summer Tag

sunshine. flower. tea. granita

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Truth is, I was a tiny bit amused by the flock of defenders, friendly or hostile, who rushed to my incidental black tea cake to affirm America’s tea presence.  To the flag-swinging crusaders, amused at how unreceptive people are to a relative comparison and because the upset words validated just as much as saying… Asians eat burgers.  Lots of it at that, too.  Doesn’t translate to Asia having as much burger-culture as America.  And the rest tea-lovers – who were nice enough to comment (thank you!) and certainly more gracious of a human being than I ever was, who simply wanted to inform this blunt-mouthed cook that there’s a growing tea-culture in America (thanks again!) – made me feel a bit undeserved because I would totally, upmost whole-heartedly agree with you if not because of the fact that… I was too busy drinking coffee to notice.

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tummy yumyum tomato soup

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Who here shares a rooted enthusiasm for heads raise their hands (… what?).  To an undiscriminating extend on varieties, I love all types of heads (… what did I say?…), duck, fish, chicken, whatever.  Not that there’d be a fight but I seize it from the table at every encounter, nose-up thinking I am the only person in the party who knows what.  I’m a head-snob.  And on behave of myself, I’m filing a complaint towards America where under-informed citizens don’t appreciate heads, or serve enough of them (I think I hear agreement of some sort…).  I go quietly fury especially when I see shrimps heads being discarded on their plates, thinking they must be CRAZY passing that intense creamy foie-gras of-the-sea that’s just one loud sucking away.  Tsk tsk tsk… unworthy of a good head.

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poorman’s lobster roll

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Right.  I apologize for my “rare” unprofessionalism last time.  Can we start over?  I promise I’ll keep it together this time because oh boy this faux-lobster roll is too delicious to miss out on.  But it’s strange to compose this post because the day I cooked it, my doggy-Armageddon-day had not been realized, and staring back on the make-funny-“when life gives you shrimp, make lobster roll”-line that I drew up then to mock my general cheap-ass style, it now seems to actually speak to me on a philosophical level…  My words-in-past is making contact with my present inner-self.  Wooh~ (believe it or not this is me keeping it together).

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winter warmth ice cream

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Drop down on a point back in time, all the way back in my 500-sqft studio in New York when I was joyfully smooching a pint of Ben’n Jerry’s which I casually grabbed from the downstair 24hr-deli, and tell me that in the not-so-distant future, anytime-access to my beloved collection of ice cream-babies would be a thing of the past… I’d cover their ears (hush hush… bad people… bad people…) then tell you nicely to go kiss your own mad arse.  Hey, I was a young, naive and ignorant little shit who thought New York City wasn’t the center of the universe.  Can I please get it back if I apologize?

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power goddess pasta salad

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There’s something you need to know before you sit me down with anyone you carry a sensitive relationship with.  Your competitor/colleague, boss, lover to impress, ex-lover to instill remorse… people who may be concerned about you befriending a crazy bitch (raising my hand), parents, or worse, social bridges.  Because you can be positively certain that I can and WILL almost ALWAYS say the wrongest thing on the wrongest subject before I even get to my appetizer… digging cheerfully into the bread-basket before my antenna picks up the dense air molecule… (…did I say something?).  You should also know that Jason waited the entire three years to unfold me in front of his company event and it’s safe to say that he had seen better days.

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“C” Is For Cold Capellini

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Despite the respectable effort of window displays everywhere and pretty little fashion magazines who would like us to believe that the next season is upon us and seduce us into stocking up on goose-down parkas or snuggy scarfs, the truth is that the chances of heatwaves is right around the corner on any given Wednesday, and will last well into October for the freakier parts of the world at least.  This is a confession coming from a dark corner inside a pre-season shopaholic who, almost every year, excitedly opens a box full of winter goodies sometime in September while sweating profusely in her tank-tops and couldn’t stop the idea of downing a bowl of something really cold… ANYTHING cold.

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