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. All that had changed

Doomsday Roasted Eggplants

(简体)(繁體) On Nov 28th at exactly 7:20pm, I got fed up.  I've had my 5th servings of chronic-crashing on my chrome in 1 day and my whipped iTune seemed to be super-unnaturally allergic to my iPad because it decided to kill itself everytime at the sync of it.  So in the attempt to steer my PC into the shinning new-era and deliver it to the promised land of salvation, I upgraded it to - Windows 8 (plug your best Angel music here).  

Tough Crowd Longan Cake

(简体)(繁體) I'm always puzzled where people get their optimism from. I have this friend. She's a walking team of cheerleaders in a single unit, comes with flowers and sunshine with balloons and all that stuff. If you feel like a worthless piece of sxxt, I'd have you call her so you can feel like a brand new piece of chocolate nougat instead. Or a cat like a tiger and a chicken like a peacock

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