If you’re from a family with roots in the “old world” or have hippy parents you probably grew up eating a broad range of food – food that became increasingly embarrassing to bring out during school lunches as you got older. But secretly, it’s as comfortably delicious as wearing your favourite old, pilly jumper.
My mum used to cook a pot of food from scratch for us everyday. She’d leave it on the stove for us to find as we arrived home from school. My brother and I were latchkey kids because she worked at her restaurant. It was thrilling to get to 3pm in the afternoon, bolt back home and see what we would be having for dinner.
We rarely had friends over, which made the unveiling of the pot seem a lot less fraught. I would’ve died of embarrassment if they had seen the pots that made me most gleeful: soups filled with offal or a braised duck, pickled mustard greens and daikon stew.
I would’ve self-consciously shrunk if they were to try my other favourite – stuffed bitter melon soup – and screwed up their faces.
Luckily my own children don’t need much coaxing when it comes to eating a wide range of foods. Apparently it’s no longer weird to have weird food in your lunchbox.
But still, I did slightly hesitate at sending them off to school with a bitter melon stir-fry. Then I did it anyway. I thought, if anything, it would be character-building. I was gladly surprised when their thermoses came back empty.
The expression I heard most growing up was “Eat this, it’s good for you”– it’s now my most overused expression too. But I can understand why so many of us who grew up old-world feel indignant when foods get declared “newly discovered” or “a superfood”. It’s a badge of honour, but also frustrating because inside we’re all screaming: “goji berry? We’ve been sucking on those in our TCM soups from the womb!”
Turmeric, coconut oil, animal fats, all the fats … don’t even get me started on ageing fish ... like I said, a badge of honour.
So it is with bitter melon (Momordica charantia). Many who’ve never eaten it are curious about it now, since popular health literature has talked it up big. And so it should. Bitter melons are chock-a-block with fibre, vitamins, minerals and then some more. They’re a hard sell for restaurants though – it’s not called bitter for nothing. The strong flavour either needs to be celebrated, or muted.
I once grew a white variety for chef Peter Gilmore as a trial. It was such a pretty vegetable, like a miniature albino alligator in vegetal form, if you can imagine such a thing. It would’ve made the perfect garnish on one of his daintily-gorgeous dishes, shaved paper-thin equatorially. Perfect, except it would’ve dominated the entire dish with its lovely medicinal bitterness. Not what most chefs are looking for – no matter how pretty.
Instead, bitter melon is relegated to home cooking and more rustic kitchens, like our restaurants. We put it on our menu for the first time this year, during its peak season. We did it because I wanted to eat it daily and because they were growing prolifically on the farm, and no one else would buy them.
And you know what? So many people ordered it! It sold out. General consensus declared it the most pleasurably nostalgic dish. Diners were always describing the family member who best cooked it (often their grandma) and how what they’d just eaten had made them reminisce.
So next time you go to an Asian grocer and see that knobbly, green, alligator-looking veg, just remember “buy it, cook it, eat it – it’s really good for you”. Just don’t scrunch up your pretty face when you taste it.
Stuffed bitter melon in chicken broth
(aka my happy soup)
Read the recipe before you attempt this – there are a few steps that require advanced preparation.
Serves four
Step one: the stuffing
1 kg of pastured pork mince preferably 30% fat
6 cloves of garlic minced finely
1 small knob of organic ginger grated
1 tbs preserved salted radishes chopped finely
1 tsp white pepper
3 tbs Braggs Aminos protein or light soy sauce
1 tsp salt
3tbs best-quality sesame oil
2 organic free-range egg beaten
Mix all the above ingredients together with your hands until well incorporated, then refrigerate, covered, with a tea towel, for at least an hour. Overnight is ideal.
Step two: prepping the melon
4 medium bitter melons – choose ones that have rounded ridges
Cut the melon into 10cm logs and core out the pith and seeds gently with a spoon. Stuff all the way to edges. If you have any stuffing left over, form it into meatballs.
Step three: making the soup
2 litres chicken stock (homemade is best)
4 dried shiitake mushrooms rehydrated and quartered
1 bunch coriander – finely chop the stem and leaves, smack the roots until flattened
1 bunch spring onions finely sliced
2tbs of Braggs Aminos
2tbs best-quality fish sauce
1tsp ground white pepper
2tbs of shallot oil you made last week
Bring the stock to boil with the flattened coriander root and shiitake mushrooms. Place the stuffed bitter melon and meatballs into the pot gently and simmer low for 20 minutes or until the pork has cooked all the way through and the bitter melon has softened. Season with Braggs and fish sauce.
When ready to serve, portion out the bitter melon and extra meat balls, ladle broth over and garnish with coriander and spring onions, drizzle with the shallot oil and dust with the white pepper.
Overnight this soup gets better, so always make more than you think you can eat, because your liver will thank you and you’ll want to go do some chin-ups after.
Palisa Anderson is a farmer at Boon Luck farm and restaurateur at Chat Thai, Boon Cafe, Assamm and Samorso
