May 2011


– Speculoos spread
– herbs de provence
– figue violette jam
– rillette de canard
– salted butter caramels
– lentils de Puy

Am I forgetting anything?

It’s salad season and I seem to be missing out. While I think California wins when it comes to making delicious, healthy and satisfying salads, my favorite thing in Paris was going to my weekly neighborhood farmers market. I looked forward to walking down to the market on Sundays and strolling up and down the different stalls.

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How do you know it’s spring in London?

Pimm’s Cup served everywhere…

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One time, when my mom asked what I wanted for dinner and I said “noodles.”

“We’re Cantonese. We eat rice for dinner.”

My mom would have been happy to have had pizza or meatloaf for dinner, but noodles for dinner? Oh no, that’s a line she will not cross. So I threw me in a temper tantrum (and this was me as an adult, visiting my parents only a few years ago).

Food laws feel like the most oppressive thing to me — I don’t care about cultural rules or allergies, my values and auto-immune response will not win over my right to eat tasty things.

So even though my people are traditionally rice farmers, one morning I committed the ultimate betrayal — I made my own noodles.

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