Caramel apples and a new food blog

Behold, caramel apples. Last week I saw this recipe at 101 Cookbooks, and since there were only three ingredients on it, I gave it a try. It's super easy, but the one catch is that the caramel needs to be heated to just the right temperature. Since I don't have a candy thermometer, it turned out kinda soupy, so I will have to keep trying. In the meantime there is nothing wrong with scooping up melted caramel and eating it off the silpat. Yum.

Which reminds me: I have a new blog. Well, semi-new. It's at Fortune's Feast, and describes my attempts to teach myself Chinese cooking. As some of you know, I've long been conflicted about how "Chinese" I am, if identity even is something quantifiable. I speak Chinese, I lived in Taipei, but I have very few Chinese friends. I had all sorts of friends as a child, but somewhere around middle school is when all the Asian kids started hanging out with each other - and nobody else. This bothered me. It bothered me because I thought the practice exclusive and discriminatory. Maybe they weren't actively segregating themselves, but at one point one of my Chinese American classmates came over to my lunch table and asked, "Why don't you sit with the Asian kids?"

That bothered me. I didn't want to be exclusionary, but it seemed to be the only way to be "Asian" where I grew up.[FN1] So my response was to be not "Asian" and to befriend people of all ethnicities. Somewhere along the line, though, I think I overcompensated, because soon I had no Asian friends. That also bothered me. So I was conflicted.

Anyway, this is all a long way of saying that I have a new food blog, where I try to reconnect with a heritage I once dismissed because I didn't want to be exclusive. I write about recipes, challenges, identity, and family. Mostly it's an excuse to eat more.

----
FN1. Looking back I realize the absurdity of this all, even the very idea of "Asian." It's a wholly American concept - nobody in China actually wants to hang out with anybody in Korea. So really the attempt to be more "Asian" was something inauthentic to begin with.

Tellin' my mom

KHC: Ma, I got a job!
Ma: Oh? Where?
KHC: At a coffee place and bakery in Georgetown!
Ma:...
KHC: Hello?
Ma: What about J. Crew?

(It's funnier if you imagine the conversation in Chinese, except for the words "Georgetown" and "J. Crew". That I still can disappoint my Chinese mother, however, is funny enough.)

Really, really cliche

Upon reading my last post, the Captain remarked, "You didn't mention the Obama stickers I put on the windows."

Sorry, honey.

Liberal cliche

Most of the time, I like to think I am a nice, normal, Main Street type of gal.

The fact that I can hear you laughing is indication enough I am nowhere near Main Street. But at least I try. I bake my own cookies, I watch football, I take the bus. And I like it.

But every so often I'll find myself in a situation where there's no use pretending. To wit, I noticed last night as I was reading myself to sleep, in a Georgetown townhouse, where I live with my boyfriend, whom I met in private school, where I got the second of my advanced degrees, that we both were reading...Murakami.

Time to go break out the pearls.

Ain't nothin' but a number

The Captain is thirty! How exciting. Thing is, he looks exactly the same as he did at twenty-nine.

His actual birthday was yesterday, but the festivities started early. Little Captain [FN1] and her fiance the Cowboy Soldier [FN2] flew in Thursday evening and started celebrating with us pretty much the moment they got off the plane. Well, I didn’t get to join them at first because I had to "run" twenty miles, but I caught up eventually. There’s nothing like a power nap after dinner and drinks to get you out the door at 1AM so you can meet up with everyone else. And then close the bar at 3AM. And then have a slumber party in the basement until 5:30AM. During which the Captain might crash into a stationary object (my dresser). But the crashing part is totally optional. Yes, I do this every weekend.[FN3]

Even better, though, was the actual party we had on Saturday. I hadn’t planned on or expected to spend the entire day in the kitchen, but now I can say I have had the experience. Who knew that devil’s food cake with raspberry filling and white chocolate cream cheese frosting could be so time consuming? It was definitely worth the effort, however, as the roomful of silence clearly showed. How nice it is when everyone knows not to talk with his/her mouth full. The Captain’s dad also was in town and decided that every party-goer needed his/her own large bag of chips and appetizers. So now I am back to staring at an overflowing pantry and wondering if I’ll ever get to see the back of it.

----------

FN1. The Captain’s sister who also was a Captain in the U.S. Army
FN2. Yes, another veteran
FN3. Not really.

Living with Boys

Several nights ago, I went out to dinner with a large group of friends, and as often happens with large groups of friends, some of us got our entrees before others. I got my entree fairly early, while the man seated next to me got his fairly late. He urged the rest of us to start, saying he was a fast eater so we didn't have to worry. He told us he'd grown up in a house with two brothers, where the only way to get seconds was to get them first.

I didn't grow up with two brothers. I also try to eat slowly so I don't overeat. Now that I am living with TWO big boys, however, I need to pick up my game. Food just has a way of disappearing around here.

All-American Family

As I mentioned last night, the Captain and I have moved into a townhouse with his youngest brother, the Genius. What I didn't mention is that the Genius has special needs which warrant some supervision. He's remarkably intelligent, hence his alias, but he still benefits from the occasional reminder about social norms and the like.

He also benefits from the Captain's supervision of his homework. The Genius is a math major so he doesn't require any actual help from either of us. But when the Captain asked the Genius about whether he'd reviewed his homework, the Genius paused, then replied, "I'll be back." Next he proceeded up the stairs to prepare more thoroughly for class.

Which prompted me, of course, to remark that our new set-up felt like the all-American family: a house, a college-aged "son," a (potential) dog.

It's good practice.