I Think Fried Rice Is Rather Nice

I am in a transitional time, dear reader. My day job ended three weeks ago, and I am trying to gracefully move into the life of a freelancer. Currently this means a lot of time at home, which has been a bit lonely. However, there is an upside: lunch!
Suddenly I have a full kitchen and stocked fridge at my disposal every day! No more throwing odd bits of cheese, fruit and pretzels into a bag as I tear out the door to commute, or paying too much for a limp sandwich made by a grumpy teenager. Finally, I am master of my (lunch) domain!
Here is today's deliciousness:


It was so good, and super-easy. Fried rice is a dish designed to use up leftovers, which I'm generating more of in my at-home lifestyle. Please vary this recipe to your heart's desire, I know I do! The only required parts are the rice, eggs and soy sauce, everything else is optional. Take what you like and leave the rest, my friends.

Fried Rice Is Rather Nice
inspired by Helene Siegel's Chinese Cooking for Beginners
Serves 4 (this recipe is easily halved)

3 tablespoons peanut or vegetable oil, divided
1/2 pound shrimp, shelled, deveined (leftover is fine, just skip the first step... not something I usually recommend :)
2 eggs beaten with 1 tsp. sesame oil and 1/2 tsp. salt
3/4 cup diced bell pepper
1/2 white onion, diced
3 scallions, sliced
3 cups leftover cold rice (white or brown)
1/2 pound BBQ pork, or ham, leftover tofu, seitan (seriously, it's good in this) or chicken, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
1 tbs. soy sauce (or a little more to taste)
1 tsp. garlic-chili sauce (find in Chinatown or the 'Asian' section of your supermarket)
dash white pepper

Heat 1 tbs. oil in wok (or large skillet) over high heat. Add shrimp; stir-fry until just pink, about 2 minutes. Transfer to platter, leaving oil in wok.
Add egg mixture; scramble until set but still soft (except you Dad, just dry 'em out). Transfer to platter; using spoon, break into bite-sized pieces.
Add remaining oil to wok, then bell pepper and onion; stir-fry until browned, about 4 minutes. Add scallions and stir-fry 20 seconds, then add rice. Break up rice to spread grains evenly while stir-frying. Add BBQ pork, reserved shrimp and egg, soy sauce, garlic-chili sauce and pepper. Stir-fry to combine and heat through, about 2 minutes. Serve!

Lunch at Chez Tory is great, though we're still looking for that dishwasher...

Gringa Tacos

I take being a gringa in LA very seriously. How seriously, you ask? Check it out, this has primo-wallspace in my teeny kitchen:

One of the great benefits of living in San Francisco and Los Angeles has been my proximity to recent immigrant communities, an intriguing experience notably lacking in my pasty suburban upbringing. In SF I lived in the mid-Sunset, which was about 85% Chinese (Cantonese). It was awesome: the groceries were packed with fresh cheap produce and treats (most of it I'd never seen before and gradually learned to cook with), and the restaurants in my 'hood had the funk, that deep earthy Umami-ness frequently missing in spots that cater to the round eye crowd. There was also terrific Vietnamese food (thus began my love affair with pho), and perhaps best of all I learned that harrassing women on the street is not part of Chinese culture. I could walk anywhere and not be on high alert, it was awesome. Would that all men were so respectful.
In LA it doesn't matter so much where you live as where you drive. I've spent a lot of time eating real, delicious Mexican food with friends who are native Spanish-speakers and know where the good stuff is, which has inspired me to research and recreate the dishes at home. Here is today's lunch, the last of some excellent pork tacos I made. You know they're gringa-style because the cheese on top is feta, not queso fresca. Still, que rico! I'm sad they're all gone.
Hmmm, if I ever end up back in the 'burbs (Lord please no), I'd probably throw the best dinner parties in town.

Gung Hay Fat Choy!

Saturday night my dear friend Vanessa hosted another excellent lunar new year eve celebration with her (local, chosen) family. I was delighted to chow down at that table, especially for Year of the Pig! Once again I hustled to Chinatown in the morning to fight with sharp-elbowed Chinese grannies for the juciest Peking duck, hearty BBQ pork, delicate soy sauce chicken (head and feet intact of course) and lean roasted pork with such crackling skin it put chicharrónes to shame.

Really, that crispy skin is what potato chips wish they were.



These lovely veggies make an appearance each year. They're shaped like a big bulb of garlic, and the texture is a cross between a parsnip and slightly undercooked potato. The little suckers are boiled until fork-tender and taste like a more green, vegetal potato with a teeny hint of sweetness. I like that no one knows what they're called, not even Vanessa.


The meal ends with delicate almond cookies, which our hostess made from scratch this year. She says this is the traditional way to serve them... but I don't know.
Gung Hay Fat Choy is "Happy New Year!" in Cantonese (I think). Best wishes to you in this Year of the Pig; I plan to celebrate by eating as much bacon, ham, and pork stew as I can!

Eggs Foo Young

Growing up I loved the one Chinese restaurant in town. The red walls, soy-salty air, and (no joke) backlit moving waterfull artwork seemed magical to my wide blue eyes. I loved that the owners talked differently, that the names of the food held promise and mystery. General Tso's Chicken- who was this general? Why did he care so much about chicken? Did he eat it before battle and emerge victorious because it warmed his belly? Egg Drop Soup sounded so friendly: in my house if I dropped an egg I'd be in big trouble, but at Lotus Chinese that same mistake turned into delicious soup.
And I loved that every time I ate there, the owners brought me strawberry ice cream for dessert, whether or not I ordered it. Even when my mother protested, they wouldn't take the dish away until a scant spoonful of ice cream soup was left.
I will tell you a secret: I didn't like strawberry ice cream. I don't care for it now, just give me chocolate. But I'd eat it and say thank you while they smiled and nodded at me. I felt we were friends in a way. I like to think they noticed the goofy little white girl who was really into their food, who gobbled up everything (even broccoli). Actually, my love of their broccoli got me into trouble many times.
"Why do you eat their broccoli but turn your nose up at mine," my mother asked whenever we ate there. I'd shrug helplessly. It wasn't until years later I figured out it was a texture issue. In traditional Chinese cooking, veggies are generally cooked until they're crisp-tender, not a second more. This keeps them delicous (plus they retain more nutrients). My mother's background was English, German, and Donna Reed Casserole. All that history was an unstoppable force: she couldn't help but boil broccoli for a solid ten minutes. I'd smush it with a fork just because I could; obscene amounts of butter and salt still didn't make it edible. My dog wouldn't touch it. But oh, the beef and broccoli with its hearty crunch and sweet, salty sauce. Powerful.
After I learned to read I started pointing at the menu, What's that? And that? By the second grade I had mastered chopsticks, much to everyone's surprise (a story for another day). I took great pleasure in trading in my fork for two rough wooden sticks and consuming slippery lo mein noodles and eggs foo young with aplomb.

Today if we were to dine, I'd take you out to the heart of Chinatown. There hardly anybody looks like me, and the food is a clever symphony of funky and mellow, bitter and sweet, crisp and soft. I'd show off my affection for jellyfish and chicken feet, and probably act confused if you asked about moo go gai pan (a dish my father loves that I suspect only the white man eats). I might even wrangle you an invite to my pal Vanessa's Chinese New Year feast (sweet Jesus it's amazing). And I'd certainly deny ever eating at a little spot on Santa Monica where forks are on the table, moo go gai pan is on the menu, and everything needs more soy sauce to give it flavor... but I recommend their eggs foo young.