Meat

HERB GNOCCHI W/ MID-SEASON GREENS

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“IT’LL FOREVER CHANGE HOW YOU FEEL TOWARDS GNOCCHI… OR KALE FOR THAT MATTER”

I don’t know which shocker this post is more about.  The best damn gnocchi you’ll ever have in your life, that instead of “fluffy clouds”, tastes more like spring thunder in your mouth, or the fact that… holy shit, I cooked vegetables!  I guess… both, I think.  Two previously unfavoured dinner-candidates came together and pulled a stormy revolution in my kitchen.  I’ve survived with only a belt-overhanging gutt to tell you about it.

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FAUX SMOKED MEAT/PASTRAMI

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“There’s New York. There’s Montreal. THEN THERE’S THE REST OF THE BARREN WORLD WITHOUT THIS SMOKY PINK”

(My subconscious eagerness to share this may have caused me to accidentally publish it before saying anything… By the way, WordPress, if you’re reading, a “confirm publish” pop-up may be quite useful you know) Uhem… so, where was I?

There are two types of carnivorous Earthlings in this cosmos. One who has been blessedly graced by the acknowledgement and transformative tevilah of a truly, truly great pastrami. And one who unknowingly misunderstands it as being overrated. Before stepping a foot in New York, I couldn’t care less what a chunk of weirdly pink, muscularly dry and cold Jewish staple would taste like in between two pieces of woodboard-rye, but then of course, Katz got my tongue at the age of 21. Before stepping a foot in Montreal where they can’t even get bagels right, I couldn’t care less what us Canadians have to say about a warm, spiced-up version of pastrami they call “smoked meat”. Then I again stood humbly corrected at the heel of Schwartz a few years later. Life since, has never been the same.

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TAIWAN PORK RAGU ON RICE – LU ROU FAN

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“YOU MISSED OUT…
THAT JUST ISN’T FAIR”

I wrote a post called Taiwan in a pot very early on when this blog just started, when most of us haven’t actually met yet.  And perhaps that’s OK.  Perhaps it’s wiser to have pre-mature photographs stay buried six-feet-under the surface of blogosphere, safely and quietly, just like how I forever silenced all images of my existence before 1998…  But I couldn’t help but feeling that if my pettiness to hide my food-pictures wearing braises, has caused you to miss out on something great, truly great, then that just isn’t fair.  So the other night when I made this for the gazillion-th of time at home, I thought I’d give you a little shout-out.

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SERIOUSLY, MAPO TOFU

“Missing only one of these ingredients…?
THEN DON’T EVEN BOTHER!”

I probably talk about myself too much.

Yeah, people don’t like girls who talk about themselves too much, who can’t discuss Life of Pi without bringing up their ex-boyfriends.  I… can’t be that girl, right?  But oh look I have a blog, about my dinner, moreover it has dawned on me that very little space in this personal blog is even food-talk, but more like me-talk.  Where I should’ve dedicated an elaborate, mouth-watering and core-deep description about why you should eat this immediately, whatever this may be, I’d say “Oh look there’s a huge mole on my ass!”.

Oh my God… I am her.  But not today… not today.

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CARAMEL SOY SAUCE STICKY RIBS

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“Well I guess… I just have to KILL TWO BIRDS WITH ONE RIB”

It’s Chinese new year’s eve today and I.  Have.  Got.  Nothing.  To eat.

This is no doubt starting to become an alarming pattern over the last couple years… especially when this year, another major national event from the West is clashing head to head with CNY, clouding my already impaired judgement when it comes to curating content.  It’s CNY (looking right)… it’s Superbowl (looking left)…  Oh but it’s CNY (looking right)…  Woah but wait it’s Superbowl (looking left)!…  Oh shit I’m so confused!

Well I guess to be extremely lazy thoughtful and considerate, I just have to kill two birds with one rib.

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WOODLAND FIRE SICHUAN-HUMMUS

“Tonight… LET’S SET THE WORLD
ON FIRE”

I guess… it really isn’t a secret what unnecessary gimmicks I’ve been occupying myself with in the last couple days.  Hello, my  name is Mandy and I’m a theme-aholic.  In fact, I’m a theme-aholic who also happens to be, tech-intolerant.  Like an alcoholic who’s allergic to alcohol, an UV-addict who lives in Seattle, a real human being married to Gwyneth Paltrow…

Well, you get the point. It’s all been very dysfunctional around here.

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A WRONG AND IRRESPONSIBLE SANDWICH

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We’ve all heard about this growing up, that the adult life is all about responsibilities.  “Pfff, whatever…” I said.  I mean what does that even mean, really?  As if kids don’t got no responsibility, like I hadn’t already been tying my own shoes, wearing my painful braises, and attending my designated school every morning where I dealt with mean kids on my own like any accountable, dutiful children since seven.  Think I did all those for fun?  I was doing good for my own greater good.  Responsibility.  You know?  In fact, it seems that my whole life so far has been a reversed testimony for such statement.

As I am slowly coming to terms that my diligent, responsible life had took its last dying breath the moment… I became an adult.

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HIGHLY ADDICTIVE PARTY CIGARS

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Oh mah God… I haven’t been under so much pressure, yes, since the time when I realized I needed six more credits to graduate college (SIX!  “Professor, your otherwise gross beard appears unexpectedly dashing today”… just kidding)… and it is precisely the reason why, as much as I may seem to be an ideal candidate to host a dinner party, I shouldn’t be allowed to.  At all.  Because my management skills crumble in disarray when I’m cooking more than one thing.  There’s a large number of oysters that I’m pulling all strings to keep alive inside a fridge that lacks everything else to cook them with, and a whole scale-on, bone-in, head-attached sea bass that frankly… I don’t remember inviting to dinner.  On top of which, a 7 pounds limp-neck goose-beast is going to be dropped onto my doorstep like surprise! any minute now… could be like now!  Plus did I mention I’m supposed to make a tart?  That’s it, time for emotional breakdown.

Hey, nobody said my threshold for stress isn’t delicate at best.

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