Tea and marriage, separation and fried chicken
鈥淲ith a smile and the warmth of
鈥� a cup of tea, you caught me鈥�
In black ink scrawled across college ruled paper, these simple words are strung together like precious pearls gracing a debutante鈥檚 soft neck. They offer a fleeting taste of the entire pie 鈥� a heartfelt poem of several stanzas that arrived in the mail, charged with the emotion of separation, the faint scent of a faraway place lingering between the lines.
Tea, like grey Seattle skies and the inconsistency of constancy, has always been a part of our lives. My husband claims he fell in love with me when I served him a cup of tea at my brother鈥檚 house all those years ago. We gave away sachets of jasmine tea at our wedding. And on many a cold, wintry evening, when the chill seeped deep into our bones, we鈥檇 share a hot pot of tea to thaw ourselves out.
In August, my husband and I celebrated 10 years of marriage. Our hearts proudly bear the battle scars.
As newlyweds in England, I, lonesome and failing miserably at being a wife in a foreign land, fled home to Singapore to seek comfort under my mother鈥檚 wing and the familial company of old friends. He thought I was never coming back. I did.
Then came the arrival of a child we waited five heartbreaking years for. Silly us. We had absolutely no clue what we were in for. The sleep deprivation. A super-fussy baby whose wails could rival the queen of the banshees. To 鈥渃ry it out鈥� or not to 鈥渃ry it out.鈥� Did I mention the sleep deprivation? That baby is now a beautiful toddler, and a beacon who shows us the way and reminds us why we鈥檙e journeying.
Over the years, oh, how the seams of our relationship have heaved and ho鈥檈d under the strain of having a spouse who鈥檚 just as obligated to his country as he is to his family. One transatlantic move, three cross-country moves (and counting), and two run-ins with the聽聽later, like rock that鈥檚 weathered by wind and rain, we鈥檝e been through rough times but we鈥檙e not broken. We鈥檙e just transformed.
We鈥檝e come a long way, but the journey is not yet over.
Sadly, at this milestone, we鈥檙e separated by 11-1/2 hours, 6,720 miles, 2 continents, and a damn war that won鈥檛 go away.
So here I am, raising my cup of tea to a decade of married life, with a plateful of mochiko chicken on the table and an Omar-shaped hole in my heart.
My husband eats just about everything I cook but his eyes light up and he gushes every time I make mochiko chicken. This is one聽recipe from my聽聽that he didn鈥檛 mind me testing over and over and over again.聽I can almost guarantee that it鈥檒l be one of his first requests for a home-cooked meal when he returns from his year-long deployment. In his honor, I鈥檓 sharing it with you today so you can share it with your loved ones near and far.
I made this dish my own by using tapioca starch (Southeast Asian cooks prefer this to cornstarch) which I think gives the chicken a crispier edge and聽 (Japanese chives) instead of green onions.
Seek out , flour made from Japanese sweet rice (which is similar to ) in the Asian aisle of many supermarkets.
Mochiko Fried Chicken
Time: 45 minutes, plus marinating
Makes: 4 to 6 servings as part of a multi-course family-style meal
2-1/2 to 3 pounds bone-in chicken thighs
2 eggs, lightly beaten
1/4 cup soy sauce
1/4 cup mochiko (sweet rice flour)
1/4 cup tapioca starch (or cornstarch)
1/4 cup sugar
Small bunch nira (or green onions), chopped (1/4 cup)
2 cloves garlic, minced
Vegetable oil for shallow frying
Debone the chicken, and reserve the bones to make stock. Cut the meat into 2-inch chunks.
In a large bowl, mix together the eggs, soy sauce, mochiko, tapioca starch, sugar, nira, and garlic. Tumble in the chicken and toss to coat evenly. Cover and marinate in the refrigerator for at least four hours, or preferably 12 hours.
Bring the chicken to room temperature before frying.
Line a plate with paper towels. In a large heavy skillet, heat about 1 inch of oil over high heat until it becomes runny and starts to shimmer. Reduce the heat to medium. Using tongs or cooking chopsticks, carefully lower thickly coated chicken pieces one at a time into the oil. You are shallow-frying, so the pieces will only be half submerged. Fry in a batch of seven to eight pieces (don鈥檛 overcrowd the pan) until both sides are crispy and evenly golden brown, two to three minutes on each side.
Remove the chicken with a slotted spoon, shaking off excess oil, and drain on paper towels. Use a slotted spoon or a wire mesh strainer to remove any debris from the oil and repeat until all the chicken is cooked.
Serve hot with freshly steamed short-grain rice, or cold as an appetizer or picnic food.
