Anachronistic

Writing

I’m posting blogs, especially ones about food, this week. Notice I said blogs and not vlogs. I’m feeling more and more anachronistic as time goes on, as I’ve not shifted over to producing video content. I enjoy seeing the words emerge on the screen as my thoughts find their way out of my fingertips and into not only my eyes but the eyes and minds of others. I would never say the video medium is any easier as all one needs to do is watch the evolution of a popular YouTuber, and you’ll see their early awkwardness give way to a comfort that came with practice. While I could venture down that road, and I have considered it often, I’m reluctant to do so for the amount of work it would take.

When I sit down to write, there is no consideration about my environment for aesthetic reasons; lighting doesn’t matter, mic placement is irrelevant if my hair is messy or I have food in my teeth, and there are no readers that would pick up on those things. If I’m inspired while driving I can simply dictate a note on my phone and send it to myself via email for inclusion at another time. If I recorded video, people would notice the change of clothes, different times of day and night, or maybe differences in my beard and hair. So, my conclusion is that I’m essentially lazy. While grains of truth thrive in that realization, I’d say that, more to the point, I’m a control freak. You may see my mental blemishes in mistakes that get by my world-class editor (a.k.a. The Wife), but for the most part, I hope that I’m sharing a well-groomed snippet of thought.

That doesn’t change the equation that maybe I have a low readership because I won’t jump on the YouTube or TikTok trains. Then the question is, “Do you need readership?” Affirmation is a funny, stupid little creature that laps at your face to make you feel good, while rejection suggests you drag your knuckles back into the cave from whence you crawled. I tell myself I write for myself and my wife, and that’s largely true, but I also write for some mysterious person or other who hasn’t been born yet. There was a time when I explained my writing as notes to the future that went beyond a 140-character text message. Then I asked just who is it that would review a trillion hours of video to make sense of what had been recorded. My thinking was that artificial intelligence would fare better with my longer semi-coherent missives to extract an arc of who a person was than analyzing 100 videos released while a personality was trending as a viral phenomenon. I think that was wrong-headed.

Why wouldn’t an AI just dissect those trillion hours of videos by looking at location, time of day, colors, text, emotional context, number of viewers, comments, and the rest of the meta-data to build a far more in-depth image of what the average of it all might have meant to the people of the early 21st century?  So, not only am I working anachronistically, but my thinking is often stuck in archaic modalities that reflect a time of my life when I couldn’t imagine a digital future. How, then, does this pit a child born in the last ten years to the person who turns 85 in the year 2050?

Will I jump on the bandwagon of modernity? Nope, not in that regard. Writing at this point is right up there with eating, sleeping, breathing, and shitting. It’s something done because it sustains life. As I write that, I can’t help but think that this very act is like some excretory process where words drop out of my mind like so many turds from my bunghole. Maybe hitting publish is my way of wiping myself clean after making these messes.

Burmese Malay Noodles

Burmese Malay Noodles

No food challenge here; this is pure comfort. Malay noodles are a savory dish I’ve neglected for years but recently bought the noodles for it, so Caroline and I could get reacquainted. The same goes for Dan Dan Noodles which I’ll be posting about shortly. The key ingredient to making a satisfying version of Malay noodles is to start with the correct rice noodles. The sliced version on the left is almost 1-inch wide while the sheet of noodles on the right can be used but must be sliced first. To slice the sheet it is best to leave them in the plastic wrapper and press firmly with a knife through the plastic to cut 1-inch wide strips.

Burmese Malay Noodles

Before you attempt to peel apart the noodles you must microwave them first, otherwise, they will break. Leave the noodles in the bag and microwave for 1 – 2 minutes depending on your particular oven. Once the noodles are hot and they do get pretty hot to the touch, pull them apart so you have a bowl of noodles that look like this.

Burmese Malay Noodles

Ingredients:

  • 2 – 3 Tbsp oil of your choice, such as peanut, canola, or avocado
  • 1/4 C. Chopped onion
  • 2 – 3 ounces of sliced chicken
  • Chicken stock powder – you could use MSG instead if you were so inclined
  • 3 – 4 Shrimps
  • 1 Egg
  • Rice noodles
  • 1/2 Tsp Sugar
  • 1/4 Tsp Salt
  • Sweet soy sauce or Kecap Manis
  • Beansprouts
  • Sliced green onion
  • Sesame oil

Preparation:

Add oil to hot wok. Stir in onion, sliced chicken, and a 1/2 teaspoon of chicken stock powder in a very hot wok at the highest temperature you can set. Cook until the onion starts to become transparent and the chicken has lost all pinkness. Now add the shrimp and a scrambled egg, stir fry until egg is cooked and well distributed. Add the warmed noodles, sugar, and salt. You may need another small dash of chicken stock powder, use your judgment. Drizzle about a teaspoon of sweet soy sauce over the noodles, continuing to stir the noodles for about 30 seconds. Add a small handful of bean sprouts and a pinch of green onions, you are now 30 seconds away from this dish being finished. Top it off with a small splash of sesame oil and serve it up. Don’t forget that sesame oil is very pungent and a little goes a long way.

Burmese Spinach and Fermented Bamboo Shoots

Burmese Spinach and Fermented Bamboo Shoots

The chemistry of food remains a mystery to me 57 years after I started eating the stuff. If someone asked, “Would you like some spinach fried with some fermented bamboo shoots and a splash of vinegar?” I might not be opposed but I’d also not have high expectations of what I was about to try. If I were in the kitchen while this was being prepared I’d unequivocally voice my opposition to the idea of ever trying it.

Burmese Spinach and Fermented Bamboo Shoots

The central ingredient in this dish is Preserved Bamboo Shoots which can also be labeled Bamboo Shoots in Chili Oil. I’ve never been to a Chinese store that doesn’t carry them so look around. Of the three or four brands we’ve tried, we’ve never been disappointed. So what was alluding to about being in the kitchen when this dish is being prepared and then taking a pass? There’s a symbiotic relationship that develops during the very last step of preparing this and that is when you add the cider vinegar it seems to combine with something in the preserved bamboo shoots that creates something that smells akin to old urine to me; strongly of steaming hot stale urine. But DON’T let that deter you as again as I said in the blog post about Laphet Thoke regarding smoked shrimp and fish sauce, get past the initial smell (it dissipates quickly) and try this dish, you won’t be disappointed.

Burmese Spinach and Fermented Bamboo Shoots

By now I’ll assume I no longer need to tell the reader to pair the dish with rice.

Ingredients:

  • 1 – 3 Tbsp oil (Little Rangoon used paprika oil which was made by heating the oil with a good amount of paprika, this was for coloring)
  • 2 heaping tablespoons of bamboo shoots (I use half the jar per portion as I don’t usually know when the next time will be that I make this dish)
  • Spinach – remember that spinach cooks down a lot so portion accordingly
  • 1/2 to 1 Tsp of brown sugar
  • 1 – 2 Tbsp cider vinegar
  • Salt

Preparation:

Heat wok until hot, add oil. Stir in the bamboo shoots but be careful as they splatter a LOT. Once they are hot add the spinach and enjoy the relief from the angry oil. Add the sugar and a little salt. When spinach is about half wilted add the vinegar and continue to stir fry until spinach is at desired doneness.

Seriously, do not fret about the funky smell, maybe it’ll smell different to you. I just wanted you to be prepared should it happen and you started panicking if the bamboo shoots you bought were somehow bad, now you know. This is one of those dishes that at first glance seem too simple to be amazing but I’d undersell it if I didn’t try to convince you of how great a dish this really is. Not only that, it’s simple and very fast to prepare.

Burmese Fermented Green Tea Salad – Laphet Thoke

Burmese Fermented Green Tea Salad - Laphet Thoke

Like the title says, this is Burmese fermented green tea which is the basis for making one of the most amazing salads, also known as Laphet Thoke. Prior to trying this for the first time at Little Rangoon in Scottsdale, Arizona, I’d read about it, but the closest place to give it a try was a restaurant in El Monte, California, that had mixed reviews and it closed before we could visit. Finding ourselves in a restaurant that had this delicacy on the menu, it was the first thing we ordered.

Back in 2009, fermented green tea could not be imported to the United States from the military dictatorship of Myanmar, formerly known as Burma. People visiting neighboring country Thailand could buy it there though and bring it back to the States. Lucky for us there was enough traffic from the owners and their friends so over the course of the year we were eating at their place, there was never a shortage.

The bulk bags of tea arrived unflavored, this turned out to be very important because as time went by I had the opportunity to try some pre-seasoned products and they were horrible. Once unpacked the leaves would have to be prepared for storage and for use in salads. The first place they ended up was in a mortar so they could be adequately pounded to break up the leaves.

Burmese Fermented Green Tea Salad - Laphet Thoke

Once mashed up but not yet a paste, they could be stored in a jar with a bit of vegetable oil to keep them moist. After this, they’d be sealed and put in the refrigerator until needed.

Finding this stuff in America was a challenge. Back in 2010, when Little Rangoon closed up shop, the owner Elizabeth gave Caroline and me a full tightly packed quart jar that lasted us about a year. After that, we could on occasion find it at a small shop in Monterey Park, California, but that was hit and miss. Finding it online was impossible. Then around 2016, I finally ordered some online but it had to be shipped from the United Kingdom; not a cheap way to get a few small packets. Just two years ago in 2018, while on a hunting expedition in one of our local Asian stores, I found it on the shelf. St. Albert Tea Flower is how it’s labeled and for about $10 a bottle, I get nearly 11 ounces of fermented green tea. Compared to $20 for 8 ounces on Amazon, it’s quite the bargain. Now, if I were living somewhere I couldn’t buy this essential ingredient locally, I’d jump at the chance to pay $20 for 8 ounces.

Burmese Fermented Green Tea Salad - Laphet Thoke

Once you find fermented green tea your job is not done yet as some of the other ingredients can be equally difficult to find in the United States. In the bottom center of this photo of plated ingredients to mix up a Laphet Thoke (Green Tea Salad) is smoked dried shrimp. I’ve used dried crawfish as a substitute which works well but what I really want are the smoke shrimp. There is a product available here but it’s pricey with just 8 ounces costing $15 and the shipping is roughly the same amount so be prepared. It’s called Naz African Smoked Shrimps and can be found by clicking here.

Please notice the crispy garlic, peanuts, sesame seeds, and beans. In Burma, you’d make your own and I suspect that the kitchen staff made what was used in the restaurant but I never inquired as Elizabeth gave me enough to last a good long time; well, until we ran out. Not only was our inventory depleted, but what do you ask for when calling someone a state away trying to explain how you needed the crunchy/crispy stuff for Laphet Thoke that you are certainly butchering the pronunciation of? These days, I just go to Amazon and order ပင္ပိ်ဳရြက္ႏု ပဲႏွစ္ျပန္ေႀကာ္ and I’m all set. That, for those who don’t read Burmese, is also known as Crispy Mixed Beans and can be found clicking here.

Burmese Fermented Green Tea Salad - Laphet Thoke

Time to make the salad.

Ingredients:

  • 2 Tbsp Fermented green tea
  • 3-4 Tbsp Mixed crispy beans
  • 1/2 Sliced hard-boiled egg
  • 1/2 Diced Roma tomato
  • 1 cup Shredded cabbage (Little Rangoon didn’t use this much)
  • 1/2 Tsp Smoked shrimp powder
  • 1/2 – 1 Tsp Fish sauce
  • 1 – 2 Tbsp Peanut oil (or your choice)

Now mix it all together and serve with a side of steamed rice. For me, no Burmese salad would be complete without some Thai Bird’s Eye chilies to accompany the dish. Because they are not always easy to find I buy a lot when I find them, dice them into thin rounds, and freeze them. When I need some I pull them from the cold and throw them into a small ramekin with extra fish sauce (this from a guy that doesn’t like fishy flavors). A word of warning, if you’ve never used dried shrimp or fish sauce you are in for a rude surprise as I for one have never grown accustomed to their pungent stench but like the worst smelling washed rind cheeses, they add something undeniably perfect to the flavor profile of a dish and so I must endure.

Burmese Onion Chili Salad

Onion Salad from Little Rangoon Restaurant in Scottsdale, Arizona

Back in 2009 Caroline and I started frequenting Little Rangoon restaurant in Scottsdale, Arizona. By that time they’d already been there for a year and a half but we didn’t live in the area and so it took a while before we discovered them one day while driving by. Immediately we were smitten and became regular customers, sadly we alone couldn’t sustain their business, and about a year after we had fallen in love with Elizabeth’s amazing take on Burmese cooking, they were closing for good.

Along the way, we were rewarded with off-menu dishes or invited in when no one else was in the place to try things like various preparations of durian. Before they shut their doors I was invited into the kitchen to pick up a few tips and tricks so Caroline and I could continue to enjoy some of our favorite dishes. Those notes have languished unshared with anyone else until now, though we have resorted to them time and again for our own fond culinary memories. As a matter of fact, this very recipe and these photos were shared back in 2009 in a blog entry in which I first spoke of Little Rangoon. I wasn’t a food blogger so I tried to avoid featuring too many entries about the subject and now I regret it. But I can move to rectify that as I have all the photos and notes to share now. Over the next weeks, I’ll try my best to post as much as I can for the sake of permanently preserving these recipes which I hope will survive on the internet well into the future.

Onion Salad from Little Rangoon Restaurant in Scottsdale, Arizona

I have to admit it’s been more than 7 or 8 years since I made this Chili Onion Salad for myself. Caroline won’t eat it, nor would Elizabeth or her husband Alfred. This is peasant food and one of the most unlikely dishes for me to fall in love with. When I was a kid I hated raw onions: the basis of this dish is raw onions and some incredibly hot chili flakes.

There is one bit of preparation that could take place before setting in to make your salad and that is roasting the chili flakes. There are no special requirements for the chili flakes, any old ones will do, maybe even a few packets that are given away with pizzas would work. Simply roast them in a dry frying pan until they start to darken, but don’t burn them.

Ingredients:

  • 2 Tbsp oil of your preference such as peanut, canola, or avocado
  • 2 Tbsp of roasted chili flakes
  • 1 Tsp salt
  • 1/2 Cup of thinly sliced red onion
  • 1 wedge of fresh lemon

Preparation:

Mix all the ingredients in a small bowl, preferably by hand, and that’s it.

I’d have this served with a bowl of hot steamed brown rice as brown is my preference but any hot rice will do. Like all Burmese salads we’ve had, rice plays a role in being the contrasting temperature complement to the colder, raw, and crunchy other ingredients. This salad is not for the faint of heart as it’s the only thing I’ve ever eaten that has made my eyelids sweat. While this dish may sound simple, the complexity of its ingredients after the lemon and salt go to work on “cooking” the onions and melding the flavors, are far greater than the sum of the parts.

There are almost two dozen recipes in my old notebook and about 300 photos I took in the restaurant and the kitchen. Little Rangoon was our first favorite restaurant in all of Arizona and we miss the place more than any other restaurant we’ve visited. Oh, how I’d like to sit down with Elizabeth and Alfred just one more time for one of her incredible meals.

The Familiar is Unfamiliar

Sunrise over Phoenix

I want to believe I need to return to some of the things I used to do, but I’m running into some deep-seated ambivalence that is nearly impossible to define. Being home is different, meals are different, shopping is different, traveling is different, most everything seems different. I went to the dentist this morning; that was different. Being here at my favorite coffee shop, other than the masks, is possibly not different enough. I’m feeling as though I’m trying to shove something I used to know into the present by being in the familiar.

As I searched for an environment conducive to writing creatively, it dawned on me somewhere along the way that, no matter where I ended up, I was still with myself and that just because my location changed, the inside of my mind hadn’t. Of course, I can trick myself when out in the world, as writing about a place creates in me an illusion of something else influencing me, but it’s still my filter from whatever inner dialog I’m working with. Maybe the inspiration when visiting a cathedral, a canyon, a forest, an ocean, or a monument is that I have a moment of focus without the trappings of the familiar, but how this works in allowing me to convey anything of interest must fall back on what I bring to the exercise.

So, when I’m struggling to find words and ideas that paint a picture of where I think I’d like to be, I try to figure out what might be the impediment. Here at the coffee shop I’ve visited countless other times, it could be that I cannot return to the familiar. It might be that I’m struggling with only 3 of us ten people wearing masks in this small environment. Or could it be writer’s block? I’m gonna say that I seriously doubt it is the latter because when I give myself the challenge to capture something of my thoughts, I’m usually pretty good at noting something just as I’m doing this very moment. But this is not what I want to write about, or so I think.

Well then, what do I want when I go out to write? I want the same thing all writers who sit down to write are looking to do: I want to discover. Maybe what I’m trying to explore cannot be found in the past, and this particular place represents a time in my life when things were seen differently. Like so many other aspects of life that required adjustments as I’ve grown older, is my ability to discover being stymied by the overly familiar?

The dawn is familiar; my wife is too. I know our apartment quite well and many items in our diet, and yet these things do not represent the same kind of conflict. Let’s look at that as the dawn is always different; it’s forever shifting with the play of clouds and hues delighting my senses every time I witness it. My wife is like the dawn over the ocean, never quite the same with her fluctuating interests; subtle changes are found in her smile, and she possesses a horizon I find to be infinite, at least in its potential. Our apartment is some ways, like the Grand Canyon; depending on where you look, you might find something you’ve never seen before. Not to imply disorder and chaos, though there is an element of that, between our evolving hobbies the view has the potential to show us new things, just as searching for new foods brings us into different ethnic culinary adventures.

Is the larger problem then that I have a low tolerance for the familiar? Has it always been this way? The quick answer is certainly a resounding yes. The common and familiar is the fodder for the masses gorged on the cultural gruel of conformity, and I’ve known this for a very long time. But today is different, as though the plague has cut the final thread between me and the blind, obedient herd that best represents the status quo.

In this sense, I feel that I’ve been shoved deeper into a nomadic intellectual existence. Where our ancestors were on the constant search for that which sustained life, I require the sustenance of that which sustains the imagination. In an age where the hunt for food and shelter has been mitigated for those with access to adequate capital, and my preoccupation with media and entertainment is either gone or in hibernation, I’m now on the lookout for horizons that illuminate where humanity is headed.

Star Trek’s intro spoke of space as the final frontier; I would reboot that into “awareness is the real final frontier.” Knowledge of hyperbolic absurdity found in entertainers and politicians hardly suffices to satisfy the deeper quest of humans to find meaning, even if the unsophisticated might believe differently. This pattern recognition machine of senses evolved in the form of memories and imagination, offering people the opportunity to discover things such as art, music, technology, and the mind to examine the hows and whys of what it all means. Yet we squander our most valuable resource, time, on the petty and believe in convenient expediencies in order to not challenge our nature to change.

Just how much of the familiar is really your friend?