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Tatler Asia
4 days ago
- General
- Tatler Asia
Food fermentation in Asia: a culinary atlas of pickles, pastes and probiotics
Miso likely evolved from the ancient Chinese jiang, but it was during Japan's Heian period (794 to 1185) that it became uniquely Japanese. Fermented soybeans and rice or barley make up that signature rich, umami flavour and creamy texture. There are numerous varieties: shiro (white) miso, which is sweet and delicate; aka (red) miso, which is strong and salty; and awase, a more versatile blend. Regional misos, like the robust hatcho miso from Aichi, offer local flavour profiles. While miso is more popular as a soup, it also stars in glazes for eggplant (nasu dengaku), marinades and even desserts like miso caramel. Packed with probiotics, B vitamins and minerals, it's as nourishing as it is tasty. Doenjang has been part of Korean food culture since at least the Three Kingdoms period (57 BCE to 668 CE). Traditionally made by ageing blocks of dried soybean paste called meju in earthenware pots, doenjang has a rustic, deeply funky aroma and flavour that sets it apart from Japanese miso. This thick paste is used in beloved Korean stews like doenjang jjigae, as well as in ssamjang, the dipping sauce for Korean barbecue. Families would often hang meju blocks from their rafters in winter, believing the air and natural microbes imparted health benefits and depth of flavour. Furu or fermented tofu comes in several varieties. The white version has a creamy, brie-like texture, while red furu gets its colour and mild sweetness from red rice yeast. Then there's chou doufu or stinky tofu, which is boldly pungent and revered in Taiwan and parts of southern China. Despite its intense aroma, fermented tofu has a deeply savoury profile that works beautifully in congee, stir-fried vegetables like kong xin cai (water spinach) or as a spread. Taiwan banners it so much, it even shows up in desserts, paired with sweet syrup or sticky rice. Legend has it that natto was discovered by accident when a samurai left boiled soybeans wrapped in straw in his bag. The result was a uniquely sticky, stringy and pungent product that's still divisive today. Natto is often compared to stinky cheese in both smell and intensity. You can eat it over hot rice with raw egg, mustard and scallions or enjoy it in sushi rolls like natto maki. Despite its acquired taste, natto is incredibly healthy. It's rich in vitamin K2 and nattokinase, which have both been linked to heart health and improved blood circulation. Tempeh is native to Java and was first recorded in 19th-century Javanese manuscripts. Unlike soy sauce or miso, which use soybean paste, tempeh is made from whole soybeans fermented with Rhizopus mould. The result is a firm, cake-like product with a nutty, earthy flavour and a satisfyingly meaty texture. Tempeh is commonly deep-fried as tempe goreng, stir-fried in oseng-oseng, or grilled inside banana leaves. As a high-protein, plant-based food with gut-friendly properties, tempeh is gaining popularity globally. Gochujang only became a fixture in Korean cuisine after chilli peppers were introduced from the Americas in the 16th century. A mixture of fermented soybeans, glutinous rice, red pepper powder and salt, gochujang has a thick, sticky texture and a flavour that balances sweet heat with fermented umami. It's a key ingredient in tteokbokki (spicy rice cakes), bibimbap and spicy bulgogi marinades. Traditionally, gochujang was left to ferment in clay jars called onggi, which you can still see in traditional K-dramas. These allow the flavours to mature under the sun. Fermented vegetables and pickles Above Kimchi (Photo: Portuguese Gravity / Unsplash) Kimchi came from the need to preserve cabbage and vegetables during Korea's icy winters. While early versions were white and mild, the arrival of chilli peppers (read gochujang's backstory) changed everything. Modern kimchi is spicy, sour, garlicky and fizzy, thanks to lactic acid fermentation. It's a staple side dish served with every Korean meal, but it also appears in kimchi jjigae (stew), pancakes (buchimgae) and fried rice. Unesco has even recognised the annual kimjang season, when families gather to make giant batches, as Intangible Cultural Heritage. Tsukemono refers to the wide array of Japanese pickles served as palate cleansers or digestive aids. These include takuan (yellow daikon pickles), umeboshi (sour pickled plums often found in onigiri) and colourful blends like shibazuke or fukujinzuke. Each region—or even household—has its take, often passed down through generations. In Kyoto, tsukemono are essential in a traditional kaiseki meal, showcasing the balance and seasonality central to Japanese cuisine. From Sichuan province comes pao cai, a tangy, crunchy pickle that brims with chilli, garlic and Sichuan peppercorns. Made by fermenting vegetables like mustard greens and cabbage in a spiced brine, pao cai is a fixture in everyday Chinese meals, adding heat and brightness to noodle soups or hot pot. Some families maintain 'forever brines' passed down for decades, with layers of flavour and local microbiomes lending depth to each new batch. More common in northern China, suan cai is fermented napa cabbage or mustard greens with a tart, vegetal flavour. It's essential to dishes like suan cai yu (sour fish stew) or pork stir-fries, where its acidity cuts through richness. Typically made during colder months, suan cai is milder than its Sichuanese cousin, pao cai, and often used in broths or dumpling fillings. Atchara, the Filipino take on pickled papaya, has its roots in Indian achar, introduced via Spanish colonial trade. Made from grated green papaya, carrots, bell peppers and ginger, it's pickled in vinegar and sugar to achieve a crunchy, sweet-sour balance. Atchara is indispensable alongside fatty Filipino dishes like lechon kawali, longganisa or tocino. It's often prepared in bulk for fiestas and holidays. While often relegated as a side player, it adds a different kick to classic Filipino cuisine. Don't miss: 8 fermented Filipino food you should know Vietnam's most beloved pickles are light, quick and refreshing. Dưa chua, often made with mustard greens or napa cabbage, and đồ chua, the classic carrot-daikon pickle, bring crisp acidity to dishes like bánh mì, cơm tấm and fresh spring rolls. Pickled using rice vinegar and sugar, they lend balance and crunch to the country's rich grilled meats and savoury broths. Gundruk is mountain food fermentation made with sun-dried mustard greens, radish leaves or cauliflower greens with the intention for long-term storage. Its earthy sourness is used in soups, curries or pickles throughout Nepal, particularly in the winter months when fresh produce is scarce. It's not just a food item—it's a preservation lifeline in high-altitude communities. Myanmar's mohnyin tjin is a bold, briny pickle made from mustard greens, chillies, garlic and sticky rice. Fermented in jars or clay pots, the result is a slightly alcoholic, salty-sour condiment often eaten as a side dish or salad, dressed with sesame oil and peanuts. It appears frequently with mohinga, the national noodle soup, and pairs wonderfully with fried foods. Fermented seafood and meat Above A look at a fish sauce factory (Photo: Quang Nguyen Vinh / Pexels) Fish sauce may have older roots than soy sauce, with some historians drawing parallels between it and Roman garum. Across Asia, anchovies or small fish are layered with salt and left to ferment in barrels for months to years. The resulting amber liquid is intensely umami and salty, with varying degrees of sweetness and funk depending on the region. It's indispensable in Vietnamese bun cha, Thai som tam, Filipino tinola and countless dipping sauces. Each culture adapts it—Thai nam pla is bold, Filipino patis is often lighter and sweeter, while Vietnamese nuoc mam can be delicate and fragrant. Shrimp paste is Southeast Asia's answer to anchovy paste—an umami bomb made from ground fermented shrimp, sun-dried and pressed into blocks. Each country has its variant: kapi in Thailand, terasi in Indonesia, belacan in Malaysia and bagoong alamang in the Philippines. It's toasted before use to mellow the aroma, and appears in sambals, curries, stir-fries and dipping sauces. Despite its strong scent, it's a culinary cornerstone across the region. See more: Where does Malaysia stand in the funky world of fermented foods? This needs a separate section altogether. The Philippines has an entire vocabulary for its fermented seafood condiments. Bagoong isda (anchovy-based) and bagoong alamang (shrimp-based) vary by region, fermentation time and seasoning. Often aged in large clay jars and sold in wet markets, bagoong can be sautéed into dishes like binagoongan, used in kare-kare (peanut stew) or eaten raw with green mangoes. Ilocano variants are especially prized and aged longer for intense flavour. Nem chua is a pink, tangy, slightly fizzy snack made from ground pork, garlic, chilli, sugar and rice—wrapped in banana leaves and left to ferment. It's served cold with chilli and herbs, or grilled for a crispy finish. Despite being a meat product, the fermentation gives it a surprisingly bright acidity that offsets its richness, making it a coveted street snack in Vietnam.
Time Out
23-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Time Out
Jay Fai: Fire & Soul goes beyond the flames to uncover the woman behind the goggles
Have you ever asked yourself what you'd be doing at 81? Most people would probably say retiring or spending time with their grandchildren. But not Supinya 'Jay Fai' Junsuta as she's still going strong and shows no signs of stopping (not this year). Known as the Queen of Street Food, Jay Fai is a true icon in Thailand's food scene. She shot to global fame after earning a Michelin Star and ever since, foodies from all over the world have been lining up just to try her crab omelette. However, beyond her charcoal-fired woks and signature ski goggles, her life is much more interesting than we realise. With a past filled with struggles and victories over life's adversities, she has managed through her entrepreneurial vision to build her business and provide for her family. And to understand how she came to be in this position, the culinary documentary, Jay Fai: Fire & Soul is the one to watch. Directed by Arlei Lima, the film first came out in 2021 and spent the next few years making its way through international film festivals. Now, it's finally come home. On May 19, the Thai premiere of the documentary took place at Woof Pack art space – right in time with its worldwide release on the UTOPICFOOD! YouTube channel. Even if you're not her fan, you've probably noticed she rarely opens up about her life and that's exactly what makes this film so special. With questions gently asked by her daughter, she shares her story in her own words, with a level of openness we rarely see. Her path has been anything but easy or conventional. She left school after fourth grade, never received formal culinary training and even worked as a tailor at one point. Yet, she credits much of her entrepreneurial mindset to the Chinese historical novel Three Kingdoms, saying: 'I was only in second grade when I started reading Three Kingdoms. I think politicians are witless. If you're a politician and you've read Three Kingdoms, I guarantee no one can mess with you. I tell everyone that. Later on, I only got halfway through the book. I didn't have time to finish. I had to work. Even now, Three Kingdoms is still with me.' If you're a politician and you've read Three Kingdoms, I guarantee no one can mess with you. Even though she's an icon, there's no denying that many people still perceive her food as unusually expensive. But if you ask her about it, she won't dodge the question. She responds with the same honesty and confidence that's guided her through life. 'Thais often say, 'Aren't you afraid of selling expensive food?' I say, 'I'm not afraid. What is there to be afraid of? I have prices listed. You can choose what to eat. If you think it's too expensive, you can eat something else.' I don't chase anyone away. I want you to eat here. We were born human, so let's give it a try. Why do some restaurants charge more while others are cheaper? They're not the same.' I'm not afraid. What is there to be afraid of? I have prices listed. You can choose what to eat. If you think it's too expensive, you can eat something else. And regarding the rumour last year that she was thinking of retiring – turns out, it did cross her mind, but not just yet. The 81-year-old chef reflects: 'Yes, the thought has come up. But I feel like I need to get through this year first. I've already accepted a lot of bookings, even into the middle of next year. As for stopping, I could whenever I choose. But the team at the restaurant has asked me to keep going a bit longer.' Having landed in Thailand four years after its initial release, you might wonder if this film was made mainly for an international audience. What about local viewers? What can they take away from it? On this, producer Mason Florence shares: 'As we worked towards the target audience, we realised that Jay Fai's fanbase and her guests come from every corner of the world. But the one we didn't want to miss is the Thai audience. We hope more people here get to see the film and, importantly, understand the story in Thai. Along with the language, the cultural concepts come through naturally, making the film borderless. It's really for everyone and even those who haven't had the chance to visit Thailand or eat at Jay Fai's, but can experience it vicariously through the film.' But the one we didn't want to miss is the Thai audience. We hope more people here get to see the film and, importantly, understand the story in Thai. Overall, this documentary knows no borders. Even if you're not local, you'll be moved by the life and soul of Jay Fai. Her journey of passion and perseverance shines through every frame. But don't let us spoil how good this film is, you can catch it for free here.
Borneo Post
17-05-2025
- Borneo Post
Kuching's heritage deserves more than a scan
The Jinli Ancient Street in Chengdu, where centuries-old rooftops meet today's footsteps. Heritage here is not just remembered, but lived. ON a chilly day in March, my travel companions and I wandered through the wooden corridors of Jinli Ancient Street in Chengdu. The scent of tea and grilled skewers mingled in the air, while hundreds of lanterns swayed gently above the stone paths. Around us, echoes of ancient China came alive – but with a twist. This wasn't nostalgia frozen in time. It was heritage reimagined. Scattered QR codes led to virtual tours, while augmented reality (AR) prompts unveiled hidden stories. At every turn, tradition met technology – not as a gimmick, but as a bridge. Even Wuhou Temple, where the legacy of Zhuge Liang is enshrined, had interactive exhibits that brought the epic tales of the Three Kingdoms to life. At Dongpo Impression Water Street, a themed area dedicated to poet Su Dongpo, storytelling, architecture, and technology worked in harmony. The street retained its cultural essence while being a space of learning, leisure, and lively commerce. Jinli Ancient Street itself offered a more relaxed but equally intentional experience, with teahouses, craft stalls, and vendors weaving the past into everyday life. The insight was clear – heritage doesn't have to gather dust, it can be a breath of fresh air. Thinking of home, I pondered upon how these technological applications could boost our own culture and heritage experiences. With these thoughts, I was heartened to read that the Sarawak Museums Department had recently launched a promising digital initiative in collaboration with the private sector. The project: to scan, map and archive Kuching's historic buildings in 3D. To me, it is a timely effort. Much like how France digitally preserved Notre Dame after the 2019 fire, Sarawak is taking action to safeguard what time, weather, and urban development may soon erase. Many of Kuching's oldest structures – chophouse's, colonial era buildings, 'kampung' (village) houses and temples – bear the weight of history, but face the risk of neglect or demolition. Even memory itself is at risk of erasure, as those from the younger generation move away, resulting in fewer families residing in the city's heritage quarters. Australian-trained architect Jeffrey Yeung, who now heads Elemnts Sdn Bhd (Elemnts) in Kuching, welcomed the digital initiative, but added a cautionary note. 'It's a start,' he said. 'But it cannot be where the effort ends.' Yeung emphasised that digital preservation must go beyond surface scans. 'We need to understand how these buildings were made – their materials, techniques, and the lives they sheltered. 'We should document them so thoroughly that, if needed, they could be rebuilt – like Cooper's farmhouse in 'Interstellar', faithfully reconstructed from memory and data. 'These structures are more than brick and timber. They carry identity, history, (and) belonging. 'Without them, our city becomes a shell – gleaming, but hollow,' he added. After all, a scan can save a building's form, but it cannot save its soul. So how can Sarawak move from just scanning buildings to truly reviving our heritage? To start, we must first tell our stories. In Chengdu, I found myself immersed in its rich stories as I wandered around scanning QR codes and AR prompts that supplied me with multilingual content, layered with audio, animation and archival photos. Sarawak, too, has no lack of rich narratives – from ancestral traditions of the Dayak communities and Brooke-era legacies, to the rhythms of 'kampung' life and the enduring spirit of our multi-ethnic coexistence. But are we telling them? And more importantly, are they being heard? Second, preservation must be paired with participation. Places like Jinli thrive because people engage. They shop, sip tea, take photos, and linger. What if Carpenter Street or Padungan had an AR trail, where users could hear stories from the elders or the stall owners while exploring? Third, our efforts must reflect our local soul. Chengdu's heritage sites never feel generic – they are unmistakably Sichuan. Likewise, Sarawak's digital heritage must honour Bornean textures, riverine cultures, and our layered histories. This isn't about copying, but adapting – with heart. Finally, heritage is not just about buildings – it's about people. In Chengdu, the locals are part of the experience. In Sarawak, the craftsmen, food hawkers, teachers and students must be co-creators, not just bystanders. While government's support for this is essential, it cannot be a top-down initiative alone because without community involvement, we risk creating sterile archives. A digital scan can preserve a façade, but only a community can keep a place alive. The digital documentation of Kuching's heritage buildings is a commendable beginning, but the true goal must be deeper – to preserve stories, soul and connection. Local councils and developers must resist the urge to sanitise old streets into lifeless 'Instagram sets'. Let the patina of age remain. Let imperfections speak. Let the streets hum with memory. Educators and media, too, have a role. Imagine school-children exploring a virtual Kuching, tracing their family's past through digital trails, or hearing the story of the Round Tower as they stand before it. And to the young: heritage is not just old folks' nostalgia. It is your inheritance. It is the backdrop to your selfies, the spirit behind the skyline, and perhaps, the legacy you will one day pass on. I remember sitting quietly on a bench along Jinli Street in Chengdu, watching people laugh and live under lanterns that had witnessed dynasties rise and fall. The place felt timeless – not because it resisted change, but because it embraced it meaningfully. Kuching, or any other towns in Sarawak, too, can have that kind of future where the old doesn't fade, but flourishes anew. Where heritage is not just a memory we visit, but a space we live in; a street where we walk with pride, and a story we keep telling. Because when we honour the past with the tools of the present, we give the future something to stand on. China heritage Jinli Ancient Street Kuching sarawak
Japan Times
17-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Japan Times
‘Ya Boy Kongming! The Movie': J-pop spectacle goes heavy on performances
Many Japanese films are set in the music business, but few devote more screen time to actual performances than 'Ya Boy Kongming! The Movie.' Based on a TV drama that was in turn inspired by a manga, this strenuously entertaining live-action film traces the improbable musical career of the title protagonist, a famous Chinese strategist of the chaotic Three Kingdoms period (A.D. 220-280) who finds himself reincarnated in modern-day Japan. Scripted by Nonji Nemoto, who also worked on the TV drama, and directed by Shuhei Shibue, a prolific maker of music videos and TV commercials, the film assumes familiarity with the 'Ya Boy Kongming!' world and Three Kingdoms history. Those ignorant of both may blank on the references to the real-life Zhuge Liang (played in the film version by Osamu Mukai), commonly known by his courtesy name Kongming, as well to why his reincarnation is advising Eiko Tsukimi (Moka Kamishiraishi), an up-and-coming pop singer, and hanging out with Kobayashi (Mirai Moriyama), the owner of a lounge where Eiko performs. An avid fan of Three Kingdoms history, Kobayashi gives rapid-fire minilectures that may aid the perplexed — or baffle them further. The film's initial plot trajectory is simple enough: Three major record labels — Key Time, SSS and V-EX — agree to stage a 'music battle festival' with artists from every label competing. Aided by Kongming's strategic smarts and moral support, Eiko is selected as Key Time's singer in the final newcomer slot. Meanwhile, the spunky Shin (the single-named Utaha), whom we first see busking in the street, is chosen by the SSS agency as their newcomer through the machinations of Jun Shiba (Kamio Fuju), a wily show biz strategist and Shin's brother. Jun also happens to be a descendant of Kongming's Three Kingdoms rival Sima Yi, also known as Zhongda. As the date of the big concert approaches, Eiko and Kobayashi realize that all is not well with Kongming. He slips into dreams of a temple gate in the midst of a bamboo forest and comes to fear that if he hears Eiko sing, he will pass through the gate and enter the land of the dead. The solution, Eiko tells Kongming, is for her to stop singing, period. But he can't let her, believing as he does that her voice holds the key to the universal peace for which he has long been advocating. As this conflict plays out with much agonizing on both sides, the big concert begins. Acts both fictional and real appear, boy band &Team being among the latter. After each performance, fans hold up glow sticks with a color to indicate their favorite — pink for Key Time acts. The spectacle of thousands of waving lights and cheering fans rivals the most extravagant arena shows (though in this case, most of the audience is computer-generated). The music is mostly high-volume, fast-tempo J-pop, with dancers, singers and rappers all going full-throttle from beginning to end. Also, the plot acquires highly hyped twists and turns as the behind-the-scenes maneuvers of the two contending strategists come to light. The concert is scheduled to conclude with Eiko and Shin, that is, if Eiko is willing to send her biggest fan to the next world. Will Kongming go out in a burst of glory? Not to say, but 'Ya Boy Kongming! The Movie' features nearly 40 minutes of nonstop musical energy. For those who aren't fans of J-pop, however, it will be more agony than ecstasy.
Korea Herald
27-03-2025
- Korea Herald
Royal kitchen at Gyeongbokgung to show jang-making
April 4 event to mark UNESCO recognition of practice last year The traditional Korean ways of making fermented pastes and sauces, or 'jang,' will be showcased at Gyeongbokgung, a Joseon-era (1392-1910) palace in Seoul. On April 4, the palace will open to the public a space dedicated to jang-making, inviting visitors to look around the place and study the tools and ingredients used for jang-making. At Saenggwabang, the palace kitchen where desserts and refreshments were prepared for the royals, visitors can sample jang made by jang artisans. Those who want a guided tour to better understand the traditional practice can make online reservations on Naver. The latest event celebrates UNESCO's decision in December to add jang-making to its list of intangible cultural heritage. The UN body described the practice as an essential Korean culinary tradition, in addition to the usual staples of rice and kimchi. What sets jang apart from similar condiments in China and Japan is the fact that the soybeans, the central ingredient, are fermented. These dried fermented soybeans, called 'meju,' serve as the basis of different varieties of jang, such as doenjang (soybean paste), ganjang (soy sauce) and gochujang (chile paste). Jang-making, Korea's 23rd entry on the UNESCO list of intangible cultural heritage, is believed to have been practiced since as early as the Three Kingdoms era from 57 BCE to 668 CE, before the Silla Kingdom unified the Korean Peninsula.
