Salmon and garlic chives
I have a cookbook addiction. There, I said it. My name is Rhea and I am a cookbook addict. The sheer possibilities and the lure of unknown flavours are too enticing to ignore, and I just can’t help myself.
Disclaimer aside, I bought a cookbook last week that I have already peppered with bookmarks and can really see myself using. It’s called The Dumpling Sisters and here are some of the recipes I can’t wait to try: spring onion pancakes, one-pot chicken rice, syrupy soy chicken, black bean and chilli beef, fragrant cumin and coriander beef, half-moon egg dumplings, mapo tofu (LOVE), stir-fried cucumber, ‘fish fragrant’ aubergine, market chicken fried noodles, beef fried noodles, char siu pork and golden garlic ribs. There are over 100 recipes so you may pick out completely different ones… but how evocative are those titles? Can’t you almost taste them?
I don’t usually get a Chinese takeaway in London for the same reason I rarely order Indian takeaway - it’s disappointing and bland. This is simple, comforting, home-style cooking packed full of flavour, and I am all about that life.
Over the weekend, Jess and I went on a little road trip to the sea. My childhood was full of road trips. As NRI children, my sister and I often went to India for the summer. While there, my grandad and uncle would almost always drive us all the way from Bangalore to Cochin, which is about eight solid hours on the road. I have so many great memories of this. Waking up early in the green guest room, drinking my grandmother’s chicory-scented coffee, and setting off in the car with her butter-and-jam sandwich triangles and other little snacks. I always meant to take a pillow with me to the car and I don’t think I ever remembered. Instead, as a child, I slept with my head on my mum’s shoulder or, when there were fewer of us in the car, happily on her lap. As an adolescent, I remembering sitting in the front with my uncle, arguing the merits of my cassette mixtape, my feet planted on the dashboard. There was always music.
Sometimes, we stopped for vada or dosa in the mornings, with short glasses of strong, milky filter coffee. On one magical day, we had ice cream for breakfast and I had this fabulous tutti frutti ice cream that no other since has ever been able to match. More often than not, we’d have lunch at a place halfway between Bangalore and Cochin. It had red bricks, a bubbly fish tank, amazing biryani and Indian-style toilets that completely intimidated me. Did it have peacocks strutting across the grounds? My memory is terrible. But you see what I mean. For me, the journey has always been equally as important as the destination. If I wasn’t sleeping, reading, chatting or singing out of tune with my cousins, my eyes were glued to the window as the landscape changed with every mile. India’s kinda beautiful, you know?
Even now, I don’t care how long it takes to get somewhere. Whether I’m taking a coach or train to see my friends or hopping into Jess’s car, I’m not waiting to get to my destination to have fun; the adventure starts as soon as I wake up that morning. Anyway, all I meant to do was tell you about our trip this weekend. I have obviously gotten massively sidetracked, apologies.
Yesterday, my girl picked me up in the morning and we zoomed off in her new blue car, blaring music down the highway. It only took us an hour and a half to get to Hayling Island, which is near Portsmouth. It was so quaint and lovely, a little relic of everyone’s childhood beach trips. The sea was clear, calm and glittered out for miles. The beach was so pebbly, it took us forever to walk across it - no time was ever better spent. We ate perfectly fried fish and chips on the beach, surrounded at all times by watchful seagulls who occasionally squawked balefully at us. Later, we bought ice cream and took the cutest little old train for about six minutes across the beach; the other passengers were mostly children with their parents but we matched them for delight. Later, we sat as close to the sea as we could without actually getting wet and listened to the flump of the waves as they hit the shore and the wonderful fizz, like the sound when you pour Coke into a glass, as they retreated. It was a beautiful day.
And that is how I’m going to sell you this salmon and garlic chives recipe haha. The simple pleasures of life are always the most rewarding. This recipe will take you about twenty minutes, max. This is easy food that tastes complex, and that will be on your table fast and in your belly even quicker. Amy and Julie, the sisters, hope that this will be your new go-to stir fry. It will definitely be one of mine.
The only thing that you might find difficult to source are the garlic chives, or Chinese chives. These look a lot like British chives but they’re bigger, not hollow like the British chives, and have a subtle garlic rather than onion flavour. I found them in an Asian store and it was lovely. However, the sisters suggest that you could use spring onions or baby leeks in their place so don’t worry about using a substitute. I used spring onions the first time I made this and it was every bit as delicious.
Salmon and garlic chives
Serves 2. Adapted from The Dumpling Sisters Cookbook.
INGREDIENTS
240g skinless salmon fillet, cut into cubes
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
100g garlic chives, cut into 5cm lengths
1 tablespoon dark soy sauce
Steamed jasmine rice, to serve
1 tablespoon toasted sesame oil
For the marinade:
3/4 teaspoon finely diced ginger
1/4 teaspoon granulated sugar
Pinch salt
1 tsp cornflour
1/2 teaspoon light soy sauce
1/2 teaspoon vegetable oil
METHOD
Put the salmon in a bowl, add the marinade ingredients and half a teaspoon of water, and mix to combine. Set aside.
Heat half a tablespoon of oil in a wok over a high heat and stir-fry the chives for 30 seconds until just softened, being careful not to let them char. Remove from the wok and set aside.
Reheat the wok and add the remaining oil. Add the salmon in a single layer and sear for two minutes until the pieces lift off the bottom of wok without too much sticking. Stir-fry for a further two minutes until the pieces are slightly singed on all sides.
Return the chives to the wok, add the soy sauce, and toss until the sauce is evenly distributed. Serve with steamed rice, drizzled with the sesame oil.
Notes: we only have dark soy sauce at home so I used this in both places. I’ve added more soy sauce to the recipe, along with the final garnish of that toasted sesame oil, which I think just makes the dish that bit more special. Don’t leave it out.
