A Festive Champagne Brunch Done My Way

As the weather is finally starting to cool over here in San Francisco and we’ve finally started to get some much-needed rain, it finally feels right for me to shift my creative brain towards thinking about the festive season. It’s at this time of year that my mind is pulled to two extremes—I either want to be cozied up at home, warming my house with the smell of things baking in the oven and simmering on the stove, or traveling off to snowy places with charming town squares illuminated with holiday lights. Now that I’ve started busting out the fall-scented candles, I’m daydreaming about styling big platters of food and finding excuses to invite friends over for bubbly (but also about the prospect of actually getting to travel to someplace festive for the holidays this year). I am not big on family gatherings, but I do love so much the opportunity to celebrate small things with the people who are dear to me, and while that’s something we should do all year round, there is something about crisp cool air and gloomy skies that makes me crave that togetherness in my home.

For this blog post, I got to partner with Champagne Taittinger; founded in 1734, they are one of the last remaining family-owned and operated champagne houses. I am sharing an idea for a festive brunch idea to pair with Taittinger’s Les Folies de la Marquetterie, a wine that was created to be a tribute to autumn and those feelings of being at home. It mirrors a fall palette in its golden color and has delicate bubbles that remind me of the twinkling lights of the European Christmas markets in my daydreams. To me, it tastes very bright at first and then has a finish that is kind of oaky; in the tasting notes, it says it is “full-bodied and fruity on the palate with golden peach flavors leading to a finish with light woody notes”. It is a full flavored and complex champagne, so they recommend that it be paired with something robust like roasted meats.

I paired Taittinger’s Les Folies de la Marquetterie with Cantonese roast duck from a local restaurant and homemade waffles with scallions and lap cheong (sweet Chinese sausage) in the batter. The combination of duck and waffles was inspired by a brunch restaurant in London that I visited during Christmastime in 2019, so when I think of a festive brunch, I think of this combination! I thought it would be fun to style them together on this big vintage platter that I recently found on one of my antiquing hunts and I filled it out with slices of cara cara oranges, fresh jujubes, and lots of fresh herbs.

When you think of champagne pairings, you probably do not think of Cantonese roast meats. However, I recently came across this article on Food52 about why champagne goes with Chinese takeout. The article goes into how the two are perfect for one another because the bubbles of champagne allow you to better savor foods that are greasy by cleansing the tongue with every sip and its acidity provides balance when you are eating foods that are savory-sweet. So, although a Cantonese roast duck was probably not top of mind when roasts were noted as the recommended food pairing for Les Folies de la Marquetterie, I saw an opportunity to present a food from my childhood and my culture in a different light. And what I learned from that article was totally true! The succulent duck tasted sooo delicious with the champagne; taking a sip of it in between bites made each bite feel as if I was tasting the yummiest duck for the first time. 

I think most Westerners do not see Cantonese roast duck as a delicacy because of its typical presentation—I am talking about the ones you see hanging in the windows of bakeries in Chinatown or in the hot deli of Asian supermarkets—but for me, it is very much a special occasion food. If you go to one of these at Chinese New Year, they will be absolutely packed with uncles and aunties trying to order their siu ngap (roast duck) and siu yuk (roasted pork belly with crackling skin). Getting a roast duck was always a special treat when I was young, and I loved everything about it from savoring the fattiest parts of the skin that the rest of my family didn’t want to the soup my parents would make by simmering the bones with pickled mustard greens afterwards. Now that I am grown and living in an area with so many local shops that sell them, I can get a roast duck whenever I want and I can make whatever sides I want—even waffles!—but it will always feel like a special occasion when I bring one home.

I was thrilled that Taittinger was willing to give me the opportunity to share this idea of pairing Chinese roast duck with their beautiful champagne. As you may know if you’ve read the captions of many of my Chinese food posts on my Instagram, I have been actively trying to present the foods of my culture in a way that showcases its complexity and deliciousness, as well as its worth. For too many too often, Chinese food is only known as cheap and ugly, despite its rich history and the sheer volume of possibilities it brings to the palate with all of its regional nuances. I am always so grateful to work with a brand that supports my efforts to rewrite the narrative of Chinese food in America and it means so much to me that Taittinger allowed me to showcase their special festive offering alongside a nostalgic dish. I am so proud to work with a brand that has such a rich heritage and prestige of its own, yet is still so open to diverse ideas. 

Truth be told, I am not an expert when it comes to sparkling wines and their pairings, but duck is prominent in French cuisine just as it is in Chinese cuisine, and both cultures have iconic ways of preparing it that are absolutely delicious. So to me, sharing the duck dish that I grew up with as a pairing with this lovely champagne made lots of sense. No one would question pairing champagne with duck confit or duck à l'orange so this meal is my Chinese-American spin on that. If you are like me and colder days put you in the mood for celebrating things big or small, I hope you will consider making one of Taittinger’s champagnes a part of your celebration, and I hope that this post inspires you to think outside of the typical pairings to bring along a dish that is special to you.

Thank you so much to Champagne Taittinger for sponsoring this post!

Spam & Egg Fried Rice Tofu Pouches

GO STRAIGHT TO THE RECIPE ON PETEANDGERRYS.COM >>

Aromatic garlic and scallion fried rice, creamy soft scrambled eggs, and savory fried Spam are stuffed inside sweet marinated aburaage pouches for a unique way to eat Spam and egg fried rice.

Spam and egg fried rice is very nostalgic to me; I even have memories of eating it on Thanksgiving. To me, it’s a comfort dish to be shared with family. Spam is one of those foods that seemed completely normal to me in my childhood and it wasn’t until I was older and had more conversations about food with Westerners that I learned that it was looked down upon. But then after that, I found out that many other Asian Americans felt that same nostalgia for it too; able to finally find our pride for those things that we were shamed for as children, I found a community that touted their love for their humble childhood foods and gratitude for what frugal immigrant parents put on the table. They all loved and grew up with Spam and eggs with rice.

So, I developed this recipe to try to change people’s perceptions about Spam and egg fried rice. To try to convince them that Chinese American food is not always the stuff that gets scooped into those 2-item combo takeout boxes. That even luncheon meat from a can is a meaningful ingredient to many. That many of the tropes that make them think of “elevated” food are just about presentation, and that any food can be presented that way and be worth appreciation. It’s Spam and egg fried rice—but made fancy.

This recipe has 4 components:

• marinated aburaage pouches: These are deep fried tofu that have soaked up a sweet marinade. I have been able to find them at Asian supermarkets. This is the one I usually get.

• fried rice: I kept this part really simple, seasoning with just a little soy sauce. white pepper, and salt, and adding just scallions and garlic as aromatics. I did not want to overwhelm the natural flavor of the eggs or have it be too salty when combined with the Spam.

• fried Spam cubes: The flavor bombs of the dish. Lately I have been getting the Lite kind, but use your favorite variety.

• soft scrambled eggs: I like to use the low and slow method, and gently push them into big curds for this recipe. I was genuinely impressed by the rich eggy flavor of Pete and Gerry’s Organic Eggs and definitely recommend their certified humane free range eggs for this recipe. These eggs will require no additional salt because they are naturally flavorsome on their own and have a nice creamy balance to the crisped salty Spam.

Click here to get the recipe on the Pete and Gerry’s site!

Thank you so much to Pete and Gerry’s for sponsoring this recipe!

Toasts From My Childhood

For National Toast Day, I want to talk about some toasts from my childhood. But first, here’s my reimagining of those childhood flavors as an adult.

As a kid, these probably would have all been on pre-sliced white bread. I don’t think my mom would have even gone for the Wonder Bread name brand; we probably got the generic supermarket brand white bread. But for this dressed-up adult version, and because I worked damn hard in life and now I can, I went for one of the most luxurious (but still square-shaped) breads available at my local vegetarian grocery co-op: the Josey Baker Bread Adventure Bread. Here’s what you’re looking at (clockwise from top-left):

Whipped buttercream and brown sugar. Inspired by my memories of having toast slathered with margarine (from the plastic tub) and a scoop of sugar sprinkled over. I don’t know why my mom thought this was a legitimate thing to serve a child, but in fairness I never had any energy and was scared of playing outside, so sugar intake was not an issue.

Creamy peanut butter and apricot preserves. Because yes, even as an Asian kid, I had peanut butter and jam. I never liked grape jelly.

Condensed milk. I think everyone knows about condensed milk toast now. I made my own condensed milk for this because I didn’t want to open up a whole can just to smear a little bit on a tiny piece of bread for a photo. (So I made a whole jar of it by laboriously stirring for 45 minutes over the stove instead? Adult Lily logic.)

Pandan kaya jam. Yes, I’ve been having this ever since I was a child even though you may have just learned about it from seeing someone post about it on Instagram. This is really what I wanted to talk about.

Kaya toast is having a moment right now here in San Francisco. Thanks to the popularity of Bread Belly’s version, with a bright green pandan kaya piped diagonally across the surface of the bread, kaya toast is showing up on my Instagram feed more often that the ubiquitous avocado toast these days. I haven’t made my way across town to try it just yet, but they seem to be a great little local business and I am happy for their success over presenting Asian-inspired flavors in high-quality baked goods. Seeing kaya toast blow up this way is a little weird for me, though. You see, Bread Belly did not invent kaya toast, nor do they make any claims that they did, and I have been eating kaya toast since I was a little kid. It’s a flavor I associate with visiting my family in Malaysia, when—even though I wasn’t considered a picky eater as a kid—my aunties were kind enough to give me toast and cereal for breakfast because they knew I wasn’t used to having curry or nasi lemak in the mornings. I associate it with avoiding eye contact with tiny lizards on the walls and the rotting-fruit smell of ripe durian caught in the humid air as I made my way down the stairs in their homes. I do not associate it with eating for the ‘Gram.

This must be what it was like for Japanese people when all of a sudden everyone started losing their shit over ramen that didn’t come out of a styrofoam cup or for Danish folks when everyone suddenly realized that putting stuff on bread looks more aesthetic when served open-faced. I’m excited that a food so Malaysian/Singaporean in origin is rising in popularity but part of me feels strangely worried that almost none of the people flocking to it know where it came from. Do they know that you can get a jar of kaya (a jam made of coconut milk, sugar, and eggs—pandan optional) from the Southeast Asian section of the Asian supermarket for less than $4? Because that’s the kaya I’m familiar with: not the nice, handcrafted, vibrant looking stuff that makes toast pretty, but rather the fresh-from-the-jar gooey stuff, as everyday as the processed peanut butter I used in this photo. Should I care about whether or not people know this?

I never bought it before in the States because I wanted to preserve that specialness that I associated between visiting Malaysia and the flavor of kaya but now I’ve gone and purchased it for $3.19 at Pacific Supermarket right here in San Francisco for purposes of this photo and the story I wanted to tell with it. I wanted to do my part to share with people where kaya came from and try to describe how weird it is to suddenly see everyone getting excited about it. I’ve always loved it and it’s always been exciting to me. I’m glad you like it, too.