Three Days

Come Monday morning, my behind was so, so sore. Three consecutive days with Master meant not only many a sound paddling, but also multiple opportunities to prepare meals in an unfamiliar kitchen. While this can be a dicey proposition, all in all I feel as though I acquitted myself nicely.

Master's brand-spankin'-new electric wok had arrived during the week. So I broke it in on Friday night with a simple stir fry of yu choy sum (Chinese flowering cabbage) over lo mein. Not being the biggest fan of the traditional oyster sauce, I opted for a blend of tamari soy sauce, kecap manis, mirin, honey, beef stock and fresh-squeezed orange juice. Kecap manis gets a bad rap, but I quite like it, especially in combination with a strong soy sauce like tamari, whose salty, umami richness is rounded out nicely by the treacly sweetness.

The yu choy sum, with its aromatic base of garlic, ginger, scallions and red onions, made for a flavorful and light meal. The wok performed flawlessly. The same could not be said for the range, which seemed to take forever to bring the water to a boil. The noodles were also more broken than I would have liked, but Master didn't seem to mind. He roundly pronounced the dish a success, went back for several servings, and took pride in sharing a portion with a friend who dropped by later that evening. I don't know how well the delicate yu choy sum held up to reheating, but the friend - a professional chef, mind - seemed to enjoy it. Go, me. I thought the stir fry tasted fine, if a bit bland without a hit of Sriracha. Fortunately, I'd brought the bottle along. This is becoming an addiction, isn't it?

I will spare you, gentle readers, the details that led to Master and me getting such a late start on Saturday. Use your ample imaginations, but know that they may still come up short. Suffice to say that it was well past noon when we settled in for breakfast. I felt like making French toast, which just happens, sometimes, and can't be easily explained or dismissed. Rummaging through Master's fridge turned up a loaf of oat bread and many dubiously dated eggs. No, no, this wouldn't do. An emergency foray to the local market, with a stop at home to raid my own kitchen for maple syrup and butter, nutmeg, a cinnamon stick and my trusty microplane grater, brought a dozen fresh eggs, cinnamon bread, and unexpected delights in the form of frozen wild blueberries and a fresh Meyer lemon. Uncooperative burners and worryingly thin lactose-free milk aside, I was able to deliver a perfect golden-brown stack of eggy, orange zest-and-spice-scented joy to the table, alongside an improvised compote, kicked up with the exquisitely perfumed juice of that Meyer lemon. Both the French toast and the blueberry compote turned out even more delicious than I'd anticipated. I can see why Master was delighted. I was on a roll. Could I make it three for three?

I'd have to wait until Sunday to find out, as Saturday night saw us returning to the same Chinese restaurant we'd dined at the previous weekend. Master is a creature of habit, and he can be unfailingly loyal to favorite eateries. My Sichuan pork was on a par with the twice-cooked pork dish I'd ordered during our last visit - flavorful but unexceptional, and neither hot nor spicy enough to titillate me. I should confess that I've been spoiled by having a roommate (from Sichuan) whose ultra-authentic home cooking knocks the pale imitation on offer at Chinese restaurants into the proverbial cocked hat.