of chicken or pork; second is the sheer absence of iron content. With these properties in mind, they fail to meet economic and dietary objectives, thus acquisition is prohibited unless exceptionally cheap.

A bag of frozen was sighted in my freezer around the end of last week, prompting contemplation for its usage. Toowoomba had come to mind, but would likely have proven too fiery for the preferences of the household. Instead, I opted to combine the peppery composition with farfalline, a mini bow tie pasta, in a creamy rosé sauce. This would serve double - or actually, triple - duty in depleting my half-full box of pasta and partially sipped bottle of Gérard Bertrand Côte des Roses. It also offered me an opportunity to test my new container of gochukaru flakes.

The shrimp would be thawed in the fridge overnight, with any residual ice pellets rinsed away the following afternoon. They would then be marinated in a mixture of light soy, mirin, and gochukaru for about 20 minutes, similar to the Toowoomba recipe.

In a large nonstick pot, finely chopped onions would be sautéed with oil - though butter would be the superior choice - until translucent. Prior to transitioning to the next step, the pieces would be removed from the pan and placed in one of the aluminum trays from IKEA until read to use.
To form the base of the rosé sauce, salted butter and olive oil would be heated in the same nonstick pot until bubbling, at which point one clove of garlic, chopped, would be added. The garlic would serve to infuse the oil; a sprinkle of paprika was also added for a further dose of fragrance. Next, the shrimp would be seared until colour change was achieved on both sides. As soon as the pieces began to curl, they were immediately removed from the heat to prevent further cooking.

Carrot slivers and four quartered vine tomatoes would be cooked in the infused oil on medium-high heat until the carrots had softened and tomatoes disintegrated, forming a paste. One can of chicken broth and the desired quantity of wine was used to loosen the mixture. For my purposes, I had selected a rosé wine that did not deliver enjoyment, but worked surprisingly well in contributing a sweet acidity to my concoction. The contents were brought to a boil such that the alcohol could evaporate thoroughly. Finally, a splash of heavy cream and the remaining 43 g of cream cheese left over from frosting the Carrot Pound Cake were added. The base thickened immediately without deploying a thickener or pasta water. The shrimp were reinstated for one last blast of heat, as to cook comprehensively, before the pot was removed from the stove altogether. This method would ensure doneness without overcooking the delicate protein.

The pasta dish would be served with a side of spinach and sprinkle of parsley for garnish.
Having crafted the rosé sauce from scratch, it was undeniably tastier than any storebought rendition. Using fresh tomatoes instead of tomato paste had contributed a mild acidity, meanwhile sautéed onions and fresh garlic aroma and wine a refreshing tanginess. As SK often notes, flavour is built in layers - in this case, patience and thoughtfulness.

4) Scalloped Potatoes (Spinoff)

My bag of yellow potatoes was long overdue for use. The vast majority had gone soft, making them quite difficult to peel. Nevertheless, I attempted to salvage them in a Scalloped Potato spinoff.

The root vegetable was peeled and sliced thinly, as thin as possible without a mandolin. They were then soaked in water for about two hours (though thirty to fifty minutes would likely be sufficient), drained, and salted thoroughly. Peculiarly enough, the slices became rigid after soaking and oxidized rapidly to reveal coppery edges. Any questionable and/or possibly rotten parts were discarded; the rest were arranged in a heatproof baking dish.

While scalloped potatoes emerges on the Internet as a creamy, highly indulgent dish with layers of softened onion, leek, or chive, I wanted nothing beyond a hassle-free dish that would relieve me of more steps and more dishes. A mixture of heavy cream, water, 3 eggs, about 1.5 tbsp grated Parmesan, parsley, rosemary, sage, salt and sugar was compiled and used in place of the traditional milk mixture. There would be no alternating of potato and cream, for I deduced that the liquid would travel through the layers, filling the crevices anyway. And I was correct.

The last-minute compilation would be baked at 375 F for about 50 mins, till the top emerged crispy. In hindsight, a greater amount of egg could have been used to improve structural integrity, facilitating slicing and portioning. That said, classic scalloped potatoes tend to utilize milk mixtures stabilized with bread crumbs or flour. It was also noted that majority of the flavour is often derived from herbs and cheese, though my hasty inclusion of salt, sugar, and a bouncy ball-sized knob of Parmesan succeeded in bestowing a delicious, creamy result nonetheless.
The freshness level of the potatoes, or lack thereof, was indiscernible. Pairing the half-baked-half-steamed specimen with a side of greens and rosé sauce made for a spectacularly varied and nutritionally balanced meal.

Spring has sprung, supposedly, but Mother Nature begs to differ. In-office days have proven chilly, overcast, damp, and generally dismal, prompting sugary pick-me-ups like homemade chocolate chip cookies and a variety of snacks.

That said, not all hope is lost. A new fridge was discovered upon my Tuesday morning entry. Not only was it more spacious than before, it featured two doors, each with a tiered compartment layout, and the much-needed freezer component! Also adopting a two-level layout, the addition was ideal for ice cube trays on top and ice cream/frozen treats on the bottom.

I even attempted making iced coffee, cocktail-style, making ice in a plastic cup in the absence of a lid-equipped tray and pouring a concentrated shot of UCC on top. The block was not very effective in producing iced coffee quickly, for the coffee merely sat on its surface, however it did succeed in retaining a cool, drinkable temperature. The format may arguably be better in the summer months for when one desires to keep drinks chilled for longer.

Wet snowfall would start around the 1 PM mark, making my lunchtime walk less than pleasurable. Most of my time would be spent indoors, popping in and out of the Eaton Centre running errands.

Extremely busy was the Canada Post location inside the mall's Shoppers. After queuing for ten minutes, I received the information being sought: Letter mail to the US would cost $1.30 plus tax without tracking and a whopping $30.13 with tracking. My three photocards in a plastic case inside a standard envelope would weigh in at 20 g, well under the 30 g maximum.

Estimate received, I relayed the details to the potential buyer of the aforementioned photocards and continued browsing the vicinity while in wait of a response.

My latest Miniso venture would be one garnering shock and dismay. A bespectacled, canvas tote-carrying girl was observed to knock over one of the products on the shelf. Instead of picking up and restoring the item to its rightful location, I observed, stunned, as she kicked the product underneath the shelf and proceeded to make her round about the store. Fearfully devoid of courtesy and common sense is the new generation.

Rapid affirmation of the untracked shipping cost incited a second visit to the post office. This time, I'd descend the stairs to the basement level Canada Post just south of Yonge-Dundas Square. Despite a newer and nicer facility, the outpost saw surprisingly little foot traffic. Whether this was due to the 3-floor arrangement and stairs or external climate conditions was uncertain, however.

During this visit, I also inquired about stamps, learning that:

Stamps were no longer sold in rolls, but rather sheets
Domestic stamps could be purchased individually or in packs of 10
US stamps were could be purchased individually or in sheets of 6 or 12, up to 50-100 stamps
US stamps could only be used for letter mail to the US, and not domestically
Domestic stamps could be used nationwide (1 stamp), to the US (2 stamps), or internationally (3 stamps)

A 10-pack of spring-themed stamps set be back $9.20 plus tax, meaning that each domestic stamp was now priced at 92 cents. A single US stamp would be 41% more costly at $1.30 before tax.

This particular location featured a number of noteworthy installations, ranging from a self-service packaging station at the basement level to produce refrigerators to a PC Financial ATM machine. The topmost level spanned produce, magazines, and general drugstore items, while beauty boutique and Pharmacy/Canada Post were located on the ground and basement levels respectively.

On the upper floor is even a Music Museum, showcasing records and collectibles from the Yonge Street music scene.

The day concluded with a sodden down jacket (thank you, wet snow) and downing half a bottle of Ozeki Sake.

The next office day was chillier than the last. While the sidewalks were dry instead of slick, windchill was not to be underestimated.

Braving ruthless gusts, I meandered my way towards Michael's along Richmond Street. This route ensured a tranquil trek, a stark difference from the narrow walkways and unnerving stares along Queen Street.

When the crafts store had priced chain nose pliers six dollars higher than their online product page, I grimaced in response and opted to take my business elsewhere.