[ezcol_1fifth] [/ezcol_1fifth] [ezcol_3fifth] XI'AN-STYLE SMUSHED LAMB MEATBALLS BRAISED IN JOY-JUICE, STUFFED IN CH-ENGLISH MUFFINS
[ezcol_1half] SOMEWHERE ALONG THE LINE OF LOSING CHILDHOOD INNOCENCE AND MATURING FOOD-PHOBIAS, I'VE GROWN ESTRANGED TO THIS WONDERFUL THING THAT PRACTICALLY RAISED ME [/ezcol_1half] [ezcol_1half_end] I've been wanting to do a fried fish sandwich for some time now. In fact, it's strange even to myself that it has taken me so long, considering that battered fried fish, from both the perspective of nostalgia and deliciousness, holds a very special place in my heart. Myself, circa 1992, fresh off the boat in Vancouver and practically English-illiterate, this was one of the very first introduction I had into the then-completely-alien world of western food culture. Once in a while, friends and families would make a special night out of dinning at the New England-style seafood restaurants lining the river-port, for this was a scarce enjoyment where we came from, and for me, watching the seagulls pirating scraps off of the table, it served a foreign exhilaration of this new place to call home. Back then, with the inability to understand the menu, a dinner in a place like this would almost certainly meant having the same entree over and over again, and that was, yes, fish and chips. A funny dish that, I was told, the child I was should really appreciate. To be honest,
[ezcol_1third] NOT KNOWING IF (THE SWEAT) WAS DUE TO THE HEAT OF THE KITCHEN, OR HOT-FLASHES AS EARLY SIGNS OF MENOPAUSE [/ezcol_1third] [ezcol_2third_end] OK, so it's been awhile since I last did The Shit I Eat When I'm By Myself Series, and I thought today - the day I turn 35, the day when the oestrogen has officially left the party, the day when avocado becomes a face-cream instead of food - is a good time to rekindle (it's called letting it go). And also, because I got this lovely birthday present from you-know-who, I thought I will follow Tiffany and do a post entirely shot/edited by iPhone 6 only! Initially, I thought it would be the most liberating thing ever, not having to carry a heavy and bulky camera while dripping sweat, not knowing whether it's due to the heat from the kitchen or hot-flashes as early signs of menopause
[ezcol_2third] IF THERE'S ANY SHOT AT PRE-DETERMINED HAPPINESS IN LIFE, IT WOULD BE TO ACQUIRE A TASTE FOR SPICY FOODS
[ezcol_1half] JUSTIFICATION - MAXIMUM CARAMELIZATION [/ezcol_1half] [ezcol_1half_end] SO you watched Tony Bourdain in Bronx, didn't you? And if in the next following days, a certain very catchy phrase got stuck in your head like the most maddeningly annoying tune, echoing "chop'cheese
"YOU'VE NEVER HAD OYSTER PO'BOY LIKE THIS" Oh it's Too-much-life Day. So lucky for you, you can be left alone with this salivating monstrosity without me breathing down your neck. Plus, you can't possibly need introduction to this? OK, well fine
We've all heard about this growing up, that the adult life is all about responsibilities. "Pfff, whatever