Lucky Lucky Dumplings' House of Varieties: Elements

Blink, and you would have missed it. A few days before the Open Streets K'Rd festival a couple of weeks ago, the Denizen unveiled an exclusive experiential degustation to celebrate the event, the first in a series of interactive dinners called House of Varieties. For one night only, Lucky Lucky Dumplings promised to blow our minds in a collaboration with the Las Vegas Club, combining molecular gastronomy with performances from The Dust Palace to bring us their take on the four classical elements - earth, water, air, and fire. The two sittings sold out almost straight away, and we felt lucky even to get into the 5pm slot, rather than the 7pm one we requested.

(By the way, if you are planning to go to one of the future shows, and are worried about spoiling the surprise, the organisers have assured me the dinners will be getting progressively more experiential and themed. They have even posted a video of some scenes from the evening. Read on at your own risk, though.)

Setting the Stage

As we headed up the stairs, featureless shadowy figures gyrated around us, caressing the banisters. We were taken to our table, which was within touching distance of a chair (or rather, a chair-shaped set of metal bars) and a hoop hanging from the ceiling. They weren't the only unusual items in he room though: on our table lay paintbrushes and a little pair of scissors.

While we waited for things to kick off, we grabbed some drinks from the bar. There was a variety of wines and beers available, but if you were after a cocktail, there was only one on offer on this particular night - a negroni on tap. Everything else would take too long to make, I guess.

Equipment in the middle of the dining area.

We were worried we wouldn't feel like eating so much earlier than our usual dinner time, but it was gettting to a more reasonable 5:30pm by the time the starters came out. These rose-shaped fried wonton skins were accompanied by a traffic light set of "paint" which seemed to be made from beetroot, pumpkin and avocado respectively, which explained the reason for the paintbrushes. It was hard to see their colours in the dim blue light though.

Wonton rose starter, with edible paint.

Water

The first element began with hot water being poured into tall glass candleholders at each table. A tea ball floated into sight, then the accompanying aerial circus performance began, making use of the hanging chair. Towards the end of the energetic display, the artist tipped a canister of ice over herself, scattering bits all over the floor. It was particularly dramatic because of how close she was to the diners.

Tea on the table, ice on the floor.

By the time the act was over, our tea ball had blossomed into a floral chain. Waitstaff brought out wine glasses containing shrimps and a concentrated savoury soup, and told us to spoon some jasmine tea into the vessel. Not only was it novel and hands-on, but the dish was flavourful, and you could adjust its saltiness to your liking!

Blooming tea.

Shrimps in a glass.

Earth

Next up was the performance for earth, which took place on the little stage at the front of the room. A green being with horns and not much clothing showed off his strength and flexibility while balancing on a section of tree trunk.

Strength and flexibility on display.

At the same time, little pots with spinach, lettuce and parsley (the latter actually growing in soil) were put on our table. Someone poured in what was presumably liquid nitrogen, and suddenly the tabletop was covered with a swirling mist.

Fresh vegetables at the table, and swirling mist. 

After the display, we were given a cucumber salad, and told we could add to it by cutting greenery from the pot plants (ah, so that's what the scissors were for). The lettuce was a bit frozen at the bottom due to the liquid nitrogen, but the other two vegetables felt very fresh. We would have preferred the cucumber with just the fried shallots, soy sauce and chilli oil; although we didn't care for the coconut cream so much, it was useful for coating the leaves we threw into the dish.

Cucumber with chilli oil, fried shallots and coconut cream.

Fire

Yes, there was fire on stage. The lady with the burning torch did not flinch when she ran it up her arms, leaving a trail of little flames, but I got a bit worried for her when the fire neither extinguished in her mouth, nor when she tried to blow it out a couple of times.

Playing with fire.

I was expecting the main meal to be something cooked over a burner at the table, like those Chinese hotpot dishes, but I was wrong. What we got was a crispy duck leg on a bed of spring onion slices, served with the standard Peking duck accompaniments of steamed pancakes, cucumber and carrot sticks, and a sweet sauce. It was the least theatrical course of the evening, but it was also the most substantial and delicious.

Beautiful duck dish.

The vegetarian alternative of eggplant came with the same bottle of sauce, which it didn't need because it already had plenty of the stuff stirred through it.

Vegetarian eggplant alternative.

Air

To the sound of howling wind, a waif-like creature now performed on the hoop hanging from the ceiling. She was very flexible, at one point arching her back so much that her foot touched her head. She was also incredibly strong, and was able to dangle from the apparatus without holding on, just balancing by the back of her neck!

Hanging by her neck.

In keeping with the theme, dessert came out with balloons hovering overhead. Staff then popped the balloons, which scattered rose petals over the table.

Dessert came with a balloon.

The roasted banana and caramel flavours of our final course were delightful, but as before, the coconut cream in the pudding lacked depth and we could have happily done without it.

Dessert.

It was fortunate that we ended up in the earlier sitting, as the next group had been waiting for over half an hour by the time we left, and there were still loiterers in the restaurant, as well as rose petals that needed to be cleaned up off the floor.

Diners waiting for the 7pm sitting.

All in all, we had a great evening, with good food and some outstanding entertainment. Other than the overuse of plain coconut cream (and the strange lack of dumplings), we were impressed by the creativity and quality of the dishes. I can't imagine what the next House of Varieties dinners will be like to top this. Kudos to all the organisers, performers, chefs and helpers involved!

Amazebowls of Noodles

At the risk of sounding like a starstruck teen, I was totally bowled over by the noodles we had in the weekend (excuse the pun). For those of you who haven't been paying attention, Miss Changy held her third pop-up event on Sunday, serving up the Kuching specialty of kolo mee.*

* According to Lee Geok Boi in the book Classic Asian Noodles, the term is probably a corruption of the Cantonese phrase "kon lo meen", meaning dry noodles.

The talented Miss Changy not only cooks, but is an artist!

A few months ago, I blogged about this uni student's first event, where we were lucky enough to have the opportunity to sample Sarawak laksa. Since then, she has clearly been busy, not only constructing her own tables, stools, bowls and chopsticks (the latter from pine, jarrah and kauri), but also experimenting with making a bunch of things from scratch, including noodles (using her family's secret recipe), peanut butter, lentil and alfalfa sprouts and even tofu pannacotta from hand-pressed soy milk!

We totally enjoyed the fruits of her labour, and also appreciated the tweaks she made for her largest event yet. Rather than cooking in her own home, this time, we were fed at the Morningside cafe The Mustard Kitchen. She got a few helpers to turn it into a slick operation, instead of trying to do everything herself. There was a central station for condiments and cutlery—a bit of audience participation never hurts. And in case you didn't get the picture yet, the food had progressed in leaps and bounds.

Condiments, homemade chopsticks and curried roasted peanuts.

As with last time, we were given some roasted peanuts to nibble on at the beginning, after getting our names checked off. Everything was designed to delight, with the soy sauce and "liquid gold" of garlic-infused house-rendered lard being presented in laboratory flasks with droppers. (I didn't even realise lard could be clear and liquid at room temperature.)

Applying "liquid gold" to our noodles.

Having seen the preparation of her noodles, including drying thin sheets of dough on a clothes horse, before putting them through some kind of pasta machine, I expected straight strands of egg noodles, rather like fresh spaghetti. In fact, they were kind of roughly crumpled, all the better for sauces to cling to. No idea how she "jzeushes" her chewy kolo mee, but the end result was excellent. Together with pork, soy sauce, garlic dressing, the mild bitterness of Asian greens and the fragrance of the toasted sesame seeds and dried chillies, this dish was a flavourful taste sensation.

Kolo mee with sesame and dried chilli blend and sauces.

Vegetarians were also catered for, with a poached duck egg replacing the BBQ pork. The creamy yolk made a beautiful coating for the noodles, and the meat-eaters were jealous they did not get to experience this too.

Vegetarian option prior to the addition of sauce.

We would be back for more of Miss Changy's kolo mee in a flash, should she ever offer this again. And we were equally impressed that we ate our meals surrounded by her handiwork, using the unique chopsticks, bowls and furniture she created with her own hands. Bravo, Miss Changy! You are an inspiration.

Eating at a Stranger's House

Have ever invited yourself to a stranger's house for a meal? Not a friend of a friend's place, nor that of someone you've chatted with online, but the home of a complete stranger, someone you have never met or communicated with before. That's what I ended up doing the other day.

It wasn't exactly something on my bucket list, but when the team at The Lucky Taco shared a pop-up event called LAK$A LAK$A organised by one of their crew, Ruby, a.k.a. Miss Changy, I couldn't help but enthusiastically buy a bunch of tickets for me and my friends (never mind that they couldn't make it and I ended up getting some others along).

Enticing artwork for the event.

What's not to love? Here was someone brave enough to invite others into her own home (though she probably never expected random people like me to turn up), with colourful artwork and the promise of delicious Sarawak laksa cooked by a chef who, with her family from Borneo, knows the real deal. I was interested to find our how this dish differed from the curry laksa most places sell in Auckland, and I wanted to support people who share their food with others, especially when it is something unusual and authentic.

Miss Changy encouraged us to treat her place like a cafe. There was no set time, but wide time windows, so we could turn up for lunch at any point between 12 and 3pm. She also had a dinner session from 6 to 9pm, with each session limited to a maximum of 20 people. I really liked this approach, as it meant we did not have to stress about arriving punctually. It would also have been easier on the chef to have the visitors staggered, so she did not have to prepare the dishes all at once.

While we were waiting, we were given little bowls of roasted peanuts. Cue surprise and delight—no one had mentioned we were getting anything other than laksa. We also admired the fresh flowers and general ambience.

Table decorations - but the coriander was for eating as well.

At this stage, you are probably wondering about the laksa. This was beautifully presented, with a mound of rice noodles, omelette strips and shredded chicken rising above the soup base. There was also a prawn hidden inside. We thought the soup had a spicy and tangy flavour, and tasted like it had some curry in it, but little if any coconut milk.

Sarawak laksa served by Miss Changy.

This seems to contradict the Wikipedia description, which claims Sarawak laksa has no curry at all, but "a base of sambal belacan, sour tamarind, garlic, galangal, lemon grass and coconut milk, topped with omelette strips, chicken strips, prawns, fresh coriander and optionally lime." Perhaps our tastebuds were defective, or perhaps the online entry is wrong, but the toppings pretty much described exactly what we were eating. Our host also encouraged us to pluck extra coriander from the display on the table, and offered a vegetarian alternative with tofu instead of chicken.

We enjoyed our meal (though we would have preferred it to have been heated to a higher temperature), but it was what came next which blew me away. Completely unexpectedly yet again, we were given a little stack of sesame crisps. I love sesame in any form, but my recent trials with sesame brittle produced something cloyingly sweet and teeth-breakingly hard. The crisps from Miss Changy were far superior, with a high sesame content, brittleness without hardness, and best of all, very little sugar. The recipe, she told us, makes use of egg whites. Genius!

Sesame crisps served after our laksa.

All in all, great concept, great passion, and great food. There was nothing that practice wouldn't solve, and we hope there are more events like this coming!

[Added 20 August 2014: We have since tried Miss Changy's homemade noodles and absolutely loved them!]

This post is part of Our Growing Edge, a monthly blogging event aimed at inspiring us to try new things. This month, it is hosted by Dana from I've Got Cake.