Dairy

The Dreamiest of Dreamy Milk Toast

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OH boy, do I have a sob story for this one.  Well, not of me growing up with Hokkaido milk toast of course (If you love bread but don’t know what it is, I feel truly sorry.  It’s the dreamiest loaf of toast you could dream up.).  Those were only fond memories, VERY fond memories  like – me standing in the bakery, staring and chuckling like an idiot at the milk toasts on the racks why because they were also smiling back at me, and couldn’t stop myself from poking them with my fingers – kind of memories.  The sobbing part is how I got to successfully making them in my kitchen, which was a road paved with disappointments, heartbreaks and betrayals (supposedly-trusted recipes out there…how could you?).  Let me just start by saying that on Sep 19th at 10:45 pm, a loaf of bread died of a gruesome death on my kitchen counter.  And at 4:30 am the next day, another one followed.

This is how I killed them and atoned for it.

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Egg Crepes

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I think that more than lunch, or dinner, or snacks and what-nots, people tend to have a more fixated idea on what a breakfast ought to be.  Even though I may have my Asian background to thank for (if I may) a broader window on other-than-American foods, I’m still sometimes a bit… pleasantly awed by what other parts of the world eat for breakfast during my travels (that’s IF I ever wake up for it… but let’s just pretend I do).

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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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Don’t-Do-It-In-Provence Aïoli

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Word on the street has it for some time, that Tony has wrapped his last episode of No Reservations, and filming what is said to be his last season of The layover.  Roughly 1 month ago, the cold-blooded confirmation came in his blog that he is indeed parting with the shows that have come to be a great part of my culinary adventure for the past 9 years.  …Abandonment is what comes to mind.  How dare you leave us with our nights to be spent with Sam B. or Andrew Zimmer’s clotted blood… or fermented ball sacks… or whatever.

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Forgive Me I Have Pie-d…

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The only equivalent comparison in life to this would be: In our last two years in New York when we were practically cast out of Manhattan by elitism (FINE, high rents) and moved to… Jersey City where there was a most pathetic looking, hicks-Ahoy karaoke bar right around the block. With more conviction than I withheld on my wedding day I said to Jason, “IF we EVER raised even the SLIGHTEST idea of walking into this place, it is THE moment that we’ve been “Jersified” and must pack up and move back in the city immediately!” We survived Jersey and never did walk into that karaoke bar. But instead THIS happened here. My cue that says I have been in YET another dump for far too long that – I – made – a – PIE!!!

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The Perfect O

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My tormenting yet bittersweet affair with eggs has been nothing short of a Hollywood love story.  It began as mutual loath in early years, but turned into a passionate obsession overnight  in adulthood.  Then six month ago at the height of our oblivious happiness, we were torn apart and forbidden by authorities without warning or mercy… cold turkey style.  If I’m sounding overly dramatic, I’m not.  I believe it’s fair to say that I consumed on average, 3 eggs per day for the past decade.  Some days 4 to 5 if we were feeling naughty.  A disgusted horror by any cardiologists’ standard.

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Duck Ragu Spinoff

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Like maybe how it brings me back to a perfect bistro setting on a perfect corner in Paris, or maybe how I found a rustic-charm, free-range chicken farm in outskirt BJ where we took our dogs to spend a leisurely weekend.  But, NO.  I’ve never had such a dish that’s remotely close in Paris.  And these eggs were bought from Taobao because I was too lazy to do grocery, and delivered by a postman who left it in front of my door step because I was too lazy to open the door.  What brings me to share this recipe which I’ve already made several times before, is that this time… it’s gonna be served in this beeeautiful, over hundreds RMB black iron skillet that I found on Taobao for 35RMB!!!!

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