November 22, 2013 In All recipes, Bakery/Pastry, Dairy

THANKSGIVING ROUX BREAD

For the innocent sake of running an adequate food-blog, I've been slowly sucked down to a rabbit hole passing the disorienting stage of flying pies and falling biscuits, deep down to the world of cultivating gas-farting micro-organism on my kitchen counter (quite deep when you actually think about it).  My falling journey has brought to you and myself, things I wouldn't even think of doing just a little shy of 2 years ago, things like palm sugar brioche, dreamy Hokkaido milk toast, Taiwanese gua bao, Roman Bonci's pizza, creamy carbonara pizza, clarified butter English muffin, pillow beignets and this rocking potato roll. If I look into the mirror right now I wouldn't recognize myself. But however close I thought I was getting to the end of it, being awaken to the real world where people actually just buy this stuff (yeah

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October 15, 2013 In All recipes, Noodle/Pasta/Rice, Seafood

SALMON POKE-D YOU. YOU SHOULD POKE BACK

Two weeks ago when I stood in front of the ordering-counter in the most celebrated poke (a Hawaiian appetizer mostly made with raw seafood and other seasonings) joint in Honolulu, I found myself deep, once again, in a familiar dilemma.  I could on one hand, dig through the baffling complicatedness for the source of the tuna without certainty on any given answers which would probably result in an ill-informed purchase anyways, or, I could entirely forgo the option of tuna as a food source just as I've been doing for quite awhile now.  After all, I hadn't tasted a bite of tuna, raw, cooked or canned for let's say

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June 24, 2013 In All recipes, Noodle/Pasta/Rice, Seafood, Snacks

hypothetically wild salmon onigiri

I am not, by a screeching far cry, someone who could hypothetically reach a life with no regret. Contentment to me is an overrated product of philosophy, not of nature, and therefore more often than not, I find myself restlessly curating for a much-er life. I benched more tablewares in the cabinet than the actual number of guests I could ever gather to my hypothetically dinner party. My closet is for someone who apparently comes across great occurrences that call for more than one (ok, five) sequinned Flapper dress. I limited myself to only four vintage-designed bicycles (so far) which I imagine cruising so hipster-ly through Williamsburg where our hypothetical loft resides, just above the hypothetical farmer's market, where I buy hypothetical hydrangeas on weekends. Hey, I could go Paris on you but I want to keep it real. The other day, I crashed into a display of desires that evoked a whole new picture of hypothetical possibilities, a dashing sales-event of the uber-retro and adorable Airstream Trailers with skins so shiny I was blinded by its allure, parked dangerously close within our complex as if just the outrageously bloated price-tag wasn't enough to keep me

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