Tuesday, 23 June 2009

Serendipitea!

You know how sometimes, you experience those perfect moments of serendipity which lead to wonderful moments and new friendships? One of those moments came together for me on the first Friday of this month.

Just a few weeks before I started my blog, Pei Wang started his. In his case, he took a far deeper dive than I, embarking not just on a new hobby but a new career too. I stumbled upon teanamu just after I started Kavey Eats and, enjoying the mix of content, added it to my nascent blog roll. Pei dropped me a sweet note to thank me. He was in China at the time, expanding even further his knowledge of tea and the many traditions and customs that surround it.

He had a great visit to Hangzhou, in Anhui province, learning more about the cultivation and harvesting of tea. He also discovered the village that is the ancestral home of his mother's family. And he gained his certification as a Tea Artisan and Tea Assessor. On returning home he invited me to visit and taste some spring 2009 green tea he'd brought back with him.

Although I have, over the past 10 years, met literally hundreds of people I have come to know online, I was still a little nervous about meeting a stranger for the first time in their home. And yet, something in our flurry of emails made me feel safe and confident and I made the trek across to Westbourne Park, just a stone's catapult away from my destination the previous evening, for the Artisan du Chocolat opening.

With Pei's careful directions, I had no trouble finding his beautiful home - a detached Victorian 'chocolate box' that used to belong to the grander house next door but now sits in it's own little plot, fronted by a corn-blue wall and a beautiful tree spilling over it.

Through the gate, waving a quick hello at the chickens running around in their coop under the shade of the tree, I was quickly welcomed inside. Pei's home is also the location for his tea cookery and tea appreciation workshops and it's beautiful. The sleek, beautifully-designed open-plan kitchen merges with a chic living area decorated with beautiful tea pots and serving utensils, cookery books and tomes on tea and the assorted sourvenirs of travels in Asia.

Pei wasted no time in making a start on preparing his adaptation of the traditional French madeleine recipe (by adding powdered oolong tea to the cake mix and scattering seeds over the top). Just as he started, another friend of his arrived to enjoy the informal session. Conversation flowed freely and, despite our very different backgrounds - Pei grew up in Singapore and came to the UK in 2001 - we discovered many shared interests, particularly when it comes to food and drink. As we chatted, Pei interjected little pointers about the recipe and method, showing us each stage so we knew what to aim for. The recipe is one he shares with students attending his cookery workshop and it's one he's tweaked to perfection.




Before we knew it the little cakes were in the oven and his friend and I were invited to take tea in a summery little side room adjoining the kitchen. The room is a crescent shape and the outer, curving wall is built entirely from clear glass bricks, letting in lots of lovely, diffused light. Here, Pei had set up the paraphernalia of tea including a proper tea box (with tray beneath to catch discarded water and leaves), a samovar to keep the water boiling and an array of tea pots, cups and utensils. And most important of all, his treasure chest of precious teas.

I was captivated by the process of making and serving the tea, as well as the guidance on how to best hold the cup and drink and enjoy the tea. I also loved Pei's stories about the origins and properties of the different teas and his help in describing the flavours. He also taught us about the different leaves and methods used to collect and prepare tea.


A short while later, maybe two or three teas down the road, the oven buzzer sounded telling us the cakes were ready. I took photos as Pei popped them out of the tray to cool briefly before piling them onto a plate for us to enjoy during the remainder of our tea appreciation session.




Several teas and cakes and a great deal of chatting later, it was time to head home with a new appreciation and understanding of tea, a generous selection of teas to enjoy at home and, most important of all, a new and wonderful friendship to take into the future.

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Sunday, 14 June 2009

Kavey: The Wonder Years

A few weeks ago I asked readers and friends to pose those questions they most wanted me to answer in an self-introductory blog entry. I was overwhelmed by the number and variety of questions and it's taken me quite a while to pen my (sometimes long and rambling) answers. This first set of questions takes me down memory lane to my childhood. In coming weeks I'll also post answers to questions about food and travelling, current likes and dislikes and more.

Scribbler: What is your earliest food memory?
My earliest memory is from when I was about 1 and a half years old. It's not about food exactly but since it features a mortar and pestle, I reckon it's close enough! When I was a small baby, we moved to India for about a year - apparently hindi was my first spoken language, though I can't speak it now. We spent a lot of time with my maternal grandparents.

I remember sitting on the ground outside; my grandfather was seated behind me, cross-legged. The visuals of the memory show me only his arms reaching around me to the items infront of me; I can’t see his face or body but I know in my mind that they are his arms. He is making a pair of mortar and pestles from clay, one large one and one smaller one.

People tell me that I can't possibly have a memory from such a young age. Firstly, it's more what I'd describe as a memory fragment - a little scene with a small area of focus. I remember only what I describe above - a visual sccene lasting a few moments and the certainty of who I'm with. There is no sound in the memory nor any knowledge or image of where we are, what else is around us, who else might be there. Often, people insist that it must be a false memory, based on a scene described to me by someone else. But I remember very clearly the first time I related this memory to my mother. She was shocked, as it was not a story she knew (or had told me). She asked her siblings and mother, they didn't recall any of this either. But they did confirm that my grandfather made his own mortar and pestles and that he usually had a large one and small one in the kitchen. He died when I was just two years old, so I feel very privileged to have this direct memory of him.

Oddly enough, my first proper food memory is from India too - after we returned to the UK we returned to visit family for a couple of weeks every couple of years. Again, I can't remember whose house we were visiting nor much about the house or garden as a whole. What I remember is being perched up in the branches of a guava tree, with my cousins, feasting on guava fruits picked fresh from the tree.

And for an unlikely - some would even say unbelievable - anecdote, this one passed down from my mum: apparently, the first time I was fed chocolate, I spat it out in disgust! Can you imagine?!


Dunlurkin: I imagine that you grew up eating mostly Indian food, but I know that you now eat a very wide range of foods. When and how did you make the transition?

Dena: Having just read on the food board about school dinners I was wondering how you felt when you first went to school. Coming from a house where spicy, flavourful food cooked by Mamta was the norm, it must have been a tremendous culture shock to be faced with the bland meals provided at most schools. How did you cope?


Actually, unlike many children of Indian first-generation immigrants, I didn’t grow up eating mostly Indian food at all. Instead, let me tell you about my childhood as it relates to food.

Any explanation of the role food played in my childhood must start with a brief story about my parents. My mum and dad came to London from India back in the 1960s. Both were medical doctors working within the ranks of the NHS. They grew up in vegetarian households and although my dad had already eaten meat before he moved to the UK, mum hadn't. However, being a vegetarian wasn't very easy in the UK back then, especially when most meals were taken in staff canteens. So mum started eating meat aged 26.

My sister and I were born in London in the early 1970s shortly before we moved to Luton, where we grew up. By the time I was born my parents had already come to enjoy British food.

Even though, in India, most middle-class families have staff (I hate the term servants as this does not accurately reflect the situation in my family in India), my mum's parents were ahead of their time when they insisted that not only their daughters but their sons too learn how to cook for themselves. So mum already knew how to cook Indian vegetarian food. Throughout my childhood she taught herself not only how to cook Indian meat dishes (and a much wider range of vegetarian ones too) but also how to cook cuisine from all around the world.

We ate Indian food about twice a week. The rest of the time we’d have roast dinners, casseroles, fish fingers, jacket potatoes and a range of normal British fayre. And we'd have moussaka, chilli con carne, stir fries, lasagne, burgers, pizzas and all kinds of other food from around the world.

We also went out to local restaurants from quite a young age including a wonderful local Chinese (that I continued to visit even after I left Luton, until the owners retired and it closed a few years ago) and a local Beefeater pub. My sister and I often ordered steak - the bloodier the better! I don’t know where we both got that from as mum has never really enjoyed (or ordered) red meat and my dad always insisted on burnt rather than well done (though in his old age he’s finally recognised the merits of having it medium instead).

Another thread in our childhoods was international travel. I don't know where my parents' love of travel came from but we certainly benefited from it. They'd always make the most of holidays to explore the world. In my younger years we more commonly travelled within the UK; I have fond memories of beach combing in Norfolk and Cornwall not to mention enjoying cream teas in sweet little West coast villages. I even remember toe-shuffling for clams and harvesting mussels from the wooden breakers on the beach and my dad cleaning them thoroughly before cooking.

Once they could afford it, we started going abroad more, initially in Europe (although we always did trips back to visit family in India every 2-3 years) and then farther afield. As a teen I was lucky enough to visit Peru, Kenya, Bolivia, Canada, Brazil and many, many states in the US including Alaska. We went to Florida regularly too as a couple of my dad’s siblings had emigrated there.

Why are the travels relevant? Because one of the aspects of travelling all of us loved (and still do) was trying dishes from the local cuisines. And mum often took it a step further, incorporating ideas into her repertoire when we returned home.

My parents are very social creatures so we were also part of a lively social life in Luton with family friends hailing from Scotland to Malaysia to Persia to India and many other places too. That gave us another avenue for trying different food - I still get jealous now when my parents are invited to our Luton Chinese friends' home for steam boat and other delicacies! My parents would hold huge parties with guests milling around the entire downstairs of the house and out into the garden. My sister and I, plus our similarly aged friends from next door, would take on roles directing the traffic and helping serve food and drinks. (The neighbours were always invited so never any complaints about the parking!)

Mum encouraged my sister and I to cook at home, whether helping her with the family meals or making things on our own. I remember teaching myself how to make home-made bread from scratch (went through quite a long bread phase - I still remember plaiting one beautiful loaf). And I grew up in the days when schools still provided proper cookery lessons (none of this learning how to make sandwiches or assembly-job pizzas using shop-bought bases and toppings). At school I learned to make cobblers, pizzas from scratch, fruit crumbles, cauliflower cheese with a proper white sauce base and all kinds of other goodies.

My sister and I share the same birthday and, when we were younger, we’d have joint parties with fantastic cakes (mum would make the cake, cut and assemble them and ice them and decorate them to look like fairy castles, lady birds and all sorts) and home-made knickerbockerglories that we’d make ourselves and all kinds of other goodies. Even when it wasn’t for a party we liked making sweet things together and mum would mostly leave us to our devices when we made peppermint creams, coconut ice and beautifully shaped and coloured marzipan fruits!

Probably the biggest surprise to those who know me is the fact that I was a very picky eater when I was very young, to the extent that my parents worried about me not eating enough and being malnourished!

Even though I’d already been exposed to a wide range of foods my parents recount how, when I first started school, they were called in to be told I was refusing to eat lunch as I said the smell made me feel sick. The staff suggested they take me home for lunch but my parents refused – they felt (rightly) that mixing with others at lunchtime was an important part of school routine. They knew I ate a good breakfast, a nourishing snack when I got home and a good cooked dinner. And they were right! Within a fortnight I started eating everything and eventually even told my mum that she didn’t cook cabbage like they did at school. I’d developed a taste for overboiled vegetables doused in gravy!

That picky eating phase didn’t last long and I grew to love all kinds of food from a young age.


Helen Yuet Ling Pang: What's your favourite dish that your mum made for you while you were growing up? And have you learnt how to make it yourself!

Even though we only ate Indian a couple of times a week I’d say my favourites are all Indian dishes such as mum’s lamb curry (with marrow in the bones that we would fight over and suck out with loud, satisfied slurps), home-made rotis and pooris, sheek kebabs with green chutney and home-made natural yoghurt (which had an incredible, extra-thick layer on top which we also fought over).

Luckily, my sister’s and my desire to learn how to cook these recipes is what, ultimately, lead to the creation of Mamta’s Kitchen, a website that’s now become a resource not just for my sister and I, or even our extended family, but for many people around the world. So, the answer is, yes I can now make most of mum’s wonderful dishes myself, though I’ve still not mastered rotis or pooris!


MidnightCowboy: What was your favourite school dinner

I generally liked a lot of what I ate at school but my favourite savoury dish would probably be a ridiculously cheesey cheese flan the dinner ladies at my senior school used to make. They made it in huge baking trays, each one must have been cut it into at least 16 generous slices – I always asked for one away for the edge to maximise the cheesey hit! Now I make my own quiches/ flans I have been able to recreate something similar.

Dessert wise, the same dinner ladies also made a killer chocolate tart. The chocolate topping was thick, sloppy rather than set and absolutely fantastic. Never come across anything like it since.

I also used to like rice pudding with a square of chocolate or dollop of jam in it!

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Monday, 8 June 2009

Artisan du Chocolat Shop Opening & Competition!

Artisan du Chocolat recently opened their new shop and chocolateria in Westbourne Grove and I was lucky enough to attend the opening night. I was definitely the proverbial child in a sweetshop, delighted by all the displays of truly beautiful chocolate around me, not to mention the chic 'n' sleek interior.


Arriving nice and early allowed me to grab some photos before the space became too crowded.

The orange and white theme was clean and energising, though I wondered how long the pristine white leather banquettes in the seating areas will last against the onslaught of sticky fingers and spilled drinks! Shelves and glass display cabinets show-cased the beautiful products and an active conching machine was amongst the quirky objects on display. The space itself was dominated by an enormous bespoke "plantation light" - a curved bell hanging from the ceiling, white on the outside and covered with the vivid picture of a cacao plantation on the inside.




The shop will sell the full range of Artisan du Chocolate products whilst the chocolateria menu offers a range of alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks and fine chocolate goodies to nibble.

Smiling staff handed out a selection of bespoke chocolate-themed cocktails (created by master mixologist Nick Strangeway, who was sporting a suitably wizard-like pointy beard) whilst others proffered chocolates, ice-creams and warm chocolate fondants.




Chocolatier, Gerard Coleman and area manager, Elise Thomassin chatted to guests and made sure everyone was drinking and sampling away. Gerard's partner (in life and in business, as they say on their website), Anne Weyn, was also present and working mostly behind the scenes to keep drinks and goodies flowing; I don't have any photos of her.




Having not tried Artisan du Chocolat products before, I'd been online earlier and made up my mind to buy a large box of Couture collection chocolates. Luckily, I arrived early enough for the staff to put together a selection based on my preferences. I must say that £19 for 30 chocolates of this calibre, presented in such an elegant box, is a very good deal indeed and one I could not resist.

During my visit I managed to try all of the different chocolates, including the original salted caramels, orange peels in chocolate and the truly marvellous praline feuillantine plus a warm chocolate fondant which provided the perfect balance of moist but firm cake filled with warm, liquid chocolate not to mention an iced chocolate granita and a Theobrama cacao pulp Bellini combining Prosecco with the pulp of the cacao fruit.

I was also pleased to meet fellow food blogger Dinner_Diary (Kerri) who had contacted Artisan du Chocolat's PR company, Kitchen Communications, as I had, to ask whether she'd be able to attend.

After sampling and snapping away for an hour, I received an unexpected surprise - on leaving I was given a beautiful goodie bag. When I delved into it (once safely ensconsed in the Tube), I discovered another box of 12 chocolates, a cacao pod/ fruit and a copy of Carole Matthews' "The Chocolate Lovers' Club". Thank you very much; what a fun and generous gift!




I'll be keeping most of the chocolates to myself (and posting a review, along the lines of this one about Paul A Young chocolates) but am offering Carole Matthews' "The Chocolate Lovers' Club" to a (UK-based) reader. Not one but two friends gave me this book when it was published - what does that say about my image as a chocolate fiend? I enjoyed the gentle story about four chocolate-loving friends who meet regularly in a cafe called Chocolate Heaven to share laughter and tears in equal measure.

You have till the end of the month to leave a comment on this post sharing your favourite food or drink recipe for chocolate. I'll pick and announce a winner in July. Good luck!

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Wednesday, 3 June 2009

Restaurant Review: Underwhelmed by Hakkasan

A friend suggested meeting for a quick and early dinner last Thursday evening, before she went on to a show (which I declined). Having been before, and knowing I hadn't, she suggested we dine at Hakkasan. Several years behind the hype, I was still keen to sample the delights of one of few Asian restaurants in London to win (and keep) a Michelin star.

It seems waiting until Alan Yau sold up was not a wise decision. Whilst we had a pleasant meal, I was distinctly underwhelmed by the Hakkasan experience. Certainly, I didn't find myself nodding in agreement and appreciation, as I have when dining at other establishments which have been similarly recognised and awarded by the famous guide.

For a start, I wasn't blown away by the space itself. Cool and funky, modern and classy it might be, but it was so dark it was hard to see let alone appreciate details of the decor. I found myself wondering just what the intense shadows were hiding? For restaurants-cum-nightclubs or even bar-restaurants, this kind of dim lighting is probably perfect but for me, it made a high-end restaurant seem low-end and tacky. The tables in the dining area did have bright lights suspended above them but these spotlights had such a small area of focus that the dishes placed in the centre of the table, between us, were brightly lit whilst our own plates remained in shadow.

The welcome from the reception team was warm and efficient. As I arrived a few minutes early I was shown to the bar, where the welcome was distinctly cooler. But I'd heard good things about the cocktails and, after some time browsing the extensive cocktail list, I ordered myself a Lost Heaven - fresh nashi pear, Gran Centenario reposado tequila, coconut, peach, lime and guava juice. It was duly delivered (with no hint of a smile or conversation) and was as delicious as it sounds. My friend arrived a few moments later and ordered her own cocktail. She chose a Kokohana - fresh pineapple, basil leaves, coconut rum and lychee juice. It was plonked down in front of her without a word. The bar was manned by 3 male waiters, all of whom were similarly abrupt and short on words.

I was asked if I wanted to run a tab or pay for the bar drinks separately. I explained that, as we were short on time, we'd like to transfer to our dining table as soon as we could, and could they put the drinks onto the restaurant bill, please. I was surprised to be asked for my credit card - as the bar is, I believe, open only to diners, I'd expected them simply to transfer the drinks tab across to our dining one. Furthermore, I hadn't realised, as I handed it over, that they were going to keep it rather than take an imprint. I don't even know whether they have a bar card safe or whether cards are accessible to all restaurant staff. Certainly, given the prevalence of card fraud, I hope it's the former. A short while later, a hostess came to lead us to our table. I asked for my credit card back and was told it would be brought to my table. It was eventually returned to me about 20 minutes later.

Our table waitress was certainly friendlier and more helpful than the bar staff, though the level of service didn't begin to match the very professional service I've received in many high-end restaurants. Even though we were sharing dishes, she'd take one person's plate away whilst the other was still eating. She'd move to take away the serving dishes before we'd finished with the contents, though we did manage to stop her doing that. When she asked if we'd like more drinks (having both finished our lovely cocktails), I answered first and we had to stop her moving away (presumably to fulfill my order) before my friend had the chance to respond too. On the other hand, she was responsive and accurate when we asked how many dishes from the"Small Eats" section of the menu she felt would provide a good meal for two (five) and she always had a smile for us when she came to the table. She was fairly attentive - we never struggled to get her attention. I'd summarise service as friendly and reasonably efficient but more suited to a casual restaurant chain than a high-flyer like Hakkasan.

So what did we order and how was it?

Dim sum platter - scallop shumai, har gau, Chinese chive dumpling, shimeji dumpling (£11.50)

Handily, there were two of each dumpling so we could both sample all of them. All were well-made from good quality ingredients. The scallop shumai, har gau and chive dumplings were fairly standard and very much what you'll find in good quality dim sum establishments. The shimeji (mushroom) dumpling was new to me and I really liked the earthy, very umami flavours. It was an open dumpling and there was a thick, rich sauce over the rest of the (vegetarian) contents - very nice.

Jasmine tea smoked organic pork ribs (£11.50)

The ribs were tasty though I can't say I could detect the jasmine tea smoked flavour. Perfectly pleasant but no better than their counterparts in many Chinese restaurants up and down the country, and certainly overpriced in comparison.

Roasted mango duck with lemon sauce (£11.00)

I enjoyed this dish, though the portion of six very small slices of duck separated by the same number of mango slices, was smaller than I'd have liked. The mango and lemon sauce was tasty, and had a better depth of flavour (and less cloying texture) than the overly sweet lemony syrups beloved of Chinese takeaways.

Stir-fry edamame with pickled vegetable, beancurd stick and salted duck egg (£8.80)

This dish was, without a doubt, the single stand-out dish of the meal. Fresh edamame beans were mixed with a smattering of pickled vegetables, slivers of crispy beancurd and a sprinkle of salty, savoury powder which we assumed must be the duck egg. The combination of textures and flavours worked fantastically well and both of us continued to make noises of appreciation through to the last mouthfuls.

Sesame prawn toast (£13.00)

£13.00 bought us 4 sesame prawn toasts served with more slivered beancurd sticks and a small pile of crispy seaweed. Instead of the usual flat triangles, Hakkasan embedded whole, tail-on prawns within a dome of prawn paste set onto a circle of toast (covered with sesame seeds and deep-fried as usual). The tail stuck out of the dome providing a nifty handle. So presentation was definitely unusual. Taste was a little disappointing; I'd rate this dish as average against a selection of prawn toasts from a range of Chinese restaurants and takeaways. The seaweed too was nothing special. The beancurd sticks provided an additional salty crunch but were somewhat superflous against the crunch of the toasts themselves.

For our second cocktails, I went for more of the same and remained lost in heaven. My friend tried a Jasmine Fon Fon which I think included fresh strawberry, passion fruit, pink grapefruit juice, rum, cinnamon and champagne. Not only beautiful to look at - ruby red, served in a globular glass and topped with a thick white foam - it also packed a punch flavourwise.

Although we were pleasantly full we decided to order one dessert to share.

Tapioca pearl pudding - with vanilla panna cotta, poached banana and passion fruit sorbet (£8.00)

The tapioca pudding itself was lovely. The glimmering little pearls sat in a thick sauce flecked with real vanilla. On top floated a ball of passionfruit sorbet, a single tiny slice of poached banana and several pieces of salted popcorn (not mentioned in the menu description). Initially we thought the vanilla sauce of the tapioca pudding must be what the menu was referring to as panna cotta, failing to spot anything more solid, but towards the end, at the bottom of the dish, we found a few scant fragments of what was probably the hidden cooked cream. The dish mostly worked but we both agreed that whilst the passionfruit sorbet was perfectly nice on it's own, it clashed horribly with the sweet, creamy vanilla pudding. It seemed like an interloper in a set of components that otherwise gelled well. The poached banana slice was tasty - I'd have liked a little more of it, so it was more than a mere garnish. The salted popcorn was an unexpectedly successful surprise - it contrasted in taste and texture with the creamy vanilla without clashing, like the sorbet. A good way to finish, along with the final slurps of our cocktails.

I can't share any photos of our dishes with you, as apparently photography is not permitted in the restaurant, as I was told on taking a snap of my cocktail, at the bar. One member of staff helpfully told me that the owner, Mr Yau, was quite insistent about this. I couldn't help but wonder whether she knew that he'd sold the restaurant several months ago! Nor were staff permitted to give me a photocopy of the menu which would surely have been preferable to my having a notepad and pen out at the dining table in order to record the names and descriptions of the dishes we ordered! My friend, who'd been before, told me that the no photography rule didn't apply only to the food - she and her husband were stopped from taking photos of themselves enjoying a special evening out.

Our bill came to a whopping £115 (including service, added automatically to the bill). I'd happily pay that price for a fantastic restaurant experience but Hakkasan failed to deliver that for me.

Hakkasan on Urbanspoon

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Tuesday, 2 June 2009

Hello and thanks for all the fish!

Just a quick post to say thank you to everyone who kindly contributed to the list of questions for me to answer in my Who Am I? post. The blog's 2-month anniversary (today) seemed a good time to introduce myself properly so I had intended to write the post on the weekend ready to post it today but there were so many (great) questions, it'll take me a lot longer than I thought!

Instead, I'll just take a moment to thank all of you who've been visiting my newbie blog, especially those of you who've taken the time to leave me comments - these are really encouraging to a new blogger and I appreciate every one of them!

Thank you too, to the food blogging community at large for encouragement, advice and information and a warm welcome into the fold.

Any opinions about the content I'm posting, ideas for future posts, tips and advice about content or layout are very welcome as are simple hellos so please do comment away!

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Monday, 1 June 2009

Pearls & Peanuts: Black Tapioca Pearls with Peanut & Coconut Milkshake


Unusually for someone who didn't grow up eating them (so I'm told) I love the big black tapioca pearls often served at the bottom of ice cold drinks in Chinese cafes. (Yes, I like grass jelly too!)

In China Town for dim sum last week, but arriving earlier than my friend, I stopped for a refreshing drink in Jen Cafe. I usually choose a pearl iced coffee or a fruit juice, such as Watermelon, over pearls. But this time I chose a pearl peanut drink. It tasted like a milkshake made with peanut butter. I loved it!

I still had some time to kill after slurping up the last of the silky, chewy spheres so I popped into to a few of the Chinese supermarkets to see what interesting ingredients I could find. As you can guess, I went for a packet of black tapioca pearls. I could also have chosen a packet of mixed pastel colours. For those of you familiar with the tapioca pearls used in tapioca pudding, these are much, much larger - nearer to a centimetre in diameter rather than 2-3 mm.


We spent the weekend at a friend's house, attending a BBQ party for his birthday. It seemed to be as good a time as any to experiment with my pearls!

Following the instructions on the packet, I put them into boiling water until they were soft, shiny and squishy.


After draining them I dropped them briefly into iced water to cool them down.


I divided them between a few glasses.


Whilst they were boiling I'd thrown a tin of coconut milk, half a small jar of peanut butter, some brown sugar and a little regular milk (to thin it down) into a processor and whizzed it together. I poured that over the tapioca pearls. As I'd not thought to buy any of the extra-wide straws usually served with pearl drinks I served mine with regular straws plus teaspoons.


The reaction to the "giant frogspawn" was amusing, though most of the assembled party did, somewhat gamely, try them. They didn't go down too well! The peanut coconut drink had a more mixed reaction with two of the drinkers finding it very strange but surprisingly moreish!

I wasn't too surprised at the reaction, since I've been told that pearl drinks aren't generally enjoyed by Western palates but I had a lot of fun and will definitely make some more pearl drinks with the rest of my packet.

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