Maple Syrup & Vegemite Glazed Lamb Ham

I'm Asian. I love freebies and I'm a sucker for good food.

The cunning pants at Meat & Livestock Australia and Hausmann have played me right into their hands with a sacrificial offering of Hay Valley lamb ham, gourmet mustard and sourdough tucked neatly into a red linen-lined basket. If Little Red Riding Hood had a hoarding habit and accepted her goodies in styrofoam boxes, we could very well be twins.

There was a lovely note slipped in beneath the bread, just in case I'd been struck by a sudden case of amnesia and forgotten the email I'd received two days prior confirming my availability to accept a perishable delivery from so and so.

"Thanks for all of your hard work - taking pictures of random things, chowing down on free food and taking more pictures, posting said pictures with delirious comments attached on a blog that nobody in their right mind would ever read.  Lots of love from the seedy man in admin who signs notes under exotic female aliases to build customer rapport."


I'll pretend to be frank for a moment. I was intrigued yet dubious about the concept of lamb ham from the beginning for the following reasons: 

1. I've never ever heard of 'lamb ham', thus it must be a terrible concoction of farce and nitrites. Perhaps past tasters in market research groups contracted botulism and were unable to speak of its delicious flavour and paralytic effects.

2. This so-called 'lamb ham' contains 20% less fat than the traditional porker. Since fat is flavour and a lubricating agent, the proportionally lower fat content of lamb would no doubt result in a despicable product with the dry and unpalatable texture and flavour profile of shredded cardboard. 

3. Google Images reveals numerous pictures of lamb that appear about as appetising as a dinner party consisting of two girls and one cup.. minus the girls.

I don't normally say this because it never ever happens except maybe just this once ..but well.. I was wrong. Cured in maple syrup and smoked, it was as good as (if not better than) a traditional pork ham - unbelievably tender, succulent, oh so moist. 

To enhance the subtle ingrained smoky sweetness, I sloshed together a fairly traditional ham glaze with maple syrup, Dijon mustard and cider vinegar. Hmm.. There wasn't anywhere near as much fat around the outside so I bypassed the scoring and clove studding and added a light dusting of allspice. Oh what the heck. Lamb is the epitome of the modern Australian diet. In went a blob of Vegemite. 

A whole lot of basting, cursing, basting, peering, and basting later, the lamb ham was removed and allowed to rest for two hours. Admittedly I was upstairs watching an enthralling episode of Better Homes & Gardens but it needed to rest anyway. All that basting would have tired the little lamb out. 

I dug out my biggest knife and sliced into the cooled meat with trepidation, but I needn't have worried. All of my niggling doubts and expectations flew out the window as the quivering pink flesh touched my lips. No words can describe the elation of discovering a ham that surpasses all other hams, or the Kodak moment when one tastes the first sliver of barely warm lamb that's been cured, smoked and basted for an hour with maple syrup and rich Vegemite. This is definitely a recipe that I'll be keeping in the books for next year, and possibly one to overthrow past traditions.



Maple Syrup & Vegemite Glazed Lamb Ham

1 x 2 kg Hay Valley lamb ham
200 g light brown sugar
60 g maple syrup (real maple syrup, none of that flavoured fake stuff)
60 g apple cider vinegar
50 g Dijon mustard
25 g Vegemite
1.5 tsp allspice, ground

Trim the skin off the lamb, leaving as much fat on as possible. Remove any visible sinew.
Cover the bone with foil to keep it nice and clean.
Leave for an hour or until it comes to room temperature.
Preheat the oven to 180˚C.
Chuck all of the remaining ingredients into a bowl and whisk until sugar is dissolved and Vegemite is thoroughly combined.
Place a rack over a tray and half-fill it with boiling water.  
Place the lamb ham on top (make sure the water doesn't touch the lamb), covering loosely with foil. 
Roast for 40 minutes.
Remove the foil, top up the water and baste with maple syrup and Vegemite mixture.
Return to the oven and continue roasting for 40 - 50 minutes, basting lightly every 10 minutes or until a beautiful golden brown.
Stick a thermometer into the centre to make sure that the meat has reached 60˚C.
Remove tray from oven and rest for 2 hours before slicing.
Enjoy! :D

A Taste of Hangzhou

The flowers of the field have dabbled their powdered cheeks;

The mountain grasses are bent level at the waist.
By the bamboo stream the last fragment of cloud
Blown by the wind slowly scatters away.
                                                                       Li Po

I've been travelling around for a number of weeks - from Guangzhou to Hong Kong, Macau, back to Guangzhou, before Dali, Lijiang, Shangri-La, Kunming, Xishuangbanna, then Shanghai, Wuxi, Suzhou, Nanjing, Hangzhou and finally Longquan. I've taken a little time to recuperate and now I'm back in the blogging saddle! Well if you want to get technical, I left the saddle in Lijiang after riding through an escarpment in rainy weather, getting muddied up to my knees and singeing my clothes dry over a mound of flickering coals; but that's another story.

This wasn't my first trip to China. I've been twice before although the cultural progression and cosmopolitan development that have bridged the last twelve years left me a little bewildered at times. On my return to 'Paradise on Earth', better known as the city of Hangzhou where I'd spent a Summer of my childhood, I found it completely unrecognisable aside from the invariable view of West Lake. The apartment where my grandparents lived has been torn down and is overrun with thorny weeds, a supermarket franchise has replaced the local market where we once bought a chook that I tried to walk home on a leash, and the waterfront is now dotted with Starbucks, Häagen-Dazs, American car dealerships and French patisseries. Although I partly lust after the liveliness and romantic charm of the old city streets, it's incredible to realise just how much change has occurred in a country that everyone was once so fearful of being static.

At 6AM by the monumental red gates, women once stood beside carts selling steaming hot mantou (wheat buns filled with a mixture of pork or vegetables) - breakfast for the morning crowd. Nowadays, only the deep, rolling mist hangs over the lake at this hour. A couple jogs by on the narrow, zig-zagging path that juts out over the gently undulating water. At 7AM a marching band meets for morning practice in the square while park officials tend to flowering plants in the central display and an elderly man rollerblades around them in sweeping arcs. By 8AM the sun has risen high into the sky and peeks out from behind the perpetual clouds with a strangely orange glow. Everyone is out now it seems. Men stretching against pagoda railings, women dancing with folding fans against the backdrop of a silent wharf, and retirees practicing Tai Chi in large groups with music crooning from portable loudspeakers set down on the pavement.

Tiny wooden stalls mark the major tourist spots, stocked with ice blocks, ridiculous hats and boiled corn cobs (a popular street snack food). I'm told that up to a hundred people come to West Lake every day to have their wedding photographs taken and as I cycle past, I count five couples on one bridge dressed in Western-style wedding attire, waiting patiently for the photographer's attention. Not far ahead an expanse of lotus is growing along the banks, the huge green leaves like flat parasols basking in the sun's rays. If you're lucky you might discover a lone man pedalling fresh lotus seeds, prized for their cooling property, along the outskirts of the lake. Encased in their olive green exocarp, they're piled high into woven baskets and hefted onto shoulders in a bamboo balancing act.

Six interconnecting bridges form the Su Causeway, the arched stonework dating back to almost a millennium. Along the causeway ballast, elderly men with folding stools and fishing rods relax in the shade of osmanthus trees, enveloped by the entrancing perfume of fragrant silver laurels. When Spring comes it is said that the entire causeway is blanketed by peach blossoms. What a vision of romance I would imagine that to be - pink flowers scattered over cobbled paths; tourists dismounting their brightly coloured bicycles to ascend arched bridges, pausing briefly on the other side for a photo under weeping willow branches that dance lazily in the warm afternoon breeze.
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The Su Causeway is not the only lasting legacy that Su Dongpo left Hangzhou before his death. He is attributed with the design of Dongpo rou - pork belly simmered over a low fire for hours in Zhejiang wine and many seasonings to produce a sweet, red meat that is both soft and mellow. Hangzhou's famous Longjing (Dragon Well) tea is used to cook an aromatic dish of silky shrimp, while dried osmanthus flowers are combined with lotus root starch and wild chestnuts to create a thick, sweetened soup. Grass carp thrive along the entire Eastern coast from Vietnam all the way to the Siberian-Chinese border. The species has been introduced to the Netherlands, New Zealand and the United States but not only is it handy as a biological control, it gets bonus points for being tasty too. West Lake Sour Fish is perhaps not the most palatable dish I've eaten but its origin lies entwined in a dramatic tale of love and vengeance, and is a characteristic example of classic Chinese cuisine.
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The city's newest night market spans 1.4km on Zhongshan Nan Lu, a leisurely stroll away from Wushan Square which is situated at the base of the mountains. There are over 120 stalls featuring both Chinese and international foods, and many more selling silk purses and creepy, hooting chicken toys. Walking up and down the street I attach my sticky fingers to as much as I can possibly manage - flaky peanut pastry, black sesame rubber candy, freshly juiced sugar cane, steamed chicken wrapped in fragrant lotus leaf, chilli-salted BBQ yak, grilled Indian flatbread filled with banana, and a Portuguese egg tart. ­
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One thing I learned in China is that nourishment is integral to daily life. We are constantly surrounded by food. Good cooking can be elusive sometimes, as I found to be the case in particular regions. There will often be tasteless grit masquerading as something better, but the existence of bad food is no reason to give up hope. Under the watch of a rigorous eye, often the ostensibly simple results in the most pleasing meal.

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From 'The Art of Chinese Cuisine' by Hsiang Ju Lin and Tsuifeng Lin is a recipe for Dongpo pork. A simple recipe but one that requires the cook to have a clear understanding of the ingredients at hand to obtain the best result.
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"..

Dongpo Pork is customarily served at the end of a meal with
bowls of rice. People sigh, shout and groan with happiness when
they see it. This is one of the pinnacles of gastronomy, and sums
up the appreciation of fat in Chinese cuisine.

Dongpo Pork 

575 g belly pork in one piece
2 level tablespoons salt
2 tablespoons soy sauce
1 tablespoon wine
2 spring onions
2 slices ginger

Trim pork into a precise square. Wash it and wipe it dry with a towel.
Rub it with salt and let it stand for about 2 hours. Discard the blood-
tinged liquid.
Bring 12 cups water to the boil and blanch the meat in it. Rinse it free
of scum and repeat the blanching with a fresh portion of boiling water.
Place the pork skin side up in a pot with a tight-fitting lid, adding soy
sauce, wine, spring onions, ginger and 2 tablespoons water. Bring to the
boil, then reduce the heat to very low and simmer for 2 hours, adding
a little more water if necessary. Keep the amount of liquid as small as
possible, and do not keep uncovering the pot to see how the pork is
progressing. Let it stew in its own juices.
Discard the spring onions and ginger. Place the square skin side down on
a dish of soup plate dimensions; add the juices and cover it very closely
with foil, cellophane or an overlapping plate. Steam it for 4 hours, until
the fat is tender and can be cut with a spoon. Invert the square so that
the fat is uppermost, and pour the juices around it carefully.

                                                             .."
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If Yan Can Cook..

My dad is a transplantation immunologist with a masters in veterinary science and a PhD in embryology. Unfortunately he is also as stubborn as all hell and despite acting totally cool when I came out to him a few years ago, he's one of those old-fashioned guys who don't believe in this new-fangled idea of using recipes to create a better product.

Prime example #1 - steamed buns. He likes to use cold water straight from the tap and only barely mixes the dough with a flimsy pair of chopsticks. Dough does not get proofed whatsoever and the resulting horror resembles a brick no less.

When I had a go at making Swedish saffron bread not too long ago, he was keeping an eagle eye on me, most likely to make sure that I didn't leave the kitchen looking like it had just been bombed with flour. A little inquisitive for his nature, he asked what I was doing and I tried my best to explain the purpose of proofing and the optimum temperature for the multiplication of yeast and whatever else.

I thought he would have taken something from our in-depth conversation to improve his lacklustre method of making steamed buns, but to no avail. Bricks again. So when my mother cooked up a batch of sweetened adzuki beans and left me home alone, I took the opportunity to one up my dad with steamed buns adapted from a recipe in 'Martin Yan The Chinese Chef'.

I kept it simple by rolling 35g portions of dough into 6cm rounds before stuffing them with a rough tablespoon of beans and then pleating or attempting to pleat anyway. When steaming I line the steamer insert with perforated baking paper. I take a large square of baking paper (the same stuff i use for oven-baked goods) and fold it numerous times and trim just like making a cartouche. Make sure it fits the steamer insert then fold it back up again and punch holes into it at regular intervals using a regular stationary hole puncher. If handled carefully and dried afterwards, it can be used over and over without the need for replacing.

Steamed Milk Dough

35 g castor sugar
5 g active dry yeast
125 g lukewarm milk
70 g lukewarm water
260 g flour
2 g salt

Combine sugar and yeast then sprinkle over a small bowl containing milk and water.
Mix to combine and set aside for 10 mins until frothy.
In an electric stand mixer with dough hook attachment mix flour, salt and yeast together for 5 minutes on medium until smooth and elastic.
Transfer into a greased bowl, cover and proof for 1 hour until doubled.
Portion into 35 grams, roll out on floured bench, fill each bun and pleat.
Steam for 10-12 minutes.