Sweets

The Wicked Black Forest

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Is it too late in our relationship to declare that I’m not into chocolate?  Should I have said that on the first date along with things weighing the same importance like “I have 10 children”… or “I have herpes” (just for argument sake… I totally don’t btw).  Well, to me the thing with chocolate is that instead of being mystified with grand illusions like “indulgent”, “decadent”, “sinful”, “love~” (more?) “AMOoUUR~~” or whatever, it just tastes sort of… bitter to me.

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Lonely-Carrots Carrot Cake

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I don’t mean to expose myself as someone who discusses about appliances as IF I have no real life (…) but am I the only one who suspects that her refrigerator suffers from seasonal bipolar disorder going from Fall to Winter?  I’m saying around October and towards the end of every year, (for the sake of easy referencing and NOT because I am totally juvenile and pathetic, let’s call it…) Skinny Box behaves like a healthy female who is gladly stocked with seasonal fruits and vegetables, meats and dairies, readily equipped for all kinds of culinary wonders.  But as the weather slides quite abruptly into January to February, her mood-swing takes a deep dive into anorexic tendency taking only the basic necessity for life such as caffeinated drinks and probiotic capsules.  And can you believe that she has the guts to blame me for it?!  Argh.

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Puffy Powdered Pillow

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OMG. I’m telling you out of my last shred of conscience and humanity before I turn Paula Deen. If you like fried dough. If you have a weakness for doughnuts. If exercising self-restraint over hot-and-crispy-exterior-with-chewy-center things isn’t exactly your forte. Or if you value any possibility to a) find a mate, b) keep a mate, c) or simply to be able to fit into ANYTHING ever again. Pack your knives and go. Because this recipe is up to no good. Run. RuN. RUN!

The rest of you, follow me into beignet Mordor with no return.

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Nanny-Bribery Icebox Pear Bars

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Tuesday was Lady and Pups’s first X’mas!  And we just got back from a lovely week in Rome to spend the holiday with our kids (I assume that the away-for-days part was all forgiven once they smelled the salami treats in the luggage)…  And yes, we went to Rome.  Oooh stawwp it… but if you must know, it was pretty awesome.  As I sort through digital-piles of photos in order to share that fantastic trip with you, I’m going to let you in on a little secret on how to have care-free, long vacations when you have 3 dog-children to care for – bribing the doggie nanny.

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Salted Duck Yolks Cookies

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Have I raised any concerns yet?  More so, concerns for my husband’s ever-expanding belly (those poor poor pants…).  ANOTHER salted duck egg recipe?  And this time in COOKIES?  AND I thought this is a good time to bring it up just after I drenched this blog in cholesterol and now THEN-SOME?  To be clear, if you were the very honest people who gushed how lucky my husband was for all these foods and whose smiles now start to crinkle… (firmly pointing my finger towards an ambiguous direction) I gave them all to Jason’s colleages who gave them a nice home.  But I can’t expect this level of superior self-restrain from you because quite frankly, this cookie is fantastic.

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Tough Crowd Longan Cake

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I’m always puzzled where people get their optimism from. I have this friend. She’s a walking team of cheerleaders in a single unit, comes with flowers and sunshine with balloons and all that stuff. If you feel like a worthless piece of sxxt, I’d have you call her so you can feel like a brand new piece of chocolate nougat instead. Or a cat like a tiger and a chicken like a peacock… always the brighter side of life if you know what I mean. In all honesty, I’m usually extensively annoyed by such characters whom I call the self-hypnotized with false expectations. But the exception is that I ADORE her because she seems so genuinely living, breathing and walking in her bubbling enthusiasm and positivity 24/7, that even a light-sensitive vamp-downer like me can’t seem to dampen her spirit. How does she do that? She will forever be a mystery of nature to me. But hey, this is my blog and I’m only bringing her up so I can talk about myself.

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X’mas Blend Coffee Bars

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OK I’m a repeat offender… it seems like we have barely gotten over Thanksgiving (based on numbers on the scale) and I’m AGAIN already talking about the NEXT, EVEN-BIGGER-ER holiday!  What’s wrong with me?  Am I the only one who feels sidetracked… distracted… by establishments on almost every corner in New York and even some in Beijing that I find it difficult to focus?  Because my year’s-biggest-holiday-state-of-mind is not kick-started by the official ending of Thanksgiving.  Or by the emergence of the frightening, steroid-pumped displays of lights and reindeers on neighbor’s front lawn.  Instead in my mind, the X’mas season is announced officially by no other than the worldwide Starbucks and the appearance of their exceedingly adorable X’mas cups!

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Not-a-Muffin Amaretto Financier

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“My colleagues loved those mini muffins…”
“There are NOT muffins!  They are FINANCIER with a silent R, as in FRRRENCH!!”
“I know financiers.  They’re rectangular.  That’s not financier.”
“…. don’t comment before you GOOGLE!  I’m getting Jiaozi a new daddy.”

OK, that pretty much sums up my recent mental-stability.  But in my defense if I may, a word on why I go a bit nuts when my slightly-retarded-in-the-kitchen husband (but otherwise awesome) tries to give “input” to my cooking given that another (and so many others like it) conversation took place just the other day:

“Hey, can you do something with that tomato?”
“What tomato?”
“THAT tomato that’s being sitting on the counter for days!”
“You mean… the pumpkin?”
“…. oh…”

So you see?  How can I take cooking advice from a man like that?  PS: Jiaozi is my Maltese!

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