Thai-style Green Pesto

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The demonic cold that has left me muted lingers…  In my thirty-some years of exceedingly LOUD life I was never able to prove that “silence isn’t louder than words” until yesterday when I tried to instruct the mailman on the phone to simply leave the package by the front door.  “…eeev….eeeh… by… eh… oore…”.  “Excuse me, miss?”.  “(regrouping my voice)… Leeeee… ehh by… UUH.. OOOORE…UH!”.  That went on for a few moments but I got the job done…  Even though my head feels like a loaf of stale bread brined in flaccid cola then baked in a 375ºF oven which will eventually turn into an inedible pudding…, a warm message from a D.ear reader gave me a shot of medical positivism and reminded me that, no matter how small and insignificant, I have a recipe to share.

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accidental strawberry pot pies

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I’m mega-watt sick guys.  Really.  STAY AWAY on the other side of the computer and try not to touch the screen I am highly contagious!  This is like the 100+ times I’ve gotten sick since I moved to Beijing because my unevolved Canadianess is no match for China’s uber-advanced virus.  My further disrespect for it led me to go out for a night of harmless chatters over my favorite Sichuan face-torching/throat-choking dishes, which left me MUTED after I came home.  MUUUTED, people.  Paralyzed and powerless even when I saw a lift of a leg at the sofa across the apartment (!!!!…!!!!….!..).  ZIP!  I am Ariel without a fairy tale… well plus… a couple other things but you get my point.

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quitter’s mango sauce cake

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I am a quitter.  Yup, I am.  My life has been a progression of consecutive quitting and frankly I’m surprised I haven’t ended up a… (uh wait… maybe I have…).  And this is not some clever rhetorics people use as a prelude for self-flattery that usually come sneaked in the subtext.  No.  Really.  I major quit.  So the other day when I had a hunch about a cake but it came out just about as palatable as my high-school photos, my natural instinct urged me to stab my hunch in the back and return to my couch with my bag of cheetos and my romance with being a quitter (legs shaking and all).

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almond milk labratory

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I recently got a little nut job on almond milk, ever since Food52 published an almond milk recipe that unleashed my inner obsession to answer the GREATEST mystery of mine.  The mystery being -why does the typical snacking almonds lack the perfume-y aroma in Asian almond milk or almond extract?  Perfume?  Almond?  YES!  Asian almond milk should be perfume-y and aromatic, NOT the bland milk-like substance America has come to know whose only worth is to be a secondary milk-substitute for the lactose-intolerants.  It has true and honorable culinary status here in Asia, valued for its distinct and elegant aroma which frankly mesmerized me since childhood.

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Deathly Scalloped Potato Pizza

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It’s barely spring and the apartment isn’t even warm yet, but these days every root vegetables in my kitchen seems to be in a hurry to grow up.  There’s a pot that my cleaning lady set by the window with green stalks surging so high that I almost thought she was bribing me back (aww, you shouldn’t have…).  No, the bottom lies the shallots I bought a few weeks back.  And there’s those deceiving heads of garlic cloves each hiding inside its white jacket, only to be exposed when smashed open that they were secretly stretching out mini antennas to listen in on my conversations with my doughs (puff now, my little one… hush hush).  Then there’re these baby potatoes.  Oh my potato-babies… how it hurts me that they are in such hurry to grow up and leave my loving nest.

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arugula ricotta greetings

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OK fine, people.  Just… just get it off your chest now.  Come on, go’on.  Just do it.  (….. “BALLS BALLS BALLS BALLS BALLS!!!“….)  Sigh…  Yeah, happy  now?  That’s real mature, guys…  May I get on with business now?  Yeah?  OK, so I want to talk about something amazing we had in Ro…  (“BALLS BALLS BALLS BALLS BAAALLS!!“)…

……  Grow up.

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Vietnam-has-best-Coffee Pudding

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* Information revised.

What’s the one picture you put on facebook that attracted the most attention?  If I ever cared (and who cares…?), it would be that one innocent shot I took in Paris with my two lovely morning-cups of venti Starbucks sitting leisurely on the bridge minding their own business.  Yup.  Not any of these painstakingly-orchestrated-to-appear-unorchestratedly-beautiful shots of my humble creations (Guys guys look!  Sauce is reacting to GRAVITY on my donuts!).  Neither are shots of my unpretentiously handsome dogs keeping it real in their typical unorderly formation (Totally unlike any of the ones on pinterest whom I suspect are wax-models, because mine are totally NATURAL).  And sadly with reasonable doubt, probably not even a bikini shot of myself could surpass (Guy.  Half-nakedness here~  Somebody’s half-NAAAKED!)(… scroll right through it.  Nice).

But.  It was the venti Starbucks in Paris.

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turkish kofta platter

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I fancy myself as a divine dinner party hostess.  I fancy myself as someone who embodies the total coolitude of Guarnaschelli’s professional kitchen-wizardry, set on Martha’s pristine estate filled with ponies, and accompanied with Beyonce’s crowd.  Someone who could present a seemingly-casual-and-approachable but truthfully-intended-to-shock-and-stun dinner display with nothing but an elegant breeze in and out of the kitchen, in a spotless oh-so-nothing white dress that belongs in Diane Kruger’s closet.  I fancy.

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Sweet Mac

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I was actually going to talk about something else with you.  Yeah.  It was a dough.  But I killed it.  So instead, let’s discuss mac’n cheese.  Does anybody object?  Thought so…  What is there to be added about mac’n cheese?  I mean every specimen of cheese or even just cheese-like substances that walk this earth have probably been tested as part of this classic creation.  Single-cheese or in groups.  Fancied-up or down-home.  Baked or loose and runny…!  It’s safe to say this market is too saturated to be enter.

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Nanny Bribery Strawberry Pinkie

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There’s so much technology reform going on here that I’m struggling to pick up the pace a bit…  Between a shiny new Mac we picked up in Hong Kong and a couple of crippling PC waiting to be discharged without honor, I’m ignoring the anxiety-signals sent from my very empty draft-box.  But as what it seems to have become a post-going-away tradition, let’s start with my doggie nanny bribery, shall we?

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Gold on Gold Curry Fried Rice

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Guys I’m not kidding.  You see.  Every time I prepare posts to be published when I am away, they all turn out to be some kind of everything-must-go-fire-sale for the fridge.  Well, an Asian’s fridge at least… to rid of some leftover rice, some ground meat and aromatics that are going to sprout while I was away.  Because pre-departure meal is but a solution, right?  But this is MORE than a solution.  In fact it’s so unbelievably great it may cause you troubles.

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