Gold and green

The traditional colour central to all Chinese weddings is red. From the invitation, to tablecloths, to the bride's dress, everything is red, representing love and happiness. Equally important in Chinese culture is prosperity which is represented by gold. Put red and gold together you have the obligatory Chinese wedding colour scheme. Personally, I do not think I have ever owned a red dress (I'm shy) and instead wore a ivory and gold cheong sam during my wedding reception.


For the unconventional Chinese bride who loves French pastry and citrus, lemon macarons with lemon curd and a sprinkle of edible gold dust were perfect. Although I have seen red macarons before in Paris which would have looked spectacular with a splash of gold dust, an unpleasant amount of artificial colouring is required to achieve an intense red that does not appear pink. As you may guess, I am not a big fan of red velvet cake either (sorry!).


As a nice pairing to the lemon macarons, there were also green tea macarons with white chocolate coconut ganache filling which received a light silver lustre. The flavours were very complementary and appealed to the Asian palate. Matcha powder is becoming easier to find in stores these days and gives a lovely earthy green hue to the final product; however, it does have a strong flavour which can be overpowering and if you use too much like I did in a pastry cream once, you end up with something that resembles algae!

Good fortune

My childhood memories of Chinese New Year mainly involve things other than food. Dressing up to perform Chinese folk dancing, bringing plum blossoms to my grandparents in Chinatown, and receiving a shiny quarter in a lai-see are a few examples. Although food is a very central part of Chinese culture, I never developed a palate for the sweet traditional delicacies abundant during Chinese New Year celebrations. Nothing in that round lacquer box ever tasted good to me and no matter how hard I tried, I could never crack open those darned melon seeds. Instead, I headed straight for my savoury favourites, pan-fried lo baak gou (turnip cake) and any dumpling in sight.


I found a recipe for chocolate fortune cookies in Pichet Ong's cookbook which is basically just a simple tuile batter with added cocoa powder. Tuiles are very thin flat cookies, made from stenciling batter onto a baking sheet, which are baked and then quickly shaped while hot immediately out of the oven. Because I do not yet possess asbestos fingers like some fellow bakers out there, my fortune cookie shaping success rate was below 50% initially. Fortunately, a pair of latex gloves and perserverance helped produce 20 cookies which passed quality control.


Eric brought home some lovely Ataulfo mangos which prompted me to make an old favourite, mango pudding. Who can resist the creamy silken golden goodness? Not me. Instead of evaporated milk, my recipe from pastry school uses sour cream and heavy cream which gives it added richness. And isn't Chinese New Year all about richness, prosperity, and luck? Wishing you all good health and good fortune in the Year of the Rat...Gung Hay Fat Choy!

Those darned tarts

I have never been very fond of Chinese desserts. Growing up, I would always prefer the ubiquitous orange wedges instead of red bean soup or sweet tapioca pudding at the end of a large Chinese dinner. My mild sweet tooth explains why I avoid treats like lotus seed paste filled mooncake which is traditionally eaten during yesterday's Mid-Autumn festival.


Instead, a new cookbook by Pichet Ong, The Sweet Spot: Asian-Inspired Desserts, was introduced to me recently and in lieu of mooncake, I decided to try the passionfruit dahn tart recipe. Dahn tarts (or "those darned tarts" according to Eric) are traditional egg custard tarts commonly found in any Chinese bakery or dim sum restaurant, typically made with a puff pastry shell. Using fresh passionfruit in a dahn tart is a modern twist which can add both flavour and texture due to the edible seeds.


Having never seen or used fresh passionfruit before, the grayish mucinous pulp and insect-like seeds were somewhat repulsive to me initally; however, the floral aroma and pleasing crunch soon softened my negative reaction. I did modify the recipe by using leftover half & half instead of milk and leftover pâte sucrée instead of puff pastry due to frugality and laziness.


The soft custard centres were delicately flavoured with passionfruit and contrasted well with the buttery light tart shell. Perhaps next time, I would use less seeds because to me, a dahn tart needs its characteristic smooth glistening golden yellow surface. All I am missing now is the dim sum experience that precedes every good dahn tart.