nothing compares

to the one and only most authentic of oyster sauces, Lee Kum Kee.
This is the brand I am familiar with, enjoy the taste of, and - having consumed so much of it in my yoot (Humor me, this is one of my fave cult films. Go to 9:06 for 'the line', I laff out loud at this dialog between Vinny and the judge. I always but always do).

Ahem. Alrighty then. Lee Kum Kee is also the reason I pooh-pooh other oyster-flavored sauces.

Lee Kum Kee - the bottle with the famous label depicting a woman wearing a blue dress and a boy donning a yellow shirt and blue shorts. They share a boat with giant sized oysters (the Bible sez...).

My family-of-origin used this condiment like many other All-American families use catsup. As an All-American family, we also used our fair share of catsup...

We used oyster sauce in our stir-fry dishes.
We often dribbled oyster sauce straight from the bottle over top of stir-fried gai lan.

A thin layer of oyster sauce was a delectable topping for jing don, a savoury egg custard dish that is both simple and challenging to cook.

More than anything, I loved using Lee Kum Kee Oyster-Flavored Sauce for bite-sized pieces of siu yook (roast pork belly meat (or) whole suckling pig (don't investigate this further if you think piglets are cute - which I do, but alas, they are also quite tasty). It's often stated that siu yook is an entreé served for special occasions such as weddings. In our home, siu yook was a staple that appeared on the dinner table several times a week. Not the whole roast suckling pig, mind you - but a pound or pound a half at a time (purchased at the 'deli' in Chinatown). So much for being poor folk. We ate WELL. No small wonder friends 'just happened to drop' by at the dinner hour...(Yes, we welcomed them, shared whatever we were serving, added more if needed and it was always great fun to dine en masse).

One of my tasks as 'kid kitchen assistant' was to create, in a small shallow dish - the perfect ratio of oyster sauce to garlic and ginger infused peanut oil. This was served as a dipping sauce alongside a platter of cut-up siu yook.

Tonight, I opened a bottle of squeezable Lee Kum Kee and squirted a tiny bit over my steamed lop cheoung rice. The slightly pungent, yet spirited aroma of the oyster sauce immediately triggered rather vivid olfactory as well as gustatory memories.

A traumatic moment or event can cause your whole life to flash before your eyes. But what about all your meals flashing before your eyes? That sensation can certainly be roused by the smell of certain foods/ spices/ condiments. Happens to me all the dang time.

And I luv it.

For DollinkDaughterLLS

Because you enjoyed the choreography by The Whispers on 'And The Beat Goes On'...

This first little video clip may or may not bring back a musical memory for you...

You were all of 3 (?) or 4(?) years old when DaddyDear and I took you to see The Temps and The Four Tops at the Circle Star Theater in San Carlos.

The next time you're exasperated with frustrating things, try to lift your spirits with Motown Oldies but Goodies and a bit of dancin' dancin' dancin' - because darlin', you are a Dancing Machine...

Why does EVERYTHING have to be so hard?!?

Several years ago, in a moment of extreme exasperation, DollinkDaughterLLS asked this, a most rhetorical question.

Of course, she didn't mean EVERYTHING. Nor did she mean to imply that everything is SO HARD.
She did mean to say that it don't come easy...

DDLLS was in the middle of a seemingly endless experience of exchanging a DVD player (or was it VHS player?)(or was it the broken part for her rice cooker?). Anyways. Dealing with the store where the item was originally purchased, she sought to get an exchange and/or purchase a new part. The store gave her the run-around. Referred her to the manufacturer. Manufacturer gave her the run-aound. New parts sent or product was exchanged. New part or product not satisfactory. Issue still not resolved.
More contact made. More run-around. More frustration.
The kind of frustration that makes you want to run screaming.

This weekend, I (and my cohorts in DIY) had a taste of this good ol' fashioned frustration. We've been trying to update one of the bathrooms in our Little House in the Big Woods. New sinks, new mirrors, new faucets, new lights. New countertops. Nothing fancy. Changing out the pink laminate for a faux stone laminate. Is that too much to ask?

Apparently so.
It seemed so easy. Go to Lowes, choose from a small selection of pre-fab laminate counters. Pay and take. Nice.

Go home and find out just before installing countertop that the thing won't fit. We purchased the wrong size countertop. It's too large. Took the measurement of the width and figured - countertops = standard depth. Not so. Depth measurement of new purchase is 25" and the bathroom counter area allows for approx. 21 1/2". What we bought is a kitchen countertop and bathroom countertops are narrower. Who knew?!? I never noticed this difference. A countertop is a countertop.
Apparently not.

Exchange? Not an option - neither LowlyLowes nor Home Despot carry pre-fab laminate bathroom countertops.
Return the one we bought?
And get what?

Proceed? Option: chop the thing down to size by lopping off close to 4" along the front or back of the entire 8' 4 1/2" length? Either way, we'd be losing either the built-in backsplash or the moulded front edge (a nice rounded shape). In either case, something would have to be added front or back to make up for the sawed-off section.
Aicheemama!

This is the stuff of Frankensteinian home decor. Unfortunately, I know it too well as:
Make-do DIY. On a dime, on a shoestring, on a budget. Weekend warriors who get very good at covering up their handyman-handywoman mistakes.

It's always a bit risky cutting laminate = if not done 'right', the whole thing could chip, crack, and crumble like phyllo dough handled too roughly (alas, food references are sometimes the best).

I asked myself 'Why does EVERYTHING have to be so hard?!? Why can't it just be EASY?!?' I busied myself with cleaning house (when all else fails, clean house or re-organize something)(well, it works for me anyway).

Let's skip ahead to the happy ending. A small group of friends & family DIY-ers set their minds and skills (and the use of a very nice table saw with razor sharp fine-toothed blade) to the task, and made a bathroom countertop happen. It was a moment of Great Phew. Aforementioned laminate countertop has been hacked down to size. Yes, at the loss of the backsplash, but a band of decorative mosaic tile can be subbed in.

It WILL look great (before and after pix will appear on this blog when the project is completely done - patience, please).

And the beat goes on.

Holiday!

Every day is a blank slate. Very exciting.

However, some people allow their days to pass without much significance. Nothing on the slate. Not even a productive-purposely-not-being-productive 'Day to unwind and relax and enjoy the quiet'. These folks have 'boring days'. What is that?!? Such a shame.

We can make something of each 24 hours. It took me years to adopt this mindset, but I now hold to the belief that each day we're lucky enough to wake up to - holds promise. Good stuff. Special moments here and there, then and now that just happen or that we create. Active or passive endeavors. Keeping mindful of the fact that we are instrumental in making our days count for something.
Little things that give life meaning. They add up.
It's nice.

Holidays are social constructs.
Designated days on the calendar that provide reason to pause, ponder and/or celebrate. Most holidays are anniversaries of significant events. They serve as days of observance. Some happy, others sad. It behooves us to take note. Balance is all-important.

Some holidays are just for fun.
Why the heck not?!?
Any opportunity to celebrate good times, c'mon!

Today is National Pie Day.
Eat pie, bake pie or think about pie (I particularly like the idea of 'Perform random
acts of Pieness'.)

Today I'm baking a pie. After all, it's a holiday.
(and there's lots of apples in the fridge...)

Toy Dolls I had and Toy Dolls I wanted

Memory Lane! This is a bit lengthy for most of us 'insta internet-ers' (skip to about 6:54 for the real 'good stuff'), but is pretty telling of the advertising hype directed at little girls back in the 50's...

jumping on the bandwagon

the Instant RAMEN Bandwagon, that is.
As per the internet, RAMEN RULES.

It didn't take very much online research to entice me back into the ramen fold. I was assimilated into obsessive ramen-eating far too many years ago to resist the call.

As a child growing up in SF's Chinatown, I ate my share of fresh-noodles-in-soup. Eating noodles is not only a cultural tradition, but a staple in the diet of my family-of-origin.
After the invention of instant ramen in 1958, preparation of tasty noodle soups became even less time-consuming, and my parents would keep the kitchen larder supplied with case after case of the packaged noodle treats.
Moreover, I could finally 'cook' it on my own.

As with all good food-related things, I overindulged. Instant Ramen everyday. Sometimes twice a day. Not necessarily as a meal, but as a snack.
Back then, as it is nowadays - it was fun to discover new ways to prep instant noodles. Here's one favored by my Mom:
Open package of ramen noodles and toss the flavoring packet.
Cook, then drain ramen of all but a tablespoon of the cooking water.
Add a bit of garlic-ginger infused peanut oil, curry powder, oyster sauce, ketchup and a dash of toasted sesame oil.
Use chopsticks to mix it all up.
Eat.
Yum.

As a young adult, like most others of my gen, I got into healthy, organic and vegetarian. It was then that I realized instant ramen was a fried food, probably full of MSG and WAAAAAAAY TOO MUCH SODIUM. And calories - mostly empty! Not the healthiest of foods. For the next few decades, I jumped on and off the Instant Ramen Wagon. I still loved the taste of it, but tried to be good. Really, I tried. At the market, a craving would overtake me and I'd pick up a few packages to savor as the occasional snack.
However, slurping down a bowl of fresh noodle soup (either homemade or in a restaurant) has remained a constant. It was the packaged ramen that I'd been trying to wean from.

In the last few years, I find myself succumbing even more frequently to instant ramen as a comfort (albeit guilty indulgence) food. As of late, I've been needing a great deal of comfort - and so damn the guilt is my new mantra..

The other week, older brother S-O e-mailed a ramen url to me. The link led to other ramen-based websites and ramen blogs (galore!).
Ramen-lovers of the world write so eloquently of their chosen food addiction!
And the accompanying photos!
Hot steaming bowls of ramen:
Plain or embellished - with additional meat, tofu, veggies, dried seaweed, etc.
That did it. My mouth waters for the stuff.

I'm officially back in the instant ramen ranks - with a vengeance!
ASAP, I'm heading to the nearest Asian market to buy an assortment...

HELLO 2007!
FILLED WITH HAPPY DAYS AHEAD EATING INSTANT RAMEN NOODLES IN EVERY WAY SHAPE AND FORM!
Life IS short.
Ramen does Rule!

Something else to look forward to in 2007: another very promising new movie with
ramen noodles as a key player.
WhooooooooooHooooooooooo!

just bead it

I came. I saw. I BEADED.
Teeny tiny Japanese seed beads and Swarovski crystal beads and long thin needles and skinny thread. An itsy bitsy lightweight safety chain! I broke out in a sweat getting that sucker attached!

It's a bracelet. I took the pic upon finishing it this afternoon. My very first Older Broad Bead Project that required considerably more effort to create than the simple seed bead strands a lá Summer of Love.

With the help of a friend, I followed a (modified) pattern from Bead & Button.
Well, kinda sorta followed it [because I'm a kinda sorta artsy craftygal].

Turns out there's something wonderful known as freeform beading. This is a good thing. As I happily worked along on this bracelet, I invariably (due to my 'creative process') miscalculated the pattern, forgot where I was with the bead count, allowed for slips of the needle. The bracelet ended up being my interpretation of freeform. Yeah, right.
'Go back and re-do' is not my modus operandi, so it is what it is.

Oh well.
It turned out just fine. As in don't-examine-it-too-closely just fine.

Beading isn't rocket science, but it ain't no walk in the park either.
Like most crafts that require concentration, beading can be a challenge. At the same time, it's enjoyable (in a masochistic way). Is there room for error? I'm banking on it. It behooves the novice to make use of any and all sparkly beads available. Tip: they do double duty by dazzling the eye away from little bitty mistakes.

Thank goodness for Ott-Lite with magnifiers and beading needles that split open to facillitate threading. Both tools helped get me through the project relatively unscathed (save for the throbbing headaches).

Love the results and plan to do more...since I've already invested in the light/magnifier...

softest robe (really and truly)

Two days ago, DollinkDaughterJrS presented me with a new robe. Not a Happy New Year or Birthday or Mother's Day gift - it was a 'thinking-of-you-just-because' present. Sweeeeeeeeet!

The robe I've been wearing for the last few years is made of fuzzy fleecy fabric in a large Paul Bunyan-type plaid print and is wrap-style. It's cozy and definitely Mountain MamaWear. Putting on my old robe is like throwing on a huge plaid cabin-in-the-woods print blanket that just happens to have sleeves and a collar. Each cold winter evening (there's a run of them of late) I look forward to tucking myself into Old Plaidy for a nice warm snuggle.
As much as I enjoy the comfort offered by my old robe, I'm sure others who see me in it wish for something a tad more...attractive?...to look upon.

The new robe (pictured above) is off-white in color, has a large hood, and in the style of my plaid robe it wraps around and secures with a self-fabric belt. It's made of an incredibly luxe, indescribably soft (and I mean the softest) fabric. It's a polyester but OoooohLaaaLaaa, what a polyester!
I, who covet natural fabrics like wool, cotton, silk, linen and the like - and typically eschew synthetics - am in LUV with this material!

This robe is, hands-down decidedly more attractive than Old Plaidy. Wearing it is an exercise in sensuality. It's soft on the outside, but even softer on the inside. Truth be known, I can't stop petting it!

In my excitement (cheap thrills abound), I Google'd 'softest fabric' and found all manner of faux velvet fur so-soft-you-can't-stand-it fabric: 'Minkee', 'Moccasin' (stuffed-bears!), 'Minky'...

I adore the tactile experience of all the new fabrics on the market, particularly the ones manufactured from resources like hemp (check out who utilized hemp fiber for industry over 5000 years ago), bamboo and soy.
Who knew there are so many organic clothing websites?

To be sure, let's all sing praises to organic and green and ethical, but today's post has everything to do with the softy polysynthetics, so Huzzah Huzzah for my new luxurious bathrobe!
I luv winter!!!

LoveKissyHuggys to DollinkDaughterJrS for your thoughtfulness!

P.S. Not one to forget an old friend, I am keeping Old Plaidy around for those Enuff-Softiness-Awready evenings.

resistance...

...(as they say) is fu-ti-le.
California drivers (and all visiting drivers?) who wish to use cell phones in transit - consider yourself forewarned: You will be assimilated.
Assimilation date = July 2008.

Did Arnie sign on the dotted line because of his past affiliation with all-things-cyborg?
Seems he did - moving us into a giant cozy collective with one fell swoop of the gubernatorial pen.

Like it or not, it appears that BlueTooth type apparati will prevail as hands-free cell phone accessories become de rigueur for all California drivers who drive whilst using their cell phones.
I absolutely agree that hands-free is long overdue being enforced by a law. Driving with the fewest distractions is the way to go: keeping your mind on the driving and your hands on the wheel and your snoopy eyes on the road ahead is no joke, but Ai Ya!
It is sometimes necessary to use that cell phone for those quick 'Where am I?' connections. On more than one occasion, Yours Truly has even deemed it necessary. Sad to say, I may succumb to compliance with the new law and find myself choosing a hands-free accessory before long.

Though I am banking on the probability that we won't all be subjected to those horrid Borg-Like Implants.
With the inevitable technological advances quickstepping to the cause, there should be attractive hands-free options aplenty before long. Designs to choose from that are considerably less Borg.

For those of us who face assimilation: let us pledge NOT to wear our hands-free paraphernalia day in and day out. Vow to remove them whilst dining, sleeping, at the movies, swimming, on a date, at a wedding, at a funeral, at the beach, at the kids soccer games et cetera.

To accessorize with hands-free techno gadgets makes a poor fashion statement. Most of us aren't undercover agents. Heck, except for the sunglasses and suits - even the Secret Service isn't so obvious.
As you may recall from my earlier BlueToof post, I become quite irritated at the sight of a grown man (men more so than women, in my view) parading as such. Businessman working on his laptop at the airport whilst waiting for a flight? OK - needs BorgToof for hands-free audio communication with the office.
Average Joe in casual attire sporting a hands-free earpiece whilst shopping for groceries? Ptui! That is so *%$!)*!?##!&@*! pretentious and reeks of a false sense of self-importance.

Let's not forget to mention that it's rude. Have you ever been engaged in conversation with someone wearing a BorgTooth and suddenly in the middle of talking to YOU that person starts talking to....SOMEONE ELSE on his/her earpiece?!? Without so much as an alert or apology to you?!?
Like, uh - 'I'm soooooo in demand that I just can't miss a phone call, and therefore I need not practice any degree of proper social etiquette?!?'.
Cack.

For all us 'regulah folk', lest we become so affected - t'would be wise to begin chanting the mantra now: Only in the car...only in the car...only in the car...

[This is an addendum to my 8/21/06 post: 'Your Toofs is Blue']

nit-pickin'

Got some free time and no nits to pick?

While away a few with a 'Dances with Wolves' DVD and this list.
My personal fave nit is Stands-With-A-Fist's hairdo.
I've been ranting about that since day 1.

Ask of and listen to...

your elders.
They have much to offer.

Talk about been there, seen it and done that.
Boyohboy, have they.

There are those who feel that seniors are nameless faceless tottering old folk who shouldn't be participating in society. That is such a mistaken notion and soooooooo unjust.

Our society perpetuates this misconception of old people as worth less, and we mentally, physically and emotionally move them out of the 'can-do' mainstream. In our modernity, it seems we've wandered much too far from the respect due our elders.

More than ever before, many of us (slightly) (much) (considerably) younger types could benefit from the wisdom of the elderly and their life experiences. As we go through our own trials and tribulations, couldn't we all use something of the practical advice that the older generations have to offer?

Venture to ask. Many will be thrilled that you did.
In doing so, you may be the lucky recipient of commonsense pearls-o-wisdom.

In return, express gratitude.
Acknowledgement.
Respect.

Make some time in your busy, harried, frenzied no-time-to-get-it-all-done day to acknowledge a senior.
Take a minute.
Give a precious moment.
Get a better one right back.

white as snow

I'm fairly new to snow. Seeing it, tromping in it, living in an environment where one can expect to experience a bit of it sometime between November and April. West Coast Inner City Gals who aren't winter sports enthusiasts don't get much early exposure to snowfall, snowstorms, and the like. As a kid, I stayed pretty close to home. No snow in that neck o' the woods.

I first played in snow when I was a teen. Wearing blue jeans, I had no understanding that denim sucks up the icy slush of melted snow, rendering the fabric freezing cold and wet. Not to mention heavy. Of course, I didn't know to bring a change of clean dry clothes to wear for the 4+ hour car ride back home. Brrrrrrrrrrr (sound effect of teeth chattering). 'Nuff said.

I didn't see snow falling until I was an adult, whilst visiting Japan in the wintertime: There I was by my lonesome on a little train choo-chooing into the inner reaches of Northern Honshu. I was on my way to the city of Akita...

I was venturing into the rural part of Japan - quite a change from bustling Tokyo where I'd just been. Looking very much the tourist, I sat like a fish-outta-water with the locals on that train. It was night, no one spoke English (I tried asking simple 'Are we heading to...?' questions, but people shook their heads as if they couldn't understand, or didn't wish to engage in conversation), no signs were in English and several of my fellow passengers had caged pet birds and chickens on the seats beside them. Country bumpkins who didn't want to bother with a confused (and possibly suspect) n' dazed dame on a train riding into the remote?

I was a female traveling alone. Schlepping two heavy suitcases. 39 years young (ah, eons ago), my hair worn long and loose, sporting a pair of thinnish cotton stretch pants with a little print (fashionable at the time?), white athletic shoes (bad combo) and a bright turquoise wool jacket (what was I thinkin'?!?). Maps and a guidebook in hand. Pretty obvious = tourist-o.

This was my first trip to Japan - a month long (solo) sojourn up and down the island chain on a JapanRailPass. Quite the adventure. Little ol' me bumbling about from point A to B to C and onward. It was wonderful. Scary. Educational. Exciting. However, it was not without many an anxious moment as I made my way from one new place to another - engaging in one new experience after another. To be sure, surprises awaited at every turn...

The passengers on that rural train quietly observed my every move (hey, I KNOW when someone is sneaking a peek in my direction!). I did my best not to appear TOO self-conscious. I chose to avoid eye contact and direct my gaze out the window. Trying to be inconspicuous is difficult for any gaijin in Japan, even one who looks Asian and could possibly be mistaken for a native. The locals can easily spot a foreigner. Although no one ever actually mistook me for a Japanese National, it did happen a couple of times on a brief encounter, but any interaction and they knew I wasn't from round those parts. After sizing me up, most people (shyly, politely) asked if I was American (which, oddly enough - never occurs in the States, where I'm typically asked if I'm Chinese)(Hmmmmmm....).
At any rate.....
The train entered a tunnel. A very l-o-n-g tunnel, and it really did seem to go on forever. Staring out a train window when going through a tunnel means staring out at nothingness, so I did as the locals do and closed my eyes as if cat-napping. When we emerged out the other end - I opened my eyes again and found that it was - snowing! Big white snowflakes fluttering down against the backdrop of a deep navy blue sky.

How picturesque!
I gasped out loud. The other passengers looked over at me (again). One smiled.

It was rather a magical moment for me - first snowfall and all.

In spite of the circumstances.
I wasn't sure I was on the right train to my destination: things became even more worrisome when the train made an unannounced 5 minute stop, changed tracks to go in a different direction, and all the other passengers knew to get up and flip their seats over to face the opposite way. I had no clue as to what was happening and a kind soul took pity on me by helping me flip my seat. 'Domo arigato' said I, but still didn't know if I'd ever make it to Akita. Ah well - best to Let Go and Let JapanRail. Fingers crossed that I was still en route. As it is, a good part of travel for me is not knowing with any certainty if I'm going to get where I originally plan to go...

Settling back into my (reversed direction) seat and taking in the idyllic winter scene outside calmed me down. For a moment the anxiety of travel subsided...

...and then there was all that beautiful white snow. First sighted from a train coming out of a mountain tunnel, it was very 'Yasunari Kawabata'. It did seem the stuff of novels.

Clean falling snow. Snow you could make a sno-cone out of, dribble a little sweet flavoured syrup over, and have a chilly cooling bite.

I didn't know then that snow isn't as clean as it appears to be. More often than not (always?), even the whitest snow contains dirt. Besides taking heed in the wisdom of the warning 'Don't Eat the Yellow Snow', one should reconsider before rolling up a ball of clean white snow and thinking Sno-Cone Naturale. That icy treat may be riddled with gritty dirt.

An experiment I found online and can hardly wait to try when the first snowstorm blankets our property: Fill a jar with the whitest snow you can find and bring it inside. Let it melt. No matter how clean that snow appeared there will always be some dirt in it.

White as snow. Clean and pure as the driven...

Another myth dispelled. Ya just gotta love it.

P.S. What a good excuse to reminisce a bit about that first trip to Japan. Nice memories. I've been thinking that it's high time to return for another visit...

Yum Cha

On January 1st, we enjoyed such a tasty dim sum lunch in San Francisco. There was a TON of food. And tea. Major Yum Cha action.

Chinese dumplings were part of the meal. Wrapped in wonton skin and/or wrapped in other thin noodle dough. Pork-filled, shrimp-filled or filled with other tasty ingredients.
They were good. I mean goooooooooood. Perfect, actually. At least I thought so...

Many a diner in Chinese restaurants (dare I actually say 'in particular those diners of Chinese-descent'?) will talk about the food whilst eating it. What I mean is discuss in detail. As in analyze. Evaluate. Scrutinize. JUDGE.

And I do mean pick it apart.
Oftentimes, the entire meal conversation will be focused on the preparation of the food that was just ordered, labored over in the kitchen and presented now for gastronomic enjoyment.
Or not.

Typical comments: too salty, not salty enough (no flavor), ingredients chopped too fine, not chopped finely enough, overcooked meat or fish, undercooked meat or fish, stringy tough vegetables, too many vegetables, not enough vegetables, not enough sauce, too much sauce, meat not trimmed well of fat and gristle, meat is overtrimmed of fat and gristle, too much filler of baby corn, onion, bamboo shoots, celery, not enough baby corn, etc. (this comment is rarely made), etc. etc. Portion size is also looked at: not enough = skimpy. Overladen plate = Hmmmm, they give a lot. (this comment is never uttered loud enough for the restaurant staff to overhear, lest they reduce the portions next time round).
Temperature of the food is just as important as taste and portion size: Too hot to eat, too COLD to eat (this is a biggie - hot cooked Chinese food is supposed to be right off the burner piping hot when it comes to the table - ready to serve - not a minute too soon or too many minutes after final prep in the kitchen).

The 'kiss of death' comment that scares every diner away from a dish: 'NOT FRESH!'.

This all sounds negative, as in why go out to eat if every meal is a re-enactment of the panel from Iron Chef? That's just the way it is, folks - part of the (family-style Chinese) dining experience.

But really, there is a deliciously delectable positive side to the 'food talk at the table'.
The meal is well-prepared and perfectly cooked. Arrives at the table at just the right temperature. When that happens, you don't really hear a thing.
Chinese diners typically don't mmmmmmmmm and ahhhhhhhhhhh over a perfect dish of food. They just eat it. In relative silence.
After a few bites, someone will say 'Pretty good'. 'Not bad'. 'Think I'll have some more'.

Now, that'sa good review!
吃有些

2007

Day late and a black-eyed pea short.
Or something like that.

I've got some black-eyed peas, smoked ham shanks, salt pork
and this recipe - which I intend to make with a few changes from the ingredients listed.
About 20 years ago, I was introduced to the eating of black-eyed peas to begin the new year as a Southern new year food tradition. South as in Southern USA. Exercising artistic license, and as my ancestry is southern (Southern China, but what the hey) I'm adopting and adapting the tradition - and the recipe.

My plan is to vary from the norm with the prep of this dish (which is usually served pretty plain). Perhaps my variation will have something of an Asian Twist (not the Pony, but the Twist) (OMG, how I LUV to do The Twist!)(and can do a pretty mean Asian Twist)(Whooooa, did I get distracted there. The Twist song can do that to a person...).

Anyways.
I can use Chinese sausage (good ol' lop cheoung) in my black-eyed peas dish instead of the aforementioned salted pork meats!
Or both?
Decisions decisions.
Hmmmmmmmm and Yummmmmmm.

I was gone all day today to romp and play and eat tasty Happy New Year foods with friends and fam in The City, so I won't be cooking up a proper black eyed pea dish to eat until tomorrow.

But I'm right here right now on this first day of 2007 to wish you this: have yourself some very fine 'first days of the New Year'! Be kind to someone. Give some lovin'. Get some lovin'.
Today was full of kindness and lovin' all the way round.
We're going to have our good days and our bad days, but I do hope you experience a string of good days to start the year.

Eat black-eyed peas.
They're considered a Lucky Food.
And by all means - do The Twist (Asian or otherwise).
Before, during or after ...