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.


How do you know it’s spring in London?

Pimm’s Cup served everywhere…


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.