Lifegems

This is a re-post from another blog.  Too good not to share again.

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4:  In the event that, you know, unfortunate, natural-life events take a beloved one from you too soon, don’t worry, you can turn that loved one into a diamond to keep FOREVER. I know you’re intrigued.
http://www.lifegem.com/

Okay, or you could take a piece from a living individual and memorialize it forever. Not as grossly and creepily awesome.  

NO, I would never do this.

1:  I’m totally gonna steal some of your hair next time I see you! Ha!

4:  hahah…I guess I feel honored.

5:  What color would you like for us to make you when your time has come, 4?  The red heart is very lovely.

5:  I told mom about this and told her I would turn her into a diamond and when I show my children I will say “this was your grandmother” (In an old, withered voice, of course.)

2:  More importantly, would you mind if your ashes were split up in order to make earrings? Or would you prefer that you stay together as much as possible?   Come on earrings! Demanding that you stay in one piece postmortem is a little selfish, don’t you think?

1:  I don’t have strong opinions on whether or not my ashes are split up, but I do have a strong preference on color. I would like to be the light blue color. None of the showy blues, greens, purples or other such nonsenses. Keep it classy, people.

Studies in flattery

This is perhaps my favorite part of Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen.  I recently heard it again and couldn’t help putting it on here.

Mr. Bennet:  ’…it is happy for you that you possess the talent of flattering with delicacy.  May I ask whether these pleasing attentions proceed from the impulse of the moment, or are the result of previous study?’

Mr. Collins:  ’They arise chiefly from what is passing at the time, and though I sometimes amuse myself with suggesting and arranging such little elegant compliments as may be adapted to ordinary occasions, I always wish to give them as unstudied an air as possible.’

My favorite piano bar

The pictures below are from my favorite little hangout spot in GZ.  Cheap beer, nightly live music and comfortable couches and homey chairs and lighting.  What more could you need on a Friday night?

Who knew Pepé Le Pew was French?

The past few days have got me thinking about cultural differences.  I’ll always believe that people are people everywhere, but the little differences tickle or baffle me at times.  Here are a few reflections.

Last night, I went out with a few French friends.  The topic of stereotypes came up as it inevitably does when young intelligent men and women from different parts of the world start talking and drinking at the same time.  Somehow the character of Pepé Le Pew from Looney Tunes came up, and I was amazed to find out that none of them know that he is supposed to be French.  They’d grown up watching the show in French, so all of the characters spoke French.  They didn’t think that any of the characters represented nationalities, and this revelation appalled them all.  In their mock outrage, they even suggested encouraging the French government to make a statement of severe disapproval.

The entire conversation revealed some interesting stereotypes.  These representatives of French culture (at least regarding my generation), when asked what most French people think of American women, said that we’re seen as promiscuous (the same goes for men, with the added characteristic of being overly-macho in an unintelligent way).  The Americans in the conversation (including myself) shared that we’ve grown up hearing that French women never shave and that French men are very romantic (but also overly forward and often womanizing) and that all French people in general are arrogant.  This revelation was also amusing to my French comrades because they think that Italian men are the womanizing bunch among Europeans and that French men don’t deserve being characterized as romantic because they’re too lazy.

Another cultural exchange I have experienced of late has been a little less jovial.  Having recently traveled home for about 3 weeks (and to Thailand for a week before that, where I drank plenty of Thai beer and ate food so good I almost can’t bear to think about it), I’ve eaten a LOT of good food over the past few months.  Thus, upon returning to China, I was evidently noticeably plumper (though not by my roommate – bless his heart, he’s such a sweetie with those little white lies).  Almost every one of my Chinese colleagues and students, upon seeing me for the first time in over a month, remarked that I looked rested, happy, and fatter than usual.  I replied to their comments a bit coldly the first few times, but I eventually noticed the happy, sugary tones with which this compliment was delivered each time.  Finally, I asked a group of my students, all women, what a comment like that usually connotes, and they say that this kind of exchange between women is always friendly and even a compliment at times.

It’s fascinating to me that such a vast difference in reactions to such a comment exists between cultures.  I would say that Americans are much more obsessed with image and perceived societal expectations regarding weight than the Chinese, but that’s simply not true.  Chinese women are typically very concerned with image, especially looking wealthy and/or trendy.  So many Chinese women are naturally small and thin, yet great concern over weight (especially by the smaller percentage of Chinese women that happen to be above the size 4) still exists and affects women psychologically.  However, being called a little fatter than usual by an acquaintance doesn’t seem to make them want to strangle someone.

And the electric hotplate goes to…

This is the story of how I found myself, at about 10 o’clock at night, walking home over the Guangzhou Da Dao bridge dressed in high heels, a skirt and dress shirt, and toting this eclectic bunch of things: an electric hotplate, a pair of Louis Vuitton g’s (probably knock-offs), and a gift package of spa-quality shampoo and body wash (I love those packages that don’t include as much conditioner as shampoo because goodness knows I don’t need any more conditioner with this short ‘do I’ve been sporting these days).

Let’s backtrack about 5 hours.  A friend of mine had invited me to a traditional Cantonese after-moon-festival dinner that her father (a former vice-mayor of Guangzhou and retired national team badminton coach) was attending.  It was also a special function because the most famous traditional Chinese landscape and calligraphy artists in the city or province (I’m not really sure which) were hosting the dinner.  So, after a semi-typical workday, I was picked up, with my friend, in the private car of her father’s friend, one of his former players (and evidently, last year’s “Mr. Guangzhou” – assuming that means he’s a local celebrity and all-around stud).  The ride across the city was adventurous both because I so rarely ride in a private sedan these days (although I put in my fair share of van time at my previous job), especially one so plush, and because Mr. GZ was quite a chaotic speed-demon.

We arrived at a very traditional, famous dim sum restaurant after we picked up another man, an elderly gent whom my friend called Mr. Dale.  Mr. Dale lives in San Francisco and imports wine from Germany to the U.S. and China.  I thought immediately that it would be nice to have another person to speak English to besides my friend, and Mr. Dale, with his zany, colorful worldview, didn’t disappoint.  The restaurant we went to was, coincidently, one I’d been to before, for a welcome luncheon with my former company.  It’s quite old and full of traditional decoration inside, including glass windows with hand-chisled designs of flowers and things, a wall of embroidery, and a wall of pictures from decades ago depicting all the momentous events that took place there, like contract signings and even a visit from a former German chancellor and Henry Kissenger.

When we got there, the artists were painting calligraphy and landscape scenes on tables all across the front of the room.  After a while, this slowly ended, and a host stood up and said a bunch of welcoming things and then ordered that raffle tickets be passed around.  Well, they were more like door prize numbers than raffle tickets.  The prizes were announced, and the first few lucky numbers drawn.  The first recipients got some of the new paintings.  Then a toast and the meal began.

As I remember from the first time I went there, the dim sum didn’t disspoint.  By now used to many of the traditional Cantonese dishes, I still managed to try a few new things, like the aforementioned duck feet.  But, I must admit that unlike in the psat, I didn’t let my desire to be open-minded trump my embarrassment at the clumsy and awkward task of gnawing on a giant bird foot; I gave up after the first small taste, but not before I admitted to myself and to the entire expectant table watching me that it tasted good (it’s no lie).  I also had some delicious shrimp dumplings, and too many other dishes to describe (there must have been 12).  The table I sat at had several badminton players, along with me, my friend, Mr. Dale, and a woman I know very little about except for what my friend told me (that she lived in France for over 20 years, where she made a fortune exporting wine to China, and that her ivory-looking bracelet cost around 600,000 RMB (that’s about 100,000 USD).

Throughout the dinner, the always-present Chinese toasting occurred as usual.  The host toasted the room.  Table members toasted each other.  The guests of honor, including my friend’s father and the artists, all of whom sat at a table in the front, made the rounds, toasting every single table individually.  During this time, I made a major faux paus, as I toasted the more famous artist there with the tip of my glass higher than his (here, it’s a sign of respect to put the tip of your glass lower than the person you’re toasting if you respect them, they are your elder, or they hold a higher position in society or at work than you do.  More raffle prizes happened steadily throughout the night; I think that out of about 200-300 people present, about 2/3 of them received presents.  After the first round of artwork, large items like cell phones and my electric cooker were given out (yes, I was one of the big winners, and my ridiculous, exuberant “thank you!” in response to being given a microphone and asked a question in Cantonese – while on stage on front of a few hundred people – turned me beet red).  Then, about 100 pairs of LV sunglasses made the door prize agenda, followed by the spa goodies and more artwork.  I wished so badly for some artwork, but unfortunately, I got stuck with just about every other kind of prize instead.

Finally, the dinner ended and we left, dropping of Mr. Dale on the way.  I had to walk over the GZ Da Dao bridge due to where I was dropped off by maniac-driver Mr. GZ, and I laughed all the way home over the absolute randomness of yet another one of my colorful Chinese experiences.

Click on the pictures below to see descriptions.

Across the market and through the hood…

Today was quite a typical day for me as an ESL teacher in China.  After promising a friend that I would help her by substitute-teaching a new class she has set up at a school, I woke up early and left the apartment by 8 a.m.  My only instructions on the job were to go to a certain subway stop in the city and stand around and look foreign.  Eventually, a Chinese person would come up and find me and lead me to the school.

That’s exactly what happened.  I woke up, headed to the subway stop and stood around looking confused.  Luckily, it’s not a terribly crowded stop, and it’s got only 2 exits, both near each other.  After a while, a smallish old Chinese lady walked up to me and said “hello?” with huge eyes and a quizzical look.  ”Yes?” I asked.  ”You…Robin?” she said, as if she’d rehearsed the name 30 times.  ”Mmm-hmm.”  And with that, she took me off.

That’s when the adventure began.  Not typically good with directions, I’ve been learning fast as a single woman living in this Chinese megalopolis.  Today was a test of all my observation skills.  We snaked our way down a main street, through a narrow residential alley, and across a small plaza with about 50 elderly Chinese men and women doing an exercise dance routine to poppy Chinese music.  Another 2 quick turns, and we entered a massive wet market.  Halves of hogs next to butchered fish and frogs and turtles and snakes and scorpions filled my nostrils and eyes.  Piles of beautiful fruits and veggies spilled over onto bags of rice and beans.  I couldn’t help thinking of the substances that my shoes were absorbing as I tried to keep from slipping on the slick floor that was covered in water from attempts at cleaning by the various vendors, dirt, wrappers and plastic bags, and a slight, gummy sheen of animal blood and other juices.

Quickly keeping up with the speed-demon of a little lady I was following, I had to concentrate to keep from running into busy grocery buyers and tripping over myself as I did double-take after double-take over all the strange sights I was absorbing the the fast 3 minutes we spent in the market.  Just as suddenly as we popped in, we popped out, back into the brilliant sunlight, and left the mad cacophony of the market behind us.  After we crossed another major street, one more neighborhood alley led us back around to a small kindergarten where I began the second part of my adventure:  figuring out how to teach babies songs in English.

The first class was nerve-wrecking.  I had 30 minutes with true kindergarten students (about 20 of them) to teach a simple song in English.  It went something like this:

Sitting on the carpet, one, two, three.

Sitting on the carpet, you and me.

Bunny stand up.  Yeah!  Bunny sit down.  Oh!

Bunny is dancing all around.

Somehow, I figured out how to make that last a whole fifteen minutes, and then we drew bunnies.  To my embarrassment, with the Chinese teachers helpfully assisting me, I realized very quickly that half of these children weren’t old enough to draw bunnies.  Luckily, enough adult hands were free to help them all form the arms, legs and bodies.  None of them cried, and the 30 minutes slowly, eventually came to a close.  I sighed in relief and moved on to the next class.

The kids seemed to shrink as we went on.  During two 20-minute classes, I taught pre-school-aged children (about 15 in each bunch) to sing this song:

Little bee, little bee, round, round, round.

Little bee, little bee, sound, sound, sound.

Bzzzzzzzz!

Oh my goodness.  That was excruciating.  The children were too young to understand most of what I said, except when I danced around like a bee and said “Bzzzzz!”  Not one to whom kinder-theatrics comes easily, I counted the minutes until each class was over, and sighed in relief after each one when none of the children had begun crying or had any traumatic accidents, like peeing all over the place.

Then, I moved on to the babies.  The only thing I was to teach them was “Hello!” while waving.  And, after a while, the words “bunny” and “bear” and to put them together by saying “Hello! bunny” and “Hello! bear.”  That’s it.  Fifteen minutes of trying to get children about 2-3 years old say “hello” and wave their hands at the same time was surprisingly un-fruitful (though very endearing).  In the end, only 4-5 to of them got it, even though I probably said “hello” in every voice imaginable and every speed imaginable.  Only one of them broke out in a tantrum, and none peed (though I think they all wear diapers still at that age).

Then, I was allowed to leave.  I had made it through an early, random morning teaching babies as a favor to a friend.  I happily took my pay and then embarked on my next adventure of the day:  figuring out how the hell I was going to make it back to the subway station by remembering the tedious, semi-treacherous  path I had taken before.  I will return with my camera soon to take pictures; the scenes and surroundings were too colorful not to.  I only wish I could record smells as well!

Sardine day

The other day I went shopping on a holiday (September 12th was the Moon Festival this year) and made the mistake of entering a mall.  After a few minutes in a department store, I literally had to run outside to be able to draw in a full deep breath.  I wish the picture below represented the full experience, but your imagination and trust in the truthfulness of my exaggeration will have to fill in the rest of the details.

“A valiant effort”

That’s what my friend, T, named the items in the photo below.  Strategically-placed fruits and veggies amplify the glory that results when a new-found excitement for learning to cook meets a newly-found wet market just a stone’s throw from a kitchen with actual space and amenities (I will soon post pictures of my outrageously small kitchen to show people what I personally have to work with in this country that doesn’t value kitchen space).

Waaaayyyy to go, T!  I’m extremely proud.

Pierism #6

This picture doesn’t really need an explanation, except to say that when all else fails, then you’ve just got to get creative about stopping bugs from getting into your home.

Not your everyday KTV experience

I wrote the following story a few months ago.  For those of you unfamiliar, a KTV is a karaoke bar; it’s a very popular pastime in China.

It’s late on an unusual Friday night – unusual because I participated in a sort-of social experiment tonight.  On a spontaneous whim, I decided to accept an invitation to KTV given by one of my students, Mr. Y – an invitation I’d spent all day making up excuses to get out of.  At the end of the night, I remember him jovially shouting: “No English name!” to his cousin, a young woman who was also present at KTV, just before he put me in a taxi to send me home.  He’s an interesting man: a joker who’s very aware of his disquieting nature (he’s also a small-time celebrity in this city).  Hanging out with rich Chinese people is bewildering and downright crazy sometimes, and tonight was no exception.

I was the only foreigner present among a room full of professional football (and by that I mean soccer, my fellow Americans) players (Mr. Y is a retired player), their girlfriends and girl friends, and a very odd-looking, wacky as all-get-out middle-aged Chinese woman with a blondish curly fro and unusually curvy hips.  She was also drunk from the second I laid eyes on her.  Most of the people there couldn’t speak English.  A few of the women could, and one or two of the players on the team could speak a little.  They all took turns playing dice games with and toasting me.  They made a bit of a game out of seeing who could persuade me to kampei (when someone toasts you and says “kampei,” it’s rude not to down the contents of your glass).  They were all (loudly) vocally impressed when one of them could have a broken conversation with me; a successful attempt usually ended in the room breaking out in cheers and applause, and failed attempts garnered hilarious drunken heckling.  I was a downright novelty.

I spent most of the evening playing dice games and talking to K (another one of my students who is in Mr. Y’s class) and observing the fact that Mr. Y sang almost every one of the Chinese songs that played throughout the evening (which was all but 4 songs: 3 English and 1 German).  I finally believed him; in class, he had told his skeptical teacher several times that his favorite hobby was singing, and now I’m not really sure why I didn’t believe him save for a general impression that it didn’t match his personality much.

After Kelly left, the crazy lady sat next to me – or on me basically – and talked to me with terrible English…and slightly bad breath.  After a half-hour of this, Mr. Y finally rescued me from a hilariously awkward situation:  kooky fro-lady was talking to me constantly in one ear and a teammate of Mr. Y’s with crooked teeth and an uber-stylish haircut was talking into the other ear.  I don’t know his name, but I feel like I should because he kept telling me that “he loved me” (I’m pretty sure they were the only English words he knew) and then grinning like a silly fool when he realized that he’d spoken some English and been understood.  Although, no amount of my replying “thank you so much!” would get him to shut up.

I sang a total of 3 songs.  Two were English songs that Mr. Y put on the screen, demanding that I sing them with him as duets by the way, he was so proud to have his English teacher there, especially because most of his friends didn’t believe he was taking classes until I confirmed that he was); however, I didn’t know them at all because they were directly translated from Chinese songs.  Chinese people sure know those songs, though; each time that room was roaring as everyone who couldn’t hold a conversation in English showcased their ability to at least sing it!

Finally, I gave up on Mr. Y’s songs and suggested he sing one I pick out.  Foolishly, I chose Adele’s “Rolling in the Deep” that – I’ll admit it world – I’ve memorized thoroughly.  I say foolish because it’s too fast for someone who’s never heard it to sing correctly the first time, especially a low-intermediate English student.  My little performance – more appropriately, solo – was actually the highlight of my evening.  The people there made me stand in the front of the room.  For about a minute in the middle of the song, the words on the prompt screen went out, and I sang every word without being a bit off-tempo (though I was unfortunately terribly out of tune).  The surprised and pleased room of then-mostly men (by then more than half of the people had gone, including most of the women) were jumping up and down, clapping, cheering, and stomping to the beat – sometimes all four at once.  I sat down, beet-red and teetering towards embarrassment until I realized how happy everyone in the room seemed to be from witnessing the performance.  In the end, I decided to just be flattered and be done with it.

It’s time’s like these when I shake my head and think: “Only in China.”  For people here, though, it was just another crazy night at the KTV.

Impressions of Texas on my way out of Texas

Going down a single-lane country highway at 70 miles per hour in the back of my dad’s VW Jetta, I’m listening to one end of phone conversation discussing oil rig issues that is delivered in thick Texan dialect and laced with field-specific jargon, making it almost unintelligible to my ears.  This lonely highway seems bleakly optimistic in the bright Texas sun.

The landscape looks scared, but that’s probably only because I know it should be – we are in Bastrop County on detour due to raging wildfires in the area (a serious problem all over South-central and Southwest U.S. right now).  This country highway is a fine substitute to Highway 71, which I’ve been on too many times throughout my adult life to really appreciate anymore.  Paige, Texas, looks asleep.  What little movement I see not on the highway looks like the product of a slow, lazy, figurative yawn.

I am in love with the landscape of central Texas.  I had no idea how much I’ve missed it.  Massive trees and briars and foliage everywhere, everywhere seem older these days.  The entire land aged while I was gone, not just my loved ones.  It’s always seemed old, with its dead fauna mixed in with its flora of every hue of green and brown.  But now the browns have also taken over the ground, which has been given up on by grass, even the sturdier, wilder kinds.  The greens are being invaded by grays, and the wide-spread effects of the worst drought ever to blight Texas make the landscape look like a middle-aged man’s salt-and-pepper beard that’s still somehow lying about it’s true age.  It looks like a decade of stress and life have wrecked havoc on this parched earth rather than only a year-long drought.

Age is such a silent killer in all ways, but drought is worse.  The volatile silence of the high-speed train of thirst and time that this landscape has somehow hitched onto is killing it in a very visible way.

talk about unintended consequences…

The above title and the below words are my sister’s, from her blog cranktheory, which is absolutely hilarious.  The post regards this disturbing article from the New York Times about sperm donation (more specifically, the offspring that sperm donation helps produce).  I am re-posting it because the entry unfortunately doesn’t have an individual URL.  Check out her blog, anyway.

Pretty soon, the shit’s gonna hit the fan.  Excuse my language, but I. Be. Serious.

More than one person is going to accidently have a baby with her half brother and people everywhere are going to be all like, “Oh crap, whaat have we done?”

I think this gives me pretty good support for having a child the natural way, you know, if that time ever comes. Which, of course, would be adoption, since the whole feeling-like-a-walrus-for-nine(plus)-months thing doesn’t really sit with me at the moment. Just kidding (sincere about the walrus part, though).

But seriously, hypothetical college male out there in the blogosphere, those fifty dollars that you get from the sperm bank won’t seem so “Awesome! Beer Money!” twenty years later when you have fifty biological offspring.

—-

Oh my goodness! What if someone adopted a child who was created via sperm donation? Talk about some serious psychological issues.

Bluugh.

Love me some David Sedaris

As the title indicates, I’m a huge fan.  I just stumbled across this excellent quote on a web site dedicated to his books:

We were not a a hugging people.  In terms of emotional comfort it was our belief that no amount of physical contact could match the healing powers of a well made cocktail.

Yes and yes.  That’s from Naked.

Unanswerable question of the universe

Every now and then, a moment happens when I stumble across one of those unanswerable questions of the universe.  Sometimes, they leave me in awe, and I mentally bow down in appreciation to the awesome unanswerableness of the question, and internally tip my figurative hat to the fact that those questions exist to begin with.  I actually take solace in the fact that some questions don’t have answers.  Sometimes, those questions leave me not in awe, but baffled, and I am confused at their existence, but merely shrug my shoulders and move on.  And sometimes, though much less often, I feel something akin to anger at this confusion.

I’ve stumbled upon one of those questions again, and while I have nothing near anger over my confusion, I’ll readily admit that for me, this one’s real head-scratcher.  I have absolutely nothing near an answer to this question, and I think I’ll be baffled by it for the rest of my existence.  I’m sure by this point you’re demanding: Spit out the damned question, already!  Well, here it is:

Why is it that so many interesting, intelligent, creative people (but especially men) in my life love R. Kelly?

No, really.  And notice that I didn’t say like.  I know some people who are on the cutting edge when it comes to ideas about fitness and simple living.  I know some people who can cut a rug and set a table better than anyone I know.  I know some people who can draw and create music and sing in a way that inspires you and leaves you wishing you could spend all day witnessing their creations.  All of these people are intelligent.  All of these people make me feel like my own abilities and characteristics are insignificant in comparison at times.  Yet, all of them not only like, but actually love the music of R. Kelly.

I admit that a few of his tunes are catchy.  I also admit that I enjoyed the irony of “Trapped in the Closet” as much as most avid fans.  But really, folks…really?  I get that he has appeal, even if I don’t always understand it.  But, I’ll never understand the correlation between his music and the people in my life who I personally believe define awesomeness itself.

UPDATE:  Check out this post from my sister’s tumblr in response to my daring to write about R. Kelly.

Tags: R. Kelly

Prime grass-fed beef

As some of you may already know, there’s absolutely no comparison between grass-fed beef and the usual stuff you buy in the supermarket.  Humanitarian and environmental factors aside (and there are plenty to consider), from a pure culinary standpoint, the difference in taste is phenomenal.

If you live in the Austin area or have access to it, check out ATX MeatShare, a business in Austin, Texas, started by my friend, Benjamin Palmer.

Here’s a little lingo from the web site.

What is ATX Meatshare?

ATX meatshare facilitates group purchases of grass-fed, humanely raised animals from central Texas for residents of the greater Austin, TX area.

Why is this a good deal? 

Grass-fed meat is terribly expensive compared to conventional meat, there is no way around it.

ATX Meatshare aims to even that equation by allowing a group of passionate individuals to obtain high-quality meat at fantastic prices.

When you buy a whole animal you pay a set price for the whole animals so the price/# is the same for EVERY cut ranging from organs, ground meat and up to fine steak cuts like NY strip and tenderloin.

However these prices are usually reserved if you purchase at least 1/4 of animal, which most folks don’t have the freezer space / cash / tenacity to obtain. ATX Meatshare allows you to buy a more manageable amount of meat while still obtaining the same price as if you were purchasing a quarter of a beast.

There’s a lot more information on the web site.  Click on the link above if you want to read more.

Tags: ATX MeatShare, grass-fed beef

Header photos

If you’ve poked around on the site, you’ve noticed by now that several photos provide the header on whatever page you happen to be looking at within the site.  There are, so far, 38 pictures that randomly cycle up there, and I intend to update that number as I continue to take photos with my old film cameras and my new point-and-shoot digital camera.

For a full picture of the different headers on this page, I’ve added this post with some descriptions.  Not all of the pictures are mine, which is my main reason for calling attention to them to begin with.  Some of them were taken by from friend Ryan B., who also has a few vintage cameras, including a great little lomo and a very classic Minolta, and well as my friend Larry N. on his Kodak Fun Share digital camera.

If you click on any of the photos, you can see a larger version.

The following were taken by Ryan B. on his vintage Minolta film camera:

• Fishing (Lamma Island, Hong Kong)
• Monk (Angkor Wat, Siem Reap, Cambodia)
• Angkor Wat (Angkor Wat, Siem Reap, Cambodia)
• Sunset over the Mekong (Don Det, Laos)
• Mr. Coffee (Paksong, Laos)
• Chicken leg (Bangkok, Thailand)
• Cambodian street food (Siem Reap, Cambodia)
• Waterfall (Bolivan Plateau, Laos)
• Weekend Market meals (Bangkok, Thailand)
• Save me! (Bolivan Plateau, Laos)
• Spices (Bangkok, Thailand)
• Graffiti in Thailand (Bangkok, Thailand)
• Traveling companions (Angkor Wat, Siem Reap, Cambodia) (This one was actually taken by a tuk tuk driver.)

The following were taken by me on my Asahi Pentax film camera:

• Light graffiti over Wu Yan Xin Cheng (Guangzhou, China)
• Tex-Mex feast (San Antonio, Texas, USA)
• Lime trees in Texas (Austin, Texas, USA)
• Just a number (Guangzhou, China)
• Pathway in paradise (Ko Samet, Thailand)
• Thai food (Ko Samet, Thailand)
• Cross Roads Tavern (Cat Spring, Texas, USA)
• Recreational activities (Guangzhou, China)
• Fresh out of the oven (Lamma Island, Hong Kong)
• Pier family kitchen (Bellville, Texas, USA)
• Hong Kong street (Kowloon, Hong Kong)
• Weather rock (Bellville, Texas, USA)
• Yawning (Lamma Island, Hong Kong)
• Texas trees (Austin, Texas, USA)
• Bangkok bus (Bangkok, Thailand)
• Vintage cars (La Grange, Texas, USA)
• Fayetteville, Texas (Fayetteville, Texas, USA)
• Banana pancakes (Ko Samet, Thailand)
• High-tops on sand (Lamma Island, Hong Kong)
• Kowloon building (Kowloon, Hong Kong)
• Inside a Hong Kong minibus (New Territories, Hong Kong)
• Sunset boy (Hong Kong)
• Lamma Island ferry pier (Lamma Island, Hong Kong)

The following were taken by me on a Canon Powershot digital camera:

• Peppers and bugs (Dali, Yunnan, China)

The following were taken by my friend Larry Nodarse on a Kodak Fun Share digital camera:

• People’s Rock ‘n Roll of China (Guangzhou, China)

Pierism #5

When you’ve got 7 children, you put something like this in your kitchen because it’s useful, not because it’s trendy.  And, as much as my siblings and I claim my parents are wacky, we all know the water fountain can be relied upon to provide cold water at any time of day, especially on those hot Texas summer afternoons when you just can’t fill up a glass with ice fast enough.

Prom dates

The following is a typical conversation between my brothers.

William:  ”When I go to prom, I’ll wear the same color tux as my date’s dress.”

Russell:  ”I don’t think Jenny [our sister] will be available that day.”

William:  ”Oh yeah?  Well MOM won’t be available for the day of your prom!”

Yunnan Province (October 2010)

One trip I took over the past year but failed to write about on here was to Yunnan Province in Western China during National Week.  October 1st is National Day for the Chinese, and most businesses and schools shut down for much of a week, from October 1-7.  Since I still taught in schools at that point, I had the whole week off, so I tagged along with some co-workers who were headed out west.

A 24-hour train ride took us to Kunming, Yunnan.  After staying a night, we caught a bus to Dali, a small tourist town about 6 hours away.  We stayed there a few nights and then headed back to Kunming and then got another 24-hour train ride back to Guangzhou.  Even though half of the week was spent on either a bus or train, it was a good time due to great company.

My favorite part of the trip was enjoying a few things that the people of Yunnan enjoy in their local cuisine that the people of Canton do not.  For example: limes, yak cheese and edible flowers all popped up frequently throughout our meals, and we savored every interaction those delectable ingredients had with our taste buds.

Some other highlights include an evening fire dance we participated in, the brightly-colored and abundant wet markets, the unnerving amount of large spiders we came across hanging out everywhere, some gorgeous lotus ponds, and a random Italian punk band we saw at a bar called the Funky Monkey.

Here are pictures for your enjoyment.  The first is not mine, but rather was taken by one of my travel companions on his vintage Minolta with 35mm film.  The rest are digital.  For more, go to my Photobucket album.

Pierism #4

Door stop.  I guess it works as good as any.

Pierism #3

I just overheard this little gem, a comment said by my brother-in-law to my sister:

Your brothers are so weird.  One of them is shooting yellow jackets out of the pool, and the other is throwing a hatchet at a tree.

Yep, sounds about right.  Oh, and in case you’re jealous that we have a pool, especially if you’re a resident of Texas in this epic drought, feast your eyes on what our pool actually looks like:

Pierism #2

When I moved to China, my siblings craftily created a substitute version of me to hang around and be weird, just because they missed me hanging around and being weird (awww).  For some reason, they had a ridiculous life-size cardboard cutout of Arwen from The Lord of the Rings, so they pasted a picture of my face onto it.  They’ve kept her/me permanently in the corner of the living room to creepily bother anyone who hangs out in there, and they even pull the thing out to participate in family gatherings during holiday times.  Here’s a visual of this endearing, yet a little worrisome and creepy symbol of their love for me.

You’re doing it wrong

This is my brother.  Somehow his couch-sitting skills never accurately developed.  This takes me back to all the times my mother told me that I sat in an unladylike fashion.  I guess it’s a family thing.

Let there be light!

My aunt came over yesterday and figured out how to attach an old Minolta flash to my Asahi Pentax AND get it to actually flash when I snap a picture (something I had failed to do myself after multiple attempts and subsequently given up on).  She’s a camera whiz, and her first camera – the one that made her fall in love with photography – was the exact same Japanese camera, given to her by her now husband (my uncle) at the age 17.  Lucky me!

Here are new pictures of my baby.

Tags: analog photography, Asahi Pentax, film camera, flash, Minolta, Pentax, vintage camera

Pierism #1

I often tell my friends this anecdote about my father, who is simultaneously these three things:  man, child, and legend.

In the early 2000s, his midlife crisis car was a silver VW Beetle.  He’s 6’4″.

Evidently, it was the only practical car on the market with enough head room.  And, he untiringly explained to everyone who commented that he really could fit into that little beetle better than any car he’s ever been in.  And folks, he was actually right, because just as untiringly, he clambered his long limbs into that low, low car with the seat pushed all the way back.  Once he got in there, those legs and head had more wiggle room than they’d ever experienced.

Way to go Thoreau

At the end of a show of “Iron Chef America,” the always-keen Alton Brown quoted Henry David Thoreau, who once said:

He who distinguishes the true savor of his food can never be a glutton; he who does not cannot be otherwise.

So true, so true.  Way to go Thoreau.  I was never a huge fan, but not because I actually gave your writing tons of time; rather, a boring, wacky field trip in the seventh grade (in which we had to sit in the wilderness for a few hours and then write about the experience while channeling the prose of Walden) convinced me that your writing wasn’t worth the time.  Admittedly my own failing.  At least you knew something about food!

Creamed corny goodness

This recipe is not a bit healthy in any way, but for potlucks and food-gatherings that call for generally awesome food, it’s perfect.  I’m not sure where it originally comes from, but today I made it based off a recipe that my aunt or cousin sent my mom.  It was inspired by some dish my sister was used to eat at the Dixie Chicken or some Southern comfort food restaurant in College Station, Texas, where she went to school.  I suppose I should ask my mom or my sister to get some more specific details, but the nitty gritty doesn’t really matter all that much anyway.  What matters is that this creamed corn recipe is damn delicious.  Make it.

Ingredients:
-1 large bag frozen corn
-1 green bell pepper
-1 orange bell pepper (or red, or 2 green), diced
-1 poblano pepper (this was my addition), diced
-16 oz. cream cheese (I used two 8 oz. blocks), softened
-1/4 cup unsalted butter (1/2 stick)
-1/2 t. cayenne pepper
-salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

Directions:
Put corn and diced peppers in a large pot.  Cover with about an inch of water and bring to a boil.  Once water comes to a boil, let it continue to cook for 8-10 minutes, until peppers begin to soften.  Drain vegetables and return to the pot.  Add butter and cream cheese and stir as they melt over medium-high heat.  Once the vegetables and cream cheese are thoroughly combined, add the spices and remove from heat.

That’s it!  Enjoy.

Tags: corn, creamed corn

New pictures from Thailand and Texas

Tags: analog photography, film camera, Texas, Thailand

Selling the idea of art

I’ve always liked this actor, and now I know why.

To quote my favorite part of the article:

…[the] Non-Visible Museum “is an extravaganza of imagination, a museum that reminds us that we live in two worlds: the physical world of sight and the non-visible world of thought. Composed entirely of ideas, the Non-Visible Museum redefines the concept of what is real. Although the artworks themselves are not visible, the descriptions open our eyes to a parallel world built of images and words. This world is not visible, but it is real, perhaps more real, in many ways, than the world of matter, and it is also for sale.”

In other words, there are other master bull-shitters out there in this world, not just yours truly.  Shucks.

I sure wish James Franco would imagine a short story about my life.

Protected: Proof that men understand childbirth

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Yes, Sir!…er, I mean, Your Highness!

This just happened:

My mother hands me a sheet of paper and says, “Look, you’re descended from royalty.”

Evidently my father’s cousin has mapped my family’s genealogy back to King Richard I.  The at-least-40-generation list also includes William I “The Conqueror” (about whom I did a report in the 12th grade and am thus tickled to be related to since he was such a dastardly and ferocious warrior – although anyone who knows me understands that this is hardly surprising).

Because my mother once took up genealogy as a hobby, I have known since my childhood that I’m related to William Bradford, the governor of Plymouth Colony and leader of the Mayflower as well as some other people who have some important-ish things to do with the founding and subsequent history of the United States of America.  An over-zealous Latin and British Literature teacher in high school (the same one who assigned the aforementioned report) who, in his spare time, studied other people’s genealogy (for some reason) also once told me that I’m related to the royal family somehow, but I’d long since forgotten how.

However, my reason for writing is not to brag.  I think anyone with English heritage is somehow related to the Queen (of course, that 40-generation list includes some slight incest).  The reason I’m recording this occurance is my father’s response, which was as follows:

“Since this document proves that we’re related to royalty, I’d like you all to begin referring to me as Your Highness.”

Good try, Dad.

Some cooking videos

If you want to see how-to videos on a few of my recipes, check out this YouTube channel, brought to you by the blog El Oso’s Famous Kitchen.

My China Borracho Beans:

 

Albondigas (Spanish Meatballs):

 

…and the Sweet and Tangy Salsa that tops the meatballs:

 

Thanks, El Oso!

Enjoy.

Tags: borracho beans, cooking video, Spanish meatballs

Cooking videos coming soon!

Thank you very much to El Oso’s Famous Kitchen for three new cooking videos featuring me and my blog.  I made my borracho beans, Spanish meatballs and sweet and tangy salsa.

Look for future posts and links to El Oso’s YouTube Channel to see the videos!

Here’s El Oso’s Famous Kitchen Cooking Blog, and here’s El Oso’s YouTube Channel with the videos.

Stir-fried lotus root

My newest culinary crush is lotus root.  Late to discovering the delectable taste and consistency of this crunchy, starchy, watery vegetable, I have gone lotus-root crazy recently.  I put it in a channa masala curry dish last week, and this week I adapted this recipe from the web to make a savory stir-fry I couldn’t stop picking at as I cooked some other dishes on my menu for the evening.  Here’s a picture of the lotus flower I took in Dali, Yunnan Province:

Lotus root is actually the stem of the lotus plant, and it stays in the water.  Large, strong plants, lotus are very important in the Chinese diet.  Even the petals are a common part of dishes, pickled, steamed, or stir-fried.  You can probably find them in your city if you’ve got an Asian market or grocery store.

Here’s a picture of lotus root in a wet market in Yangshuo, in Guangxi Province (Hint: it’s the flesh-colored vegetable between the carrots and the eggplants).

Ingredients:
3-4 cups lotus root, peeled and chopped in thick semi-circle pieces
1 T. sesame seeds
2 large green spicy pepper (mild spice)
1.5 T. soy sauce
1 t. sesame oil
2 T. chopped garlic
2 T. chopped ginger
1 T. butter
2 T. extra-virgin olive oil

Directions:
Heat the butter and oil and saute the garlic and ginger until very fragrant.  Add the lotus root and begin to saute on medium-high heat for about 5 minutes.  Add peppers and continue to saute until peppers just begin to sweat.  Add soy sauce, sesame oil and sesame seeds.  Continue to stir and cook for another 1-2 minutes, then remove from heat.

Tags: lotus root, stir-fry

Leek, Chinese mushroom and cabbage soup

My goal was to create a leek and mushroom soup of sorts, but I always forget how much more body Chinese mushrooms have than the mushrooms I used to cook with in the U.S. (usually button mushrooms).  This is mostly because I couldn’t afford more expensive, flavorful mushrooms back then.  I bought a lot of mushrooms in the wet market today and only spent just over 1 USD on them because they are so fresh and abundant here.  However, my desire to make a non-Chinese-food tasting leek and mushroom soup in vegetable broth failed.  This recipe is very Chinese tasting.

I combined vegetable and chicken broth because I didn’t have enough vegetable bouillon. I added cabbage to give the soup more flavor and to fill me up when I eat it for lunch this week.  The seasonings definitely made the soup cross the point of no return as regarding Chinese flavors, but the end result is delicious and clean-tasting (which is my way of describing very fresh, home-cooked Chinese food that noticeably differs from the saltier, oilier – though tastier – dishes you get in restaurants here).

Here’s some eye-candy in the form of mushroom selection in a street-side market in Dali, in Yunnan Province:

Ingredients:
1 small head cabbage, cored, 1-inch think slices
1 bunch Enokitake mushrooms
2 cups shitake mushrooms, sliced
2 small leeks
5 cloves garlic, sliced
extra-virgin olive oil
salt
vegetable/chicken broth
1-2 T. soy sauce
1 t. rice vinegar
1 T. hengshun vinegar
1-2 T. yellow sriracha sauce
black pepper

Directions: 
Saute leeks and garlic in oil until the onions are translucent.  Add the mushrooms and saute for a few minutes.  Add the cabbage and stir for another few minutes.

Add 6 cups broth and bring to a boil.  Boil until cabbage begins to wilt.  Add salt, soy sauce, vinegars, sriracha sauce and black pepper.  Let cook for 1 more minute until flavors are combined.

Tags: cabbage, chinese mushrooms, leeks, mushrooms, soup

Some favorite photos

I took these with the Pentax and Peafowl.  They are the best ones I’ve taken to date.  I used a variety of film, from regular 200-ISO Kodak or Fujifilm, to very nice, special-effect-inducing Lomography film.

I took all of the below pictures in Hong Kong, Guangzhou or Foshan.

Tags: analog photography, film camera, vintage camera

Avocado and mango salsa

I make this recipe a little differently every time, but if you follow the steps below, you’ll get something very much like what I usually make.  The key to this salsa, I think, is having the right mixture of seasoning ingredients (lime juice, olive oil, salt and pepper) and dicing the large ingredients very small (almost to a mince).

Ingredients:
15-25 cherry tomatoes, diced
2 avocados, diced
1 large or 2 medium/small mangoes, diced
1/4 cup cilantro, chopped
green or red chili peppers (use serrano or jalepeno if you’ve got them)
juice of 1-2 limes
1 T. extra virgin olive oil
1/2 cup red onion, minced
salt and pepper

Directions:
Combine all ingredients except lime juice, olive oil and salt and pepper.  Add the remaining 4 ingredients to taste, erring on the conservative side until you’ve reached a taste you like.

Tags: avocado, cherry tomatoes, mango, mango salsa, salsa

Robin’s China borracho beans

Your beans rock like a KTV in an earthquake on a Saturday night.

–Ryan B.

Being so exposed to Mexican food and culture my entire life, I often made borracho beans before coming to China. The first time I tried to make this dish here, I searched high and low for pinto or even light-colored beans, but in vain.  Finally, I decided to use kidney beans, and developed an original interpretation of borracho beans that tastes much better than any of my attempts to make them at home before I moved here.  I saute the bacon in butter for 2 reasons: 1) just because I can, being in love with the idea of bacon cooking in butter, and 2) because the bacon here isn’t fatty enough and doesn’t yield the necessary lubricant for the vegetables to saute in.  I’m sure lime juice is a good garnish with the cilantro, but I don’t have that here, and I’ve never used a substitute.  I use the Philippino beer San Miguel, which is probably the closest thing to a Mexican beer that exists for a reasonable price in China.

I dedicate this recipe to Larry Nodarse, this version’s biggest fan on the planet.  Thanks for the love, Larry.  I’ve enjoyed making this dish each time as much as you’ve enjoyed eating it!

For a video of how to make these beans, starring yours truly (and special thanks to El Oso’s Famous Kitchen), click here.

Ingredients:
-2 cups (or more) dried red kidney beans
-2 T. garlic, minced and 5-6 cloves garlic, smashed and roughly chopped
-1 large white onion, chopped
-1 large or 2 small green bell peppers, chopped
-4-6 strips bacon, cut into 1-inch pieces
-butter
-green or red chili peppers (use serrano or jalepeno if you can find them), amount depends on your tolerance of spice
-1/4 cup cilantro, chopped
-1 bottles Mexican beer (or whatever kind of beer you can use)
-2 tomatoes, chopped

Directions:
Soak kidney beans overnight or for at least 12 hours by covering them with 2-3 times as much water as beans and letting them sit.  Add more water if beans expand beyond the top of the water in the pot.

Once beans are thoroughly soaked (you should be able to bite into one, although it will still be hard), cover them in water (barely) and add smashed garlic.  Bring to a boil and simmer until beans begin to be soft (about 90 minutes).

In a separate pot, melt butter and add bacon.  When the bacon begins to brown but is not yet cooked through, add the rest of the garlic, onion, bell pepper and chili pepper. After they sweat and begin to soften, add the beans from the other pot with the garlic and water.  Bring to a boil and leave on high heat.  Once the water begins to evaporate, add one of the beers and continue to cook on medium-high heat.  When the liquid once again reduces, add the second beer and the tomatoes.  Continue to boil on medium-high or low heat until beans are thoroughly cooked.  Once they begin to soften, start smashing them with the spatula as you stir.  Continue to reduce liquid until it begins to thicken slightly to a consistency you desire.  Add the cilantro (and lime juice) just before serving.

The trick to making this dish mouth-watering and addictive instead of just savory is actually over-cooking everything a little.  The liquid becomes reduced to a point comparable to that of a thick stew.  The onion, tomatoes and bell pepper disintegrate so much that you can barely distinguish their skins amidst the dark-brown mixture that has basically melted together into a new entity.

Enjoy.

Tags: bean recipe, borracho beans, kidney beans

Lotus root channa masala with quinoa

Experimentation with Chinese vegetables and Indian flavors.  Delicious, homey, and clean tasting (as in healthy but hearty).

Ingredients:
2 T. minced galic
2 T. minced ginger
1 medium white onion, chopped
1 large green bell pepper, chopped
2 cups chopped, cubed lotus root
1 medium squash (like zucchini or summer squash; I used the Chinese variety)
1 can chickpeas, rinsed
4  medium tomatoes, chopped
salt and black pepper
1 t. yellow curry powder
1 t. ground cumin
1/2 t. ground 5 spice mixture
1.5 T. garam masala
juice of 1 lemon
1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1 T. butter
3/4 cup water
1 cup quinoa
mushroom bullion for making 1.5-2 cups mushroom broth (or use just water or any kind of broth)

Directions:
Heat oil and butter.  Add lotus root over medium-high heat and sautee until it begins to brown.  Add onion, garlic, ginger and bell pepper.  Let veggies begin to sweat (maybe 5 minutes).  Add tomatoes and spices.  After tomatoes, squash and spices.  After tomatoes begin to break down, add water, bring to a boil, and then simmer on low heat until a sauce begins to form.  Add chickpeas and slightly smash ingredients with spatula as you stir to combine.  Add salt and pepper and lemon juice.  Continue to cook until the mixture reaches a desired consistency.

Meanwhile, prepare 1 cup of quinoa in a mushroom broth.  Serve lotus root and chickpea mixture over quinoa.  Suggestion:  stir to combine quinoa and vegetables before eating.

Tags: channa masala, chickpeas, lotus root, quinoa

Spicy Chinese Indian pad thai

My roommate requested a stir-fry noodle dish last night.  He originally asked for something carroty and gingery to go with some buckwheat noodles he’d bought last week.  Classically forgetting all details of the request except for the noodle part, I didn’t buy carrots or ginger but instead bell peppers, mushrooms, red onion and broccoli.  I had some chicken breast strips in the freezer that needed to be used, too.

I was having one of my hair-brained cooking nights last night, and I’m actually surprised I didn’t completely ruin the dish because I was cooking with reckless abandon…something that usually leads to strange or even inedible concoctions.

I used the wok for its size, depth and ability to cook a large volume of food quickly.  I started with fish oil over a medium heat and added sliced green, red and yellow bell pepper and red onion.  I made the slices of the onion and peppers large, but if I made this dish again, I’d make the slices for the peppers much thinner (maybe 1/4-in. thick).  The onions work well in thick slices.  I added salt and pepper and let the veggies begin to sweat.

While looking through my spices for inspiration, I decided to attempt an Indian fusion dish.  I added garam masala and ground cumin (about a teaspoon of each) along with some crushed red pepper flakes.  After a minute or two, I added bite-sized chunks of chicken.  As they began to whiten, I added broccoli and mushrooms.  I added more peanut oil and soy sauce and turned up the heat to reduce the liquids and make the ingredients brown slightly as they began to glaze.

To this now-huge amount of vegetables cooking over a high heat, I added more garam masala and cumin powder, hoisin sauce, sweet chili sauce and spicy chili oil.  Once the chicken was cooked through and everything was softened and glazed to my liking, I added the cooked noodles and continued to sautee on a high heat long enough for the noodles to brown slightly.

The result was good hot and even better cold the next day.  It was definitely a dish that tastes great – or better – as leftovers.  It tasted a little like Indian food due to the spices, felt a lot like pad Thai in consistency, and was full of Chinese-style vegetables.  It was a bizarre attempt at a tri-cultural fusion, but it seemed to work, or at least it was tasty.  With some tweaking, the dish could probably be even better.  It was a fun attempt at experimentation, and I feel successful because I didn’t ruin it by adding so many ingredients!

Ingredients:
-1 large red onion, 3/4-in. slice
-1 small red bell pepper, 1/4-in. slice
-1 small green bell pepper, 1/4-in. slice
-1 medium yellow bell pepper, 1/4-in. slice
-1 head broccoli
-1.5 cups sliced Chinese mushrooms
-8 strips chicken breast, but into bite-sized pieces
-1-2 T. garam masala
-1 T. ground cumin
-1-2 T. hoisin sauce
-1-2 T. light soy sauce
-1 T. sweet chili sauce
-1 t. chili oil
-1-2 t. salt
-1 t. freshly-ground black pepper
-1 t. red pepper flakes
-2-3 cups cooked buckwheat pad-Thai style noodles

Tags: Chinese recipe, Indian recipe, pad thai

Peafowl

Last weekend, I bought another vintage camera.  I’ve taken one roll with it that I still need to develop.  This one was in an antiques market near the Chen Clan Academy old village and museum in Guangzhou.  A man who has old swords and rings and trinket boxes had two cameras just sitting on his shelves, hanging out like hidden gems.  He had a Peafowl, a Chinese-made camera, and a functioning Seagull, the kind you look down into to see an image.  I paid a foreigner’s price for the Peafowl, but after bargaining, paid almost half of what I paid for my Asahi Pentax. 

The best part of the Peafowl, which has an original lens, is a yellow lens cover to give an old-looking tint to photos.  The camera has just enough decay that the pictures will come out with little spots here and there, making them look especially old.  I had only a very nice roll of 800-ISO film on-hand but used it anyway.  The lens’ ability to focus is not as sharp as my Pentax’s, but I’ll get a chance to see very soon what it can do!

Here’s another stock image of the camera I bought.  I’ll put up a link to a Photobucket album of the images it took as soon as I get them developed.

Tags: analog photography, film camera, Peafowl, vintage camera

Asahi Pentax

It’s very fitting that my favorite beer available in China is Asahi, a Japanese beer.  A late-comer to acquiring a taste for beer, I have learned to love the beverage, and I especially love Asahi.  So, when I bought an old second-hand camera a while back, I was happy to find one called an Asahi Pentax.

The camera I found in the second-hand electronics market here in Guangzhou was an amazing find.  A few vendors have stalls filled with nothing but old cameras…everything from Polaroids to functioning old Seagulls and more.  A friend of mine has a few old cameras and got me interested in the hobby.  Having taken my fair share of photographs in high school in yearbook class, I quickly remembered a latent love of capturing the unique, the interesting, the bizarre.

My Pentax has a very nice lens, made who knows when.  It seems older than the body, which is the original Spotmatic model (which Wikipedia says dates back to 1964).  It takes regular 35-mm film, and I’ve had 4 rolls developed so far (with more on the way).  I’m not posting any of them on this site because it’s too slow and cumbersome, but below is a link to my Photobucket site with an album containing the best of the first four rolls.  I’m still learning a lot about aperature, ISO, and shutter speed.  I have no ability to zoom or flash, but using natural lighting and the ability to focus crisply on objects in the foreground or background, I’ve been able to play around and take a few photos that show the side of Guangzhou I find most appealing.

Here’s a stock photo from the web of my camera.  I don’t have the same lens; I think mine’s much newer model.

Tags: analog photography, Asahi Pentax, film camera, Pentax, vintage camera

Cold peanut butter noodle salad

Dressing Ingredients:
-6 T. crunchy peanut butter
-1/2 t. yellow curry powder
-3 T. rice vinegar
-3 T. warm water
-3 T. soy sauce
- 1.5 t. sugar
-1 T. Asian sesame oil
-1 T. minced fresh ginger
-1 t. red pepper flakes

Other Ingredients:
-8 oz. package udon noodles, cooked and cooled
-1 large yellow bell pepper, cut into matchsticks
-1/4 c. thinly sliced red onion
-1/4 c. chopped cilantro
-2 c. Chinese mushrooms, cut into matchsticks
-1/4 c. candied walnuts

Directions:
Mix dressing ingredients, pour over other ingredients in a large mixing bowl, and toss to combine.

Tags: noodle salad, noodles, peanut butter

Cabbage and Chinese greens slaw

Dressing Ingredients:
-1 peeled mandarin orange, slices each cut into 3 pieces and seeds removed
-2.5 T. rice vinegar
-2-3 T. minced red onion
-1 T. vegetable oil
-2 t. minced fresh ginger (only use fresh, folks!)
-1/2 t. Asian sesame oil

Other Ingredients:
-1/2 medium green cabbage, shredded
-2 c. dark green Chinese lettuce, shredded
-1 medium red bell pepper, cut into matchsticks
-2 c. Chinese mushrooms, cut into matchsticks
-1/4 c. chopped almonds
-1/4 c. roughly chopped cilantro
-salt and pepper

Directions: Whisk together dressing ingredients in a bowl. Add other ingredients and toss until coated. Season with salt and pepper. Add more oil and vinegar if needed.

Tags: cabbage, Chinese greens, slaw

Tangy salad + tangy salad = delicious chaos

After glancing over the hideously-long last three entries, I’m making this one less cumbersome to read (only slightly), mostly because it’s too good not to. Last night I made two tangy Asian salads – one that was more of a slaw and another with cold udon noodles as a base.

These dishes are similar, but I think they go together well. They are based around the cabbage, which I had from a previous salad and needed to use up. I also really wanted to use mandarin oranges after having some particularly delicious ones lately. The noodle salad was born of a desire to use up some of the pasta in my cabinet, but in the end I bought the noodles I used last night. The slaw was inspired by an old Gourmet spinach, mushrooms and kumquat recipe I used a year ago (or at least, the dressing was). I’d repost the link, but the link-creating function is not currently available on this page. The other recipe is largely based on a recipe called “Noodle Salad with Spicy Peanut Butter Dressing” on epicurious.com.

My roommate loved these salads. He got home, not very hungry, and ate two bowl-fulls of these dishes mixed together. I tried it with the leftovers at lunch today, and I agree that the maddness of minced and sliced veggies, noodles, and tangy dressings make for some delicious chaos. Tonight’s ninja was candied walnuts in the noodle salad. Not having any extra peanuts and just feeling crazy, I threw them in, and they tasted great!

Oh, and word to the wise: don’t get distracted while using a cheese grater, especially those brilliant stand-up ones where everything falls inside and that anchor so nicely to the countertop. Let’s just say – one gnarly accident later – that I’m pretty sure bits of finger went into my salad.

See my posts in the Recipes section called “Cabbage and Chinese Greens Slaw” and “Cold Peanut Butter Noodle Salad.”

Resurrection stew

I dedicate this original stew to the gays in my life. Tonight I hosted dinner for four of the sweetest men I’ve ever cooked for. They gave compliments, commentary and constructive criticism freely and genuinely. I spent four fun hours cooking a feast last night, and it turned out quite well. Three winners out of three and wonderful company are about as good as it gets.

I made two oldies, both of which are listed on this site. Quinoa, chayote and red onion salad is delicious, especially with an extra boost of lemon juice and vinegar. A reappearance of shrimp and scallion pancakes from Gourmet was also well-received because I substituted the shrimp for sliced, REAL kimchi. But, the winner of the night was a soup, a concoction of mine that had a long journey and is quite complex, but turned out especially savory.

The wet market was closed when I got off work at 8 p.m. last night. As disappointing as this was, a quick trip to Jusco was pleasant, especially since it turned out that my roommate was hanging around in there, probably looking for promotions, and was present to consult about our premeditated dinner party for the next night that was just then coming together. After 8, most of the produce goes on sale, especially the older stuff. Old stuff’s great for soups, and that just happened to be the centerpiece of the menu.

I bought a bunch of stuff and knew immediately that I had a huge undertaking ahead of me even though I tried to convince myself that I didn’t, especially considering I started on everything around 9 p.m. But eventually, I slowly, distractedly started on the soup, and the 3-hour-later result was spectacular.

I started with bacon and butter. My favorites. I couldn’t decide which would be better so I used them both. I couldn’t recall at the time whether I’d actually seen bacon sauteing in butter, 2 tablespoons of it to be exact. To the butter and not-so-fatty Chinese bacon, not yet cooked through, I added large-dice bell pepper, leeks, and carrots. After the leeks started to break apart, I added about a quart and a half vegetable broth, made with the bullion cubes again, and large chunks of white potatoes and winter squash. I also added, at some point in the aforementioned process, dried basil and oregano, yellow curry powder, salt, pepper, and Spanish paprika.

After realizing that my little brew was quite strange, with its many cubed vegetables and nothing else to hold it together except a liquidy broth, I began to panic. What’s so nice about this soup?, I thought. This looks like something concocted by someone who needs to eat, not someone who loves food. A brief consult session with my roommate later and I realized my soup needed saving. It was on a fast course to being a tasty but strange and apology-inducing liquid-and-chunks flop. As I racked my brain for inspiration regarding how to change my soupy mess, I remembered that I lived in a world of sweet, amidst a people with an eternal sweet-tooth so strong that it influences even the most salty and savory of dishes. Everything is sweet here. Why shouldn’t my soup be just a little sweet, too?

So, I added some sweet chili sauce, which is used all over the place here. That improved the flavor, but the soup was still lacking something in its substance. I thawed some frozen marinated peppered beef that had been hanging out in the freezer. I cubed it, browned those and threw them into the now-stew-like mixture of breaking-down veggies. After around an hour of bubbling, the soup had thickened, and the broth had taken on a thicker concentration. The beef cooked for about 10 minutes before I turned off the soup and let it cool. A day in the fridge later, it reheated in the pot to one of the most savory soups I’ve ever made.

So many things congealed. Perfectly almost-sparse beef chunks and bacon slices were hanging out with large, breaking down, completely saturated pieces of potato, hard squash, carrots and bell pepper. The onions were a backdrop, blending in with the broth. The strength of the broth (I added more concentrate than necessary) and the complexity of the spice mixture combined so well with the chili paste, which was this dish’s ninja. I forgot to tell the boys tonight about that little one, so it’ll remain a secret to anyone who doesn’t read this!

I laugh as I type this because of the extraordinarily large, expanded stomach in front of me, proving that I quite enjoyed myself at the dinner table tonight. Good red wine as accompaniment never hurts, either!

Ingredients:
-4 slices bacon, cut into 1 inch strips
-2 T. butter
-4-5 cloves garlic, minced
-2 large leeks, sliced
-2 large carrots, cubed (1/2 inch)
-green bell pepper, chopped (1 inch squares)
-salt, freshly ground pepper
-dried oregano
-dried basil
-2 cups winter squash, cubed
-2 large white potatoes, cubed
-5-6 cups vegetable broth
-Spanish paprika, curry powder
-2 T. sweet chili sauce
-marinated pepper beef, cut into large cubes and browned in 1 T. olive oil.

Directions:
1. Saute bacon and butter over medium heat.
2. Add garlic for 1 minute. Then add leeks, carrot, and bell pepper.
3. Add salt, pepper, oregano, and basil. Saute until leeks begin to fall apart.
4. Add broth. When potatoes begin to fall apart, add paprika, curry powder and chili paste.
5. After soup has cooked an hour, add browned, not-yet-cooked-through beef. Let cook another 20 minutes.

Tags: beef stew, butternut squash, soup, stew

Bittman, I still love you, but I’ve finally learned to live without you

Tonight I had an itch to cook. After a winter of not moving around much in an attempt to avoid the wet, bone-gripping, never-leaves-you-even-when-you-go-inside Guangzhou cold, I’ve been feeling sedentary, and I just needed some uncomplicated, nutrient-dense, homemade food pumping through my system. Once again, I am struck by the infinite number of ways common vegetables, oils and liquids can be combined to be filling and delicious and make you forget that there’s not an ounce of meat in your dish.

My choice of ingredients was determined by my suddenly remembering that I had some organic, preservative-free vegetable bullion cubes at home that I’d snatched up in organic grocery store in Hong Kong. They’re the kind I used to buy back home, and I miss them. I’ve also recently discovered an open-air market right next to my new work location, which happens to be on the way home to my apartment. It’s so ridiculously convenient, I have no excuse NOT to cook.

I miss my huge red Mark Bittman cookbook, my bible, “How to Cook Everything.” It was falling apart and had sticky pages and water-stained pages, and food splatters, and it was woefully too heavy to fit in my luggage. I believe it sits on a shelf in my parents’ house, waiting for someone to pick it up and use it. Inspired by the possibility of making good broth from a really good concentrate (not the stuff you can find in grocery stores here, the quality of which is worryingly difficult to judge because everything is in Chinese characters instead of English), I immediately thought of the Soups section of Bittman’s book, the chapter that made me realize what an amazing cookbook I’d managed to buy and got the wheels of my attention to detail as pertains to food’s fundamentals and how they mix and match groaning to life with a slow, rusted, but persistent propulsion.

Two years after beginning to cook with Bittman’s suggestions, advice and shared knowledge, I realized tonight that I’ve retained quite a bit now that I don’t have easy access to basic, versitile, exploration-inspiring recipes to rely on as a crutch. I prepared my broth, not having a way to measure the amount of liquid but knowing it doesn’t matter because if the broth was weak, it’d be flavored by the sweating veggies. I started with the holy trinity, the aromatics onion, celery and carrot, because they seemed to be the base of every soup Bittman made, and I think he or someone else even referred to the white-green-orange triad by that delightfully blasphemous name. My bulk was white potatoes, which I knew would help make me full while everything else, much less substantial once it sits in the stomach, added the complex flavor. Dried basil, black pepper and dried oregano pumped the sauteeing aromatics up to a new level, especially once they really mixed with the butter/olive oil mixture everything was dancing around in.

I added the broth after, in this order, the aromatics and then potatoes (which I gave a minute to begin to brown). The potatoes cooked quickly due to the way I cut them, but before they finished, I threw in some whole wheat penne I needed to use up and a can of whole peeled tomatoes which I coarsely cut up with a knife in the can itself before pouring in. For garnish, I threw in a few tablespoons of minced celery leaves (which I use here as parsley since that beautiful herb is difficult to come by). The result was similar to a minestrone without the beans, and it was quite tasty.

But, I also wanted something crunchy and fresh – overwhelmingly fresh – and full of a medley of things and consistencies and flavors. The result was a slaw-like salad with mostly thinly sliced or shredded or crushed pieces of: green cabbage, romaine lettuce (mostly hearts of romaine), mango, yellow bell pepper, carrot, celery and almond. I tossed it with a dressing made of S&P, red wine vinegar, lemon juice, and extra-virgin olive oil, heavy on the tangy ingredients, and shaken to emulsify.

The almost all-vegetable result of these dishes was a full stomach that was absolutely packed with a large quantity of food and thus was satisfied, but not at all stuffed. And it’s so good for the immune system – much-needed right now. It feels good to be able to rely on my knowledge of basics I hadn’t even realized I’d absorbed when presented with an opportunity to cook coupled with a lack of time for and the inconvenience of printing out more creative recipes.

Soup Ingredients:
2 cubes vegetable bullion (or just use water and let the aromatics and potatoes cook longer in it)
about 1 liter of water
1-2 cups diced carrot
1-2 cups diced celery
1-2 cups chopped white or yellow onion
1 T. butter
1 T. extra-virgin olive oil
1 t. salt
1 t. pepper
3 medium-large white potatoes, quartered lengthwise and sliced 1/2 inch thick
1 regular can whole peeled tomatoes
1-2 cups penne
2-3 T. chopped celery leaves

Salad Ingredients:
1-2 cups cut (1-2 inch pieces) romaine (mostly hearts)
1 mango, sliced lengthwise
1 half head of green cabbage, halved and very thinly sliced
1 red onion, quartered and thinly sliced
2-3 T. chopped almonds
3/4 cup shredded carrot
3/4 cup thinly sliced celery

1 large thinly sliced yellow bell pepper

Dressing Ingredients:
proportion of 3:2:1 of extra-virgin olive oil, red wine vinegar and fresh lemon juice
salt and pepper

Tags: soup recipe

How I learned to stop worrying and love stir-fry

I’ve never been a huge fan of stir-fry. Or rather, I wasn’t before I came to China. It’s a whole new world of single-container cooking here. Last night my view of cooking stir-fry changed, mostly because I finally made a good one. But, I had proper motivation.

John Legend made a speech at a commencement ceremony in which he said “Soul is about authenticity…the moments when sound and silence come together.” Well, I’m now convinced that truly inspired cooking happens when extreme hunger and creative inspiration have a love child. The former pushes the latter to be perfect because it so intensely salivates over the prospective result. So, ravenous with hunger but determined to make use of the fresh veggies in my fridge, I took some time to attempt a stir-fry relying only on wit and my knowledge of the Chinese dishes I so frequently eat in restaurants here.

Before I talk about the what I did, let me explain what I learned. I used to cringe from the idea of cooking stir-fries because they always came out too salty or too oily or too saucy or you-name-it-it-happened. But last night I had an epiphany; all the elements of what I know or have experienced from eating or making stir-fry came together in one of those moments where sound meets silence, and it finally all made sense. Cooking stir-fry isn’t about how much spice or seasoning or liquid you add. It’s not about the ingredients themselves or choosing perfectly matched components and flavor combinations. It’s about heat and the surface you cook on, the way you move the food, and not over-cooking anything. It’s about corruption, the altering of basic components just enough to make them taste like something completely different. Carmelize an onion, brown a potato, saturate an eggplant or wilt a green…do what you like with what you’ve got, as long as you keep a little of the original consistency and taste inside while dressing up the outer surface. One of life’s little pleasures is the occasional (or frequent) corrupting of the status quo. Take some meat or produce and give it a new way of co-mingling with your taste-buds.

Having a wok helps. Ladies and gents, I hate to brag, but mine’s got a 36-centimeter diameter, and it’s well seasoned. You can guide a metal spatula over it’s wide, deep bowl (no flat-bottoms allowed in my kitchen) with slow but consistent strokes in a way that allows you to toss, stir or fold your concoctions with the finesse necessary for any dish. And, it’s such a versatile surface. Never before had I truly known the world of vegetable tempura (try making a batter with soda water, flour and salt some time), and many of my old favorite recipes made in a wok taste much better. It’s the even distribution of heat, the ability to cook with high heat and a large surface area, to brown but not char, to give many ingredients a chance to taste the heat instead of working with a dissatisfying pile of ingredients all competing for a chance to touch the tin. Of course, it’s not necessary to have a wok to make stir-fry, but being well equipped never hurts.

So, here’s what happened. Red onion and white potatoes went into some corn oil for just a bit before salt started working its magic. When the potatoes were almost tender and the onion had just begun to break down, I added red and yellow bell peppers and went spice-crazy. After I was finished adding Spanish paprika, ground 5-spice blend, dried oregano, dried basil, freshly-ground black pepper and dried red pepper flakes, my veggies looked like they were covered in the snowy ash and dust of a post-apocalyptic landscape. I stirred again, beginning to fold instead of toss the ingredients, and then I added sliced mushrooms (with 2-3 inch diameter caps). A minute or two later, tomatoes and the surprise ninja of the night, large-dice pineapple joined the fun. To whet the wheel, I threw in about a tablespoon of hoisin sauce and a healthy splash of vinegar (the kind you dump those delicious Chinese dumplings into). After folding the ingredients again, I was finished. Of course, I gobbled up a bowl-full right away, but I recommend eating the result on rice or fresh salad greens. I ate the leftovers with some tofu cooked in soy sauce, which improved upon the flavors that had congealed overnight.

Next time I try a stir-fry, I’m making a curry. Coconut milk is readily-available here, and it’s DE-LI-CIOUS. Limes and lime leaves, however, take a little more digging!

Ingredients:
2 medium white potatoes, quartered and sliced (1/4 inch)
1 medium red onion, sliced (1/2 inch)
1 red bell pepper, sliced (1/2 inch)
1 yellow bell pepper, sliced (1/2 inch)
5-6 medium/large mushrooms, sliced (1/4 inch)
3 small tomatoes, quartered
1 cup fresh pineapple, chopped
1-2 T. each: hoisin sauce and vinegar (see above for description)
1-2 t. each: salt, freshly ground pepper, dried basil, dried oregano, dried red pepper flakes, Spanish paprika, ground 5-spice blend
high-heat oil

Tags: stir-fry

Sardine and avocado sandwich

I love this simple and hearty sandwich. I make it different each time, but the basics themselves were originally taken from the web from an article about Alton Brown losing weight. Imagine a tuna sandwich with some chest hair, more spunk and a sneaky charm. Oh, and if you’re mock-gagging because you don’t like fish or sardines or haven’t tried them, give this recipe a try and then make your judgments.

Get a can of sardines, either in brine or water or in oil (in China you can get them in chili oil, which is best in my opinion). open it up and reserve some of the oil if you’ve got that type. Otherwise, drain the water and put the contents in a bowl. Add oil from the can or some extra-virgin olive oil. Then throw in some salt n peppa, lemon juice and a secret ingredient of your choosing, preferably something that adds a kick, like some heat (dried or fresh chili, cayenne, etc.) or some boldness (smoked or sweet paprika). Or combine all spices by using Cajun seasoning. Mash it all up (and make sure you wiggle your hips a little in the process; it adds to the flavor).

Spread the resulting mixture on some toast, preferably with a little melted cheese on top (Swiss goes well, as does mozzarella). Add some sliced avocado (or, dress it up a little with avocado mashed with more lemon juice, salt, pepper and garlic power or fresh garlic). Cut your sandwich into two or four triangles just for fun and devour it in the three minutes it’ll take to get it down your gullet. Don’t forget to breathe!

Wish I could add a picture, but no digital camera at the moment. Maybe next time.

Tags: avocado, sandwich, sardines

Living in a concrete jungle

Inside of a little box, you can so easily forget how your box has been swallowed and sits in the bowels of the living, breathing, thriving, decaying, wheezing concrete beast that is this Chinese city. In each direction, just in your line of sight, you see thousands of other boxes. Forget “little boxes on a hillside.” We’ve got stacks of boxes all on top of each other, spilling into your face, your nose, your eyes and ears, filling your lungs and crawling under your skin. This city pushes into your perception, creeping right up to the barriers set by your sense of personal space. Frequently, spontaneously, it bursts through, poking, jabbing, groping, caressing, punching you. It is all of these things. It does all of these things. It’s a concrete jungle, and it understands no concepts relating to slowness or comfort or consequences.

It is simultaneously moving and unmoving. Stoic, massive buildings sit unmoving, mountainous rocks or legos or bricks. Yet they seem to perceive the world in and around them all too well for comfort. The little bleeps and movements of life swell and fade, poke in and out of every orifice, whisper and shout endlessly into the organized chaos around them.