Red Yeast Rice

This is another long post in coming.  Twelve days to be precise.  It took that long simply because, well, the recipe took that long.  Right after I wrote previously about my fear of fermenting raw meat, I went ahead and made some.  Heh.  My mom had given me a bag of red yeast rice or ang chao in Taiwanese and I figured might as well now or never.

I love love love the smell and taste of ang chao.  I don’t know how to describe it but it imparts a toasty fermented taste.  In Taiwan it’s usually made with pork belly or chicken but this time I am using duck breast.

At first I was afraid the end result would be tough and dry but somehow all that fermenting made the breast tender and moist.  It takes time to make this dish but I find it much better than any store-bought-ready-made-red-yeast-rice paste.  Some recipes add in ginger and sugar but I like them without.

Ingredients:

The ratio given by my Ahma (Taiwanese for grandma), who is an amazing cook, is 2 cups ang chao : 5 cups of uncooked sticky rice : 1 bottle of rice wine.  I used half the amount.  I also prefer using Taiwanese rice wine (especially Hsiao Sing) or Japanese sake simply because they taste so much better.  Actually the better rice wine used, the more fragrant and more tasty it will be.  The main precaution is to make sure the rice/sake’s alcohol’s content is not too high or the yeast would be killed.

1 cup ang chao

1/2 bottle of Taiwanese rice wine or about 350 ml

2 1/2 cup uncooked sticky rice

2 tablespoons kosher salt

1 duck breast

Potato starch

1.  Lightly crush the ang chao and soak it with the rice wine in a clean glass jar.  Leave in room temperature for a day.

2. Cook the sticky rice and let cool until lukewarm to the touch.  The trick here is to make sure the rice is less than 30°C.  The slight warmth of the rice would help with the fermentation.  Higher than that the yeast would be killed and a different kind of nasty fermenting would happen.

Mix #1 with the sticky rice thoroughly.  Place in a large bowl or jar (big enough to put the duck breast in later) and make a hole in the center.  This is so as the rice ferments, the gas can escape easier.  (Not sure how true this is but MANY housewives use this technique.)  Cover with saran wrap and poke a few holes.  Leave in room temperature for 4 days.  If the weather is incredibly hot like in Bangkok, it will take only 4 days.  By then, the rice will be making a a soft pop pop pop sound like soft drinks frizzling.  If the weather is cold, will take a week or more.

Oh, on the second or third day, it’s a good idea to stir and mix everything around evenly.  Make hole and cover.

3.  Clean and pat dry the duck breast.  Mix #2 and the salt thoroughly.  Put in duck breast.  Make sure the breast is well submerged in the red rice paste.  This time put it in the fridge for 7-10 days.  Any longer the meat will start to taste bitter.  I read that somewhere.

4. Remove duck and scrap away the bits and pieces of red rice paste.  Coat with potato starch and fry in low-medium heat until golden and crispy.  When my Ahma makes this with pork belly, she usually steams it and slices it thin to be eaten with thin shreds of ginger.  I also like to serve it with sliced cucumbers or daikon on the side.

What to do with leftover rice paste?  It can be used a few more times if more salt is added.  I’m not sure how many more times.  I’ve just put in the second batch. of meat  Let’s see how long I can stretch it………….

Oh, the paste can also be used in stir-fry’s.  Will write about that soon.  Less than 12 days, I promise.

Update May 15, 2009:

I just made the BIGGEST boo-boo!  Found out from my mom earlier that I was supposed to blanch the duck breast before soaking it in the rice paste!  Oh, well.  But I have to admit I quite like my version. 

Nem Chua Fried Rice

When I was growing up I wasn’t allowed to eat naem (แหนม) or fermented pork.  All of Mom’s Thai friends say it’s “not suitable for children.”  So I was deprived of that delicacy until I went away to college in San Francisco.  In fact, it was in the USA that I “discovered” many forbidden Thai food.  Funny that.

There is another version of naem made with baby ribs and fried crispy.  Lovely with just a plate of rice.  But my favorite is naem fried rice.  I have been told naem is easy to make but I don’t like taking risks when it comes to fermenting raw meat.  Instead for years I rely on a popular Thai brand until I moved to Paris and make friends with the patron of Oriental Kitchen.  It’s the best commercial fermented pork in my opinion.

It’s actually Vietnamese and is known as nem chua.  I find it a lot more flavorful and believe it or not, I haven’t bought my usual Thai brand since.  Even when I am now back in Bangkok.  (I keep a stash in the freezer.)

I googled around and found out that it can be eaten raw and I am not the only one crazy about it.  But being germphobic, I like to grill them first.  It also gives them a smoky flavor if grilled over charcoal, that is.

The kind of fried rice I like are those not overloaded with a gazillion ingredients.  I like it best when it’s stir-fried simply with a few main ingredients so that they complement instead of clash with each other.  For nem chua fried rice, I omitted the garlic and instead sauteed some shallots, add in the rice, give it a quick stir, push aside and add in an egg.  Mix everything together quickly and then add the grilled nem chua and chopped scallions.  Mix mix mix and season with fish sauce and pepper.  Yummy with lime and fish sauce and chili on the side.

Songkarn in Hua Hin

As the title says, we were in Hua Hin for the long Holiday.  Songkarn is the Thai new year and also the hottest time of the year.  The family decided to escape the heat by heading for the oh-no-it’s-turning-into-Pattaya beachtown Hua Hin.  We were happy to see the kids splashing happily in the water, catching all kinds of shellfish on the beach, getting tanned or sunburned, feasting on fresh seafood……………….it all seems so far away from the sad chaos in Bangkok.

Even after we received news about the “calm” in Bangkok, we didn’t feel like leaving.  But all good things must come to an end as they say.  Well, not before we make the stop at Daeng Seafood in Mahachai. Daeng has another branch but I’ve been told the original shop in Mahachai is “the one to go.”

The place was jam-packed when we arrived at 6:30 PM.  Luckily we only waited half an hour for a table of 13.  We ordered all of the special (listed in Thai above) except for one.  Unfortunately, because of Songkarn and the large crowd, Daeng ran out of many things.  Including my favorite mackerel in a sweet and salty sauce and steamed whole crabs with roe.  But we were glad they still got those jumbo shrimps baked lightly with just salt to bring out the natural sweetness.

Another thing not to be missed is the shrimp fried rice.  It’s the only place I know that uses those jumbo shrimps to fry with the rice.  Plus, I suspect, shrimp tomalley has been added.  The texture of the rice was just right – not soggy, not tough – and has absorbed the delicate flavor and smell of those creamy tomalley.  I ate two HUGE plates.

Next up was my new favorite that Daeng calls garlic squid but there is nothing garlic-y about the taste in a bad way.  The sauce was a beautiful blend of fish sauce and palm sugar with just a pleasant hint of garlic.  Yup, no bad breath afterward.

The only dish I didn’t like was the crab meat curry.  It was a little too light for me but the crabs were like everything else super fresh.

There was a huge fried sea bass, stir-fried kale and other dishes that I didn’t take pictures of.  Too busy feasting!

Kofukudo Warabi Mochi

One of my favorite dessert is mochi. Especially Japanese warabi mochi.  It’s not the typical mochi made from rice but from bracken according to this site.  I have a bag of warabi flour stashed away somewhere and when the weather turns cooler I will slave over the stove to turn out some decadent mochi.  As for now I will savour this:

It’s a gift from my Hubby’s aunt in Taiwan.  (She sure knows the way to my heart.  )  I was surprised to see them coated in cocoa powder.  They’re usually coated in soybean or red bean powder.  I was even more surprised that the cocoa was only slightly bitter.  Once I got through that full dry cocoa taste, the bite leads to a very soft pillowy cool smooth lightness.  The perfect dessert for summer, I say.

I liked it so much that I did a quick googling and found out that these warabi mochi are from Kofukudo at the Grand Formosa Regent Hotel in Taipei.  It’s a partnership between the hotel and the 100++ year old Japanese store.  (Why can’t we have this in Thailand??????)

They only keep for a day so I guess no one can blame me if I finish the whole box by myself.  Can’t let anything this good go to waste. 

Ginger Poached Pineapple

This is a recipe I adapted from the Thai magazine Food Stylist.  It’s from the pastry chef, Shannon Moeran, at The Metropolitan Hotel.  The recipe calls for smaller and younger pineapples that I can’t find anywhere.  I used the smallest one I found instead.  And the result is still decadent.  Thanks chef!

I love the way how pineapples are peeled in Thailand.  The tough green peel is thinly removed, leaving the eyes intact.  Then the eyes are removed in slanted slits, resulting in a lovely spiral of a fruit gem.

I remember the first time seeing how pineapple was peeled on American TV and was shocked.  The skin was thickly cut to remove all the eyes.  So much of the fruit wasted!  I found out later other Southeast Asian countries do the same spiral thing and pretty much elsewhere good pineapple is wasted.  Which then made me wonder how difficult is it to “spiral remove” the eyes?

Not much at all!

Ok, mine didn’t turn out perfect like what the street vendors can do but, hey, they have more practice than I do.  But it was great fun and a lot easier than I thought.

The recipe stuffs the pineapple with dry mango, tamarind and pineapple cooked until jam-like.  I stuffed mine simply with candied Chinese dates but I am thinking dried persimmons would be a better choice.  I didn’t like the tough skins of the dates.  I also adjusted the amount of sugar and water used.  The original recipe calls for “600 grams of water to 250 grams sugar to 4 baby pineapples.”  It doesn’t say how many grams those pineapples are but 250 grams is about 1 cup of sugar………..yea, I really had no idea how to figure out.  Ha. Ha. Ha.  In the end, I decided to use 3 cups sugar to 8 cups water.  Just enough to cover my non-baby-but-not-big pineapple.  I topped it off with a vanilla bean since the chef serves his with vanilla ice cream.  I am serving this as it is.  Haven’t invested in an ice cream machine, yet………….

I used my Staub for this dish because it requires two hours of baking in the oven.  I am also planning to make this again as a topping for shaved ice to be served with cold, cold, cold plum sake……….yummy!

Adapted from Food Stylist.  Recipe by Chef Shannon Moeran

1 small pineapple (mine is about 500 grams)

1 medium knob of ginger

3 cups sugar

1 vanilla bean

5 candied Chinese dates

8 cups of water

1. Peel the tough green skin of the pineapple thinly.  The pineapple is actually an interesting fruit.  The eyes grow in slanted rows all around the fruit.  Make slanted slits on the top and bottom of the eyes to remove.  This can be done individually but I find that if the eyes are removed in multiples, it makes for a prettier spiral.  Trim away the bits and pieces of the tough skin as needed.

2. Core the pineapple.  This is just about the only difficult part for me as it doesn’t work with my apple corer.  I had to use a small fruit knife to cut it all around.  Stuff it with Chinese dates and set aside.

3. Make the ginger syrup by adding the ginger and sugar to boiling water.  Slit and scrape out the seeds of the vanilla bean. Add to the syrup.  Infuse for 5 minutes. Remove from stove.

4. Put the pineapple into the syrup.  Make sure there is enough water to cover the fruit.  Top with a lid and bake in the oven for 2 hours at 120 Celsius.  The pineapple should be soft but maintains its shape.

5. Remove the pineapple and reduce the poaching liquid to a caramel consistency.  Slice the pineapple into 2 cm thick pieces or leave it whole to be cut at the serving table.  Pour caramel over pineapple.

6.  Alternatively, the fruit can also be served with the dried persimmon cooked in the poaching liquid until a thick sauce-like consistency.

Vegetable Stew

One of the most versatile dishes in this world is the Thai-Chinese Jab Chai (จับฉ่าย) or vegetable stew or soup.  I personally think this is the perfect dish to cook after Chinese New Year.  A great way to use up all the pork, chicken, duck and whatnot that played such a vital part in the celebration.  I mean, honestly, what else does one do with 9 whole chicken, 9 whole ducks, or 9 large slabs of pork belly????  Yes, a lot is given away but I like to reserve a few to make jab chai – that hodgepodge of vegetables and meat boiled together until all are soft and brown.

Jap chai is commonly found in Chinese Congee places.  It’s never on the menu of fancy Chinese or Thai places.  In fact, I have been told it’s Teochiew in origin and was created by putting all leftovers in a large pot and let simmer together until all the flavors merge into one large hearty soup. Then again, there are purists who claim jab chai must include Chinese Mustard.  I have to agree with this.  It’s the mustard greens that gives jab chai its special light bitter taste. In fact this humble stew has had it’s fair share of facelifts in the past years.  It used to be just mustard greens and pork belly.  Then there is the more elaborate version with dried shiitake, cabbage, and daikon.  Today I see jab chai made with carrots, purple cabbage, broccoli, cauliflower, spinach……..but no mustard greens.  That to me is just plain veggie stew.  No mustard green, not jab chai.

Many households have their own versions.  Some add betel leaves and fermented soy beans.  Others add tofu.  My parent-in-law’s maid adds in cilantro roots, whole black peppers and galangal.  I like chewing on the black peppers and feeling them pop in the mouth.  But the galangal is a whole different story.  It doesn’t do much for the stew except gave it a very faint citrusy smell that I just don’t think works for this dish. As for the meat, I find the more various kinds added the more flavorful the broth.

At my mom’s place, jab chai is simply made by frying a few cloves of garlic, slices of pork belly are then added and fried lightly, the radish and bitter melon are added in with enough water to cover, then mustard greens are placed on top, a few tablespoons of soy sauce is added and everthing is left to simmer until soft.  (At this point the pot may look like it’s about to burst but in a few minutes the mustards wilt and shrink.)  What makes my house’s jab chai different from others, and I have yet to see it elsewhere, is the addition of lookchin or meatballs (the springy Asian type).  And we always made it with bitter melon and a few chili.  It’s one of my favortie versions.

Lately, I have been making a different version that merges my mom’s with my parent-in-law’s.  I made it with fresh beancurd sheets, meatballs, all the veggies chez Mom, cilantro roots, garlic, whole peppers, and schechwan peppers.  The first and last are my own additions. I like the texture of beancurd sheets and the szechwan peppers give the dish an extra kick.  This is probably the best thing about jab chai.  You don’t need a recipe.  It’s one of those add-whatever-and-as-much-as-you-like dishes (as long as mustard greens are included). Plus you get to use up all those neglected things in the fridge.  Including the turkey carcass from Thanksgiving.

Happy Chinese New Year

A late post. Chinese New Year was a few days ago but I am still in a very festive mood. Not much cooking but lots of eating and eating and eating………..which is not such a bad thing if I still don’t feel so gorged from Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year and birthdays and weddings in between.

When I was growing up I like CNY best for the hong pao — red envelopes with money inside for good luck, given by adults. Now that I am not so young any more, I have become, as dictated by tradition, the giver. No complaints. Nothing delights me more than seeing my younger relatives break into large grins when I hand them the red packets. The best part is when one of them opens it right in front of your eyes and asks everyone else if they have all received the same amount. Yea, I better be fair.

Apart from the gift/money giving, there is also the spiritual side to attend to. Every year to ensure a prosperous 365 days (or more for leap years), my mom would offer all kinds of food at the temple, to deceased relatives, and to the house altar. And each year she would set up a separate table in front of the house and place all kinds of sumptuous fruits, cooked chicken, duck, pork, hard-boiled eggs, dried noodles, mushrooms, seaweed, tofu, all kinds of canned fruits, canned vegetables, steamed sweet buns, and many other Chinese sweet and savory delicacies. All for what my mother refers to as the “good brothers” or more specifically, the wandering spirits. It is believed that these relative-less spirits must be made happy and appeased or they will cause trouble for family members.

Someone once told me that once you start making offerings to the “good brothers”, you have to do it every year or “things will become catastrophic”. I am one of those people who like to scoff at superstitions but somehow I fear this one. To avoid any catastrophe, I simply just don’t make any offerings to these spirits. Even as I write this, I realize how illogical the situation is. If I don’t make them happy, they will cause trouble. And if I do and forget to do so next year, they will, literally, come back to haunt me.  Makes sense? No. But one doesn’t question tradition, do they?

But like every holiday, the best part is getting all family members together again. The laughter, the sharing, the food, the traditions (that we may or may not understand), and just being with the people we love and love us most. It’s just a time for celebration despite the bad economy. Or maybe partly because of it, we all just want to be together and count our blessings. Now I understand why Mom wants all to be happy. “Good brothers” included.

Thai Musk Melon Som Tam

I often wonder where my mother got the courage to agree to move to Thailand back in the late 70’s. Then, not many knew where or what is Thailand. Heck, even when I went back for summer vacations in Taiwan in the mid-eighties, people thought I confused Thailand for the United States of America. The two words differ by only one character in Chinese. One of my Chinese tutors even tried to correct me for a good half an hour. Fed-up, I played along until my aunt corrected him. She had to show him where the Kingdom of Thailand was on a world atlas.

So, what was it like for my mom to pack and move to a country that she had never heard of with three very young offspring? I never asked. And now? I am happy to be here. But I do remember how we had to change our palate overnight. The food was so foreign. None of the maids knew how to make Taiwanese food. My mom doesn’t cook, so, we had to eat bastardized versions of the maids’ notion of Chinese food. Basically, anything that is bland and doesn’t use fish sauce. In fact, for the longest time, fish sauce and fermented shrimp paste were banned in my house. Not because of the offensive smell but my parents were afraid they would poison us, kids with weak tummies. Plus they were never part of our diet.

Imagine my surprise one day, when Mom came home with a bag of som tam or green papaya salad. It caused such a raucous. The strong smell of fish sauce and garlic just about exploded into every corner of the house when the bag was opened. Luckily, Dad was at work. I don’t remember what happened next except that Mom seemed to enjoy it, my four-year-old brother was giggling, and I sneaked a small papaya strand. It wasn’t spicy at all (no chili was probably added) but very crunchy. Even to this day I equate som tam with crunch. We soon found out Brother was giggling because he had been sneaking strands of papaya, too.

For years, som tam had always meant those green papaya salad for me. It wasn’t until high school that I found out som tam is just a term that refers to “salads” made a particular way. And it can be made with just about any vegetable or fruit. My first non-papaya som tam was, once again, in San Francisco. It was made with chayote. My second is with carrots in Bangkok. The third one is green apples in France. And the fourth is made with kanom jeen (fermented rice noodle) at home (take out). My som tam experience is indeed limited. And the Powers that Be must have sensed that because out of nowhere I went grocery shopping in a place that I normally never went. I didn’t find many things I want but bought a few things that I didn’t come for. One of them is Taeng Thai Orn or young Thai Long Musk Melon or Cucumis Melo L. The ripe fruit is either bland or tastes like cucumber sprinkled lightly with sugar. It’s the one fruit I avoid buying. The young fruit can be pickled, eaten with spicy dips or made into salads. Yup, that’s where the som tam comes in. In fact, this has become my favorite som tam of the moment.

Taeng Thai Orn look like funky cucmbers with white streaks but are so much more deliciously crispy and crunchy. I also love their faint summery smell of the watermelon’s green rind…………………can watermelon rinds be som tam‘d?

Ingredients:

2 young Thai Musk Melons

5 cherry tomatoes

1 tablespoon toasted dried shrimps

2 tablespoon toasted peanuts

1-2 Bird’s eye chili

3 cloves small garlic

Lime juice

1/2 tablespoon palm sugar

Fish sauce

1. Cut the musk melon width-wise in 3mm slices. Then cut those slices into 3mm-size match sticks. Set aside.

2. In the mortar, add in the chili and pound lightly. Then add in the garlic and pound together lightly. Next add in the palm sugar and pound everything together again. When done add in the dried shrimps and pound them all together very lightly.

3. Cut the tomatoes in half and add in the mortar. Very lightly, mash or pound the tomatoes. Add in the musk melon. Lightly mash or mix everything together.

4. Add in the juice of half a lime and 1/2 tablespoon fish sauce. Mix everything together well and taste. Add more lime juice or fish sauce as needed. Sprinkle with the toasted peanuts and serve.

Mango Stuffed Wings

The first time I had fried stuffed chicken wings was in San Francisco at a Thai restaurant. The wings were stuffed simply with ground chicken meat, mung bean noodles, cilantro roots, pepper and garlic. But I remember it was fried so crispy that when bitten into the crunch oozed out the fragrant and savory juices inside. It burned my tongue but they were so good I had five of them. Funny I rarely see this dish in Thailand.

I have always wanted to make them again since my first try years ago but my procrastinating alter ego never got to it the opportunity never came. Until I received a box of mangoes two days ago. They were more sour than sweet and would be perfect for some kind of salsa but I stuffed them in chicken wings instead. No special reason why. The idea just came.

I first made them the same way that I had at the restaurant in SF except without the noodles. Then I got another idea to add in red curry paste. Imagine all those herbs — kaffir lime peel, galangal, lemongrass, chili, garlic — hugging the sweet and sour tangy mangoes……………heaven!

In the end I did made a sort of Asian salsa to accompany the wings. It’s almost the same kind of dressing that comes with fried fish cakes or tod mun pla (ทอดมันปลา). Except I replaced the cucumbers with mangoes and omitted the peanuts because, well, I didn’t have any at hand. Maybe next time. I’ve used up only half a mango. Many, many, many more to go.

Ingredients:

6 chicken wings

120 grams ground chicken meat

2 tablespoons red curry paste

4 kaffir lime leaves julienned finely (stems removed)

6 strips of mangoes (2″ long x 0.5″ wide)

6 toothpicks for securing the wings

1 large red chili (coarsely chopped)

1/3 cup water

3 tablespoons sugar

3 tablespoons rice vinegar

4 shallots (sliced)

3 tablespoons of mangoes cut into small cubes

1. Dressing: On high heat, boil the water, sugar and vinegar in a small pot. Taste and add more of the 3 ingredients as needed. When done set aside and let cool. Add in the shallots, chili and mango just before serving.

2. Debone the chicken wings and set aside.

3. Mix the curry paste, ground chicken meat and kaffir lime leaves together. Take a strip of mango and wrapped about a 3/4 tablespoon of the chicken mixture around it. Stuff it into the chicken wing and secure with a toothpick. Make sure it’s no more than 3/4 full. More, it’ll burst when cooked. Do the same for the rest of the wings. When done, steam them for 8-10 minutes over high heat and boiling water. Set aside and let cool slightly.

4. Take a wing and dip into the egg. Then coat with bread crumbs and fry on medium heat until golden. Remove and drain. Do the same for the rest. When done serve immediately with the mango dressing.

Green Banana & Pork Belly Curry

I’ve never had banana in curry before until now. I adapted this recipe from a previous issue of the Thai food magazine Krua (ครัว), kitchen in Thai. The recipe calls for a starchier type of banana but I couldn’t find it in the supermarket. I supposed I could beat the traffic, drive to the nearest fresh market, risk parking my car somewhere along the road (if I can find a vacant space), wade my way through the slimy wet market and grab the greenest bunch of beautiful starchy bananas. All this would take me a mere 3 hours. I supposed I could.

On top of using the wrong green bananas, I also completely forgot to buy the lemon basil that the recipe called for. Luckily, I had some sawtooth coriander in the fridge. I crossed my fingers and hoped it would work like magic as in the pumpkin curry. Curious, I took a taste while the curry was still bubbling away on the stove. There was the sweet richness of the coconut milk, the mellow spiciness from the large chili, and the faint smell of lemongrass…………………but something was missing. The curry has that rich and full taste. In fact it felt a little too thick for me. I was tempted to add something citrus-y to counterbalance that heaviness. At this point I really wondered if I might just need those lemon basil after all.

When it was done, I scooped a two spoonfuls of the banana and pork belly over a plate of hot pipping rice, drizzled it with the fragrant curry and sprinkled everything with sawtooth coriander. I sat down and took a bite of the banana and realize this is the counterbalance. The green banana was dense yet soft and custard-y with just a tiny bit of stickiness. It was also slightly tarty and had a bare hint of sourness. I can see why the lemon basil would be the perfect accompaniment. It would be the citrus-y something that I was looking for to compliment that soft heaviness. It also made me wonder what the starchier green banana would taste like. More sour? More tarty? I guess I could make that trip to the fresh market after all.

Ingredients:

Recipe adapted from the Thai magazine Krua

280 grams green starchy bananas

100 grams pork belly cut into 1″ pieces

2 1/2 cups coconut milk

1/4 cup lemon basil

5 kaffir lime leaves

Fish sauce to taste

For the curry paste:

5 large dried chili (I used the mild prik bang chang พริกบางช้าง)

12 grams sliced shallots

10 grams garlic

10 grams chopped galangal

15 grams sliced lemongrass

1 teaspoon sea salt

10 grams fermented shrimp paste (kapi กะปิ)

1. Slice the dried chili in half lengthwise, remove the seeds and soak in water until soft.

2. When making curry paste, it’s easier to pound everything into a paste if each ingredient is added one at a time. Start with the toughest ingredient to the softest. Begin with the chili and salt. The salt will act as a grinder. Pound both into a paste. Add the galangal and pound everything together into a paste. Next add in the lemongrass and pound everything into a paste. The same follows for the rest of the ingredients in this order: shallots, garlic, and kapi. When done set aside.

3. Wash the green bananas. Peel just the outer thin green layer, not the whole banana peel, to expose the soft white fibers.. Cut them into 1″ pieces instead of the thinner slices as I did in the picture. This way they won’t melt if reheated again the next day. Soak them immediately in brine or lemon water. They turn black in a split second.

4. On medium heat, put three tablespoons of oil into a pot. Add in the curry paste. Stir-fry until fragrant. Add in the pork belly. Fry until done. Add in the coconut milk. Bring to a boil and add in all the bananas. Let it come to a boil again and simmer for 10-15 minutes or until the bananas are done.  Taste and season with fish sauce.

5. Crush the kaffir lime leaves with hands and tear into small pieces. Add into curry with the lemon basil. Serve immediately.