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Funky Business

All right.  I admit it.  I have been hiding something dirty from you.  I have been for quite sometime now playing the role of a girl who gushes about red velvet things, woos-and-ahhs over seasonal muffins for weekends and salutes to tacos, sandwiches and raviolis for everyday meals, who even contemplates (but no luck so far) on creating the ultimate fairy-food salads to tackle the hippie crowds.  Don’t get me wrong because I love all that (maybe not the salads…) as much as the next American and who wouldn’t?  But… there’s more to it me and it’s despicable that I’ve been tucking it away in a dark corner to lick off its own shame.  Today I’m going to let my closeted funk-fetish get exposed…

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Slice of Bonci’s

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I assumed that by the time this post is published, the world has crossed into the year 2013.  So happy new year, guys.  I hope that against all odds, fireworks were blocked enjoyed, champagnes were spilled popped, strangers fought kissed, and resolutions dismissed fulfilled.  But truth be told, I am never one to celebrate the fact that another year has eloped with my remaining inventories of collagen, and as far as a new “symbolic reform” goes, I never understand why I have to wait for December.  Who’s got time for that?  The hope of a new beginning must start now if not last minute, so it could get killed before noon the next day.  Last night I said “ENOUGH!”  to my thighs and tonight I have lychee gummies on my night stand.  Efficiency.

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The Way Rome Intended…

EVERYTHING... IMPECCABLY CRAFTED.  NOTHING REFINED.

I opened my eyes and stared into a rustic, antique wooden-ceiling.  It's an unusually early hour for me to wake up to but both the street-washing vehicle just outside the window and my jetlag demanded it.  This was a morning as routine as any.  We woke up, cleaned ourselves and got dressed.  But instead of a solitary morning of me courting my coffee machine, we walked down one flight of antique stone-steps into another world and strolled to the piazza-next-door for a cup of cappuccino with anticipations of company.  People were there as promised, gathering in front of the cafe bar chatting.  We funneled through the cappuccino crowd as you would in a big family getting through the morning in an orderly chaos.  Two cappuccinos, one cornetto.  As usual.

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Nanny-Bribery Icebox Pear Bars

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Tuesday was Lady and Pups’s first X’mas!  And we just got back from a lovely week in Rome to spend the holiday with our kids (I assume that the away-for-days part was all forgiven once they smelled the salami treats in the luggage)…  And yes, we went to Rome.  Oooh stawwp it… but if you must know, it was pretty awesome.  As I sort through digital-piles of photos in order to share that fantastic trip with you, I’m going to let you in on a little secret on how to have care-free, long vacations when you have 3 dog-children to care for – bribing the doggie nanny.

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Salted Duck Yolks Cookies

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Have I raised any concerns yet?  More so, concerns for my husband’s ever-expanding belly (those poor poor pants…).  ANOTHER salted duck egg recipe?  And this time in COOKIES?  AND I thought this is a good time to bring it up just after I drenched this blog in cholesterol and now THEN-SOME?  To be clear, if you were the very honest people who gushed how lucky my husband was for all these foods and whose smiles now start to crinkle… (firmly pointing my finger towards an ambiguous direction) I gave them all to Jason’s colleages who gave them a nice home.  But I can’t expect this level of superior self-restrain from you because quite frankly, this cookie is fantastic.

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Creamy Duck Rillette

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The other night during my thrill-less routine of midnight internet-surfing, I came across an article about the mysterious effect of mind has on physical wellness.  You know, happy people healthy life kind of thing.  (By the way Hello, my name is Mandy and I’m a hypochondriac.  Those who are just here thinking there’d be “better-than-Paris” duck, feel free to skip and scroll right to the bottom…).  So volunteers were gathered and tests were conducted.  In a nut shell, I was diagnosed by the article as the kind who are biologically doomed, incapable of being happy under meditation and will be a sag of meat dripping negativity for the rest of my life, which as far as effect-of-mind-on-health goes isn’t gonna be a long one.  It’s settled.  I will live short, and whimper.

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Doomsday Roasted Eggplants

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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).  …The reported beacon of hope had turned out more to be the beacon of NOPE, and I was punished for it.  Because then came as I previously mentioned here – the ultimate internet doomsday which led to my double emotional-meltdowns on the kitchen floor.  You didn’t think I was gonna spare you that story, did you?  Neeu…

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Wontons for Him

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There are about a hundred activities that are on my list of things to AVOID at ALL COST in Beijing.  Taking a cab is one of them.  I’m from New York, the international training-hub for cab-EQ and I thought I graduated smoothly with only one slip that caught me off-guard somewhere on Christopher Street.  So to say that I have NO tolerance for supposedly my favorite transportation in the world, is saying a lot.  If you think New York cab’s got attitude, how about multiplying that by 10 folds then add these to top the cake:  a) The car is built to be as safe as a tin can.  b) Driver tells you that it’s his second day on the job so that he’s completely CLUELESS on the directions OR how to keep you alive for that matter.  c) A thick stench of body odor permeating throughout and you realized only a short stub of screw is left where the window control used to be.  d) It’s 104 degrees outside but the AC doesn’t work (they never do) PLUS the window STILL doesn’t open and YES of course… odor, while you are being dragged aimlessly around the city in a lovely tin can.  See?

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Tough Crowd Longan Cake

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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… always the brighter side of life if you know what I mean. In all honesty, I’m usually extensively annoyed by such characters whom I call the self-hypnotized with false expectations. But the exception is that I ADORE her because she seems so genuinely living, breathing and walking in her bubbling enthusiasm and positivity 24/7, that even a light-sensitive vamp-downer like me can’t seem to dampen her spirit. How does she do that? She will forever be a mystery of nature to me. But hey, this is my blog and I’m only bringing her up so I can talk about myself.

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Man VS Beef

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* Ingredient update

I have never been a BBQ person unless you can call pastrami or Montreal’s smoked meat “BBQ” (rubs… smoke… low temperature… ?).   Honestly it’s one of those world’s-great-foods categories that falls into my list of things that’s mysteriously popular over largely unfounded reasons, like durian.  I’m very much aware that I’m not the most credited scholar on BBQ for someone who’s never really been to the South, except for New Orleans where we were blinded by other dashing things they do much better with.  On top of that, an one-time appearance to the annual Big Apple BBQ Block Party somewhere around 2004 or 2005… plus a couple of supposedly-happening BBQ joints in the city, pretty much sums up our entire BBQ experience up to date.  And all of which I can comfortably say, wasn’t all that.

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X’mas Blend Coffee Bars

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OK I’m a repeat offender… it seems like we have barely gotten over Thanksgiving (based on numbers on the scale) and I’m AGAIN already talking about the NEXT, EVEN-BIGGER-ER holiday!  What’s wrong with me?  Am I the only one who feels sidetracked… distracted… by establishments on almost every corner in New York and even some in Beijing that I find it difficult to focus?  Because my year’s-biggest-holiday-state-of-mind is not kick-started by the official ending of Thanksgiving.  Or by the emergence of the frightening, steroid-pumped displays of lights and reindeers on neighbor’s front lawn.  Instead in my mind, the X’mas season is announced officially by no other than the worldwide Starbucks and the appearance of their exceedingly adorable X’mas cups!

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