Sweets

breakfast milk tea & honey pound cake

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I’m going to push my opinion-quota by saying that the US is the least tea-cultured among the other places I’ve lived in (Taiwan, Vancouver, Hong Kong… Beijing).  Americans aren’t particularly keen on tea, evidently as some may now defensively refer to Snapple’s along this line as a clownish counter-argument, and now… they shall stand to be mocked by public (no, it’s too late to take it back).

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like-crack-er ice cream brownie sandwich

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I know I know there must be a food-blogger authority staking-out behind a cyber-corner, waiting to ticket me just as soon as I violate the meter by hitting the “publish” button (just any second now…).  TWO ICE-CREAM POSTS IN A ROLL?!  BACK TO BACK!?  God I have some thick-skinned nerve occupying a parking spot on this competitive block in Blogger-hood!  Uh-hum… the official statement is that my sheer excitement after spotting a “cracker cheesecake sandwich” on Donna Hay via pinterest, has driven me to share it for the public-greater good regardless of my personal content-diversity agenda.  And we know that all official statements are largely based on truth and integrity.

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winter warmth ice cream

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Drop down on a point back in time, all the way back in my 500-sqft studio in New York when I was joyfully smooching a pint of Ben’n Jerry’s which I casually grabbed from the downstair 24hr-deli, and tell me that in the not-so-distant future, anytime-access to my beloved collection of ice cream-babies would be a thing of the past… I’d cover their ears (hush hush… bad people… bad people…) then tell you nicely to go kiss your own mad arse.  Hey, I was a young, naive and ignorant little shit who thought New York City wasn’t the center of the universe.  Can I please get it back if I apologize?

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almond byproduct tart

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If you hoard much.  You know, unable to let go trunks of junks that’s jamming your life, and aren’t quite sure what the normal reaction is when you look down on a shampoo bottle where the shampoo is long gone (hi Jen) , or that your loved ones take great pleasure to be on a reality show as the world watches you being eaten away by your own shame.  Yeah, hoarders.  You keep everything.  It’s a disease and I’m your new BFF.  Because I let go of possessions beautifully.  I trash donate things with a clean swift cut-throat almost artful peeerfection (someone needs this cheetah-print denim more than I do).  And I extend my virtue to touch those in need around me – may or may not be with consent – by trashing donating their shit for them, too.  They’re welcome.

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almond tofu x 2

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I stare at the blinking cursor on my screen and completely blank out.  My mind is sucked dry from a trip to the veterinarian, and as my 13-year old Dumpling lays in the hospital with a tube down his throat and a three-day-hospital-stay ahead of him, the last thing I can gather my mind to gush about are these monotone desserts.  But let not the frosted land of sugary world be soiled by real-life shit that come our way, because it isn’t the desserts’ fault, no.  The  almond tofu is innocent, and we’re going to talk about them even with my mind absent.

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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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Vietnam-has-best-Coffee Pudding

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* Information revised.

What’s the one picture you put on facebook that attracted the most attention? If I ever cared (and who cares…?), it would be that one innocent shot I took in Paris with my two lovely morning-cups of venti Starbucks sitting leisurely on the bridge minding their own business, while they read 75 hilarious coffee memes. Yup. Not any of these painstakingly-orchestrated-to-appear-unorchestratedly-beautiful shots of my humble creations (Guys guys look! Sauce is reacting to GRAVITY on my donuts!). Neither are shots of my unpretentiously handsome dogs keeping it real in their typical unorderly formation (Totally unlike any of the ones on pinterest whom I suspect are wax-models, because mine are totally NATURAL). And sadly with reasonable doubt, probably not even a bikini shot of myself could surpass (Guy. Half-nakedness here~ Somebody’s half-NAAAKED!)(… scroll right through it. Nice).

But. It was the venti Starbucks in Paris.

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