Silence is white
I suppose this is the new normal - long periods of silence punctuated by randomness.
In a certain way though, this makes a lot of sense in the scheme of current life. I've not been cooking much lately, unless you count "stir-frying marinated meat with chopped vegetables" or "throwing steaks on the broiler" as cooking...or "putting together a salad" or "boiling eggs." Still, to be super accommodating to all those people out there who would disagree and say that such actions are indeed cooking, I will revise and say, I haven't been doing anything labor-intensive or inventive (exciting!) in the kitchen lately. So lazy. Nor have I been taking many photographs on my tatterdemalion phone, which only magnifies the long periods of silence. Don't be argumentative today; I've an answer for everything, though I'd really prefer not to voice any today.
Silence, these days, is kind of golden. It's been a necessary permeation to help me get through the mental stasis of life that often gets to me, working a 9-5 job in the sedentary cubicle jungle. At work, I've taken to putting on my headphones to block out extraneous office noise and chatter, so that I can mull over my rorschach dreams in silence or listen to deep-brain stimulating Radiolab podcasts, as the superficial parts of my brain take care of the busywork (or whatever it is that I'm paid to do). Really, besides saying "I'm sorry" to homeless people who ask me for money on the walk home or "good morning and thank you" to bus drivers, I don't do much talking these days to anyone besides the obvious (my "roommate"). I do talk to the dog, but I'm beginning to get the feeling he never has any idea what I'm saying. Granted, I shouldn't expect much; he doesn't even understand what the word "treat" means.
It's nice though, moving in perpetual silence. I'd say it helps one to become a better observer and listener, but really, it's more indulgent than that. Sometimes, you need to let the voices in your head have their moments.
If there's any color associated with sound, white would certainly indicate silence, rather than gold. So follows a very simple recipe with both those colors. Small notes. My mom cooks this in the microwave all the time, getting the exact same results. I certainly would cook this in the microwave (instead of in the steamer), except my microwave is broken. My life is a long story of broken microwaves, oddly enough, so the muted bubble of the steamer it is. Also, this is vegetarian but you can always add stir-fried pork/shrimp/mushrooms to the top, before steaming.
1 medium daikon, peeled
8 oz (1/2 lb) rice flour
2 teaspoon sea salt
1/2 quart cold water
canola oil (for frying)
hoison or sweet Taiwan chili sauce, for serving
Shred the daikon with a grater. Cover the shredded daikon with cold water, add 1 teaspoon of sea salt, and bring water to a boil. Lower to a simmer and cook shredded daikon until soft and translucent. Drain and let cool.
Lightly oil a deep baking or casserole dish (2.5 quart). The shape is up to you, though square or rectangular will help you divide the cakes more evenly in the future.
Mix together the rice flour and 1/2 quart of cold water, stirring until mixture is smooth. There should be no lumps in the mixture, which when ready, will look like a viscous milk. Stir the cooked daikon into the flour water and mix until evenly distributed throughout the mixture. Taste and add the 2nd teaspoon of salt, if necessary. Pour the mixture into the lightly oiled baking dish. Place dish in steamer and steam for 45 minutes to 1 hour, or until the mixture turns from a translucent white to a solid white.
Remove and let cool. Once a bit cool, it should be firm to the touch. If not, return to steamer and steam for longer. Slice into thin rectangles and pan-fry on med-high heat, flipping until crispy on both sides. Let drain on paper towels. Serve warm with sweet chili sauce (or really, whichever sauce or sides of choice - it's a great template).
It's nice though, moving in perpetual silence. I'd say it helps one to become a better observer and listener, but really, it's more indulgent than that. Sometimes, you need to let the voices in your head have their moments.
If there's any color associated with sound, white would certainly indicate silence, rather than gold. So follows a very simple recipe with both those colors. Small notes. My mom cooks this in the microwave all the time, getting the exact same results. I certainly would cook this in the microwave (instead of in the steamer), except my microwave is broken. My life is a long story of broken microwaves, oddly enough, so the muted bubble of the steamer it is. Also, this is vegetarian but you can always add stir-fried pork/shrimp/mushrooms to the top, before steaming.
Turnip Cakes
serves 41 medium daikon, peeled
8 oz (1/2 lb) rice flour
2 teaspoon sea salt
1/2 quart cold water
canola oil (for frying)
hoison or sweet Taiwan chili sauce, for serving
Shred the daikon with a grater. Cover the shredded daikon with cold water, add 1 teaspoon of sea salt, and bring water to a boil. Lower to a simmer and cook shredded daikon until soft and translucent. Drain and let cool.
Lightly oil a deep baking or casserole dish (2.5 quart). The shape is up to you, though square or rectangular will help you divide the cakes more evenly in the future.
Mix together the rice flour and 1/2 quart of cold water, stirring until mixture is smooth. There should be no lumps in the mixture, which when ready, will look like a viscous milk. Stir the cooked daikon into the flour water and mix until evenly distributed throughout the mixture. Taste and add the 2nd teaspoon of salt, if necessary. Pour the mixture into the lightly oiled baking dish. Place dish in steamer and steam for 45 minutes to 1 hour, or until the mixture turns from a translucent white to a solid white.
Remove and let cool. Once a bit cool, it should be firm to the touch. If not, return to steamer and steam for longer. Slice into thin rectangles and pan-fry on med-high heat, flipping until crispy on both sides. Let drain on paper towels. Serve warm with sweet chili sauce (or really, whichever sauce or sides of choice - it's a great template).
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