“Rice Pie” It Is

(简体)(繁體) And I really don't have any other better ideas so "rice pie" it is. I'm sure we've all suffered from this.  From Cantonese clay-pot rice, to Korean bibimbap, to Spanish paellas.  All are different cuisines of rice plus whatnot, cooked in a sizzling vessel that forms a "burnt crust" of rice on the sides and bottom, which many would argue is the essence of such dishes.  OK, now here's the "suffering" part.  What's the point

To Roll, or Not To Roll

(简体)(繁體) Like standing in the DMV queue and being asked (judged simultaneously too) if I wanted to be an organ donor.  Or whether to leave my BJ apartment on a PM2.5 hazardous day for groceries or starve with cheese crackers.  Or whether to spend the last scrap of my monthly budget on the air purifier we really do NEED versus the new iPhone I really do WANT.  Nobody said being an adult is easy. So years of life-defining choices as such have boiled down to this moment - I find myself standing in the kitchen in BJ (how the hell did I end up here

A Bite of Le Marais

It's impossible to shake, like it's wired into my every nerves, and rejecting whatever highly-caffeinated substance I have been shooting up my veins. It has made it its personal quest to destroy my complexion, and put my blog, my kitchen and my dear dear camera on life-threatening danger. Just know that I'm writing this while floating in a distorted, murky, brain-scrambling derangement. Thoughts are bouncing off the surface of my consciousness like dimming fireflies, twirling and giggling, so close but out of my grasp. "Wait, don't go. Why so shy?

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