France Part II, and chicken w/ morels and rice pilaf

[ezcol_1half] ONE OF THE BEST DISHES I COOKED. I AGREE. [/ezcol_1half] [ezcol_1half_end] Lourmarin is what it promises, a picturesque village in the Luberon region in Provence, and more. No matter what kind of cynicism you bring along, or distaste for anything that seems to fit too squarely into Martha Stewart magazines, you come here, you see it, and it's hard not to surrender, even just for a moment, under Lourmarin's somewhat curated but irresistible, undeniable charm. We arrived at 7 o'clock in a summer evening when this village draped with honeysuckle vines and buzzing bumble bees were casted under a slanted, pale blue light. With just one deep breath of its brisk, floral and light beige linen atmosphere, everything felt just right. May I even remind you that this was after 9 hours of driving from Lyon cutting through the gruesome, annual European migration to the south in the middle of August? If it weren't for the highlight of us stopping midway at an orchard, and me may-or-may-not having stolen a bright red apple and ran, the day would've all seem to be in ruin. That ain't pretty. But Lourmarin made it worthwhile. [/ezcol_1half_end] [ezcol_1third] (may or may not have stolen an apple from

ZERO-FOLDING PASTEL DE NATA, A HYBRID

[ezcol_1half] Ever since I came back from Lisbon, the question haunts me. What is a perfect pastel de nata? Well for me, now more than ever, that depends on who you're asking. If you were from the Asian parts of the world as I am, growing up, this wildly popular pastry since the 90's actually came from, and have always been, more as a Macao thing.  Sure it's known as the Portuguese-style egg tarts from Macao, the former Portugal colony famed for its many Portugal-influenced hybrid foods, but notice that it is NOT called pastel de nada, not even Portuguese egg tart, but ambiguously, "Portugese-STYLE" egg tart.  Style?  The name itself oozes deniability, suggesting that on one level or another, these tarts can't be expected as a 100% identical replica of the originals, but a mere adaptation of some sort.  Therefore with time, as the popularity of these tarts swept through every bakeries in Hong Kong, Taiwan, and even KFC (yes, they sell these at KFC here

HOKKAIDO MILK BUNS AND PINEAPPLE CUSTARD

[ezcol_1half] These super gorgeous crochet-printed side-plates are from the lovely DishesOnly. TO MY SHAMELESS AND UNDESERVING SELF I SAID, YES I'LL HAVE FOUR OF THOSE PLEASE This post, on top of the rare fact that it's the third dessert-recipe within two weeks, is also going to take a rather unconventional introduction.  Instead of my usual babbling on my, more often than not, unpleasant stories/inspirations behind a certain recipe, I'm going to gratefully credit this entire post to the unexpected blogging-perks that have been recently showering my life like a long-awaited rainfall. First of all around 2 weeks ago, a mindfully packaged box from Italy oozing the kind of anticipation and excitement not even the strongest duct-tape can confine, quietly arrived at my doorstep.  Carrying with it, among other gorgeous sample-ceramics, were 4 beautiful crochet-printed plates that marked the exciting collaboration between me, and the lovely Italian ceramic company - DishesOnly.  In all honesty, calling this sort of thing a "collaboration" where I shamelessly ask for things without paying, sounds all too undeserving on my part because I feel like I'm taking advantage.  But when I saw these unbelievably delicate and understatedly elegant side-plates called crochet, I simply couldn't help my greedy self.  The desire of having them among my now-seemed-comparatively-unattractive collection of plates, overrode any remaining ounce of

TIRAMISU CHURRO + WARM COFFEE CUSTARD

The problem with me as a recipe dreamer hallucinater during the still-ongoing Thanksgiving carnival is that every year, in utter rudeness, I always feel like leaving the table even before the turkey makes it out of the oven.  Evidently from my premature and inappropriate blabbering of the X'mas blend coffee bars in last November while the whole town was still chattering about tweaking pumpkin pies to death, to now this uncooperative side-tracking dessert that doesn't even rhyme with "ies" and " akes", it is obviously true.  I have no table-side manners.  Now before I leave, pass me the damn stuffings. If you think that I have zero patience, nor the skills to time a topic in order to be well received, you're

pizza alla carbonara

You'd think that for someone who weeped slightly while watching SATC the-Village-wet-dream in her Vancouver apartment 15 years ago, and now replays movies like You've Got Mail the-Upper-West-Side-porn to ease her New-York-home-sickness, if now given the chance to move back to the city, would of course choose Manhattan in a heart beat. Well, almost. But the truth is, since 2006 when I was still dwelling in my 500 ft² apartment in Hell's Kitchen the-Midtown-nightmare, all I had my eyes set on was to move into a renovated loft (LOFT!) situated in the newly-hipster town across the river - Williamsburg. Yes, the other boroughs. You see, because New Yorker wears their address as part of their identities, and 55 Berry Street Williamsburg was humming to me on a very seductive tune. The too-cool-for-schools, the hipsters walking a designer stroller and an adopted pit bull, the vintage-bikers on the Williamsburg bridge cruising into sunsets, the L-Train patrons with awesome tattoos and really cool hats

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