Destination Peru #2: Pisco and Our New Super Drink

Arriving in Lima, my family met up with our airport pick-up. We had a semi-tour, several days and meals on our own, with transportation services to our destinations and occasional guided tours. Our guide in Lima introduced us briefly to some sites around the city and also Peru's role as a culinary mecca in South America. More on that in the following entries. But today, my focus is on Peru's treasured nectar.

The national drink is Pisco, a brandy-like liquor distilled from grapes. It's got quite a kick at 43% alcohol, but it's deceptively sweet and delicious. It even has Denominacion de Origen protection, the Spanish equivalent of the Protected Destination of Origin label for Champagne. At our first hotel, Hotel Embajadores in the affluent suburb of Miraflores, we received vouchers for free Pisco Sours at the bar. This cocktail, a combination of Pisco, lemon or lime juice, simple syrup, egg whites and bitters has a distinctive look. The egg whites creating a foam that sits above the liquid and a few drops of bitters that float on the cloud of foam. Unfortunately I didn't get a picture of it, but rest assured I will one day make one myself and upload the picture here.

On my return from Peru, I bought two bottles of Pisco, one for myself and one as a gift at the duty-free stores. If you're curious, you're allowed to bring up to 3 litters of alcohol through US customs. Last night I had dinner with my old and new roommate at Restaurant 2117 and came back to my apartment to make some drinks. Besides finishing off a bottle of Nanbu-Bijin sake at the restaurant, I suggested we try to make cocktails out of my new bottle of Pisco. Remember, you saw it here first, created by Aaron Chan, Azriel Ghadoosashy and Abhijeet Joshi. Introducing the Piscaloe Vera (aka Verde Vera):



1 part Pisco
4-5 parts Korean Aloe Vera drink with pulp

There it is, simple and effective! We're relatively sure we're the first people ever to mix these two together and so we claim naming rights. As a variation, you can also mix any alcohol with the aloe vera drink and create Vokda Veras, Sake Veras, Rum Veras, etc.

So next time you're in Peru, or Chile apparently, try a Pisco sour. Remember, it's stronger than you think.

Destination Peru #1: Plane Food Manifesto

Taking a cue from Amateur Gourmet's anti-dress code manifesto, I wanted to start off my Peruvian trip series with an attack on plane food. We all know what I'm talking about, the reheated mess that you wouldn't serve in prisons, yet are continued to be served to paying customers.

I've been met with surprise recently as I've been telling my friends that I spent last week in Peru. The most common response usually goes along the lines of "Peru? What are you doing in Peru?" My response is that traveling to Europe right now is prohibitively expensive and the Olympics would crowd out China and Asia. Plus I've never been to South America and I figured I'd make use of those four years of Spanish I took in high school (although living in LA, I'm exposed to Spanish enough). So for those of you who haven't been to Peru, it really is a wonderful country with culture bursting at the seams; and with that, culinary adventures aplenty.

Before I left, I did my research on what Peru had to offer gastronomically. The research pointed to the same things, Andean cuisine, coastal seafood, jungle fruits and a Creole culture of mixed heritage. There was a lot to look forward to; unfortunately, I had to get past the food on the plane.


Pasta with Cream Sauce

I'm slightly ashamed that I was hungry enough to eat most of this pasta, though none of the coleslaw. I did eat the prepackaged bread roll and cookie with gusto however. My issue with plane food is that it tries to be much more than it really is. Admittedly, I did not fly first class, where the food may be better, but I certainly didn't deserve to eat this. Perhaps in-flight meals are a holdover from when flying was a luxury and customers demanded a hot meal. But nowadays, people of all different social strata fly commercially, and being subjected to food like this just turns people off completely.

Unlike hospital food, which has the capacity to be good because of its grounded resources, planes lack proper kitchens or facilities. The so-called galley is only used to store and heat food, not prepare anything. Therefore, airlines need to realize that the resources of the plane are better used elsewhere. Simply put--food on planes should be cold.


Chicken with rice

We all know that reheated food loses much of its appeal. Perhaps this chicken was good in a previous life, but resurrected, it had no chance. The salad was also wilted and subjected to long contact with the dressing, resulting in soggy greens. Steps as simple as serving dressing separately would've vastly improved this meal. I understand that salad alone may not be enough of a meal to some people (me being one of them), but that same mentality can be applied to the main courses as well.

Now that airlines are losing so much money and cutting amenities, they're realizing that the terrible food they serve is just an unnecessary cost. Short domestic flights now sell food a la carte and since they're selling food, they maintain higher quality product. I had a turkey wrap flying from LA to NY on United and it was delicious. I don't understand why they can't apply the same technique to long-distance flights where they are more inclined to serve meals. Instead of giving me a reheated piece of dry meat, give me a sandwich with a side salad. There is enough cold foods that can be prepared cheaply and easily with much better results than a quick heating up in the galley. If anything, planes can boil water pretty efficiently. Flying EVA Airlines to Taiwan, they serve cup ramen as a snack. That's also a better use of plane resources, depending on the type of cup noodle served.

I am tired of being corned in my little airplane seat by a flight attendent handing me a tv dinner. Charge me if you must, but give me something palatable.

Tofu Experiment 豆腐

Bad photo for equally bad tofu

I just returned from an amazing tour through the Andes by way of Peru, but before I regale you with my adventures with Peruvian cuisine, I have backlogged pictures from my experiment with tofu.

The day before my trip, Michelle asked if I wanted to try to make tofu. While I've never been a fan of bean curd, I thought it would be a worthwhile experience. The bland, jiggly block had been my culinary bane as a kid, and even as an adult I have yet to develop a real love for it. At the very least, I'd have something to share with all of my (1 or 2) readers.

Of course neither of us had any idea what to do, so we consulted the knowledge base of our generation--Google. Since the information is readily available, and my own experiment sort of failed, I will not post a recipe. There is a very informative and oddly calming video recipe here, but I will just take your broadly through the steps and my experiences with them.

Step 1: Purchase the necessary software and hardware

Borrowing some terminology from my favorite television personality Alton Brown, I will walk you through the difficulties of purchasing Japanese ingredients when you don't speak Japanese. Tofu is soy milk that has been curdled with the aid of a coagulant, generally magnesium chloride nigari in Japanese or calcium sulfate. We went to Mitsuwa, home of Santouka to purchase the dried soybeans (daizu) and nigari. There was no problem finding the soybeans, but the nigari created another challenge. In retrospect, I think we bought the wrong nigari, since the tofu turned out salty and didn't curdle without the addition of lemon juice.


Soybeans and nigari?

In addition, we needed cheesecloth to filter the soy milk. Believe it or not, I actually don't have cheesecloth. I know, what kind of chef am I. More unbelievable is how impossible it is to find anywhere that sells cheesecloth. Granted, I only looked in several drug stores, groceries, hardware stores and art supply stores. Perhaps it exists in an actual restaurant supply store. Finally, we settled on using nylon pantyhose as filters which actually worked extraordinarily well. All we needed was a fine mesh, and pantyhose fit the bill.

Step 2: Soak the Soybeans overnight



Exactly what it sounds like. I poured the soybeans into a plastic tub, picked out any rocks and covered it with cold water. I left it out on the counter top, but due to some scheduling issues, ended up soaking it for more than the recommended 6-10 hours. My soybeans were submerged for more than 24. I heard that oversoaking leeches out too much flavor from the beans, so we used some of the soaking water when blending the beans.

Step 3: Blend the soybeans



I used a blender because my food processor capacity is too small. The food processor would have blended the beans more evenly and I think I burned out my blender motor doing this, but the end result was a thick bean paste that we spooned out into a mixing bowl.

Step 4: Heat up the soy paste and strain



This was definitely the most painful and labor intensive step of the entire process. Pouring the mixture into my gigantic 10-quart stock pot, we heated it up to 165 degrees, the optimal temperature for making soy milk. Pouring the hot gloop into the nylon and squeezing the milk out of it scalded my hands. But the resulting milk was delicious. With a dash of sugar, the soy milk bested all the ones available commercially. The remaining solids (okara) can be used in other applications since it is nutritiously high in fiber, but I just tossed it out. It had no flavor after all, and one culinary experiment at a time was enough.

Step 5: Heat up the soy milk in a pot and add the coagulant



This is where we ran into our only major problem. The nigari salt did not coagulate the milk as expected. With a quick substitution of lemon juice, the curdles finally started appearing. But at this point, we had added excessive salt trying to coax the proteins of the milk to ball up. The result would be salty and lemon flavored tofu.

Step 6: Place the solids into a mold and apply weight



The mold can be as complicated as a perforated metal box or as simple as a milk carton. We opted to mutilate an old Tupperware container, allowing excess fluid to drain out the bottom. Folding over the nylons and placing a lid of aluminum foil, we weighed it down with a heavy bottle. The time it spends in the mold determines the firmness. We overshot the mark a little and came out with very meaty tofu.



The end result? Meaty, salty and lemony. Not usually the adjectives you hear describing tofu, and I would say that the product was somewhat of a failure. However, the soy milk by-product was satisfying and delicious. I also learned enough about the process to vastly improve next time. Would there be a next time? That's a more difficult question. It was a fun experience, but I think next time I might just stop at the soy milk and enjoy it without the curdling and molds.