Risks

Someone needs to fill one of those glossy, image-driven cookbooks which live, barnacle-like, around cash registers in book shops, with a collection of all the meal-in-hand street foods of the world. It would be all croque monsieurs and falafel rolls and tacos and crepes and pupusas and meat pies and pastizzies and hot dogs doughnuts and tamales and the like. I say “someone” because I'm not going to do it. Whoever does make the book should call it “Hand-held” and make the spine look like the layers of a hamburger, and the two covers like a bun. There, I've done most of the work for you. I'll buy the book when you've finished. I do so love me hand-held street food.



I spend a good deal of time, in fact, seeking out and eating hand-held street food. I am a bit obsessed, really. I'll more or less try anything that is sold from a cart, roadside stand, or suspect take-away-only hole. I do usually sit back and watch for a moment or two, just to see if any of the locals are buying, but that's about the extent of my risk-analysis. I suppose, given the foods I'm willing to consume, from the vendors whom I'm willing to purchase, it's only a matter of time until I poison myself. These are the sorts of chances I'm willing to take.

Poisoning, actually, is quite at the fore of my thoughts, as I spent the day yesterday in a government-mandated food safety course (one employee from each kitchen in the state is now required to complete the course). I am now, (check yourself) a certified Food Safety Officer. Well, I made the “officer” bit up. And I don't yet actually have a certificate, per se, but it is, I've been assured, as good as “in the mail.” I'm considering having a engraved badge, sheriff-style, made up in the meantime.

I've been refreshed on cooking temperatures and cooling times and stock rotation and hand washing. It was, as you can imagine, a captivating eight hours. I did learn a bit about the exact behaviors of the most common bacteria which cause problems for the food industry. The one thing that stuck foremost in my mind is that beef is just as dangerous chicken.



The message, actually, was: “Don't eat rare meat.” It turns out, you see, that when it comes to food poisoning risk, chicken and beef are more or less equal. Australian chicken flocks, on the one hand, display about a 50% infection rate for salmonella. Beef, on the other, in OZ, have about a 30% infection rate for e. coli. Both salmonella and e. coli represent a group of pathogens of which only a small handful make us sick. It turns out that you have more or less the same chance of becoming ill eating undercooked chicken as you do eating undercooked beef. However, none of us ask for rare chicken. Several of us ask for rare beef.

The same rules which apply to chicken are applicable to all fowl. I eat duck medium-rare, quail rare, and squab nearly raw. While, from a cooking perspective, this has much to do with the flavor and toughness of the meat, as far as risk goes, I might as well be having diner at a chicken sashimi restaurant. Rare bird is as dangerous as raw beef.

That said, I'm still probably not going to start cooking my chicken thighs medium rare, on the bone, though I know it amounts to little more than superstition. In fact, everything I've just learned about the likelihood of microbial contamination mostly just piques my curiosity; I'm not going to change my eating habits. I'm not about to stop ordering my steaks bleu.

Nor do I suggest you cook the meat in the recipe below any more than a sear on the surface. The combination of crisp char paired with impossibly moist, rare – nearly raw – meat is a culinary treat in itself. The flavor is an absolute delight when combined with the fresh herb salad and the sharp, aggressive flavors of the dressing.

This is not actually, to my knowledge, a street food in any part of the world. It is rather, my ideal summer street food: an adaptation of Thai beef salad with strong Vietnamese influences. I've packed this for innumerable picnics, as it is light and clean and tidy and tasty.



Thai Beef Salad Rolls

This is perfect summer picnic food. It's not remotely summer here, in fact we've just had a week of endless, cold drizzle, punctuated by occasional downpours. However, the combination of the footage of the U.S. heatwave and my general desire to imagine warmer times has me in the mood for this meal.

1 300g steak, room temperature

Ok. I'll really teach you all how to cook a steak sometime in the near future, as it is a simple, but delicate craft. Here it is not so much so. You'll need a 300gm cut of beef – something with a bit of fat in it, not too much – like a sirloin, or a scotch fillet, that will end up being about 3 cm (just over an inch) thick, and a really, really, hot pan.

Heat a heavy-bottomed skillet on the highest of heat. Add a touch of oil to the hot pan. Quickly season the meant all over liberally with lashings of salt and pepper. Sear the steak on one side until a dark brown, crisp crust has formed. Flip the steak and cook until the same dark, caramelized crust has formed. Remove from pan and rest until the steak is at room temperature.

Cut the rested, rare meat into thin slices. It will be quite rare.

Rolls

Steak slices (see above)
1 bunch mint, leaves only
1 bunch Thai basil, leaves only
1 bunch coriander, leaves only
1 small bunch vermicelli rice noodles, cooked according to the packet
1 spanish onion, fine slice
1 red bird's eye chili, fine slice
100g mung bean sprouts
100g cashew nuts, toasted, lightly cracked and salted
12 rice paper wrappers

Mix the herbs leaves together. Soften the wrappers one at a time in warm water, according the the packet instructions. Lay out one softened rice paper roll and add lay two or three slices of beef down vertically in the centre. Top this with some of the mixed greens, a few noodles, a few slices of onion, a couple chili rings, a few bean sprouts and a sprinkling of cashews. Fold in the top and bottom and then roll from right to left, pulling the filling in tight as you go.

Repeat until all the ingredients are used up. Serve with a dipping sauce (below).

Dipping Sauce

Here is where I am going to call upon your ninja cooking skills. This is the sort of recipe that a Grandmother gives out. Not so much a list of quantities, but a relationship of ingredients. I'll give you a list of what goes in, and it it up to you to combine the items in a way that you can taste all of them in a balanced manner.

bird's eye chili, fine slice
fish sauce
lime juice
lime zest
palm sugar grated (or dark brown sugar)

What you want here is a flaming hot balance of sweet and salty and sour and heat. Play with a combination of the ingredients until you achieve this. I suggest starting with two tablespoons of fish sauce, two tablespoons of lime juice, one whole chili (finely sliced), and two tablespoons grated palm sugar. Work them all together until you find a flavor balance.