OYSTER GUMBO POT PIE
INSTEAD OF BEING SERVED WITH RICE, THIS FOOLPROOF AND INTENSE OYSTER GUMBO IS BAKED… BUBBLING UNDERNEATH A DRAPERY OF FLAKEY PIE-CRUST MADE WITH COLD APPLE JUICE
INSTEAD OF BEING SERVED WITH RICE, THIS FOOLPROOF AND INTENSE OYSTER GUMBO IS BAKED… BUBBLING UNDERNEATH A DRAPERY OF FLAKEY PIE-CRUST MADE WITH COLD APPLE JUICE
Had I anticipated enough courage to pick up the topic of peach and mascarpone again this summer, I probably wouldn’t have cashed that sob-story so early. After that horrendous disaster of a pie, if that pile of slumpy menace could still be called that…, I was determined to quit peach forever, total rehab. After all, they quit me first. You see, that’s the other side of the story. Years ago, peaches decided to join the alliance of fruits that were waging an allergy campaign against me by inducing itchy mouth every time I tried to reach out a friendly lick. As I was addicted to rejection, every summer since was a struggling anniversary of our separation. Even after more than a decade… that day when I picked them out of the mascarpone-puddle-of-death and ate them, the peaches still made damn well sure that I was reminded. I saved them from the fate of the eternal dumpster and they repaid me with crawly esophagus… lil fuckers.
Continue ReadingI’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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