Lately, I’ve found myself in a torrid love affair—with cooking. That’s right. My latest obsession is playing chef in my own kitchen, and I’ve been plating up experiments like a culinary mad scientist.
First up: Pear compote.
Gifted a bounty of pears, I set out to turn them into dessert alchemy. Too sweet? Not in my kitchen. I swapped regular sugar for mellow, caramel-toned sanontou. The method? Simmer pears in white wine and sugar, chill, and serve. Toss some yogurt on top and boom—dessert enlightenment.
Inspired by my wife’s bold suggestion to wrap the compote in prosciutto (genius), I dove headfirst into an impromptu Italian menu.
Mandarin-tinged sea bream carpaccio? Oh yes.
Our garden bears mikan trees, and with ripening fruit came culinary ambition. I boiled the peel, blended the fruit, then simmered with butter and sanontou to create a rich mandarin reduction. Mixed with vinegar and olive oil, this sauce met its muse: sashimi-grade sea bream. Add a sprinkle of crushed nuts and voilà!
The verdict? Brutal. My wife and second son weren’t fans. They said the seasoning was off. I say, pour more sauce! I stand by my dish.
Sea bream poêlé? Same fish, different fate.
Grilled to perfection, lightly seasoned—it didn’t even need the sauce. Sometimes simplicity wins.
Pear compote with prosciutto? Now *that* was a triumph.
This Italian set was rounded out with my wife’s mentaiko pasta—a creamy, spicy, umami-packed wonder.
Let’s rewind to a few weeks back: homemade takuan.
Daikon + salt + a splash of water sealed in a ziplock for three days. Rinsed, then marinated again with sanontou and mirin. Also pretty tasty! Next time? I’m going rogue with chili peppers.
The pièce de résistance: Taiwan ramen.
Fried garlic chives, ground meat, bean sprouts—tossed over Marutai ramen like a street food symphony. Want heat? Add chili.
This bowl? Restaurant-tier flavor. Marutai deserves a culinary Nobel.
Also in my wheelhouse: soy-marinated eggs, flawless tenshinhan… but we’ll save those for another day.
Fin.
“The only real stumbling block is fear of failure. In cooking, you’ve got to have a what-the-hell attitude.”
— Julia Child
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