Vaguely Asianesque Fish-ball Soup

To paraphrase a popular novelty song… “Fish-balls, fish-balls, roly-poly fish-balls…”

I can’t claim that song as inspiration, but, for some reason, I started humming it while I was trying this out for the first time. And, much like the song, we did “eat them up, yum.” Perhaps you will too.

It was my turn to cook. It’s usually my turn to cook unless I am working evenings, or my wife is feeling inspired to cook something Mexican (she’s American, so more experienced in such things). I had in front of me: a vacuum pack of smoked mackerel fillets and an assortment of vegetables. Investigation of the cupboard in search of inspiration came up with a tin of tuna, some packet miso soup, a packet of wakame flakes, fresh ginger root, noodles and such like.  From this, I came up with the idea of making little balls from the fish and cooking them in a somewhat Asianesque soup.  That didn’t quite work out as intended, in so far as the fish-balls disintegrated in the soup, so I ended up with a very fish soup (it still tasted good). Next time, I tried frying the balls first, and that worked better.  After a couple more attempts, I settled on the following… well, I’ll call it a recipe, for want of a better term, but, it could equally well be called an idea, or possibly even the seed for other ideas.  Feel free to experiment.

As usual, all amounts are approximate, depending on what I have lying around with which to measure. Feel free to vary according to taste, size of packet. If substituting dried herbs/spices/breadcrumbs, you might need to add a little liquid.

The Fishballs

• Smoked mackerel fillets (I got the ones that come vacuum-packed from the chiller aisle, but there is no reason you shouldn’t used tinned) – 0.4kg or 14 oz. Where necessary, I have provided translation into American (but not for amounts, unless that is important).
• Tinned tuna, 1 small tin, drained.
• The green parts of a bunch of spring onions (scallions),
• Fresh coriander (cilantro)
• Fresh ginger root – 1 thumb-sized piece, more if you like it
• Minced garlic – 1 heaped teaspoon, more if you like it
• Fresh chilli – about a thumb-sized piece before chopping
• Breadcrumbs – about a handful – freshly made from a slice of bread, not the lurid yellow dried stuff from a packet.
• One egg, beaten

Peel the skin off the mackerel (if using the fillets) and finely shred (I find that you need a knife on the thinner parts of the fillets because they can get quite hard during smoking). Do the same to the tuna.

Finely mince the ginger, garlic (I cheated and used a couple of spoonfuls of Lazy Garlic from a jar) and chilli.  Finely mince a tablespoon (or more if you like it) of the coriander (I used the stalks and reserved the leaves for the soup part). Finely chop the green parts of the spring onions.

Mix everything together into a glorious mess until all the green parts are evenly distributed.  Then take a generous heaped teaspoonful and roll/squidge into balls.  Mine ended up around the size of a thumb-joint, or of you prefer, they could have been moulded using two of my plastic 1 Teaspoon measuring spoons.  You can make them bigger if you like, but then people end up with fewer each. I ended up with over 40 of them. I find wetting my hands before rolling helps to prevent the mixture sticking to my hands.

Stick them in the fridge to chill for a couple of hours, or, if in a hurry, in the freezer for 15 minutes. I’m not sure why, but it does seem to help them to keep their shape. Don’t let them get too frozen though.

After chilling, heat up some oil and deep fry the balls in batches until golden brown, drain on kitchen paper and reserve, keeping them warm.

The Soup

• One bunch of spring onions (scallions), plus the white bits left over from the bunch used for  making the fish balls.
• One quarter of a head of cabbage (I used Savoy, but feel free to try something else)
• A couple of large carrots
• One small tin of water chestnuts
• The rest of the fresh chilli according to taste
• Several large garlic cloves according to taste
• A thumb-sized piece of fresh ginger, or more if you like it
• Fresh coriander (cilantro) – one bunch (in my case, I used the leaves left over from making the fish balls, for which I used the stalks)
• One packet of seaweed (e.g. wakame) flakes
• Two sachets of mizo soup mix
• Vegetable stock or fish stock
• Soy sauce
• One nest of egg noodles per person.
• Juice of one lemon (if you remember, you can finely shred the zest and incorporate that into the fishballs).
• Salt & pepper to taste

Halve the spring onions lengthways and cut into one inch pieces. Shred the cabbage finely. Quarter the carrots lengthways, cut into two inch lengths, and then cut into long thin slices (I used a vegetable peeler, or if your grater has a slicing aperture, use that).  Roughly chop the water chestnuts. Finely mince the ginger, garlic and chilli. Roughly chop the coriander leaves, reserving a few for garnish.

Heat a little oil in a large saucepan. Sweat the carrot, then add the spring onions for a few minutes, the garlic, chilli and ginger, sweat a couple of minutes more before adding the cabbage and water chestnuts.  Stir for a few minutes, then make up the mizo soup in a jug with hot water and add to the pan.  Make up the stock in a jug with hot water and add that, topping up with more water; until everything is well covered (I ended up with over 3 litres or roughly 3 US quarts).  Bring to a gentle boil, then turn down and simmer for 10 minutes.  Add the seaweed towards the end, depending on the cooking instructions for it (i.e. if it needs just 2 or 3 minutes in hot water, then add 2 or 3 minutes towards the end. Add the lemon juice and a good glug of the soy. Stir in the chopped coriander. Check the seasoning and add salt and pepper if needed.  Add more soy sauce if you like, tasting and adjusting until you like it.  Turn down to the minimum simmer.

Prepare the egg noodles according to the instructions.

Serving

When you are ready, place a nest of the cooked noodles in a bowl, add half a dozen fish-balls or more (depending on how hungry you are, how big your bowls are, and how many meals you intend to get out of it – I ended up with six servings). Pour over enough soup (with the assorted vegetation) to cover, throw in a couple of the reserved coriander leaves and serve.  There should be plenty for a good meal, but if you need a little more, do as I did and make up a big bowl of prawn crackers to accompany it.

So, that was my fish-ball soup.  Feel free to experiment. If you are trying to cut down on carbs, you could try replacing the noodles with bean-sprouts; in which case, add those to the soup mix a few minutes before the end of cooking.  Next time, I might try a little lemongrass in the soup mix too, if I have any. Or I might replace the cabbage with bok choi – either shredded, or a good handful of the baby ones. Anything is possible.

 

 

Knock Like a Policeman

I have had an assortment of jobs over the years; from the high-tech (designing fibre-optic based communications systems to the low-tech (being a sausage straightener, of which more another day). At the moment, for lack of other work, I am working for a company that does fundraising for charities. This essentially means that I get paid to spend six hours a day walking around a neighbourhood, knocking on doors and then trying to convince the people who answer the door to sign up to making a regular monthly contribution to the charity concerned. It’s a pretty thankless task, and can be very discouraging; given how many refusals you get compared to the number of people who do sign up. But, it is supposedly the most efficient way of raising long-term money, or so they tell us anyway.

It’s a fairly simple process.  You knock on the door, you introduce yourself and the charity you are raising funds for, you tell them a problem and elicit their sympathy, you tell them the solution your charity is providing, you tell them how it is only possible through the generosity of the public, you tell them how generous their neighbours have been, and then you ask them how much they are prepared to give.

At least, in theory. In reality, it isn’t so simple. You have to engage their interest, you have to overcome their objections and you have to close the deal. And that’s quite apart from all the various hazards and obstacles you have to overcome before you even get to speak to them, and all the things you have to do on the way there.

Such as the knock.

What could be complicated about that, I hear you ask. Well, nothing is as simple as it seems.

Sometimes there are doorbells, but it is my experience that only about half of them actually work, even the ones that light up green to tell you that you have pressed the button.  Unless you can actually hear it ring inside, you don’t know if it worked. Sometimes, if I can’t hear it, I am tempted to knock as well, but only if I remember to do so at the same time. Ringing, then pausing before knocking sounds, to me, like impatience, and I don’t want to sound like I am a debt-collector or something.

Some doors have built-in knockers, usually either a tiny horseshoe-shaped one, occasionally around one of those peephole things, or a rectangular one around the letterbox. I prefer those to bruising my knuckles, although I have found the little horseshoe-shaped ones produce a rather timid sound.  Especially the one I saw on one PVC door, where the knocker itself was made of PVC too.  I’d have made more sound flicking peas at the window.

On the other hand, the dedicated knockers do sound rather aggressive.  Sometimes, the knockers come in amusing shapes, a dog’s head, a pig’s head, a stag’s head, a dolphin, and even a cricket bat or golf club. My door-knocker is a green man, but maybe that’s just me. A common choice is the ring in a lion’s mouth. I’m not quite sure what that is supposed to represent, but at least, usually, it makes a decent sound.

Knock too softly and you may not be heard. Knock too hard and you come across as aggressive.  When it is a glazed door, do you knock on the glass or the body of the door? And what about houses with enclosed porches? Many leave the outer door unlocked and you have to go in to knock in the inner door. I don’t like that much, as it feels like I am being too presumptuous. On the other hand, when you knock on the outer door, there is a good chance you won’t be heard. Of course, many times, I have knocked, knowing there are people in because the lights are on and I can see the flickering of a TV through the frosted glass, and still been ignored. Maybe they had the TV on too loud.

The knock itself leads to a few moments of indecision.  Do you go with a Rat-tat,  A Rat-tat-tat or even a Rat-tat-tat-tat? Go too far in that direction and you end up with the old ‘shave and a hair-cut, two bits’ knock, which I have never been brave enough to try. Besides, it is bit clichéd having been used as the ‘secret’ code-knock in too many comedy films and TV shows. Lately, I have had a few careless moments and ended up with Rat-tat-ouch, as I get my fingertips in the way of the knocker. I blame the cold weather.

I had not really given much thought to the knock until the other night.  I knocked on one door, I think I went with the Rat-tat-tat-tat, stepped back, put on my smile and had one hand ready to show my ID badge. A voice came from what I assumed to be the sitting room window next to the door (some people choose to stick their head out of the window rather than coming to answer the door) and yelled “What you want?” I explained who I was, and that I was representing a charity. She then asked “Are you the police?”  I assured her that I was not, and repeated that I was there on behalf of a charity.  Then she said “Well, you knock like a policeman”, told me to go away and shut the window again.

“You knock like a policeman”

That puzzled me for much of the rest of the shift.  How does a policeman knock?  I went over the various police shows I had watched on TV over the years. All I could recall was variations on the theme of “bash bash” followed by “Open up, this is the police!”  I am fairly sure I knocked rather than bashed, and I am certain I didn’t yell “Open Up” or indeed anything. I shall have to do some research now, and watch a few more cop shows. My working hours preclude much evening viewing, but I am sure there must be repeats of The Bill or other shows on during the day. Maybe then I will learn how to knock like a policeman. Or, given the reaction of that woman, maybe I should learn how and then avoid it. Scaring the residents off isn’t going to help me get them to donate to charity.

Any ideas?  How does a policeman knock?

 

The Anxiety of Mornings

A few weeks ago, I came across an article in the Guardian on lost words – words that would be very useful, yet have somehow fallen into disuse.  One word listed in the article was uhtcearu, which the article described thusly:

“Uhtceare is an Old English word that refers to anxiety experienced just before dawn. It describes that moment when you wake up too early and can’t get back to sleep; no matter how tired you are, because you’re worried about the day to come.”

This struck me as an incredibly useful and relevant word, since it is something that happens to me on frequent occasions, as I am sure it does to many other people, especially in these days of financial and job insecurity. In fact, I thought it was such a useful word, I wanted to use it for the title of the blog, except somebody beat me to it, so I had to opt for a modified form. If you are a student of Old English, please don’t kill me if I got it wrong.

Despite the name, this blog will not be all about my morning anxieties. Since I am more likely to be writing it in the evening, I may well have forgotten whatever formless fears caused me to wake up anyway. What you will find is comments upon the day, the occasional rant about the stupidities of the bureaucracy of whatever august body I had dealings with that day, gripes about whatever job I am doing at the time, comments on political matters, or indeed, whatever takes my fancy at the time I sit down to write. There may even be the occasional bits of fiction, as and when I commit them.  Who knows?  This is my first entry, and the future might consist of pedantic pontificating on the purpose of porpoises, though I suspect that is highly unlikely.

So, here it is, my first post, mostly to stop the stupid 404 message when I navigate to this page. As and when things occur to me, there will be tags, categories and somewhere at the lower end of the possibility curve, interesting posts.