Dairy

almond tofu x 2

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I stare at the blinking cursor on my screen and completely blank out.  My mind is sucked dry from a trip to the veterinarian, and as my 13-year old Dumpling lays in the hospital with a tube down his throat and a three-day-hospital-stay ahead of him, the last thing I can gather my mind to gush about are these monotone desserts.  But let not the frosted land of sugary world be soiled by real-life shit that come our way, because it isn’t the desserts’ fault, no.  The  almond tofu is innocent, and we’re going to talk about them even with my mind absent.

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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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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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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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Fauxnut holes

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There’s nothing more unappetizing to start this conversation by saying that these days when I sit down, my tummy-folds can sort of touch my thighs…  Nothing more unappetizing…  Not even a fart-joke can top it.  I know that.  So instead, I’m going with a different approach to explaining why I came up with these unbelievably, OUT-of-your-MIND-ly delicious “fauxnut” holes on my table without making you subconsciously touching your gutt while reading.

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The Dreamiest of Dreamy Milk Toast

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OH boy, do I have a sob story for this one.  Well, not of me growing up with Hokkaido milk toast of course (If you love bread but don’t know what it is, I feel truly sorry.  It’s the dreamiest loaf of toast you could dream up.).  Those were only fond memories, VERY fond memories  like – me standing in the bakery, staring and chuckling like an idiot at the milk toasts on the racks why because they were also smiling back at me, and couldn’t stop myself from poking them with my fingers – kind of memories.  The sobbing part is how I got to successfully making them in my kitchen, which was a road paved with disappointments, heartbreaks and betrayals (supposedly-trusted recipes out there…how could you?).  Let me just start by saying that on Sep 19th at 10:45 pm, a loaf of bread died of a gruesome death on my kitchen counter.  And at 4:30 am the next day, another one followed.

This is how I killed them and atoned for it.

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Egg Crepes

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I think that more than lunch, or dinner, or snacks and what-nots, people tend to have a more fixated idea on what a breakfast ought to be.  Even though I may have my Asian background to thank for (if I may) a broader window on other-than-American foods, I’m still sometimes a bit… pleasantly awed by what other parts of the world eat for breakfast during my travels (that’s IF I ever wake up for it… but let’s just pretend I do).

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Gelato for Breakfast

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(Chinese versions coming soon)

If anyone holds secret addiction for trashy tabloid magazine, uheh… which of course I’m not talking about myself because I only read Time and Nat Geo, or Economist and… world-hunger-stuff like that with SUBSTANCE… obviously……. Then they’d known what a friend of a friend whose sister’s cousin had told me that apparently this guy Tom Cruise Whatever and his wife ex-wife Katie Something… got divorced with help from his ex-ex-wife Nicole blah blah. So I heard. Again NOT that I care, but apparently it was over some dispute in their insanely fashionable (polka-dots! Just a wild guess…) Suri’s upbringing that I SO do not know the details of, but one of which I vaguely remember being that… he lets her eats ice-cream for dinner?

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Don’t-Do-It-In-Provence Aïoli

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Word on the street has it for some time, that Tony has wrapped his last episode of No Reservations, and filming what is said to be his last season of The layover.  Roughly 1 month ago, the cold-blooded confirmation came in his blog that he is indeed parting with the shows that have come to be a great part of my culinary adventure for the past 9 years.  …Abandonment is what comes to mind.  How dare you leave us with our nights to be spent with Sam B. or Andrew Zimmer’s clotted blood… or fermented ball sacks… or whatever.

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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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