BIALY STUFFED W/ CREAM CHEESE AND HONEY DATES

SWEET GIRL BIALY, WHO CARRIES SOMETHING WITHIN HER HEART WHEREAS IN A BAGEL, IT'S JUST AN UTTERLY HOLLOW HOLE [ezcol_1half] What's a bialy, if you don't already know? I'd like to think of bialy as the ugly sister of bagel, who comes without the shiny crust nor a robust PR campaign, but, in my opinion, ultimately wins hearts and minds through slow and quiet diplomacy.  Or at least it should, if only in your kitchen.  Think about it.  Bialy and bagel practically shares the same dough, which isn't a difficult one if I might add, but that's about as much sameness as bagel's gonna tolerate from her sibling.  Not a fault of her own, but bagel, being held to her finicky New Yorker status and all, is somewhat of a

SPRING CREAM PIZZA

? [ezcol_2third] DOLLOPS OF SAVORY WHIPPED CREAM HELPLESSLY DESTABILIZE UNDER THE BLAZING HEAT OF THE OVEN, RENDERING INTO A PUDDLE OF SALTY, OILY, HERBY AND CREAMY MAGMA You know, I try not to make pizzas nowadays. Off carbs?  I wish.  Gluten-free?  Is there any other diet more torturous by design?  How about an oven that shuts down in the middle of nowhere for no reasons whatsoever?  OK, yeah I have that.  But, no.  No, not for any of those things.  In fact, the reason is a simple and straightforward one, in fact, one that deals with our most basic instinctual fear which drives, I believe, most human behaviors

THE BEST, YET, ONE-SKILLET CREAMY EGG

[ezcol_1fifth]  [/ezcol_1fifth] [ezcol_3fifth] THE RESULT WAS AN ONE SKILLET, BLINK OF AN EYE, ELEGANT AND REMARKABLE QUILT OF EGG MAGIC Ever since I published a self-proclaimed genius recipe for my magic 15-seconds creamy scrambled eggs, I didn't think a better one - and by "better" I mean it in the context where you need a speedy and easy recipe for morning eggs - could ever come across my path, which proves, again, that I know nothing. A glimpse in one of the episodes in Anthony Bourdain's Return To Catalunya, in a fairytale land far far away they call Barcelona, there under the sparkling dim lights in a snuggly tapas bar, I saw it.  Quiet and flashing by, one can assume that among the dazzles of celebrity TV personalities and seemly endless flow of Spanish culinary bewitchment, this egg dish wasn't even the heroine of the night.  But I saw it, I noticed, a hot cast-iron skillet cuddling what seemed to be the most beautiful, golden blanket of creamy eggs.  We locked eyes.  None of us said a word.  But just from that split second of eye contact, me and it, almost telepathically, we understood something deep about one another. From its wet and almost undone surface, its slightly firmer

TUSCANY’S PORK FAT BITS COUNTRY BREAD

[ezcol_1half] WHILE MY BRAIN WAS ANTICIPATING TYPICAL BREAD, CAME THESE POPS OF DEEPLY SAVORY AND UNMISTAKABLY CARNIVOROUS STIMULANTS. [/ezcol_1half] [ezcol_1half_end] Working mothers, I don't know how you do it. Those of you who follow our Instagram will know that recently, two toddlers have joined this family.  Not just some harmlessly drooling, homo sapien nuggets that crawl inside your neatly confined perimeters sucking on a bottle.  But two wall-eating

BUFFALO WINGS SOUP DUMPLING W/ SKIN CRACKLING

[ezcol_1half] YOU'RE TRYING TO TELL ME THAT YOU DON'T WANT THIS? [/ezcol_1half] [ezcol_1half_end] You're probably looking at this and asking yourself three questions. A).  Isn't dim sum month over? B).  Why do we need a soup dumpling that tastes just like buffalo wings? C).  Are we making soup dumplings at home now?  Is that what it's come to? Look, all very legit questions, deserving very responsible and adult-like responses.  But I'm afraid that in the absence of an adult in this room, I will have to assume the task of answering them myself.  In my best effort to be thorough to Question A), I guess, I lied.  OK, next question. Why do we need a soup dumpling that tastes like buffalo wings?  Okay, who's being the baby now?  Grow up.  Adulthood is not about needing things.  It's all about wanting things.  And you're trying to tell me that you don't want a delicate pouch of dumpling filled with melty minced chicken and a sudden explosion of red-hot and tangy stream of sticky juice and spicy, garlicky butter?  Where everything is so carefully contained within a subtly yeasty wrapper so thin that one could almost see through its sinister intent, resting on top of a shard of chicken skin cracker that shatters into intense

FISH WONTON W/ ANCHOVY, GARLIC , TABASCO

[ezcol_1fifth]  [/ezcol_1fifth] [ezcol_3fifth] HOW DARE YOU.  I'M SUPPOSED TO HAVE TASTE-BUDS OF HIGH CALIBER As we are preparing for our Tuscany vacation that is fast approaching this Saturday, I'm going to quickly leave you with an even faster recipe. I threw this together in less than an hour today, in a frantic effort to clean out the freezer (duh, to make way for the incoming fleet of smuggled imported Italian goods), and they turned out to be little drops of afternoon delights.  So why fish wonton?  Why fish?  See, I don't know about you, but when other people stock up their freezer with prime rib-eye steaks from Cosco, I do mine with frozen catfish fillets.  I don't know why.  Cheapness, possibly.  Don't make me admit that I like frozen catfish.  I'm supposed to have taste-buds of high caliber.  How dare you.  No, the point is, I was saying

SWEET POTATO TAPIOCA GNOCCHI, GLUTEN-FREE

[ezcol_1third] SOFT BUT PLEASANTLY CHEWY, THAT IT FROLICS IN BETWEEN EVERY BITE WITH THE UPMOST PLAYFUL RESISTANCE [/ezcol_1third] [ezcol_1third][/ezcol_1third] [ezcol_1third_end][/ezcol_1third_end] [ezdiv id="" class="ezcol-four-sixth" style=""] Light.  Airy.  Delicate.  Cloud-like. See, surely these are rules best to dictate cotton candies and runway models. But, in my opinion, not for gnocchi. I know, I know.  Who am I - an Asian who grew up in North America - to judge gnocchi, an inarguably Italian prerogative guarded by some very defensive if not hostile Italian grandmothers.  To some, if I am ever entitled to an opinion then it should only be on chop suey or somethin', certainly not this heritage pasta sacredly given by the ancient Roman Gods.  Hey, I know!  I agree!, or at least I used to, which was why I never complained every time I was served with a plate of texture-less and borderline-mushy "clouds", in Rome or Nice and etcetera might I add, and nodded in compliance like a team-player.  "Yes, Mandy.  These mashy semisolids are intentional and authentic.  Now shut up and eat them.  Gollum Gollum".  I truly tried. You see, close-minded it may seem, but I come from a place where any flour-involved, savory carbohydrates have to have, a chew. Whether it's hand-pulled xi'an noodles, the delicate wrappers of dim sum dumplings, or

×