A Splash of Soy: Everyday Food from Asia

For my parents, Jono and Coralie Agung, who gave me my first splash of soy, and made everything I have in life possible.

INTRODUCTION

PUNCHY BRUNCHES & LUNCHES

BIG SALADS & LIGHT BITES

STEAMING BROTHS & MOUTHWATERING CURRIES

STICKY, GRILLED & GLAZED

LIFESAVING RICE & SIZZLING STIR-FRIES

NOODLE SLURPS

FINGERLICKING VEGGIES

SWEET SENSATIONS

PICKLE-ME, FILL-ME, SAUCE-ME

THE ASIAN(ISH) KITCHEN

A Splash of Soy

You can start and finish a meal with a splash of soy. It asserts its salty complexity as a marinade, flavouring, dipping sauce and seasoning, glazing everything it touches with a glossy, translucent stream of ink. In almost every storecupboard of any kitchen in east or southeast Asia, and increasingly in kitchens around the world, you will find at least one colourfully labelled bottle of soy sauce. With an aesthetic deserving of an Andy Warhol print, rows of differently shaped bottles line entire Asian supermarket aisles, each with its own characteristics and purpose, from deep, umami-flavored soy pastes to syrupy kecap manis from Indonesia, light, rounded Japanese shoyu and the assertive light and dark soy sauces of China.

But this is not a book about soy sauce; it’s a book about Asian home cooking, done quickly with ease and minimal mess. It is the simplicity and usefulness of soy that this book is named after, an ingredient so impressive it can transform the complexity, flavour, colour and aroma of a meal with just a splash. Although not every recipe in this book contains soy, the title honours this foundational ingredient, a key seasoning in the food of China, Japan, Korea, Indonesia, Malaysia, Thailand, the Philippines, Vietnam and all across Asia.

Within these pages are the recipes I cook for my family every day, and the dishes I love to eat. There is no greater joy than watching my son gobble down food dipped in my peanut sauce, or gleefully nod his head as he messily slurps the noodles of my pad Thai. Asian food has it all: a contrast of flavour, temperature and texture, straightforward dishes you can eat straight from the wok in socks and pyjamas, as well as celebratory meals your friends will talk about for months after.

Home cooking does not lie. What we serve on our plates reveals our mood, our energy levels, our joy and our despair. On some days home cooking is an act of love; on others it is a chore. Regardless of my desire to cook, my burning hunger demands dinner now (the word hangry springs to mind), and typically early, at the same time as my little boy.

What we cook for ourselves gives a curious insight into what kind of day we’ve had, or what kind of year, a culinary signal of inspiration or exhaustion. The ritual of eating three times a day is instinctive, but cooking isn’t always. While I often love to cook (and sometimes I don’t), I’m also trying to slot cooking in among a heavy line-up of work, commuting, parenting, domesticity and all the rest. Food is sustenance, and done right it can be mood-altering, life-lifting fuel that comforts, brightens, and at times provides escape to a happier place, a memory, a moment in time. As they say, you are what you eat. Whether it’s a lavish banquet or emergency freezer-raid fish fingers with boiled frozen peas, what we eat is a clue to our mind, body and feelings.

The way I cook has changed. There was an obvious shift when my son, Jonah, entered the world, when time became a precious commodity that no longer belonged solely to me. The way I cook is now different every time I step into the kitchen, depending on work, Jonah, how long I’ve slept and what ingredients we have in the fridge and storecupboard. The need to feed my family quickly – so that afterwards I can slip into my pyjamas and relax – has appealed to my calling in life as a chef and recipe writer. I now always consider factors like speed and convenience while creating recipes, always with minimal mess, minimal stress and minimal thinking in mind.

A Splash of Soy is a book about simple Asian home cooking that answers this call, for the days when cooking is an act of passion as well as the days when even boiling the kettle feels like an effort. It is a book that I hope will speak to all of the versions of ourselves, no matter our mood. This book is also my homage to the style of food I ate growing up in Australia, which is home to an exciting and diverse array of cooking influenced by proud east and southeast Asian communities. I describe the recipes here as Asian, or really Asian(ish), but ‘Asian’ is a broad brushstroke and I couldn’t possibly attempt to represent the continent’s near 50 countries, or its many cultures, languages or complex histories. What this book sets out to do is show you how natural, accessible and easy Asian-inspired cooking can be. The recipes draw on my mixed Asian-Australian heritage; they’re my own adapted creations made in my home kitchen using ingredients accessible to me, always linked to an original dish in some way – and always with the promise of bright, lively and flavourful food.

Adapting traditional Asian dishes and flavours with playful interpretations is commonplace in Australia, where different food cultures have mixed and influenced each other since the nation’s beginnings. Many describe the Australian culinary landscape as being defined by its immigrant communities. One in four Australians was born overseas, and nearly half of the population has an immigrant parent. Australian food has always merged traditional techniques with locally available produce and flavours to create something wholly unique, surprising and fresh. On the Australian dinner table you will often find a multicultural meal without borders, and one that breaks all the rules. Some of my favourite Australian-Asian dishes feature a riotous clash of culinary cultures, such as the Vegemite curry with buttermilk roti at Sunda restaurant in Melbourne or the Korean bulgogi wagyu tartare at SOUL Dining in Sydney.

Growing up surrounded by multiple cultures, there was a natural, happy mixing of the storecupboard and an open-mindedness to experimentation. Born to a Chinese-Indonesian father and Australian mother, my hybrid culture and identity shaped my way of seeing, cooking and eating. At home, gado-gado salad was inauthentically prepared with the seasonal vegetables we had to hand; hot chilli sambal was dolloped over poached eggs and avocado on toast, and sausage rolls dipped in peanut sauce were a thing. It is this joyful innovation and adulteration – the endless combinations created by fusion cooking and eating – that has informed my style of recipe writing today.

Although this is not a book about tradition, it is one that honours it. The journey of a meal to your dinner table is a fascinating one, and understanding and appreciating a dish or ingredient’s backstory is as important as the flavours that leap off the plate. This is why I explain why kimchi and cheese are a historically excellent pairing in my Perfect Kimchi, Spring Onion and Sriracha Cheese Toastie recipe here, or the importance of toasted glutinous rice powder when making Fragrant Chicken Larb, or the know-how about sourcing chillies and when to deseed them here.

Each recipe is rooted in a place I have visited, a dish I have learned, had a familial connection to, or which branches out from a relationship I have formed with a chef or home cook from a particular region. The recipes are anecdotal, laced with stories, context and history, while the ingredients and methods themselves are interpreted to suit the brief I set for myself, which was exceptional Asian home cooking done well, effortlessly and fast.

Comprising 96 recipes, each savoury recipe takes between 10 and 45 minutes to prepare, cook and serve, while the recipes in the Sweet Sensations chapter call for swift preparation with a baking time that encourages you to sit back and relax with a cup of tea (or glass of wine). There are jaw-dropping no-cook recipes that only require you to chop, stir sauce in a bowl and boil a kettle before serving in 15 minutes. I’ve minimised washing up and kept the ingredients list as short as possible without diluting flavour, using ingredients you can find at most supermarkets. When I ask for a specialist ingredient, such as tom yum paste, which you can pick up online or from your Asian food shop, it is because I consider that ingredient to be life changing, such as in my recipes for Many Ways 15-Minute Tom Yum Soup, Tom Yum Bloody Mary or Tom Yum Roast Chicken. They all have a preparation time of under 15 minutes, but bring all the fiery spicy-sour gusto that you would associate with mouthwatering tom yum paste.

I have written this book for home cooks of all abilities, but like any cookbook, there are kitchen tips and an ingredients glossary at the end that will help make easy work of cooking on any given day (see here). Many recipes can be veganised too (I’ve flagged this up in the introductions), and I’ve tried to offer shortcuts, tips and substitutes to make this cookbook as flexible as it can be. There are helpful recipe lists that will act as a guide for most dietary requirements, such as vegetarian or gluten-free.

I love the way you can paint a dish with soy, drawing on each ingredient like a canvas, each application creating a different effect, like the unique stains of an ink blot. I like to think of each recipe in this book as an orchestral score of interweaving parts that will awaken your senses and invite you to participate in the intoxicating fragrance of Asian spices that slips under your skin, the crackling crunch of nuts, the sizzling wok, the slippery chew of gelatinous rice noodles, the colourful palette of ingredients and the depth of flavours that strike the delicate balance of sweet, sour, salty, umami, bitter and spicy which is so key to Asian cookery.

But most of all, I hope these recipes restore joy to your kitchen and bring splashes of soy to rescue your meals as much as they have rescued mine. I want them to find their way into your weekly cooking repertoire to become household favourites, and to show you just how easy and natural Asian cooking can be. The best cookbooks I own are dog-eared and have pages splattered with cooking ingredients from regular use, so feel encouraged to make your mark on this book with your own splashes of soy.

PUNCHY BRUNCHES & LUNCHES

When I first moved in with my husband (then a new boyfriend), we lived only a stone’s throw from the now-defunct Pacific Social Club in Hackney, London, a hole-in-the-wall cafe that was famed for its toasted sandwiches, fresh juices and excellent taste in vintage records. Their kimchi, cheese and spring onion toastie quickly became part of our weekend routine. It was spectacularly delicious: all buttery and crispy, oozing with melted cheese that was stained glossy red by the homemade fermented Korean cabbage. It was the epitome of an Asian-style western breakfast.

My love for this sandwich, which inspired the recipe here, reflected perhaps the mashup of breakfast cultures I had experienced while growing up. When it came to the first meal of the day, my mixed Australian and Chinese-Indonesian heritage pulled me in directions that did not involve cereal. The breakfast cultures of Asia and Australia might be worlds apart, but they share one thing in common: generous portions and punchy, satisfying flavours that linger on the tongue.

Now, in Australia we really know how to brunch. The weekend phenomenon of brunching has been a part of cafe society for decades. A Saturday pilgrimage for good coffee and smashed avocado on toast is something of a ritual – the wandering you might embark upon to explore your local neighbourhood, to rescue a hangover, to gather with friends or simply eat good food. In a land where a quick swim in the ocean is waiting only around the corner, the weather calls for menus that are fresh, vibrant, hearty, but never heavy. Brunch is often served all day, only leaving room for dinner hours later.

In most parts of Asia, eating is an event, no matter the meal or time of day, and it typically starts with a comforting dish. A breakfast of savoury rice, such as congee (rice porridge) in China or nasi goreng (fried rice) in Indonesia, may start the day for some, while long queues snake around corners of city streets in Vietnam for a bowl of hot beef pho. Malaysian commuters might pick up a nasi lemak – a national dish of fluffy, fragrant coconut rice with crispy anchovies and fiery sambal – from roadside stalls. The generous portions reflect the dietary needs of long-ago generations; these are dishes heavy enough to keep workers and farmers full for longer, with all the food groups covered, from carbohydrates to proteins to fats.

The recipes in this chapter are Asian-western breakfast hybrids, extending into delectable dishes you could also devour for brunch or lunch. The recipes are comforting, yet full-flavoured and light enough to bring vigour to the day when you need a kick-start.

Tom Yum Bloody Mary

The classic Bloody Mary is the ultimate hangover cure, but a tom yum Bloody Mary will bring your body and senses to full attention. Fiery, sour and spicy tom yum paste, which can be purchased from your local Asian supermarket or online, is a roasted blend of chillies, galangal, lemongrass and lime leaves that hails from Thailand. The distinctive and uncompromisingly sharp character of tom yum works beautifully in this version of the vodka- and tomato juice-based cocktail. It adds an alluring Thai fragrance with just the right amount of heat to warm the mouth instead of the traditional Worcestershire sauce and Tabasco.

There are endless varieties of shop-bought tom yum pastes. Some are more citrusy, others spicier, others heavier on umami. If you’re vegan or vegetarian, check that it doesn’t contain dried shrimp. Use this recipe as a guide, but the final seasoning will come down to your preference and your brand of paste, so have a little taste as you mix it all together.

Try to avoid thick, black tamarind concentrates from India for this recipe, which will overpower the drink. Instead, look for the brown-coloured tamarind pastes or concentrates from Thailand or Vietnam, which provide a more delicate sour balance (the supermarket brand tamarind pastes are typically made in this style). I prefer my Bloody Mary with a single shot of vodka, but you can increase this to your liking. If you’re looking to make yours a virgin, just omit the vodka altogether.

Prep & cooking time 5 minutes

Serves 2

300ml tomato juice

25–50ml vodka, plus more (optional) to taste

4 tsp tom yum paste, plus more (optional) to taste

2½ tsp tamarind paste

freshly squeezed juice of ½ lime (about 15ml)

pinch of fine sea salt

pinch of freshly ground black pepper

1 lemongrass stalk or trimmed spring onion stalk

2 cucumber spears, cut into 8cm lengths

ice cubes or crushed ice, to serve

lime wedges, to serve

Put the tomato juice, vodka, tom yum paste, tamarind, lime juice, salt and pepper in a cocktail shaker or jam jar and shake vigorously to combine.

Lightly bruise the lemongrass by hitting it with a rolling pin or the back of a knife, and cut it in half lengthways. Trim the pieces down to about 8cm. If using spring onion, just cut it in half lengthways and trim the pieces to 8cm.

Place generous handfuls of ice in two tall glasses. Pour the cocktail over the ice and garnish with the lemongrass or spring onion and cucumber. Serve immediately, with lime wedges.

Perfect Kimchi, Spring Onion and Sriracha Cheese Toastie

Kimchi and cheese is a pairing that has been trending on the internet since, well, the internet began. Cheese became part of the Korean culinary landscape after the Korean War, when American military staples like spam, hot dogs and processed cheese began populating local dishes. There are myriad recipes for kimchi cheese toasties, but I’ll go out on a limb to say that this is the best I’ve tried. The fermented funk of kimchi is balanced against a creamy mayo and sriracha sauce. The technique of pan-frying the sourdough, then steaming it, produces the gooiest melted cheese sandwich you’ll ever encounter, which is truly satisfying at every bite. You’ll need a frying pan with a lid.

Source the best-quality kimchi you can afford – as the star ingredient, it makes all the difference. If you’re vegetarian, look for vegan kimchi, as some brands contain fish sauce or shrimp paste.

Prep & cooking time 15 minutes

Serves 2

6 tbsp butter

2 tsp flavourless oil, such as sunflower or grapeseed

4 slices of sourdough bread, cut 1.5–2cm thick

4 tbsp mayonnaise

2 tsp sriracha

120g good-quality kimchi, roughly chopped

120g Cheddar cheese, grated

2 spring onions, thinly sliced

2 tsp sesame seeds, preferably toasted

Heat 1 tablespoon butter with 1 teaspoon oil in a large non-stick frying pan on a medium heat. Once the butter has melted and begins to foam, place 2 slices of sourdough in the pan and toast for 2 minutes on one side only. Remove and wipe out the pan with kitchen paper, then add another tablespoon of butter and teaspoon of oil, and repeat with the remaining sourdough slices. Remove and set aside.

Combine the mayonnaise, sriracha, kimchi, cheese, spring onions and sesame seeds in a bowl.

Place 2 slices of sourdough on a chopping board, toasted side up. Spread half of the kimchi mix on top of each slice, on the toasted side. Make a sandwich by placing the remaining slices of sourdough on top, toasted side down.

Wipe out the pan and add 2 tablespoons of butter on a medium-low heat. Once the butter has melted, place the sandwiches in the pan and cook for 2 minutes. Press them down with a spatula as they cook. Add 2 more tablespoons of butter to the pan, then flip the sandwiches over and cook for a further 2 minutes.

Once both sides are golden brown, pour 2 tablespoons of water into the pan (not on top of the sandwiches) and put the lid on. Steam for 3 minutes with the lid on, which will melt the cheese for maximum gooeyness. Remove from the pan, cut in half and serve immediately.

Cheesy Tofu Triple Stack on an English Muffin

Watching the golden arches frame the sky from the backseat window meant only one thing in my childhood: a McDonald’s Sausage & Egg McMuffin. With its layer of melted cheese encased in a semolina-dusted toasted English muffin, the McMuffin was my poster child for the Great Breakfast Sandwich.

The Cheesy Tofu Triple Stack recipe leans in to this moment. Soy-laced tofu patties are pan-fried until golden, then stacked and layered with grated cheese that melts while the English muffin toasts. The first bite reveals a cheesy pull that rivals a takeaway pizza, with buttery sriracha giving a final oomph of flavour and heat.

The recipe makes two English muffins, but I tend to double the recipe, as any leftover stacks can be reheated in the microwave the next day.

Prep & cooking time 20 minutes

Serves 2

flavourless oil (such as sunflower or grapeseed) or coconut oil

½ small onion or 1 medium shallot (60g), peeled and thinly sliced

3 garlic cloves, peeled and crushed, or 1 tbsp garlic paste

15g fresh ginger, peeled and grated, or 1 tbsp ginger paste

1 spring onion, thinly sliced

90g firm tofu, patted dry and crumbled

2 tsp Shaoxing rice wine or dry sherry

1¼ tsp soy sauce

3 eggs, beaten

70g Cheddar cheese, grated

fine sea salt, to taste

large pinch of ground white pepper

2 English muffins, halved

butter, to taste

sriracha, to taste

small handful of coriander leaves, to serve

¼ long red chilli, sliced (optional; deseed if you prefer less heat), to serve

Heat 2 tablespoons oil in a large non-stick frying pan on a medium heat and fry the onion