THE NONSENSICAL HOT PEPPERCORN PEANUT BRITTLE
They say that comedy is tragedy plus time. They say that there's a very thin line, separating laughter and pain
They say that comedy is tragedy plus time. They say that there's a very thin line, separating laughter and pain
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
As a reluctant and often times struggling home-baker, I have an unfounded, persistent, borderline sickening obsession with making biscuits and scones. Nobody in the family eats them but me really (it isn't saying much when you scan through all members in the family). I have to endure the look of lostness and concealed disappointment in Jason's eyes every time he comes home to the smell of butter and sugar, and yet I put myself through it often (yes everything is about me). They aren't the most foolproof things to bake either, evidently from the ghost of dead doughs past that still lingers in the apartment. So I don't know, I guess they just feel so much more earnest than cookies and cakes, a warmer and friendlier thing to break over a conversation or a cup of tea
Season-transitioning flu
I recently landed in a couple of situations where I had to articulate the idea of my blog, a sales-pitch so to speak. The effort quickly brought brightened realizations to myself that whatever effort I made to explain the original vision or benchmark that I set out for when I started doing this, is now tainted with contradictions. A derailment, so to speak. As an Asian with a defining family food-culture to grow up on, who then spent her life 50/50 in North America and Asia, it was easy
The danger is real. There's a paradise out there. You can't move two steps without hearing old-time tales of unsuspecting wanderers who passed by and never left, got sucked in by that boundless flickering of Pacific blues so wicked that they dared plunging into the terrifying anxiety of a slowed down life. Made home, even a family, grew roots. Their next generation, born-and-raised, has fascinating stories to tell about their unwavering connections to being the children of these captivating islands, seeding ideas inside visitors with a less affirmative mind such as myself who all, at one point or another, fondled the unthinkable
Last few days were a nightmarish montage of my extended kitchen-agony. Three whole days covered in a choking dust of flour with smudgy grease from a beastly amount of butter and sugary stickiness haunting my finger tips. Electrical outlets being pushed to a near brink of melt-down and an unprepared dishwasher running past its adrenaline threshold into a disoriented state of ecstasy. After three nights of stress-induced binge eating, two stone-tough should muscle groups and one extremely cranked neck which all ended in a final coma that took place in a dark and questionable foot-massage parlor, despite nature's best effort to stop me, I said I'd make a cake. Well
I of all people, know how intimidating it can be to play with ingredients that are completely outside of the comfort zone. You see, it's for the exact same reason that I seriously hate poker games with complete strangers, but I think I could manage playing games like 918kaya if I was on my own. I just don't like the idea of playing with strangers and their unpredictable displays that I have absolutely no talent of reading, or in knowing that if I went all-in with my last stick of butter, would I be left with no chips