Can you believe it? November is upon us already, and with it, National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) for the bold and National Blog Posting Month (NaBloPoMo) for the rest of us.
Today, November 1, is also Tuesday, so perhaps the time is ripe for a Tackle-It Tuesday assignment (even though it's already 4 pm in my time zone). For today, I guess I'll set up eye doctor appointments. [Hey, the key to succeeding is setting small, easily attainable goals... or so I've been told.]
In other news, I've been trying to get my little family on a healthier diet, and I'm still getting back into the rhythm of being able to create tasty, filling, but still healthful bag lunches. The end result is that I end up starving by mid-afternoon and have insatiable cravings for burgers and fries. Yikes. I need to make time to cook this weekend.
Oh! Speaking of cooking, I have big news! I've made a major purchase that will, I think, vastly improve my quality of life. I am now the proud owner of a new stove, a new refrigerator, and a dishwasher. When I bought my little cottage, it came with some appliances, including a washer and dryer (replaced a few months ago), a stove (30-40 years old, by my best estimation), and a fridge (20-30 years old). There was no dishwasher. I muddled along as best I could, because appliances are expensive, but while the fridge was at least functional, the stove was dying by inches. The oven never really worked, and then one of the four burners quit. I could still cook, but when the second burner went out, I said, "Enough!" I'm a frugal person, but when I'm down to a creaky old fridge, no oven, and only two working range burners, and I'm STILL having to do all of my dishes by hand, I will scrape together cash to bring my kitchen up to the 21st century. The fridge is great, and is rated at the highest level of energy efficiency. My nice new stove has worked well so far, and I've tested the oven with some excellent chocolate chip cookies. And the dishwasher is due to be installed this week (it's a more complicated process in an old kitchen than just plugging in a fridge or stove).
Well, I'm off to call the eye doctor. Cheerio, all!
Showing posts with label Food. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Food. Show all posts
01 November 2011
07 November 2010
Mommy's Little Helper
Kneading the dough for some rolls.
They're never too young to start learning how to cook!
They're never too young to start learning how to cook!
21 September 2010
It's been a while, but I haven't disappeared from the planet.
I'm just checking in to assure folks that I am still alive and kicking, AND my boss had the kindness to bring me rambutans, guavas, and cookies at the beginning of the week, so while things could be better, they are nevertheless much better than they could be. Asian fruit makes things better.
I'm just checking in to assure folks that I am still alive and kicking, AND my boss had the kindness to bring me rambutans, guavas, and cookies at the beginning of the week, so while things could be better, they are nevertheless much better than they could be. Asian fruit makes things better.
18 January 2010
I Want Candy!
Or, It's Like a Party In My Mouth... And Everybody's Throwing Up!
I have, in the past, waxed nostalgic regarding Asian and European sweets and their availability (or lack thereof) in the United States. I miss a lot of those often offbeat treats, and definitely think that the US would be a better place for having more tropical fruit. However, I am definitely convinced that there are a number of confections that will simply never find much of a market here in North America. There's a story to back that up, of course.
A dear friend of mine recently traveled to China, and she brought back an assortment of candy and gave them to me last week. I'm not sure how much she understood about the candy, which is no reflection on her, since all the information on the package was written in Chinese, and while she is fluent in a few languages, it just so happens that Chinese isn't one of them. Her train of thought was basically, "Asian candy... Deb is from Asia and likes candy... I'll give it to her." This is all well and good, for the majority of the candy (coconut milk or tea flavor? yum), but included were some oddities that even I found a trifle offputting.
Meat Candy: I could not get to the website listed on the packaging (the only English writing there, in fact) of this confection, but I was clued into the probability of the content of the candy bag by the picture of an overly perky cow on the front. Meat is a luxury in many parts of Asia, so making a meat-flavored candy makes sense from that perspective, but meat candy is an odd concept to most of the western world (although a lot of people eat jerky, not to mention recent fancy bacon stuffs, which are not far off). While I was somewhat familiar with it, I am very nearly a vegetarian and generally eat white meat if I eat meat at all (mainly at restaurants and other people's houses), so beef candy just did not appeal to me, straight up.
Durian Candy: Durian, nicknamed "the king of fruits", is a love-it-or-hate-it kind of thing for most people. It's a not-that-bad-but-I'm-really-not-fond-of-it thing for me, primarily because (unlike a lot of westerners) I can handle the smell well enough but I'm just not a fan of the taste or texture of the fruit. Durian is popular enough in Southeast Asia that it has its own sort of subculture, and it's not surprising that people make durian-flavored candy, too.
Anyway, in the spirit of generosity (and, I confess, hilarity), I opted to bring the candies in to work and share them. Cookie Boss, in particular, is quite fond of Japanese food and delicacies, so I thought he'd appreciate a chance to relish some other authentic tidbits of Asian cuisine. I gave him the durian candies (there were four in total), and he tried one after his lunch. Never one to mince words, he responded thus: "It was like somebody punched me in the taste buds with brass knuckles made of horribleness. It tasted like what I would imagine the inside of a toilet in South America would taste like." Likewise not one to let a good opportunity go to waste, he then set about tricking other people into trying them. One of the unlucky victims exclaimed, "It's like a mix of phlegm, vomit, and some other bodily fluids." The other declared, "Like a mix of pineapple and rotten onion," which, by the way, is as good a description of durian flavor as I've ever heard. [My opinion, for the record: "I am not a fan of durian, but come on, it still tastes better than beer!"]
Cookie Boss would not even sample the meat candy, but he got someone else to eat one of them, and that person spit it out and proclaimed it to be nasty, best described as tasting rather like bullion. I kind of thought more people could handle the meat candy, seeing as how most folks in the US eat meat all the time, but I guess the concept was still too extreme.
The moral of the story is, of course, that if Cookie Boss is handing out candy, don't eat it!!
I have, in the past, waxed nostalgic regarding Asian and European sweets and their availability (or lack thereof) in the United States. I miss a lot of those often offbeat treats, and definitely think that the US would be a better place for having more tropical fruit. However, I am definitely convinced that there are a number of confections that will simply never find much of a market here in North America. There's a story to back that up, of course.
A dear friend of mine recently traveled to China, and she brought back an assortment of candy and gave them to me last week. I'm not sure how much she understood about the candy, which is no reflection on her, since all the information on the package was written in Chinese, and while she is fluent in a few languages, it just so happens that Chinese isn't one of them. Her train of thought was basically, "Asian candy... Deb is from Asia and likes candy... I'll give it to her." This is all well and good, for the majority of the candy (coconut milk or tea flavor? yum), but included were some oddities that even I found a trifle offputting.
Meat Candy: I could not get to the website listed on the packaging (the only English writing there, in fact) of this confection, but I was clued into the probability of the content of the candy bag by the picture of an overly perky cow on the front. Meat is a luxury in many parts of Asia, so making a meat-flavored candy makes sense from that perspective, but meat candy is an odd concept to most of the western world (although a lot of people eat jerky, not to mention recent fancy bacon stuffs, which are not far off). While I was somewhat familiar with it, I am very nearly a vegetarian and generally eat white meat if I eat meat at all (mainly at restaurants and other people's houses), so beef candy just did not appeal to me, straight up.
Durian Candy: Durian, nicknamed "the king of fruits", is a love-it-or-hate-it kind of thing for most people. It's a not-that-bad-but-I'm-really-not-fond-of-it thing for me, primarily because (unlike a lot of westerners) I can handle the smell well enough but I'm just not a fan of the taste or texture of the fruit. Durian is popular enough in Southeast Asia that it has its own sort of subculture, and it's not surprising that people make durian-flavored candy, too.
Anyway, in the spirit of generosity (and, I confess, hilarity), I opted to bring the candies in to work and share them. Cookie Boss, in particular, is quite fond of Japanese food and delicacies, so I thought he'd appreciate a chance to relish some other authentic tidbits of Asian cuisine. I gave him the durian candies (there were four in total), and he tried one after his lunch. Never one to mince words, he responded thus: "It was like somebody punched me in the taste buds with brass knuckles made of horribleness. It tasted like what I would imagine the inside of a toilet in South America would taste like." Likewise not one to let a good opportunity go to waste, he then set about tricking other people into trying them. One of the unlucky victims exclaimed, "It's like a mix of phlegm, vomit, and some other bodily fluids." The other declared, "Like a mix of pineapple and rotten onion," which, by the way, is as good a description of durian flavor as I've ever heard. [My opinion, for the record: "I am not a fan of durian, but come on, it still tastes better than beer!"]
Cookie Boss would not even sample the meat candy, but he got someone else to eat one of them, and that person spit it out and proclaimed it to be nasty, best described as tasting rather like bullion. I kind of thought more people could handle the meat candy, seeing as how most folks in the US eat meat all the time, but I guess the concept was still too extreme.
The moral of the story is, of course, that if Cookie Boss is handing out candy, don't eat it!!
02 December 2009
Words of Wisdom
Eating leftover pumpkin cheesecake TOTALLY COUNTS as doing chores. It is cleaning out the fridge.
Virtue is her own reward.
Virtue is her own reward.
03 November 2009
Candy
In the wake of Halloween, there are thousands of parents attempting to dispose of thousands of pounds of leftover candy. We have some here at work, right this minute, and in my opinion, it never hurts anyone to have the occasional sugar high in the office. But one unforeseen side effect of this year's post-Halloween sugarfest is the triggering of another memory, this one primarily gustatory.
In the US, there is a popular candy called Smarties. I do not care for them. They taste like sweetened schoolroom chalk.
US Smarties are a huge disappointment because in Europe and Asia, there is another kind of Smarties, and these are a Nestle version of M&Ms: chocolate candies with a hard coloured shell. Infinitely preferable.
I have occasionally wondered, but with no satisfactory answer: Why is there such a great divide between confections available in the USA and those in other parts of the world (including Canada, just to the north)?
Nutella is now available stateside, but whither my Pocket Coffee?
My Silver Queen bars?
My kue lapis?
My es cendol?
People in the US have so much, and yet... so little.
In the US, there is a popular candy called Smarties. I do not care for them. They taste like sweetened schoolroom chalk.
US Smarties are a huge disappointment because in Europe and Asia, there is another kind of Smarties, and these are a Nestle version of M&Ms: chocolate candies with a hard coloured shell. Infinitely preferable.
I have occasionally wondered, but with no satisfactory answer: Why is there such a great divide between confections available in the USA and those in other parts of the world (including Canada, just to the north)?
Nutella is now available stateside, but whither my Pocket Coffee?
My Silver Queen bars?
My kue lapis?
My es cendol?
People in the US have so much, and yet... so little.
22 August 2009
The Great Cookie Thief
Or, I Heart My Boss, Part the Second
On Thursday last, there was some kind of meeting (hereafter referred to as "the meeting") at work, with attendant VIPs from the company's main facility in Connecticut. I was not invited to the meeting, which was fine with me, since I had no interest in sitting around in a freezing conference room listening to people yammer on about goodness knows what. I discovered that the VIPs warranted a catered lunch. Still no interest on my part, particularly as the catering was done by Quiznos (Note 1: Bleh. Note 2: Shouldn't there be an apostrophe in that name?), until I saw that they had brought along some very large COOKIES. I made up my mind, then and there, that even though I technically was not allowed to partake of the catered lunch, being not VIP enough to go to the meeting, I was going to get my hands on a cookie!
My boss, whom you have already met, so to speak, was in fact an invited attendee of the meeting, and so had the all-important right to at least one cookie. He happened to wander into the kitchen area while I was there. Aha! Target acquired. Scene set.
Me: [trying to look innocent] So, how many people are there in the meeting?
Him: [is no fool] Fewer people than there are cookies.
Drat! He must have noticed me eyeing them with ill-concealed lust.
Me: [giving up on the "innocent" ploy] You'll get me a cookie just in case, though, right?
Him: [smirks in amusement as he walks away]
Hmm. No good so far. Undeterred in my pursuit of cookies, I send him a quick e-mail: "You don't want your cookie, right?"
Several minutes later, he comes to my cubicle. "There are plenty of cookies. You should be fine."
"Should be isn't the same as absolutely will be." He sighs and shakes his head, and turns to go. "Oh, come on, please!" I beg. I have no shame when it comes to obtaining cookies, as you can see.
"Oh, I'll get you a cookie." He is either really irritated or just thinks the whole thing is funny.
True to his word, he comes back a bit later and presents me with a CHOCOLATE CHUNK COOKIE. I am transported to realms of bliss. A few minutes later, I send him another e-mail, vis: "It would be awesome if I could get TWO cookies. Can I make it my stretch goal?"
Then, a few minutes after that, the manager of the electrical group comes to my cubicle and hands me a CINNAMON SUGAR COOKIE. He had heard me asking for a cookie, and he has a medical reason why he couldn't eat his, so he brought it over for me. Sweetness!! In every sense of the word. When I next see my boss, I wear a smirk myself, and announce, "I achieved my stretch goal."
And then, and then, all the VIPs finished eating, and there were still cookies left, so all of us humble peons were given permission to glean from the corners of the fields, to make an entirely relevant biblical allusion. And so I got a THIRD cookie, this one a CHOCOLATE CHOCOLATE CHUNK COOKIE.
I send off yet another e-mail: "THREE cookies and counting!" Quick as a flash, he shoots back, "Now you're a collector!"
Yes, I collect cookies. In my mouth.
On Thursday last, there was some kind of meeting (hereafter referred to as "the meeting") at work, with attendant VIPs from the company's main facility in Connecticut. I was not invited to the meeting, which was fine with me, since I had no interest in sitting around in a freezing conference room listening to people yammer on about goodness knows what. I discovered that the VIPs warranted a catered lunch. Still no interest on my part, particularly as the catering was done by Quiznos (Note 1: Bleh. Note 2: Shouldn't there be an apostrophe in that name?), until I saw that they had brought along some very large COOKIES. I made up my mind, then and there, that even though I technically was not allowed to partake of the catered lunch, being not VIP enough to go to the meeting, I was going to get my hands on a cookie!
My boss, whom you have already met, so to speak, was in fact an invited attendee of the meeting, and so had the all-important right to at least one cookie. He happened to wander into the kitchen area while I was there. Aha! Target acquired. Scene set.
Me: [trying to look innocent] So, how many people are there in the meeting?
Him: [is no fool] Fewer people than there are cookies.
Drat! He must have noticed me eyeing them with ill-concealed lust.
Me: [giving up on the "innocent" ploy] You'll get me a cookie just in case, though, right?
Him: [smirks in amusement as he walks away]
Hmm. No good so far. Undeterred in my pursuit of cookies, I send him a quick e-mail: "You don't want your cookie, right?"
Several minutes later, he comes to my cubicle. "There are plenty of cookies. You should be fine."
"Should be isn't the same as absolutely will be." He sighs and shakes his head, and turns to go. "Oh, come on, please!" I beg. I have no shame when it comes to obtaining cookies, as you can see.
"Oh, I'll get you a cookie." He is either really irritated or just thinks the whole thing is funny.
True to his word, he comes back a bit later and presents me with a CHOCOLATE CHUNK COOKIE. I am transported to realms of bliss. A few minutes later, I send him another e-mail, vis: "It would be awesome if I could get TWO cookies. Can I make it my stretch goal?"
Then, a few minutes after that, the manager of the electrical group comes to my cubicle and hands me a CINNAMON SUGAR COOKIE. He had heard me asking for a cookie, and he has a medical reason why he couldn't eat his, so he brought it over for me. Sweetness!! In every sense of the word. When I next see my boss, I wear a smirk myself, and announce, "I achieved my stretch goal."
And then, and then, all the VIPs finished eating, and there were still cookies left, so all of us humble peons were given permission to glean from the corners of the fields, to make an entirely relevant biblical allusion. And so I got a THIRD cookie, this one a CHOCOLATE CHOCOLATE CHUNK COOKIE.
I send off yet another e-mail: "THREE cookies and counting!" Quick as a flash, he shoots back, "Now you're a collector!"
Yes, I collect cookies. In my mouth.
17 August 2009
I Heart My Boss
This is a tale of love. True love, in fact. The transcendent love between a girl and her tropical fruit. By my best estimation, fortunate readers, this is the first time such a love has been chronicled and revealed to the world at large.
A few weeks ago, my manager at work described to me his family's planned trip to a very large and awe-inspiring grocery store by the name of Jungle Jim’s. [He occasionally feels the need to tell me these kinds of things, for reasons known entirely to himself.] He mentioned that the store was known for its large selection of produce, including tropical fruit. Any Asian MK knows that the only proper response to such a revelation is: “OMG, DO THEY HAVE RAMBUTANS?!?!” Also acceptable: “OMG, DO THEY HAVE GUAVAS?!” Or “OMG, DO THEY HAVE JAMBU AIR?!” [“OMG, DO THEY HAVE DURIAN?!”, while not, strictly speaking, incorrect, is of a dubious nature. If that is your go-to reaction, you and I may be friends till death parts us, but we will never be roommates. I’m just sayin’.]
At any rate, my manager was unfamiliar with the rambutan, so I explained it to him, described it, and even drew one on my whiteboard. He is reasonably astute, and asked, "So, does the name mean something about it being all hairy?" Yes. Yes, it does. I also tried to explain durian, but he wasn't too sure about that one. As I said, he's astute.
Several days passed, and I actually completely forgot about the conversation. So imagine my surprise when he came into my cubicle this morning and, with a giant grin, dropped a bag containing five rambutans onto my desk! O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay! I was extremely happy and excited, to say the least. I made him try one, as he had claimed that he didn't eat any before because he didn't know how they were to be eaten (Seriously? It's not rocket science.). He also insisted that while he saw guavas there, he didn't dare get some, because he couldn't know to pick the appropriate level of ripeness (A valid point; I'm picky about my guavas.). No matter: I was duly impressed by his intrepidity in getting rambutans at all.
I love my tropical fruit, and I'm so grateful to my (nameless) boss for remembering me and braving the mysteries of the international produce section!
The immortal Bard relates to us this truism: "That which we call a rose, By any other name would smell as sweet". It is by no means clear to me, however, that a rambutan by any other name would be quite as wonderful.
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