Have I become unintentionally popular among neighbors? It can’t possibly… I never join the gathering-in-the-lobby-making-small-talks group. I give dirty looks to kids on their bikes who, I believe, aim to kill me or at least rid me of one leg. My french bulldog is notorious for bolting out of nowhere and mugging children’s soccer balls (ANY balls, really…), scares them off like scattering pigeons, and afterwards I return the balls with a thick coat of her extra-slimy saliva. My maltese attacks people, period. My youngest, adopted mutt likes to jump on people after snacking on… sh… poo. So like I said. It can’t possibly.
I’m staring and thinking about what I’m gonna say and… drawing blank. I wish I have personal, wild stories to share about my Halloweens but the truth is, it is scarce. Has my life been this pathetic (don’t answer that)? So I did a psycho-analysis on my entire pathetic peculiar life so far on how I could possibly missed Halloween and drew this conclusion. First of all, Halloween is… not very happening in Taiwan, which was unfortunately where I wasted my prime-time-Halloween-peak-ages from 2 to 10 years old. Then I moved to Vancouver when I was 12, an awkward age where I JUST missed the boat on getting away with dressing-up-and-asking-for-candy-is-cute. And then came the teenage years which I consider to be the dark ages of Halloween because a dinosaur costume would be adorable retarded, but a slutty-anything costume would just be… sexy let’s just say raising concerns.
Has anyone ever wondered why pineapples are so left out in the community of preservatives? Neither have I. I mean I love pineapples. LOVE pineapples. But it never occurred to me that it should be offered immortality in a glass jar among berries and other things. Until a couple of years ago on a trip back to Taipei, I spotted a relatively new artisanal jam company in the most unlikely places – a bookstore.
OH boy, do I have a sob story for this one. Well, not of me growing up with Hokkaido milk toast of course (If you love bread but don’t know what it is, I feel truly sorry. It’s the dreamiest loaf of toast you could dream up.). Those were only fond memories, VERY fond memories like – me standing in the bakery, staring and chuckling like an idiot at the milk toasts on the racks why because they were also smiling back at me, and couldn’t stop myself from poking them with my fingers – kind of memories. The sobbing part is how I got to successfully making them in my kitchen, which was a road paved with disappointments, heartbreaks and betrayals (supposedly-trusted recipes out there…how could you?). Let me just start by saying that on Sep 19th at 10:45 pm, a loaf of bread died of a gruesome death on my kitchen counter. And at 4:30 am the next day, another one followed.
这头痛怎么解释呢? a) 因为我们没车。我们骑自行车。 b) 在北京骑自行车有80% 的机会,最终会以脑部缺氧做结束。为什么呢?那,空气污染那是理所当然每天都要的了(每天空气好不好,只要看那天能不能看得到西边远方的山脉就知道了。我只能说我来这里的头两个月,连那里原来有座山我都不知道!),还有不知道为什么那些喜欢放黑屁的乌贼公车,老是很凑巧地一直环绕在我身边。当然我们也不要忘记那些喜欢在骑车的时候,刁着一根烟的朋友们,因为他们也觉得要为我的悲惨尽一份心力。总而言之呢,这一切的一切都会在我的脑部发起强烈,停止呼吸的讯息。我想一边骑车,一边憋气为什么会引起头痛就不需要多做讲解了。所以这头痛又将我决定要做土司的毅力,延迟了3 个小时。
揉好的面团应该湿润但是不会太粘。要发展出足够的筋度。试试看用手掌,慢慢地将面团拉开。如果可以拉出手掌般大片的薄膜,就是可以了。将面团分成两份,用保鲜膜盖好。如果刚才是在室温下醒面团,就让它静置15 分钟。如果是放冰箱里醒面,就静置30 分钟。这期间,将“最后阶段”的40 g 的黄油放入小锅里,用中火加热到冒泡,焦糖化(变成咖啡色)。然后关火待用。