Quail eggs have been haunting me. The first time I actually saw a quail egg was just south of Moscow, Russia at my husband’s family reunion. What a trip. Some true-to-form Mindy highlights: being held at customs until we paid a $300 visa-revision fee (that’s right, US dollars, meaning my husband had to go to an ATM, withdraw rubles, exchange them into US dollars, just to go back to withdraw $3 more dollars to cover the transactin fee); showing up at a giant, empty hotel with 4, separate entrances, each with its own reservation desk & staff, none of which would acknowledge that we had a reservation; and basically just not remembering how to say “yes” in Russian for days because every time we asked a question, we heard, “nyet.” Anyway, at one outdoor picnic (infested with yellow-jackets that I actually saw eating chunks of cured meat), out came the quail eggs. They proceeded to drop them into shot glasses, top them off with vodka, and down the entire thing. Continue reading
Monthly Archives: May 2009
Birthdays still blow…
Last night, I had a late dinner and cocktail at l’école’s bar. What started as a simple and quick bite quickly became a late birthday surprise. Michelle Kwak, FCI Culinary student, but Pastry all-star baked a special chocolate chip cookie that made Jacques Pepin remark on its deliciousness. In fact, he gently touched her on the cheek and told her how good it was… that’s like being blessed by the cooking pope. As if that weren’t enough, when we ordered dessert of Chocolate Bread Pudding, Caramelized Bananas, and Coconut-Ginger sorbet, it came with yet another birthday candle and “Happy Birthday” written in chocolate sauce.
But… that wasn’t the best “birthday candle” of the night. Matt, one of FCI’s fabulous bartenders, fired up the Red Hot Poker and made me a Red Hot Manhattan. He made it extra-special by flaming it so long that when he stopped, his protective mitt smelled like it had been cooked “well-done.” I definitely needed it since every time I celebrate my birthday, it MONSOONS outside. And I was so happy that I’d had it when I got into a cab and sat in a puddle of what I hope was rainwater. Good thing I was wearing light-gray pants that thirstily soaked up the water and left a giant dark water stain on my butt when I walked into my husband’s office building to pick him up. Good news is that I think the rain water washed away the wine splatter that I hit myself with while opening bottles for wine class a few hours earlier.
Oh, and deep apologies to Angela for hitting her with my bag, stepping on her, and elbowing her during dinner… Listen, dining with me is “at your own risk,” people.
Try blowing out this birthday candle:
Filed under Eating my feelings and paying for it
Omelette my people go!
Omelette-related injuries to date: 3 including 1 bruised ego
I knew this was coming; you knew this was coming; so let’s do this. Let’s shake n’ bake some freaking omelettes! I missed the kitchen so last month, I asked to get staffed on Sunday brunch, which was just getting started at l’École. I remind myself of this every time I want to beat myself with an omelette when a 5-top sits down, all wanting omelettes at the same time. I’m exaggerating of course (what? me? noooo…), things aren’t that bad on the omelette station… anymore. Luckily, volunteer cooks are literally pushing each other out of the way for the opportunity to sling omelettes for Sunday patrons. Nooo problem, I will gladly step aside! But before people were forming a queue to make colorless, glossy omelettes, I suffered through a lot of omelette rolling. Just self-deprecating? Nope. After my first day, the Exec Chef on duty told me the following: “When I worked at a 3 Michelin star restaurant and we were in the weeds, we’d draw 3 stars and then cross them off every time we put out a bad plate. You have no stars.”
Where else would I be on my birthday?
Technically, I already posted on Shorty’s .32, but damnit, it deserves more attention! My husband, Chris, was working late and so my friend (and awesome cook), Nick, took me out for my birthday on short notice. I had the choice to go anywhere at all… So where did I pick? Shorty’s .32. With my history of bad luck, I needed to do everything possible to guarantee a great meal on my birthday – I was in no mood to be anything less than thrilled. Remember what I said about my family being cheap (even though it did pay for college)? Well there’s nothing more offensive than paying for a meal that’s mediocre! Shorty’s is like a sure-thing (not in the Kentucky Derby way – it’s actually a safe bet). They should have a sign that says, “Send us your tired and hungry and we will return them fat and happy.” This is one of the few restaurants in the city that make me long for my old, six-figure life. If I were still pulling in the Benjamins, I would probably eat at Shorty’s every damn night. Actually, with prices so damn reasonable, I could even eat there for half of that. Unfortunately, I’m making a fraction of half of that: a lot more Lincolns than Bens, and I’m talking about the copper kind.
Filed under Eating my feelings and paying for it
Quit picking on Swine Flu…
I think people are tired of me joking about Swine Flu. Apparently it’s not one of those things I should be joking about. But before I quit cold turkey…
Someone countered my claim that Swine Flu wasn’t a big deal with, “If it’s not such a big deal, then why did I see like 5 people wearing face masks in Chinatown???” Great question! Well, here’s the thing – Asian people love to wear face masks. We find all sorts of reasons why we have to wear them: you’re riding your moped around and don’t want to breathe in dirt and fumes from other mopeds that you’re tailgating; it’s really sunny out and you don’t want that area of your face to get tan, which basically means you’re a peasant (and nobody really wants to look like a peasant even if you are one); or the latest round of some extremely rare and potentially deadly flu (as all flu’s are) is spreading around and you don’t want to catch it because like every other Asian, you’re a germaphobe and paranoid.
Of course, I have another theory as to why Asians take any opportunity possible to don the little blue, paper face mask – it makes us feel like doctors. That’s right, if you’re not a doctor, this is your one opportunity to feel like the doctor that your strict Asian parents always wanted you to be, and have never stopped being (vocally) disappointed that you never became. Live long and eat pig, people.
Swine Flu is my fault…
I lied – this isn’t my first blog. But it wasn’t an intentional lie! I completely forgot that I kept a blog a few summers ago while I was working in Vietnam. Trust me, it was short-lived and not remarkable – so much so that I didn’t even remember it! A friend actually just reminded me of it and as I was looking through it, I started to laugh at one post. No, not because it was funny, but because while I was there, Vietnam suffered a pig-related epidemic! That’s right, Swine Flu is basically all my fault. My bad luck and love of pork has combined like the perfect storm and unleashed itself upon the world.
For your amusement: check out this post related to Vietnam’s “Blue Eared Pig Disease” from 2007.
Mini-Miracle Mondays
You know what? 29 feels a lot like 28 did, except that I am spending the morning of my 29th birthday with my leg elevated and an ice pack on my right knee. That damn library injury is still plaguing me! Maybe it’s age playing yet another trick on me, its best trick was sinking my metabolism.
Regardless, there are still wonderful moments in this past week that count as mini-miracles:
Miracle #1: Biscuits. I. Love. Biscuits. Growing up in New Jersey as a first-generation Vietnamese girl, biscuits weren’t common. All of you “born in the south and raised on biscuits” readers are probably reading this, shaking your heads, and thinking, “that poor, deprived girl.” Yeah, that’s how I feel, too! Now, I make it a point to eat biscuits whenever possible Continue reading
Filed under Mini-Miracle Mondays
Sunday is apparently pick out a shiny new Asian day…
Well, I guess I should be flattered, but I’m just kind of dumbstruck. Yes yes, go ahead and make jokes about me just being dumb – I’ll wait… Done? Good, moving on. Something very odd happened in the kitchen today…
I got an early birthday gift. Instead of sweating it out over the omelette station, I was hard at work destroying appetizers for patrons of L’École today. Whatever makes the mean, mean omelettes go away makes me thrilled. Added bonus: Teach stopped by with his family and hopefully had a good meal. Actually, as long as he steered clear of anything with the word “tartare” in it – which I was mangling – I’m sure he did. It was nice to see happy faces come through the kitchen, even if I could only barely enjoy it because I was too busy thinking of how to ruin something else just by touching it.
Filed under This never would have happened in Finance
Correction to my birthday bliss… (read the sarcasm)
I’m literally sitting at my parents’ kitchen table and they’re critiquing my blog. My mom overly loves it and my dad doesn’t seem to know what it is, but has suggestions on how to improve. Yeah, good to be home. As if I needed any more inspiration, here are two great little gems from the trip.
First, I need to post a correction to my last entry about my 5th birthday. Continue reading
Filed under How'd I get this way? Blame my parents.
Happy Friday! How are you spending your weekend?
Well, I’m spending mine mourning my youth. On Monday, I turn 29, which means a year from Monday, I’ll be 30. See how that works? So this weekend, I’m going to escape the city and go home to New Jersey to see my family. I hate my birthday, but my mother (who is hilarious) has a way of pulling me from my crankiness with stories of what a brat I was at my 5th birthday. Apparently (I don’t remember past last year, let alone back to when I was 5), I thought I pinned the tail on the donkey, but my mother was being a gracious host and gave the prize to my “boyfriend” at the time, Cory instead. Well, no one had explained what being “gracious” meant, so instead I threw a temper tantrum yelling, “That’s not fair!” and stormed away from my party. Yeah… I was just a treasure of a kid. Hearing about how terrible you were before, though, somehow makes you feel better about who you turned out to be. Not that the standards of comparison are high, but who cares!
Actually, there’s one little glimmer of sunshine to start off this weekend (holy cheez its, I’m basically asking for a personal rain cloud to follow me around), the Culinary Technology blog that I was hired to write for will actually be up and running by the end Continue reading
Filed under Randomness
Mindy's Recipe For Disaster 