cream Tag

filthy rich miso caramel ice cream


Have I mentioned how unapologetically cheap I am?  Right… to elaborate we must understand that “cheap” is a strictly relative term and I am saying that strictly relatively-speaking, I am incredibly cheap.  I negotiated a 30% raise in my daily allowance in the past decade which is to say that I am spending only 30% above the average of college-quality life.  I gloated over the booking of a 69 euro/night ” beach hotel” in the mediterranean to Jason who, to say the least, did not share the same sentiments and boy, you should see their pool.  I almost always buy non-organics only and after almost 5 years away from the states, I really really miss sinking my face in a pint of Ben’n Jerry’s that’s going $8/pint in this part of the world.  Yes, I am saying technically I could afford better than the above.  I’m in China for God’s sakes.

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chicken in the swamp


No lattice-top?  No pretty dashing colors of summer berries?  Not even the scarce possibility of a scoop of ice-cream on top (people will eat anything with an ice-cream on top these days)(how’s that heatwave going)?  Just when my latest favorite creation was traffic-vetoed because of its less-than-fashionable appearance (A’ight, it may look Susan Boyle but that rice can fucking sing!), I can’t believe I’m preparing to feature this visual question-mark…  If you have the urge to gush out, Oh Lord this poor woman dropped that labour of a pie in the kitchen sink!…  I assure I have not.  It’s this stubborn nerve of mine, you see.  I want to cook for traffic I really do.  I’m not playing cool.  But it’s this nerve for curiosity… this damn nerve…

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The Dreamiest of Dreamy Milk Toast


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.

This is how I killed them and atoned for it.


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