The amazing paradox of scallion popover s’more
[ezcol_1half] " Nothing about this makes any sense
[ezcol_1half] " Nothing about this makes any sense
[ezcol_1fifth]-[/ezcol_1fifth] [ezcol_3fifth] I'm sitting here, struggling with how best to explain to you all why this Japanese version of the burnt basque cheesecake is superior than the original in every single way possible, mentally auditioning all the angles I could cut into this subject that I think is going to change the way you think about cheesecakes in general. How it's possibly the easiest cheesecake your kitchen-incompetence will ever behold
[ezcol_1half] Long been a destination on my bucket list - and one that had taken us way too long to fulfill - we finally visited Marrakech in December 2018. I sort of did and didn't know what to expect. A dancing mirage somewhere in between the Atlantic Ocean and Mediterranean Sea, the face of Marrakech carried mysterious, exotic and imaginative beauty in my mind, like a place only in story books, almost unreal. But of course, in reality, Marrakech is anything but unexposed. We arrived to find an ancient city, like all the others of her kind left only with the pillars of tourism industry, whose beauty, flaws and dignity are laid bare for the world to entertain with. Her plastered skin glowing in pink and orange, her sometimes unequivocal display of chaos and neurosis, and her remedial serenity and reflective pools inside the earthen walls of her beautiful courtyard houses, all of which was once for herself, now all is but a reluctant theme park for foreign passers. This could be a difficult dilemma for any city, especially a poor one like Marrakesh, where her livelihood brings out both the best and worst she has to offer. Within the walls of
[ezcol_1fifth]-[/ezcol_1fifth] [ezcol_3fifth] see you next year, my friend In a few days, we are going to pack our bags and head to Paris then Marrakech for our holiday vacation. I probably won't see you much on this blog during that time, which is why I'm throwing you a fat-bomb now to sustain your optimal winter-time figure all the way untill a new year comes. What a new year if one can't make a diet resolution to fail utterly at? This is what I call, the Crazy Rich Asian Panettone, lubed up with 12 egg yolks, coconut milk, and an ungodly amount unsalted butter and unrefined coconut oil. This indecent level of fat not only keeps the crumbs sinfully moist, but also provides a backdrop of coconuty aroma where it pairs beautifully with speckles of dried mango and persimmons tinged with orange zests. It could serve as an awesome "self-enrichment" during the holiday seasons but also, as we all secretly desire, as an ill-intended gift for our frenemies whom we would like to see de-shaped on that first depressing day back to the office. Either way, we win. So see you next year, my friend. You've been lovely. [/ezcol_3fifth] [ezcol_1fifth_end] [/ezcol_1fifth_end] [ezcol_1quarter][/ezcol_1quarter] [ezcol_1quarter][/ezcol_1quarter] [ezcol_1quarter][/ezcol_1quarter] [ezcol_1quarter_end][/ezcol_1quarter_end] [ezcol_1quarter][/ezcol_1quarter] [ezcol_1quarter][/ezcol_1quarter] [ezcol_1quarter][/ezcol_1quarter] [ezcol_1quarter_end][/ezcol_1quarter_end] [ezcol_1quarter][/ezcol_1quarter] [ezcol_1quarter][/ezcol_1quarter]
[ezcol_1fifth]-[/ezcol_1fifth] [ezcol_3fifth] IT COLLAPSES AND MELTES TOGETHER INTO A VISCOUS DEEP BROWN GOO WHEN IT SURRENDERS TO THE WILLFUL STEAM INSIDE AN EXPANDING, FRYING BUN As previously confessed on my Instagram (read for context), these days, I've been physically and mentally occupied with being a responsible dog mom. This recipe was developed to be brought to Sesame and SRB's playgroup - as one is required to do when one's children are the least well-behaved amongst their peers - to maintain an illusion of their waning popularity and postpone the likely inevitable timing when they get officially kicked out. When the stake is this high, mom goes to town. So I'm proposing these fluffy yet chewy donuts stuffed with dark brown sugar that is formerly massaged with honey, vanilla extract, sea salt and spices until all parties clumped into a lustful wet sand, which then fatefully collapses and melts together into a viscous deep brown goo when it surrenders to the willful steam inside an expanding, frying bun. It's needless to describe to you how the molasses-y sweetness that's brought into focus by a hint of cardamon, cinnamon and sea salt, oozes slowly out of a warm pillow, and how narrow of a window they
[ezcol_1fifth] [/ezcol_1fifth] [ezcol_3fifth] I KNOW IT DOESN'T LOOK MUCH. I PROBABLY WOULD'VE BYPASSED IT IF I WASN'T STUCK IN AMSTERDAM. BUT I'M GLAD I WAS. AND I KNOW YOU WILL, TOO I've been to Amsterdam. For a total of 18 hours. I don't know what people do during an overnight layover in a city they know nothing about, and I knew nearly nothing about Amsterdam. I've since learned that there is plenty to do in Amsterdam, and I deeply regret not knowing this sooner, for Amsterdam is considered the "weed capital" of Europe. If only I'd known that sooner. At least I can still go to Organic CBD Nugs online and get the CBD that I want from there. Next time I go to Amsterdam, however, I will definitely be going to a so-called "brown cafe". Additionally to brown cafes, pancakes seem to be a big thing. What did I know about "Amsterdam pancake", or as I later found out, pannenkoeken? Not much, really, aside from that it's starkly different from the verticality of normal stacked pancakes. I have since learned, however, that this is what pancakes are like in Europe, and normal pancakes are, in fact,
DOLLOPS OF FRESH COW'S MILK CHEESE COCOONING IN BETWEEN TWO PAPER-THIN FILMS OF UNYEASTED DOUGH, AND BAKED INTO A BALLOONED AND BLISTERED PIE WITH CHEESE-FILLED UNDERGROUND CHAMBERS. [ezcol_1third][/ezcol_1third] [ezcol_1third][/ezcol_1third] [ezcol_1third_end][/ezcol_1third_end] [ezcol_1half] What is obsession? When is it helpful and when does it get silly? Ever since that episode of Chef's Table on Nancy Silverton, I've been dwelling, not upon, but inside this subject. The episode, of course, celebrates a chef's willingness to spend an inexhaustible amount of effort to close that last short climb between what is already a great dish to a conceivably perfect one. A distance too short and steep no doubt, for most to commit. But to Silverton, especially when it comes to breads, being obsessed is not a question of should or shouldn't, but do you have what it takes? I am, however, at least not today, talking about the theoretical aspect of obsessions. Instead, I'd like to bring forth the physical one that I was sent into after watching her episode. During that show, there was about a 30-seconds scene showcasing a flatbread-looking pie, a glowing golden-brown mirage. Captivated by that glimpse, nothing but a glimpse, without even knowing what "it" actually was, I plunged into a months-long pursuit from grasping what
[ezcol_1fifth] [/ezcol_1fifth] [ezcol_3fifth] INSIDE EACH GOLDEN SLICES OF THIS SPIRIT-LIFTING CAKE, IS A PIECE OF MY OWN HEAVEN. AND IF I MUST BE NITPICKING FOR A FAULT, WELL, TO THAT I HAVE A SOLUTION, TOO. I wasn't really contemplating on a cake recipe. I always feel a little self-doubt every time I throw one out there, after all, I have about as much credentials on cakes and baking as a dog on dating advice. But over the last week, I wanted to bake a lemon poppy seed cake for a couple of friends coming over for coffee, and to my surprise as well, I couldn't seem to find a satisfactory answer in the worldwide web with all its might. OK, given that I didn't really look past beyond page-3 on a Google search, but as far as I'm concerned, if it's not on page-1, it might as well not exist in this world, and I went to page-3! Page 3! Can't say my research wasn't thorough. There's of course, lots of lemon poppy seed cake recipes out there. And they probably all possess certain qualities that satisfy each maker's niche, but for me, each and every one seem to have one or two imperfections.