IF YOU LIKE STUBBY AND CHEWY PASTAS, LIKE ORECCHIETTE, YOU’RE GONNA LOVE THIS
Are you still waiting for your simple, elegant, next go-to dinner party recipe that you can strut out in front of an impressed crowd and say “oh this? I just pulled it out of the fridge“?
Well, this one is mine.
In case you aren’t aware yet, but for the past two weeks, I’ve been and will be stuck with tiny and barely equipped kitchens in rented apartments all the way till early January. You know when they say, you don’t know what you have until you’ve lost it? Well, I feel exactly the same about my kitchen. Because what I have now in my temporary possession is a bended cutting board, a non-stick skillet, and a knife that’s about as sharp as a letter-opener. But, strangely, it is always when I don’t have something, that I find myself wanting it the most.
Two days ago, like a crippled soldier standing amidst the desert, not the most convenient timing of all you see, I found myself really, really craving some homemade pastas.
I LIKE TO HIDE MY VEGETABLES IN ICE CREAMS
Starting this Sunday, we’ll leave Bejing for more than a month, traveling to Hong Kong (for work), then Taiwan, then maybe Lisbon… Madrid… St Sebastian… or who knows. Traveling used to be a big part of who we are, but we haven’t done this kind of “long distance/large scale” travelling for 2 years now, you know, for personal reasons, and I’m finding that it’s taking a bit of practice to get our grooves back.
So today, I’m quickly leaving you a recipe that I made from some leftover pumpkins. As you know, I like to hide my vegetables in ice creams. And do you know that pumpkin and coconut milk are great pals? We got that from Thailand. And do you know that ice creams are so much better on a pancake-cone instead of a regular one? Learnt that from Seoul.
And I can’t wait to find out more, out there, on this new journey.
A BUBBLY SYMPHONY OF BUTTER AND CREAM, SUGAR AND HONEY, A PINCH OF SEA SALT AND BRANDY HERE AND THERE, AND THAT LAST TOUCH OF VANILLA
I’m quickly leaving you the last post before we take a short trip to Hong Kong and Seoul next week. It’s been… well… 2 years since the last time me and Jason traveled together. What used to be frequent occurrences and a huge part of of our lives, now feels a bit unfamiliar and exciting again, well, tinted with a bit of sadness at the same time.
So with all the packing, cleaning out the fridge, packing again and feeling a bit empty now that we have minus-two dogs to say good-bye to, I’m gonna leave you alone with these pancakes that I’ve lately, grown quite fond with. As I previously declared, I’m not a pancake person. Still not actually. But what I like about these pancakes, aside from the fact that they taste, preferably, like the lighter version of the often-times unbearably sweet sticky toffee puddings, is their relatively loftier heights that bring more tasty contrast to the fluffy interiors and the crispy edges. The pancakes use, more or less, the chiffon cake-technique by folding beaten egg white into the the batter to pump up its airiness. Then I cook them with a lid on, which speeds up the cooking time, and from what I felt, retains the height of the pancakes better. You could add chopped dates to the party as the tradition, but I kept them lazy, only mimicking the flavours by adding molasses, grated ginger, ground cinnamon and allspice. After all, the highlight of sweetness should only come from the thick and glistening syrup, a bubbly symphony of butter and cream, dark brown sugar and honey, a pinch of sea salt and brandy here and there, and that last touch of vanilla.
So here we go, to mark to the end, and the beginning, and then the repeating of it all that is change and life. I’ll see you again, on the other side.
THE THICKENED AND EMBRACIVE RICOTTA-MASCARPONE MOISTENS THE CRUMBS LIKE A SCONE CARRYING ITS OWN CLOTTED-CREAM
Sometimes, we wait for the perfect recipe-publishing moment to present itself. Iced dairies to fend off the heat in August… festivities to baste in the spirit of October… chocolates to sweeten the tones of February, and austerities to bring in those bikini-lines in May. Recipes, like romance, like good stories. I get it. But sometimes, most times actually, the birth of a certain recipe comes as forcefully and inevitably as the bad news it carries. Sometimes, we just have to make something, quite simply, because it’s Monday.
I hate Mondays. And please note, that coming from someone who is technically unemployed, that is saying a lot. Because Monday feels like standing at the bottom of an endless stairwell, and a monkey is holding a $20-bill at the top. Monday feels like watching the prelude of a documentary on counting alphabets in a foreign language without subtitles. Monday feels like powering through the infuriating hunger on the last day of a juice-cleanse, but only that it is still the first day. Monday feels like a brand new sandbag. Monday makes my coffee tired. So even though I’ve came up with this buttery scone stuffed with honey-whipped ricotta a while back, and have been waiting for the perfect timing to tell you all about it, it dawned on me that today, which is a Monday, is actually when your joy-deprived souls will need it the most.
This time-tested, my go-to scone-dough (or biscuit dough, whatever, who knows the difference really) is crispy and flakey on the surface, but its moist and crumbly interior houses a good dollop of creamy, slightly salty, zesty whole milk ricotta whipped with mascarpone and floral honey. Eaten hot out of the oven, the oozy filling bursts enthusiastically to lift your most stagnant Monday-blues. Eaten cooled with rewarded patience, and the thickened and embracive ricotta-mascarpone will moisten the crumbs like a scone carrying its own clotted cream. I don’t know about you, but my Monday is nearing its end, and I haven’t yet raised the first thought to smash my computer on the pale wall. And I say no human should go another Monday without it.
IF I RANTED, I HOPE IT ISN’T THOUGHTLESS…
The brass dinner fork and spoon is made by the amazing Ann Ladson.
If I ranted, I hope it isn’t thoughtless.
If I wrote songs, I hope it isn’t comfortable.
If I were a wood-worker, I’ll have a summer cabin.
If I made things with metals, I hope I had made these.
If I were sociable, I hope I am also sincere.
If I were a friend, I hope I don’t mistake loyalty with bias.
If I envied, I hope I could say it out loud.
If I had experienced joy, I hope it is without victims.
If I had a garden, I hope it grows shades for stray dogs.
If I were young, I would change nothing.
If I were a parent, I hope I don’t always think like one.
If I were a believer, I hope I have strength for reasons.
If I were a lion, I hope I respect the lambs.
If I were a vegetarian, I am going to have a pet pig.
If I were smart, I hope it comes with wisdom.
If I were a follower, I hope I wasn’t blind.
If I asked myself questions, I hope it isn’t answered by someone else.
If I were a particle physicist, I hope I can overlook human pettiness.
If I had compassion, it shall be selective.
If I were powerful, I hope I have the capacity to let go.
If I were in the same position, I hope I could resist the mistakes.
If I could live anywhere, I want to live in New York.
But if I lived by the sea, I hope it is home for sea urchins, too.
And if I lived by sea urchins, I hope you would visit me in the summer.
If you visited me in the summer, I hope I make this for you.
IS IT ME OR THERE’S A ZINNGG INSIDE MY HEAD?
Leaving you quickly today with this beautiful inspiration I got from Erin Ireland on Instagram, gorgeous cross-sections of sweet figs being encased in a thick and creamy, lightly sea-salted ricotta “cheesecake” mixture, like frozen eternal jewels! And we are not just talking about figs here. Think peaches, summer berries, tropical dragon fruits or pineapples, KIWIS! How pretty are those gonna be huh?!!
OK. That’s about as much enthusiasm as I can spare today. Is it me or do you hear a zinnnngg inside my head, too? Now this head-aching zombie must go lay down.