Pining For the Orient

PAnd I hope you have a good book because we’re going a long way indeed, all the way across Asia to Taiwan.

I honestly can’t remember having cooked any Taiwanese food before, so this is all new for me.

Officially part of China, though a tortuous and unpleasant dispute still rages between Beijing and Taipei over exactly what the relationship the island has with the governing powers of the mainland.

Currently, it seems to be relatively civil, but as we know only too well, things can change in a heartbeat, and tensions may flare up at any moment.

Perhaps we can offer the advice that has stood the country in great stead for thousands of years and suggest sitting down and having a nice cup of tea and a little bite to eat.

And when it’s time for tea in Taiwan, one is often offered a pineapple cake.

Feng Li Su, for that is their proper name, are hugely popular in Taiwan, and made by almost every bakery, and by home cooks, especially around lunar New Year, for they are a harbinger of good luck. Offerings of intricately-packaged Feng Li Su are given as family gifts, ensuring the following year is one of good fortune.

They’re terribly easy to make, though I must add the caveat that the pastry is almost impossibly short, making the construction of these sweet little cakes rather a struggle.

I used a published recipe as my test batch, but I’ve amended this recipe for you to make the pastry that little bit more forgiving.

It’s a very sweet, shortbread-like pastry, enriched with ground almonds, soft when made and prone to splitting when manhandled too much – my hot hands, perfect for kneading bread, are sadly not ideal for pastry, so if you have warm extremities, do bear this in mind.

However, the resulting cakes are incredibly crumbly and buttery, so the effort is, on balance, definitely worth the fiddling about.

Inside each Feng Li Su sits a blob of sweet pineapple jam, made fresh, and the overall effect is rather like a tropical Eccles cake, a beautifully buttery little parcel of tropical sweet- ness. They are very sweet, but this is the way with many Eastern desserts and pastries, and with a cup of good unsweetened black tea, they’re absolutely delightful.

Something a little different to offer with a cup of afternoon tea.

These cakes will also last for several weeks in an airtight container, and you might even want to offer them as a good luck gift, in the man- ner originally intended by the Taiwanese.

And on a sad note, this will be my final piece for the Examiner after 10 years of writing for you.

Every article has been a pleasure to write, and it’s been so lovely talking and corresponding with many of you over the years.

I hope you’ve enjoyed my pieces, and tried a few at least, and enjoyed learning about the wonderful world of food alongside me.

I will miss being here on a Friday, but all good things must, reluctantly, come to an end.

And in emergency, you can always find me at T & Cake.

I’m always happy to help a fellow cook in peril.

Cheerio!