Author:mandy@ladyandpups

spring woking

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This week both me and this blog turned one-year older. As how I count my years since the age of 25, I am now only 17 years away from menopause. After 30, realism is the new optimism. But forget me. Lady and Pups is one-year old!!! Gosh! How did that happen and look what we’ve accomplished? 1100+ likes on Facebook!?? Practically legendary really… 187 followers on Weibo?!! China has NEVER seen such crowds… OH, stop it… I may have to start up an Instagram page soon to see how much further I could get! Or I might result to instagram abonnenten kaufen, we shall see! But the most amazing of all is the birthday gift this DARLING city was carefully hiding from me all this time, a WHOPPING BONIFIED BLUE-SKY DAY all ribboned up for me to wake up to!?! Nothing but VISIBLE HORIZON and BREATHABLE AIR!? Aww… Beijing, you shouldn’t have! It is MY day but I still want you to be the intolerable filthy asshole that you are…

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power goddess pasta salad

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There’s something you need to know before you sit me down with anyone you carry a sensitive relationship with.  Your competitor/colleague, boss, lover to impress, ex-lover to instill remorse… people who may be concerned about you befriending a crazy bitch (raising my hand), parents, or worse, social bridges.  Because you can be positively certain that I can and WILL almost ALWAYS say the wrongest thing on the wrongest subject before I even get to my appetizer… digging cheerfully into the bread-basket before my antenna picks up the dense air molecule… (…did I say something?).  You should also know that Jason waited the entire three years to unfold me in front of his company event and it’s safe to say that he had seen better days.

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Loser double fennel potstickers

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Being competitive has never been part of my persona. It isn’t one of the virtues of being a quitter, which I like to use as the reason I was never good at sports and why until this very day, I still cannot technically swim (but I float professionally). It’s not that I’m not into winning but just that I don’t like to be proven losing. I’m a walking cliche. But recently I have been braving the turbulent water for the love of my new favorite website and the recipe contest they throw every two weeks.

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Thai-style Green Pesto

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The demonic cold that has left me muted lingers…  In my thirty-some years of exceedingly LOUD life I was never able to prove that “silence isn’t louder than words” until yesterday when I tried to instruct the mailman on the phone to simply leave the package by the front door.  “…eeev….eeeh… by… eh… oore…”.  “Excuse me, miss?”.  “(regrouping my voice)… Leeeee… ehh by… UUH.. OOOORE…UH!”.  That went on for a few moments but I got the job done…  Even though my head feels like a loaf of stale bread brined in flaccid cola then baked in a 375ºF oven which will eventually turn into an inedible pudding…, a warm message from a D.ear reader gave me a shot of medical positivism and reminded me that, no matter how small and insignificant, I have a recipe to share.

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accidental strawberry pot pies

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I’m mega-watt sick guys.  Really.  STAY AWAY on the other side of the computer and try not to touch the screen I am highly contagious!  This is like the 100+ times I’ve gotten sick since I moved to Beijing because my unevolved Canadianess is no match for China’s uber-advanced virus.  My further disrespect for it led me to go out for a night of harmless chatters over my favorite Sichuan face-torching/throat-choking dishes, which left me MUTED after I came home.  MUUUTED, people.  Paralyzed and powerless even when I saw a lift of a leg at the sofa across the apartment (!!!!…!!!!….!..).  ZIP!  I am Ariel without a fairy tale… well plus… a couple other things but you get my point.

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quitter’s mango sauce cake

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I am a quitter.  Yup, I am.  My life has been a progression of consecutive quitting and frankly I’m surprised I haven’t ended up a… (uh wait… maybe I have…).  And this is not some clever rhetorics people use as a prelude for self-flattery that usually come sneaked in the subtext.  No.  Really.  I major quit.  So the other day when I had a hunch about a cake but it came out just about as palatable as my high-school photos, my natural instinct urged me to stab my hunch in the back and return to my couch with my bag of cheetos and my romance with being a quitter (legs shaking and all).

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almond milk labratory

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I recently got a little nut job on almond milk, ever since Food52 published an almond milk recipe that unleashed my inner obsession to answer the GREATEST mystery of mine.  The mystery being -why does the typical snacking almonds lack the perfume-y aroma in Asian almond milk or almond extract?  Perfume?  Almond?  YES!  Asian almond milk should be perfume-y and aromatic, NOT the bland milk-like substance America has come to know whose only worth is to be a secondary milk-substitute for the lactose-intolerants.  It has true and honorable culinary status here in Asia, valued for its distinct and elegant aroma which frankly mesmerized me since childhood.

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