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Malaysia Feeding Frenzy

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I’m not gonna lie.

This ISN’T about the beaches. This ISN’T about the rain forests or the baby orangutans they wouldn’t let me hold. This ISN’T about those corn-looking twin towers either, or getting up from the bottom and looking down from the top – big whoops. Let’s also spare the traveller’s enlightenment cuz there ain’t any, and cut straight to the point. We came here to land from one plastic chair to another and feed ourselves to a mindless pulp. Don’t get me wrong, Malaysia is a beautiful place and get extra points for having great food. Although this was what we were here for mostly, we still had to do things like upgrading your insurance and get the right vaccinations for our trip. It was so worth it though, even if we didn’t spend all our time on the beach. Everyone’s happier when they eat anyway!

We came here to experience binge-fatigue and then push through it. We came here to stuff these mortal human-casings of ours to maximum capacity until we were absolutely sure that they were going to burst and THEN SOME. This is a senseless, stone-cold-killer guide to how to heartburn through KL and Penang without shame or remorse in super hawker style. Here ain’t about looking-good’n-feeling-chic. Just strap on that bottle of pepto and put on that stretchy pants. Now please follow our trail of gluttony. Let’s divide. And conquer.

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Red Velvet Ebelskivers

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(Chinese versions coming soon)

The logic goes that after a feeding-frenzy Malaysia binge-party, that my head and soul should be filled with just Malaysian recipes extravaganza.  And THAT IS CORRECT.  Believe me, it is.  But as sorting through and editing 1,018 pixtures while coordinating everything with the exact location on Google map has proven to be bit more time-consuming than I expected, I’m experiencing a little bit of bloggers-obsessive-anxiety-disorder as I realize that Bloggy has been starving without a new post for almost a week now (yes, I count).

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Gelato for Breakfast

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(Chinese versions coming soon)

If anyone holds secret addiction for trashy tabloid magazine, uheh… which of course I’m not talking about myself because I only read Time and Nat Geo, or Economist and… world-hunger-stuff like that with SUBSTANCE… obviously……. Then they’d known what a friend of a friend whose sister’s cousin had told me that apparently this guy Tom Cruise Whatever and his wife ex-wife Katie Something… got divorced with help from his ex-ex-wife Nicole blah blah. So I heard. Again NOT that I care, but apparently it was over some dispute in their insanely fashionable (polka-dots! Just a wild guess…) Suri’s upbringing that I SO do not know the details of, but one of which I vaguely remember being that… he lets her eats ice-cream for dinner?

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Salty Crispy Poppers

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(简体)(繁體)

Once upon a time in a land far far away, there lived a young girl.

Everyday after school, she took the same road home, wearing her same brown shoes, humming the same little song.  One afternoon just like the day before, she passed by the usual food stall on the way, but felt unusually hungry.  She realized that she forgot to eat lunch because she was probably too busy chasing boys during lunch break.  Remembering what her mother had always warned her about the forbidden street snack, she reached for the changes in her pocket and hesitated.  An old, wrinkly lady behind a huge wok of boiling grease smiled at her and said, “Hi there, little one.  Would you like to have some Salty-crispy chicken?  Oh they are awfully delicious.”

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“Rice Pie” It Is

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And I really don’t have any other better ideas so “rice pie” it is.

I’m sure we’ve all suffered from this.  From Cantonese clay-pot rice, to Korean bibimbap, to Spanish paellas.  All are different cuisines of rice plus whatnot, cooked in a sizzling vessel that forms a “burnt crust” of rice on the sides and bottom, which many would argue is the essence of such dishes.  OK, now here’s the “suffering” part.  What’s the point… of creating those wonderful, delicious, toasty crusts… if all they ever want is… to STICK TO the cookware!?  Like taking a lovely prospect to a bar to get’em drunk and they ended going home with the bartender…  No?  Nobody’s ever suffered from this?  It’s just me?  OK, well fine.  I DON’T GET IT.  I like those burnt bits, too and I was there first!!  How can it choose the pan over me?!  It’s heart-breaking that after my useless HACKING and SCRAPING at an innocent cookware that really don’t deserve this violence, I call it quit and just watch them still happily and ever-so contently clinging onto each other while I ponder with frustration, “why?”.

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As Promised – A Better Brioche

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I should’ve known.  I shouldn’t still be surprised after all these years.  OOOF COURSE!  What other secret weapons do professional bakers hold against us besides their senseless guilt towards adding a couple sticks more of butter into everything?  It turns out I too, can bake an obscenely rich, absurdly moist and stringy brioche at home if I just blindfold my conscience, steady my shaking hands, and let go of ALLLL THAT BUTTER into the mixer while shaking off the image of cellulite-on-the-beach in my head.  Steady now, Mandy.  Steady now.  The road to greatness isn’t without sacrifice…

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Scallion Oil Chicken

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Lately Jason’s been GRILLED at work like a turkey on Thanksgiving, and soon gonna be off on a business trip for 2 days.  As an imaginary modern woman I loath at myself for saying it, but this can only mean one thing.  I AM SO~ooo~OOO BOOOOOORED (twisting and moaning….).  I HAVE things to do.  I do!  Like a whole line of queued-up posts waiting to be translated.  Like chirping chicklets urging to be fed…”chirp chirp chirp…”  Arrgh… I can’t even raise the slightest will to lift a finger.  Or make some long overdue calls to friends who probably thought I fell off a cliff for some time now.  Wait, who am I KIDDING?  I DON’T have friends in BJ…  Or do a Lord of The Ring marathon in my pj with my favorite junk foods!  Only I have done that like 3 times over.  The excitement to watch Gandalf say, “Yooou shall nooot PASS!” can only last so many time…  How about Little Merm… FXXX!  That’s pathetic!  Damn it!  How do unemployed women kill their time?

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