on churros, community

Sorry it's been awhile, friends. My computer's life came to an unfortunate end, and the recovery process has been a little painful. Rest in peace, Pippin. (His remaining functional parts are for sale, if you're interested!)

I came to an important realization this past week, which was this: food is best done in community. It sounds a little too obvious to be profound, but for the longest time I really did not understand what that meant at all. While the pleasure of cooking absolutely anything you want the way you want it for and by yourself is undeniable, I am seeing, ever gradually, that there is great richness to be found in the sharing of the food experience. Surveying some of the memorable foods shared over the past week...garlic ice cream (3 times!), garlic fries, garlic chocolate peanut butter cups at the Gilroy Garlic Festival, tacos and coffee and churros at Tacubaya, a late night dash for diner food + ice cream, a too-large batch of yeasted waffles.

Yes, the visible reason for all of these get-togethers was food. But each encounter, in my mind, is characterized less by the garlic and cinnamony-sugary goodness and more by the waves of giggles, time to empathize with each other, insights gained, bonds sustained. It seems that breaking churros together is one of the most beautiful things you can do with another soul.

(Next up: cinnamon ravioli?!)

life is like a tree of cherries/truck of tacos/box of cupcakes

This was supposed to be a very emo post. You see, it is almost summer now, and there is ONE thing I get excited about at the beginning of every summer: CHERRIES. I love them, I love them, I love them. It is imperative for lovers of cherries to be acutely aware of the weather patterns surrounding the time when the cherries start to ripen. Put simply, rain causes cherries to split. Split cherries equal rotten cherries. Rotten cherries do not a happy Stephanie make. The nutshell sob story: last week, rain predicted. I ran out to our tiny cherry tree (long story, will tell later) and reverently plucked off those tiny, not-yet-fully-ripened cherries as the rain came down in sheets. Later I ate them, scowling the whole time, because I knew that an extra week spent on the tree would mean everything for them in terms of flavor, sweetness, even aesthetics (preemie cherries just aren't nearly as pretty). More pouting. But then...M (of beer bread fame) called and asked for help with ridding her backyard cherry tree of its fruit before her cherries split. Bolted for the car. Marveled at her beautiful, old tree dripping with beautiful, ripe Bing cherries. Picked 22 pounds of cherries in an hour, hoisted the bags on my back, and drove home, spitting pits out the window along the way. Things I learned:

• Don't cry over split cherries.
• I'm a really fast cherry picker.
• Cherries from other peoples' trees can taste even better than the ones from my own...especially when obtained for the low low price of free. (All of these have been earthshattering for you, I hope.)

(I had a lot of photos to show you comparing puny tree to amazing, overflowing with cherries tree, but I am dissatisfied with them (anyone out there know the trick to photographing fruit in trees successfully?), so here's this. Delish cherries in my hand. Did I mention that I love cherries?!)

And now...onto LA! Yeah...I totally went to LA last weekend and yeah...it took me until now to write about it. Don't be angry; look at these pretty pictures instead!

After stumbling around Venice Beach for what seemed like 50 billion hours with grumbly tummies, this truck appeared like a mirage. Taco truck! we cheered. Upon closer investigation...it was the Flying Pig Truck which specializes in Asian inspired taco heaven. HEAVEN, I tell you!

My pick, a pork belly bao. OH. GOSH. Note to self: should probably ease up a little on the pork belly. Ate it thrice over the course of the weekend...oh wait, THERE'S NO SUCH THING AS TOO MUCH PORK BELLY. I apologize. And I will never let up on the pork belly.

Dpie's pick: tamarind duck confit taco. Oh, did you just say something? I was too busy getting lost in the seductive allure of duck.

I think this was spicy pork. Mmmm...hi cute taco.

(Has this post gotten too long? Does it look like I care?) Round #685: cupcake wars. We pitted Sprinkles against Crumbs...and giant cupcake came out to play. Just kidding. We totally didn't get this one. But really, how cute is it?!)

We took them to a park across the street, and the showdown began.

Crumbs red velvet cupcake (and Oreo cupcake to the right).

Sprinkles dark chocolate cupcake...I want to marry this cupcake. Please? I will be good to you, I promise. We could live in Beverly Hills right by the motherland...

The aftermath. Sprinkles won, in case you were wondering. For me, it was barely a contest.

Last stop: ramen in Little Tokyo at Daikokuya. Check out the steam mysteriously occluding a clear view of the bowl. A nice savory last note to balance out the extreme cupcake madness from the previous day.

PS: Jena, thanks so much for guest blogging last week!! By the way, if you thought she was joking about sending chow chow to you, she's totally not. Get your addresses in quick before it's all gone!

when pigs fly

People are all buzzing around the world about this purported "swine flu" epidemic. This led to the question: does this country have it and people are keeping hush hush about it? That would be awful because I could breathe on the apple guy outside and he could kick the bucket. Or vice versa. So I took a test just to be sure. Check yourself.

a drop of golden sun

Thanks Dboots for the amazing link. A-freakin-dorable!!!



There is just something to be said about dancing in public. (I've done it quite a bit this year myself.) Such inexplicable joy!

with liberty and malaria for all

So I am almost 2 months late on this topic, but for those of us who didn't see it, I thought it was worth sharing:




He keeps a really light tone during his "who let the mosquitoes out?" talk, but the reality of this disease is that

• 250 million cases occur worldwide per year
• almost 1 million die of malaria per year
  
• every 30 seconds a child dies of malaria
• incidence has increased in Africa over the past 3 decades (and eliminated almost everywhere else in the world) because of increased drug resistance and inadequate health care
• entire countries are incapacitated because of the prevalence of the disease--their economies are floundering due to the health burden
  
• it is preventable and treatable. (from http://www.cdc.gov/Malaria/index.htm)
  

It just doesn't make a ton of sense why malaria is still around (and flourishing, for that matter). What if all the balding people gave up all their anti-balding products for a year and gave that money to preventive malaria measures (mosquito nets, insecticide spraying) or even treatment options (anti-malarial drugs, vaccine development)? You know, because it's pretty inevitable and all (balding, that is).

Today Kristin introduced something I'll call an "emotional needs" chart. It is based on the idea that our emotions happen for a reason, and that to be in an emotionally healthy relationship these emotions need to be shared, not bottled up inside. (Pretty intuitive so far.) Furthermore, if the emotions you feel have needed responses from others. Example: if you are sad, you need comfort; if you feel shameful about something you did, that necessitates a friend affirming your inherent value as a person, etc. The most interesting one on there was anger--it requires change.

After watching that video and subsequently researching what I could on the state of malaria in the world today, I was angry. I was angry because it seemingly does not affect rich countries, therefore many are rather indifferent toward it. I was angry because halfhearted attempts to help have only worsened the condition...new disease-carrying mosquitoes are more resistant than ever to anti-malarial drugs. I was angry because a $10 insecticide-treated bed net will protect a family of 4 from malaria for 4 years, and we are all too wrapped up in lattes and movie tickets and iPhones to care. I was angry because every year the number of people afflicted by malaria equals the populations of Canada, the US, and Mexico combined, and you'd better believe that if the actual populations of these three countries were collectively struck by some terrible, life-threatening disease, the entire world would sit up and take notice. And yet...

So I've got this anger, and according to the chart change is needed. But where? While I can rant that as a world we are so irresponsible with the resources so graciously granted to us, as a global community so blind to members so desperately in need, and it could go on forever...the cold, hard truth: I am irresponsible with the resources so graciously granted to me. I am so blind to people so desperately in need. I am also impressively quick to point the finger of blame, and so this first needs change. I first need change.

the pippin of my eye

It is Sunday night, which means I am playing around on freerice so I can a) donate rice grains to the world, b) improve my vocabulary/preserve what English skill remains since this year's language immersion has somewhat wrecked the past 22 years of English language ability, and c) procrastinate on studying for that pesky test on Tuesday. Obviously.

Anyway, that entire spate of words above was not to obfuscate you all but instead just to say that look who made it onto the website tonight:

Clarifying note: Pippin is the name of my MacBook because I wanted to name it after an apple, and according to this website it is the very definition of the fruit. Take that, Macintosh!

follow the bouncing ball!

Busy at work on a fabulous post on what grocery shopping in Kuala Lumpur looks like...hint: Safeway not included. In the interim, here's a window into what I spent approximately 50% of my childhood watching...it might be the best minute of your day!



Talk about a heady whiff of nostalgia!

but for you who fear my name

(I believe the "you" is plural)

Well, far be it from me to write an album review since I'm barely qualified.

I'll back that up now. To me, music reviewers are the kind of people who know about artists and passionately love (or hate) them even before they've made it big, before they've scored a record deal...dude, if you've "discovered" them by the time they're in the process of recording their first album, you've missed the boat and are sooo 2008. Our finest case in point here, where their ever so slightly patronizing tone never lets the reader forget that their first (implicit) objective is mockery. Of the ironic sort, of course. (How dare you call my Decemberists "pretty ridic"? Who ARE you? I hate Pitchfork and their pretty ridic rating system.)

Reason #2 why I am not qualified: I dislike most music the first time around. And the second, and the seventh...it's not my fault; it sometimes takes a kid 20 times before she'll eat a new food. Fortunately, I have a loving friend whose middle name is perseverance--she persistently introduces new music to me and smiles as I initially fight it and eventually surrender.

Speaking of said loving friend...she sent me a package full of happy that I received today! I was so excited that I called her right away:

S: THANK YOU!!!!!!!

D: Did you listen to it yet?

S: I'm so excited to read the David Sedaris book, and to eat the Oatmeal Squares...

D: Did you listen to it yet?

S: ...and to use my new floss, and to make my Peet's Fair Trade coffee...

D: DID YOU LISTEN TO IT YET?!!

S: Well no, I called you first.

D: Go listen to it now. Email me when you've finished. (hangs up)

"It" refers to this, a recent Sufjan Stevens production of a couple and their forays into folky-but not-hokey song. Here's a picture of how I feel about the album:


(It means I like it a lot!* Hat tip to Jena for the reminder to take joyous pictures with Photobooth with things you love.)

Anyway, it will probably be at least 2 weeks before I can give a solid two cents on the album, but seriously, while none of the songs are penned by Mr. Stevens himself, the album is full of Sufjan soul and heart. The horn interludes, the gentle choir crooning, and the lonely banjo strums are all Sufjan trademarks, trademarks that I happen to enjoy quite a bit. I repeated #6 multiple times today (the title of this post). It comes straight of Malachi: triple point word score all around! It's clappy and easily sing-a-longable, which is a high priority of mine. Plus, inside the little booklet is a 4 page essay of Sufjan ramblings about musicians' "proclivities" and attempts to "extricate" meaning from life. Well, stick a fork of obtuse vernacular in me, I'm sold!

*Pitchfork actually gave a decent review for the album and managed to not make fun of Faith in the process. A thrill of hope...?