Meat

the infinite kitchen sink hand pie

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Sometimes I get a little personal when I take a stroll through the expansive, razzle-dazzling and star-crusted cosmic jungle that is food-blogosphere.  I really don’t mean to compare I really don’t.  Wise man once said that… “Go… just do your own things” or something… you know but put in a MUCH more profound and scholarly terms.  But the thing is (and it’s a big thing) that I can’t help but feeling like Gimli the dwarf when self-put besides the others, whom I’d like to call the blogger-elves of the Woodland Realm (birds chirping pls) because I mean really, just REALLY, do people SERIOUSLY live like that?  Prancing with in-season-only, tree-ripen fruits and vegetables galore by the farm-stands and POOF! an effortless display of fairy-salad and angel-tarts on a oh-my-granny-just-left-me-this antique table.  Or picking WILD FLOWERS in pastel tea-dresses surrounded by rainbow and songs and THAT’S what she EATS on weekends!?  For REALZ?  I bet their body parts self-shave, too…

Yeah.  I’m jealous.

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steak’s anatomy

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You people… yes YOU, who can’t stop yapping about how the “grilling season” has begun.  Wooh omg~ let’s break out your Cadillac stainless steel monster-grill and park it so handsomely on your beautiful Martha Stewed deck, under that family peach tree looking out into your Ina-garden and get everybody all Bobby Flayed-up on your marbled rib-eye.  Whatever, yah-dah yah-dah ya-dah…  Yeah, you people.  Please.  Just.  Zip it.  SHUSH!

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creme brulee-d pork belly confit

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Naaah, don’t have to thank me for this.  Glad to do it.  Well… don’t hate me for it either.  If you are finding this angelically beautiful but appallingly offensive all at the same time, I can’t help you.  Just as the curtain of the swimsuit-season is about to go up in all its rudeness and the rim of jello hanging over your jeans is being increasingly disagreeable, I’m putting this on your HD retina-display screen.  I’m bad.  But again, gelatinous pork belly confit under a jacket of perforated crispy skin and a lace of amber-like caramelized sugar…  Pass?…  Nah, you’ll have to go to the beach fat.

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breakfast burger

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Taiwanese like to fancy themselves as major eaters, extraordinaires among the yumness-community.  “Taiwanese food is da bomb!  Huh-huh-hah-hee!”.  “Too spicy for who??!  Huh-huh-hah-hee (…forget it, it’s an inside joke)!!”.  But the truth is, relative to all the many other cultures surrounding us, Taiwanese cuisine is… blaaaaaaaaand…  I don’t know what it was like 40 years ago if somebody wants to make that argument, but perhaps their mentality hasn’t caught up to reality that Taiwanese have grown quietly inside their small and cozy shell over recently years… into independent health-nuts.  WAKE UP and smell the SALT guys!  It isn’t for anti-bacterializing.  It’s to season your food? so it tastes like SOMETHING?  And WHAT THE HELL are you doing to that fat on top of your noodle soup?!  It’s there for a REASON!  Called YUMMO!  I can go on and on…

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power goddess pasta salad

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There’s something you need to know before you sit me down with anyone you carry a sensitive relationship with.  Your competitor/colleague, boss, lover to impress, ex-lover to instill remorse… people who may be concerned about you befriending a crazy bitch (raising my hand), parents, or worse, social bridges.  Because you can be positively certain that I can and WILL almost ALWAYS say the wrongest thing on the wrongest subject before I even get to my appetizer… digging cheerfully into the bread-basket before my antenna picks up the dense air molecule… (…did I say something?).  You should also know that Jason waited the entire three years to unfold me in front of his company event and it’s safe to say that he had seen better days.

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Loser double fennel potstickers

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Being competitive has never been part of my persona.  It isn’t one of the virtues of being a quitter, which I like to use as the reason I was never good at sports and why until this very day, I still cannot technically swim (but I float professionally).   It’s not that I’m not into winning but just that I don’t like to be proven losing.  I’m a walking cliche.  But recently I have been braving the turbulent water for the love of my new favorite website and the recipe contest they throw every two weeks.

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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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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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Dan Dan Your Face Off

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I’m gonna be away for the entire next week…… (walking away from the computer and doing a little touch-down dance…)(wait… wait for it…)(OK I’m back).  Tagging along on her husband’s every single business trip to Hong Kong may not be the idea of a modern woman, but for me it’s as simple as the most basic survival instinct.  I just have to get the hell outta this, this and this whenever I can.

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Kimchi Meatloaf Melt

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Because of this, Jason and I had almost nothing but a bottle of soy sauce to sip on Chinese new year’s eve.  Because of my fixation on having something called a “meatloaf melt” in my archive, I was giddying and bustling in the kitchen the night before NOT on a Chinese feast but an American staple with a Korean twist.  Because nowadays I am more a traffic-seeker than a considerate home-cook, we desperately loitered on the deserted Beijing streets only few hours before new year’s eve dinner, earmuffs and Uggs equipped and all, bracing an empty pot from home meant as a carrier for hot-pot soup which turned out was irresponsibly gone on holiday as well.  Like I said, almost nothing to eat.

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Who Took the “Gua” out of “Bao”?

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Everybody, Happy CNY!  Yes, only 2 months after Thanksgiving and 1 month after Christmas comes our very own Annual-eat-ourselves-senseless Day.  And you think you’ve got difficulty shedding pounds before Valentine’s Day (“Honey, your gut has never looked more sexy!”)?  So I thought… in the spirit of Asian festivity and so on, that it’s good timing to honor our newly uprising social icon, one of our most successful cultural ambassador yet to date (and when I say “our” I mean Taiwanese…) – the Brits have Kate Moss and we have this guy.  The infamous, the notorious, the little bite of heaven brought to fame by Momofuku, (drumroll) the~~ Taiwanese GUA BAO!  ……………………….   Oh wait, that’s right.  You don’t recognize him.  Perhaps because he’s mistakenly known as “the pork bun” or just… “bao”.  Phoooph… can you believe it…

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White Wine Meatball To The Rescue

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Oh dear.  Oh dear.  Gather up guys, because do I have a funny story for ya.  (Am I gonna tell you how my old layout dumped me on a post-it?)… No, I don’t want to talk about that asshole.  (Awww, meatball’s going to tell us how you and him first met!)…  NO!  This isn’t Hallmark either.  If we haven’t been properly introduced, this is more of a place… where my enthusiasm goes to die after too much saturated reality has popped its arteries (see my angry new banner?).  But HEY!  Back to that story…

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