Poultry

justly gravy

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We can at least all agree that it sucks to live under someone else’s shadow right?  It’s a cruel life to carry if you know that you’ll forever be on the edge of someone else’s spotlight.  Does anyone aspire to be Robin who always looks comparatively ridiculous in his spandex and at least one foot shorter than Batman?  Whoever marries Prince Harry… well good luck, and frankly it makes you a loser if you are dating Harry Potter’s best friend What’s-his-name.  As personal experience goes, it’s quite depressing being my right face as my left-side always gets the photo-ops (shrugging my left shoulder).

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Creamy Duck Rillette

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The other night during my thrill-less routine of midnight internet-surfing, I came across an article about the mysterious effect of mind has on physical wellness.  You know, happy people healthy life kind of thing.  (By the way Hello, my name is Mandy and I’m a hypochondriac.  Those who are just here thinking there’d be “better-than-Paris” duck, feel free to skip and scroll right to the bottom…).  So volunteers were gathered and tests were conducted.  In a nut shell, I was diagnosed by the article as the kind who are biologically doomed, incapable of being happy under meditation and will be a sag of meat dripping negativity for the rest of my life, which as far as effect-of-mind-on-health goes isn’t gonna be a long one.  It’s settled.  I will live short, and whimper.

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Salty Crispy Poppers

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Once upon a time in a land far far away, there lived a young girl.

Everyday after school, she took the same road home, wearing her same brown shoes, humming the same little song.  One afternoon just like the day before, she passed by the usual food stall on the way, but felt unusually hungry.  She realized that she forgot to eat lunch because she was probably too busy chasing boys during lunch break.  Remembering what her mother had always warned her about the forbidden street snack, she reached for the changes in her pocket and hesitated.  An old, wrinkly lady behind a huge wok of boiling grease smiled at her and said, “Hi there, little one.  Would you like to have some Salty-crispy chicken?  Oh they are awfully delicious.”

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Scallion Oil Chicken

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Lately Jason’s been GRILLED at work like a turkey on Thanksgiving, and soon gonna be off on a business trip for 2 days.  As an imaginary modern woman I loath at myself for saying it, but this can only mean one thing.  I AM SO~ooo~OOO BOOOOOORED (twisting and moaning….).  I HAVE things to do.  I do!  Like a whole line of queued-up posts waiting to be translated.  Like chirping chicklets urging to be fed…”chirp chirp chirp…”  Arrgh… I can’t even raise the slightest will to lift a finger.  Or make some long overdue calls to friends who probably thought I fell off a cliff for some time now.  Wait, who am I KIDDING?  I DON’T have friends in BJ…  Or do a Lord of The Ring marathon in my pj with my favorite junk foods!  Only I have done that like 3 times over.  The excitement to watch Gandalf say, “Yooou shall nooot PASS!” can only last so many time…  How about Little Merm… FXXX!  That’s pathetic!  Damn it!  How do unemployed women kill their time?

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A Confused Chicken Rice

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I assume people meant my ethnicity, not the city I currently live in, but even that has no easy answer.  Three decades of my life so far are sort of evenly spent in three different locations.  The country I was born in but haven’t lived in for more than 2 decades.  The country I spent all my teens therefore granted me a citizenship of.  Then there’s the city I feel most at home, where it shaped me into an individual and till this day, still defines me.  So which one are they talking about?  Oh, and of course this shithole place where I’m currently residing in for the past 3 years, where I don’t even want my name to go anywhere near the close proximity of.  I think it’s safe to say that I’m a product of the environment of a shrinking globe.

 That I’m suffering from identity crisis.

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Duck Ragu Spinoff

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Like maybe how it brings me back to a perfect bistro setting on a perfect corner in Paris, or maybe how I found a rustic-charm, free-range chicken farm in outskirt BJ where we took our dogs to spend a leisurely weekend.  But, NO.  I’ve never had such a dish that’s remotely close in Paris.  And these eggs were bought from Taobao because I was too lazy to do grocery, and delivered by a postman who left it in front of my door step because I was too lazy to open the door.  What brings me to share this recipe which I’ve already made several times before, is that this time… it’s gonna be served in this beeeautiful, over hundreds RMB black iron skillet that I found on Taobao for 35RMB!!!!

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