roasted Tag

summer and couscous in istanbul


I’m never much of a person of faith and spirituality.  Evidently since Jason and I started slowly leaving our footprints around the world, we left an obvious trail seeking gastronomic truth instead of spiritual babble, pinning destinations on the map not for the yearning to hear the echoes bouncing off the cold marbles of St. Peter’s, but to sink our teeth into the godliness of a cool, fresh Roman burrata.  Not to hear the chanting of monks on ancient scriptures, but for the serene noise coming from the skin of a Balinese roasted pig cracking in between teeth.  The antiquated pagoda from a time bygone can wait, my Vietnamese bún chả in the now is getting cold.

We go with our guts.

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ugly crackling chicken rice


Previously on Lady and Pups, the bloodthirsty 9-days marathon of recipe-massacre was mercifully ended by the heroic Jasmine green tea granita, thus temporarily closed the tormenting gap between culinary imagination and reality.  But the narrative failed to mention the other type of food blog-limbo.  One that’s even more ill-hearted, ironic… a humorless prank that leaves the subject, in this case me, in a helpess panic with all hope diminishing after each and every other attempts to right it.  In this episode, we are going to closely examine this type of sucker.

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justly gravy


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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Apple++ Muffins

apple muffin featured header


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.


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Belly Full Pumpkin

pumpkin pork belly featured header 2

(Chinese versions coming soon)

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.


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