Ca Kho Recipe

"I'm going to make Ca Kho today."

"But it's so salty." And sweet, the Food Scavenger thought, but she didn't say it aloud. "You usually don't like such salty things."

"I don't. That's why I'm going to make it myself."

It took the Food Scavenger three times to arrive at a recipe that was just right. And how right it was. The pot began to smoke a little, the Food Scavenger scurried forth and flipped the fish, whooping over the caramellization, and added a little water to aid in caramellizing the other side of the fish.

The next day (the Food Scavenger was patient, allowing the fish maximum rest and soaking in caramellized sweet and salty juices), the Food Scavenger dug into a bowl of rice with the most amazing, well-balanced of sweet and salt ca kho ever. But of course her love was short-lived, the recipe set to the side to be immortalized till the next time it was needed (the next week and the next and the next for the Food Scavenger's mood held a deep, abiding love for ca kho - ca kho today, ca kho tomorrow, ca kho every day).

The Food Scavenger being a rather a big-mouthed person picked up the phone and proclaimed to any who picked up her triumph. Her phone was not amused.

"But what is ca kho?" The phone would say (or rather, the person on the other end of the phone line).

Words failed the Food Scavenger. How to explain a staple of Vietnamese food? Were there any equivalents in English? Lamely, the Food Scavenger threw words such as "caramellization" and "fish sauce" and "soy sauce" and "marinade" (not even knowing if she was using this word right).

Suffice to say, both the phone and the Food Scavenger were perplexed.

"And this is supposed to be good?" The phone would finally say.

And the Food Scavenger, heart in mouth, stomach flopping at her feet, would say, "Yes." Yesyesyesyesyes!

Ca Kho
1 salmon, cut longitudinally into two inch thick pieces
2 to 3 tablespoon brown sugar (can be increased to a 1/4 cup depending on taste preferences, Food Scavenger prefers ca kho more salty than sweet, hence only a few tablespoons of sugar)
1/4 c. sesame oil (Lian How Brand Jasun Style Sesame Oil)
3 tbsp diced garlic (Jarred SpiceWorld garlic preserved in water and citric acid where 1/2 tsp = 1 clove, since 1 tbsp = 3 tsp = 6 cloves, the equivalent would be 18 cloves. But Food Scavenger loves garlic.)
1/4 c. fish sauce (i.e. nuoc mam, Food Scavenger used Tiparos Fish Sauce)
1/4 c. soy sauce (Mekong Seasoning Sauce, Soya flavor)
Pepper (lots for Food Scavenger who sneezed many times, but felt cheered by the sight of her ca kho dusted with the black and white shimmer of pepper)
5 jalapenos (sliced and laid onto the fish)
Water

Add sugar and dashes of water to pot (Food Scavenger has heavy pot passed on from grandmother, who'd also made ca kho in it - pot is heavy, scratched up, and able to be a weapon at any time). Heat on low, using a silicone spatula (Food Scavenger loves silicone. Silicone is her baking and cooking friend. Life is easier, because of silicone) or any other spatula or spoon on hand to mix sugar and water. Caramellization will begin: the beginning of an amber syrup will form, then bubble.

Add oil. Stir to incorporate caramellized sugar more evenly in oil. Then, add garlic. Stir until garlic browns. Then add fish sauce and soy sauce. Stir all until evenly incorporated and slighly thickened.

Add fish. Liberally pour pepper onto fish. Place slices of jalapeno onto fish, between spaces of fish. Cover and simmer on low heat for 45 minutes to 1 hour or until smoky smell wafts through kitchen and sets off fire alarm. Occasionally (every 15 minutes) during this 45 minutes to 1 hour, uncover and spoon sauces onto fish side not submerged in sauce (this part is optional, but here for the antsy and paranoid cook, who needs something to do).

After 45 minutes to 1 hour, uncover and flip fish. Add water if sauce thickened and burning. Then, cover and simmer again until sauce beneath very thick.  

Ca Kho as can be seen above is rather forgiving. It involves much eye-balling and examination of one's preferences. So there you have it: Ca Kho.

Once you begin, it's so hard to stop...

Entire weekends have passed just like this with the Food Scavenger wallowing happily in the greatness that is the potato skin. In this case, the Food Scavenger decided to experiment a little and test the potato skin waters for cheese: gouda and swiss (two cheeses that she rescued from the infamy of the compost bucket). She made a few notes when making potato skins again: depending on the size and thickness of the potato skin, timing needs to be changed accordingly. Without pre-heating the oven, three small potato skins would be done within 20 minutes. Again, without pre-heating the oven two large potato skins with much flesh still adhering to them took 40 minutes:

Before Baking

After 15 minutes of baking

After 30 minutes of baking

After 40 minutes of baking

On the left is swiss cheese and on the right is gouda cheese

Baked 5 minutes for bubbly cheese

And voila! A meal for the gods... or one Food Scavenger

Salsa Zucchini, Corn, and Tomato Soup: 3.5 cups diced zucchini, 1 cup corn, 1 cup halved grape tomatoes, 1.5 cups salsa (6 to-go containers of salsa from Blanchard), optional - liberal dashes of tabasco sauce

Bring a pot of water to a boil (about 3-4 cups of water and, as always, less or more depending on your preference). Add zucchini. Simmer until zucchini loses opacity and flirts with translucense. Add corn and halved grape tomatoes. Add salsa. Continue to simmer until tomatoes are well done (i.e. mushy). Salt or spice further depending on your taste buds.

The Food Scavenger's verdict on the cheese: gouda wins this round. Swiss suits sandwiches more.

Also, continuing the Food Scavenger's love affair with containers:

Blanchard's to-go salad containers = potato skins reservoir

Gigantic peanut butter jar = perfect, spill-safe soup container

Sometimes, the stomach wants, what the stomach wants

The Food Scavenger's roommate has coined the wonderfully apt term of "the stomach wants, what the stomach wants" to describe the daily conundrums of the Food Scavenger: what to eat and when to eat it. Originally, the Food Scavenger thought she would bestow upon the Mount Holyoke populace a recipe that has been handed from her grandmother to her mother and finally to her: Triple S Peanuts, a staple, really, with all the personal connotations of comfort and wonder and love. However, something else reared its edible and delicious head: the versatile potato skin.

Ah, the Food Scavenger laughs at those potato-chips eaters: why eat potato chips, when you could have warm, crunchy potato skins right out of the oven? The potato skin, while ugly and in appearance unappetizing is transformed by the oven into a sizzling crisp awaiting salsa and guacamole or wishing to be filled with tomatoes and mozzarella cheese (for a pizza version) or broccoli and swiss cheese or avocado hearts and olives and salami (for those lovers of the salty and sour).

The possibilities are endless, the results guaranteed to be delicious. Indeed, as the Food Scavenger crunches along through her potato skin chip liberally decked in salsa and guacamole, accompanied by the sweetness of baked zucchini she is near tears with joy over the repeated gustatory success of potato skins. Fools, her stomach cries, fools for throwing away the best part of a potato!

There, they lay before you: the ugly ducklings of the pre-baked world.

Yet, in twenty minutes under 385 degrees Fahrenheit, they become golden and beautiful. The image below only hints visually as to the transformation. For the baker living the moment, upon opening the oven, all her senses are engaged: the sizzling of the potato skin, the sweet, refreshing scent of the zucchini, the underlying hearty creaminess of the potato wafting through the air.

And there you have it: all the ingredients necessary for a meal of potato skin chips and accompaniments.

So, the potato skin chips can be eaten in two ways:

Sliced in pieces like so to be eaten chip-like, dipped in salsa and guacamole:

Baked like this, they brown much more quickly to become the wonderful crisp below (the Food Scavenger had this one just as is):

Or left in its natural cupped-shape, to then be filled with salsa and guacamole:

It holds its shape remarkable well, making it perfect finger food. One bite later, still intact:

Potato Skin Chips with Guacamole and Salsa: 1 potato skin, 1/2 cup of salsa, 1/4 guacamole (for my fellow college mates: this means two to-go containers of salsa and one to-go container of guacamole from Blanchard)

Preheat oven to 385 degrees Fahrenheit. Bake 20 minutes (or more if you want it even more crisp)

Baked Zucchini: : 1/2 cup of sliced length-wise zucchini

While oven is being preheated, place zucchini in. Remove after 25 minutes.


This is the face of love: a meal smiling back at you.

Now let the Food Scavenger tell you the story of how these potato skins came into being: Her roommate loved to eat potatoes. She shelled them out with zeal and then tossed the skins away. And each time this happened, a pang went through the Food Scavenger's heart at the sheer waste, for from a young age, the Food Scavenger had always questioned this instinct in people for tossing away the foreign and ugly bits of food.

Let us flash backwards to a time when the Food Scavenger was a wee little girl sitting by her grandfather, while he cut an apple.

Grandfather would quarter the apple, slice the core and place it to the side. This was acceptable to the wee little Food Scavenger. She had once tried to gnaw on the core to no avail, resulting in only an aching jaw and throbbing gums from the multiple stabs of the resistant (and vaguely belligerent) core. Then, he began to skin the apple. This awakened alarm from the wee Food Scavenger.

"Grandfather," the wee Food Scavenger began. "Why do you not eat the skin?"

Grandfather paused. Like any adult confronted with a question, which in truth would have the answer of "I don't like it" thus negating all the dictatorial response of "It's good for you" to the little one's declaration "I don't want to," he finally settled on, "It's not good for you." But, oh, his morals got the best of him and he hastened to add, "No, it's good for you. I just don't like to eat it."

Appeased, the wee Food Scavenger comforted him with these choice words of "I'll eat it for you." And so, wee Food Scavenger and Grandfather sat side by side, Grandfather with his pile of skinless quarters or eights and wee Food Scavenger with her pile of skins.

After munching on one of his eighths, Grandfather turned to the Food Scavenger, eyes questioning.

The Food Scavenger replied, "I like how chewy and tart the skins are. They balance the crisp and sweet insides."

Grandfather nodded and then bent to his pile. The Food Scavenger had never turned away from her pile and even in the midst of answering had been chewing away at her apple skins (later, she would be told that this was bad manners, but at the time the thought of stopping eating to talk just never occurred to her).

So concludes the flashback, but not the cycle of the Food Scavenger rescuing the discards of other people's food.

One fateful day, the Food Scavenger turned to her roommate and said, "Hey, leave the skins here for me, I think I have an idea for them."

And thus, the potato skin baking and eating frenzy began.

Introduction to the Food Scavenger, Interpretation of a Trifecta of Ingredients

I was once just like everyone, content to let someone else do the cooking, to letting slide a frightening amount of sodium, oils and fats, and sugar into my diet, to let be the random urges for something fulfilling to my heart and my belly. And then I got heartburn. And then after the twentieth peanut butter cookie (each one at 300 calories) being afflicted by heart palpitations and dizzy attacks, feeling nauseous and engorged, but not satiated. I had always had the propensity to hoard, in my room and in my sadly not voluminous enough stomach... why not make use of my obsession with food and neurosis for not wasting random crap I would come into contact with? Thus, was born the Food Scavenger, making use of all the odds and ends of plastic and produce here at college (and there is quite a lot of plastic and quite a lot of produce). Once you start, you can never go back, reveling in your independence, in your now-healthy body (and by extension, suddenly and inexplicably, sound mind).

Below, I begin with a trifecta of ingredients: meat, cheese, and vegetables. In this more specific state, however, they are known as deli turkey, feta cheese, and broccoli and tomatoes. For I am the Food Scavenger and the Microwave is my erstwhile Servant, the Oven my Minion.

First, for a savoury snack (or breakfast in my case): a cheesy, vegetable dip that requires a minute of preparation and half a minute of "cooking." Below you stretches the cutting board with a collection of cheese (feta) and vegetables (broccoli and tomatoes):

Beautiful, isn't it? Simply chop up the broccoli and tomatoes, then layer them along with the cheese into a small, microwaveable cup: a smattering of vegetables, then a smattering of cheese, and repeat until the cup is full (or until you're satisfied). Note, however, for a minimum of tomatoes or any watery vegetable. In my case, I only sprinkled one and a half quartered grape tomatoes to prevent the dip from becoming too watery.

Pop the cup into the microwave for 30 to 40 seconds, remove and either spoon the cheesy vegetable goodness onto a slice of toasted bread or some crackers. Feel free to sprinkle this with a little salt, depending on what kind of cheese you use (some are saltier than others), and some spices.

Cheesy Vegetable Dip Recipe: 1/4 cup cheese, 1/2 cup broccoli, 1 1/2 grape tomatoes

On the other hand, if you should happen to have a kitchen nearby, you could do this as a bruschetta or embellish with meat as I did below to make an open-faced turkey, feta cheese, broccoli, and tomato melt with oregano, basil, and garlic powder sprinkled atop. The unseen bread, covered as it is by the slice of deli turkey, is Gold Medal Oat and Honey Wheat Bread. The ingredients are easily customizable to your preferences. One of my friends did Genoa salami, olive, peppercorn, and feta in a pizza-fied version.

Before baking at 375 degrees Celsius for 15 minutes:

After baking:

Open-faced Melt: 1 slice deli turkey, 1/4 cup cheese, 1/2 cup broccoli, 2 grape tomatoes, a dash of oregano and basil and garlic powder

Alternatively, with the addition of the deli turkey, you could do a cheesy meat and vegetable roll-up, which can be placed on bread or eaten as is with salad (as I did).

Simply lay a slice of deli turkey on a microwaveable plate, sprinkle with cheese, your favorite vegetables and spices. Then, place this all in the microwave for 10 to 20 seconds. Remove from the microwave, roll it up and you have a soft and warm roll-up to be placed on bread for an impromptu turkey (or ham or beef) melt or a compliment to a cold, dreary, plain salad. I, personally, enjoy the contrast of the warm, gooey, salty roll-up with a cold, crunchy, bland salad. This was probably my favorite creation of the three in terms of ease and satisfaction. What can I say? I appreciate much bang for my buck (of time).

Cheesey Meat Roll-up: 1 slice deli turkey, 1/8 cup cheese, 1/8 cup broccoli

Note: I've added tags. You may be puzzling over the word "sandwich" in quotation marks. Well, anything that involves bread and cheese becomes a "sandwich" to me. To clarify: anything involving bread is basically a variant of a "sandwich" to me.