The end of the year is always a time of summary and reflection. It’s usually a moment where I like to pause, look at the movie in my head, rewind my memories and zoom in on the special moments.
There is a French word I love so much that is extremely difficult to translate in English: insolite, meaning something unique, special, unexpected, and taking inspiration from Paolo Coelho’s The Alchemist, almost like the whole universe conspired to get you to that place at that time. It can be used as a verb, to describe a moment, a place, an event. It can also be used more poetically as a noun — l’insolite — the unique occurrence. Close to providential, far from coincidence, utterly personal. What may be le moment insolite for you may just be something banal for someone else. It’s a special gift from the universe that every once in a while you might share with someone else.
This year I am grateful. I had always chastised myself for being too serious in college, using summer breaks to do internships rather than to go and explore the world as I had planned to fresh out of high school. The world was my oyster but I had soon built my own shell. I was neither unhappy nor content but often regretful about the time I could never get back.
By some twist of fate and divine intervention, my life took a turn. Nowadays my passport is continually stamped, both for work and pleasure. This year was a year of travel — the ultimate blessing of discovery and knowledge. Offering special moments surrounding food … dear to my heart, comfort for my soul and enlightening for my spirit.
Allow me to share with you, in no particular order, the top 10 inspiring foodie moments that I was blessed with this year with the sincerest wish that you had just as much of a gastronomi-cally adventurous year as I did.
1. Vietnam – For a country I never really thought twice about growing up, Vietnam has really bitten me hard. The food is amazing, the people are fascinating and the energy is intoxicating. The first time I entered Ben Tanh Market in Ho Chi Minh City, I was in awe. The vibrant colors, the alluring noises, the electricity in the air … I was like a child in a candy shop: fabric, por-celain, produce and amazing food for peanuts. Had my first bun cha shining under a glaring white light, ironically fresh amid the bustle; the fresh-pressed sugarcane juice over ice. The second time around was with Bobby Chinn, leading us to his favorite banh cuon stall, where a lady deftly makes them achingly thin. Truly my favorite market in the region.
2. San Francisco – The sun was shining, seagulls cawed crassly fighting over crumbs, the water lapped up against the pier. Californian produce shone brightly under the sun like gems. Sapphire blueberries, citrine oranges, ruby raspberries, soft and pearly, fuzzy white peaches … a day with my beloved sister Bea and my nephew Aiden, strolling through the market at the Ferry Building in San Francisco. The perfect porchetta sandwich from Roli Roti … chewy ciabbata, lightly toasted. Rich and tender morsels of pork meat, crunchy crackling skin and pep-pery-fresh arugula.
3. Meeting Albert Roux is like meeting the legend that creates legends. During the Langham Food and Wine Festival last September in Hong Kong, I had the unique opportunity to not only try his food (the foie gras terrine with shaved truffles was just the most velvety divine rendition of foie gras I’ve ever had in my life) but to have a one-on-one interview with no less than the Queen Mother’s favorite chef. Though I know he would hate my dishes (“I abhor cilantro”), he was so profound, almost Yoda-like. I was so overwhelmed by his insights, which were so brutally frank and yet very wise: “Fusion is confusion.”
4. Meeting Benjamin Bayly – At the same festival I got to discover Benjamin Bayly, the complete opposite of Roux’s classicism. The new-world blood in this New Zealand native has ren-dered him fearless of the usual culinary boundaries. In stark contrast to what Roux finds deplorable (“Some chefs put more than 10 things on a plate!”), Bayly manages to put a plethora of ingredients together and make it work. Not far from a Stravinsky concert, his unusual pairings, ruptured textures and fresh ingredients make for a pleasantly chaotic harmony. His smoked mackerel was one of the most balanced dishes I’ve ever eaten. Charred flavors, tart apples, astringent horseradish, sweet Asian undertones, crunchy bits, warm and cold … definitely one to watch.
5. Chateau Margaux tasting – Because I was often traveling around I had very few occasions to attend events in the Philippines, but there was one particular standout. Alex and Clifford Lichaytoo of Bacchus Foods invited me to a vertical tasting of Chateau Margaux. I love these dinner moments where you have wonderful seatmates; the food is good but the wine even better. Each wine was an equally enchanting personality, but the passionate descriptions of the young Thibault Pontallier, son of the Chateau Margaux’s winemaker, probably made it all the more special. “A good wine makes you feel pleasure. A great wine makes you feel emotion.” Enough said.
6. I fell in love with Angkor as soon as the tuktuk turned the corner, the trees casting lacelike patterns on the vast avenues, the soft warm light bathing the ancient sculptures, the smiling Buddhas and fiery dancers carved in stone for eternity. Khmer cuisine was a revelation. Not quite what I expected and so surprisingly close to home yet so creative. Khmer Amok curry is the perfect example of elevating everyday produce into something sophisticated. Chili, lemongrass and red ginger — all ingredients that grow in the Philippines — are coaxed into a beau-tiful dish sweetened by coconut and fresh fish, the saffron color reminiscent of the sun setting gently over the temples.
7. The Crab Bee Hoon Nazi – Danny of Sin Huat is famous, and has every reason to be. Even if I had a wild adventure lost through the dingy streets of Geylang — surprised that Singa-pore even had these sketchy parts, weaving through ladies of the night and their prey clutching my stilettos — searching desperately for this joint was well worth it. There’s local fare and there’s local fare. And this guy’s crab bee hoon is every noodle’s dream. It’s what every pancit and bihon wants to be: thin and firm noodles evenly coated in just the right amount of sauce, an explosion of flavor and crabmeat mingling in messy delight, the crab fat scraped off the shell and shamelessly mixed in. Yes. Noodle nirvana.
8. My meal in Jaan – My last trip to Singapore had me more excited for those crab bee hoon noodles. Truth be told, I wasn’t really looking forward to my meal in Jaan. I had in my head a stuffy place with snooty food, all presentation and no punch. My foot was in my mouth after my meal because the young and handsome chef, Julien Royer, had blown me away with his skill, ingenuity and honesty. He managed to elevate the Caprese salad without changing its identity. Beef heart tomatoes, torn bits of burrata, shaved black truffle, heady almonds and olive caviar. It is rare to have the perfect combination of precision and technique, an enchanting dash of whimsy and a deep respect for produce and rusticity. I’m looking forward to seeing his evolution.
9. The best roast chicken I’ve ever had – I had thought about putting my perfectly roast chicken from Alice Water’s Chez Panisse in Berkeley, but it wouldn’t be fair to say it was the best I’ve ever had. The best roast chicken I’ve had was cooked up lovingly by my fiancé Jonathan during a trip with friends to Calatagan. It was our turn to cook that evening and after the many bottles of rosé consumed that afternoon, I in turn was consumed by sleep, leaving him to fend for himself in the kitchen. Thank goodness! The chicken was crisp and sticky with natural juices. He had lovingly basted it every 10 minutes. The potatoes were chewy and slightly burnt from cooking slowly in the drippings. It seductively slid off the bone. No sauce. No fancy marinade or rubs. No free-range, hormone-free, happy fat mountain chicken. Just a little cracked pepper, some patience and a whole lot of love.
10. My parents’ anniversary in Tuscany – I said there wouldn’t be an order but I did save the best moment for last. My parents celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary with the entire family in Tuscany. Italy was such a feast and every moment was so unique and intimate that I chose not to write about it and keep it all to myself. My crazy bunch of brothers and sisters, nieces and nephews bobbed together in a bus, enjoying the gorgeous scenery, cheap pleasant wine and mountains of pasta. On our last evening together, my parents, my siblings and I all ate in Osteria di Passignano. Grumpy and tired from the tail end of our trip, we wove through the unmarked roads getting lost until we reached a clearing. A tall medieval castle stood proudly overlooking rolling vineyards. The sun was setting and a mist was forming. We were the noisy bunch in the establishment. The food was impeccable and the wine was a bacchana-lian gift: beautiful crisp white from the north and sexy Barolo … and a tiny pigeon breast that my father lovingly passed on to me because it was so beautiful. The pigeon was tender, like a rich butter of earthy flavors. It was so divine it brought tears to my eyes and we ordered another round, which we sparingly cut up to share with everyone. We cheered. We laughed. We cried with joy. And when finally the staff, bemused by our joie de vivre, ushered us out, we were intoxicated with good food, excellent wine and love. During the car ride home, just like le moment insolite, the radio starts playing a touching pop song: “Tonight, we are young … so let’s set the world on fire…” And when I have a bad day, I think of this moment. That pigeon. That song. My family and my love and tell myself, how much more blessed could I be?