Got Nothing But Time

Golden Foundation

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I know that I may have been a little (a little?) explicit about my harsh feelings toward this sad little place called Beijing. But I realized that sucks-ass it may (or certainly) be, moving here is undeniably a blessing in disguise when it comes to how my cooking has evolved. With all the convenience that came with living in New York, I would never have learnt about fresh pasta, layery biscuits, insanely flaky pies, crazy buttery brioche, plus many more that has yet to come next. And of course this, homemade golden broth. One may question if this is really worth its own post. Yes, yes it does. Because it’s NOT JUST your average chicken stock.

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Fancy a Meat Pie?

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What I have hea is a rawther nice British meat pie (This is OBVIOUSLY accent, not typos… don’t be an arse about tit).  Eva since I overcame my fear in baking (sort of…), I admit that I’ve gone a bit bonkers!  What to pie next?  What to pie next?  Out of all the brilliant recipes out thea, this one has somehow stick.  For one it looks bloody delicious, absolutely pukka!  And second I believe it’s pure fate.  First I saw it on the tele when they were talking about British street foods, and then a magazine featuring the exact same thing LIT’erally fell on my lap.  Two makes it a sign.

…Is it as difficault to read as it tis to write in a Brit accent….?  I have new found respect for Lindsay Lohan.  Oooh sod it!  I give up…

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Forgive Me I Have Pie-d…

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The only equivalent comparison in life to this would be:  In our last two years in New York when we were practically cast out of Manhattan by elitism (FINE, high rents) and moved to… Jersey City where there was a most pathetic looking, hicks-Ahoy karaoke bar right around the block.  With more conviction than I withheld on my wedding day I said to Jason, “IF we EVER raised even the SLIGHTEST idea of walking into this place, it is THE moment that we’ve been “Jersified” and must pack up and move back in the city immediately!”  We survived Jersey and never did walk into that karaoke bar.  But instead THIS happened here.  My cue that says I have been in YET another dump for far too long that – I – made – a – PIE!!!

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Taiwan in a Pot

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I mean, really.  Taiwanese or not, if looking at this doesn’t induce some watering in the mouth, I’m afraid we don’t have anything in common.  Just imagine that gelatinous pork belly coated in DARK, CARAMELLY AMBER SAUC… wait.  It looks more like blurry, grainy, monotone photo that’s seen too much UV light?

Ooooh… haaa.. ha… you know… Instagram being SO happening and all… ha.. I thought it’d be cool to do a little “retro” look.  Just kind of keeping up with the tech world… kind of thing…  BUT HEY, not fond of distorted view of the world behind diffused lenses?  OK.  We’re back.

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You.. Dirty Dirty Pasta

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Then came the effort the correct it.  And then, TOTAL insomnia.  As I tried pushing through the day without submitting to the brain-paralyzing exhaustion, the nights remained sleepless where I go in-and-out of consciousness and wake up feeling even more tired than the day before.  The cherry on my cake was, on top of this build up of 14 days without proper sleep,  that my oldest son, 11-year-old Maltese, Dumpling had to go through a completely unexpected surgery yesterday.  If I haven’t properly introduced myself, this IS the top three on my worst-things-that-could-happen list.  So all in all, the past week has been… really shitty.

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