Heavenly Fragrance. Carol Selva Selva Rajah
This book was born from a discovery that Asian flavors and aromas are simple to recreate in your kitchen. Follow my Amah’s rule “If it doesn’t smell good, it will not taste good!” Just go ahead and have fun with these aromas.
Perfect for a summer lunch that speaks of rarefied paradise (see Black Pepper Lobster Tails with Garlic Butter—page 183) with a glass of your favorite bubbly.
If your childhood memories are stirred by the gentle aromas of parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme, as well as by a Simon and Garfunkel ballad, then you are clearly a child of the West. If, on the other hand, memories of your mother’s kitchen are summoned by the citrusy perfume of kaffir lime, the freshness of Chinese celery, the peppery blast of basil, the comforting softness of coriander, and the pepper and lemony aromas of curry leaves and sweet lemongrass, then you are a child of the East. It is the variety of herbs, the leaves and flowers of plants, that separates the cuisines of Europe and Asia.
I think the place to understand the strident tones that tropical herbs create is in an Asian market. Everything is loud, colorful and “in your face” here. A gaggle of geese, ducks in cages, the flower lady advertising her wares in her loudest voice—hoping to drown out the hot tofu seller next door. Walk past the fish stall, and above the cacophony of market calls you will hear the screech of the auctioneer. Stand still and breathe deeply. There is nothing subtle about this at all. It is raw and vocal. So are the herbs—strong, pungent, perfumed, aromatic and unforgettable—there is nothing bashful about the herbs of the tropics. You are reminded of countless curry meals in the roadside stalls of Thailand and the fried kway teow hawkers cooking their noodles with abandon in the night markets of Malaysia. Bunches of herbs are plucked hastily and thrown into a mee krob salad, or into a biting-red chili crab dish.
The Asian cook blends many ingredients together to make a dish. Imagine the cook as a builder starting from the foundation and working upwards, with garlic and hot oil forming the base of the structure. From there, as each ingredient is browned and releases its fragrance, other contrasting ingredients such as onion or chili are added. And so different aromatic layers and enticing flavors are added—one on top of the other—to provide an extraordinary blend.
In the West, flowers are cut for decoration and their perfumes waft through the house. In the East, flowers are more likely than not cut for the kitchen, and their fragrance is distilled and decanted into foods and dining rooms. It is true that in the West one might find candied violets by a grandmother’s bedside, or peppery-tasting nasturtium leaves in the salads of Vogue readers—but the former is rarely seen these days and the latter is subject to the whims of fashion. In Asia, banana blossoms and ginger flowers release their floral grassy or cinnamon-like gingery scents, always distinctive, into fish sambals and krabu herbal salads on a daily basis. These dishes are as commonplace and as widely prepared as a Western Caesar Salad, a Salad Nicoise or a Lebanese Tabouli.
A wise cook once told me that the main difference between spices and herbs is that you go out to buy spices whereas you grow herbs in your garden. In other words, herbs are more accessible and freshly available if you grow them in a pot or devote a tiny garden bed to your most commonly used varieties. I believe the most beautiful herb in the world is the statuesque “Jerry Hall” of herbs—the ginger flower, locally known as bunga kantan. It grows tall and straight, blossoming out and facing toward the sun, then curving inward again, like hands cupped in prayer. The aroma is unbelievably subtle—containing the perfume of ginger and roses, slightly peppery, with a touch of cinnamon, jas-mine and sweet chilies. The ginger flower has a stunning cherry-colored heart that slowly lightens into pink, fading into warm creamy-yellow petals.
A shrimp sambal or a salad cooked with chopped ginger flower makes all these wonderful aromas come alive at once in the mixture. I have witnessed an amazing Balinese salad called babi guling —roast suckling pig with many herbs and vegetables including chopped ginger flower. The ginger flower perfume was so infused into the dish that diners couldn’t resist bending forward to inhale the wondrous scents as the dish was served. Now wouldn’t you think a ginger flower is something worth exploring?
Lemongrass grows in a prolific clump like tall grass. The root clump divides into many individual stalks and each one produces a fat, juicy, lemony, fragrant bulb that can be harvested and used to perfume your curries, or ground into aromatic sambals, drinks and teas. Vietnamese mint grows like the Triffids spreading their minty, peppery roots into any available space! You will find that most herbs can grow in a semi-tropical or Mediterranean climate, and when disturbed by the wind, gives you that wonderful aroma evocative of the Tropics, that is certainly worth cultivating if you can.
Fresh herbs, especially the trusty lemongrass and ginger, are unbelievable in their aroma, intensity and staying power. Even after being cooked, a sauce or sambal made with fresh herbs can always be picked out and a trained palate can always distinguish between the crunch of lemongrass or the bite of curry leaf or even the sweet, suffering touch of pepper-like Vietnamese mint.
Although I may wax lyrical about fresh herbs, I realize that in many communities, and even in the large cities, they may not be available, especially in winter. So feel free to use dried herbs if you must, making sure you check the use-by date. It’s better to use a dried herb than no herb at all. Enjoy an herbal experience whenever you can and enjoy their perfumes in your food and in your life!
Asian basils ~
On my first trip to Thailand many years ago, I attended a class with Charlie Amatyakul, the chef at the Oriental Hotel Cooking School. Charlie’s set-up was ideal—small groups of students, an extensive working space and exclusive attendees. While I wondered what I would be doing, in came the ingredients in large bowls and we started touching, feeling, smelling and sorting them. Soon the whole classroom turned into an aromatic atrium filled with the fragrances of aniseed, mint, citrus and rose. It was a shock to the system although I had used most of these herbs in my cooking before. But never in such profusion or variety. Basil was the first herb I picked up and held to my nose with my eyes closed. The scent of the leaves was comforting, sharp and almost healing—I had never taken notice of such a strong aroma from this herb. I looked again; this was what Charlie called Thai basil: red veins giving way to dark purple florets and firm green leaves. This was the beginning of my own love affair with Thai basil, the herb that is used whenever Thai food is cooked. The bite of the leaf produces a surprising flavor and aroma at the back of the throat; pleasant and memorable.
A bunch of fresh dark green basil sprigs held in your hands and pressed to your nostrils to release the peppery aniseed aroma is about as close as you can get to the aroma of hospitality. It is one of the oldest herbs in cultivation, used by many of the world’s cooks both in Europe and Asia. There are many different basils used in different regions of the world. The European basil is slightly different, with hairier stems and droopy leaves.
Asian basils come in three different varieties. The most common of the three has an intense aroma and is generally known as Thai basil (horapa in Thai; daun kemangi in Malaysia and Indonesia). Lemon-scented basil (manglak in Thai) is usually cooked rather than eaten raw. Holy basil or kaprow in Thai has a strong, sharp aroma and is used only in a few dishes. It is so called because the Hindus consider it sacred. A basil plant brought to a new home brings blessings, said a Croatian friend of mine when she walked into my new house—a good indication that traditions of herbs in food are found both in the East and West dating back to ancient times.
Purchasing: Look for brightly-colored, fresh basil with leaves that stand firm, without any hint of wilting. If you press a leaf between your fingers, this should release a strong aroma.
Culinary uses Used in stir-fries, in salads with each leaf picked and tossed together with other ingredients, or as a garnish for steamed