The Sourdough Project

I've recently become a mother.

Meet my two gorgeous children. Starters #1 (whole wheat flour) and #2 (AP flour).
The products of what is essentially the binary fission of a friend's sourdough starter
 sits on the upper deck of my kitchen's greenhouse window, right next to my
dehydrated kumquats and above my precious terrariums.

Believe it or not, they do, just like children, require some time everyday. I have to feed it twice a day, proportioning out an ounce of the respective flour and an ounce of water everyday, make sure they don't get too grumpy (after all, who wants to smell boozy?), and keep them covered at specific times to prevent them from "skinning" at the surface. Boy, that was a mouthful.

The white flour took a while to pick up but
 is actually more active than my WW one now...

Aren't they beautiful? 

Having to feed these voracious children everyday leaves me wondering what to do when they  grow bigger and won't fit their home anymore! I'm probably going to end up taking some out and replenishing them with fresh flour and water everyday. Hence, I am introducing the sourdough project (with which I'll try my best to follow through). At least twice a week, I'm going to be using about a cup of the starter to make recipes ranging from baguettes to naan and from tortilla chips to pita bread. My ultimate goal? This. The culmination of the most popular, time-tested, and traditional techniques to make baguettes with the most moist and delicious open crumb I have ever seen. But first, I'll actually need to get a loaf to actually get an oven spring. I definitely have a long way to go...

Sourdough Garlic naan + Indian curry, anyone? Or what about Carrot and
Tomato Soup with toasted sourdough baguette slices (my dinner!)?

Life-wise, I can't say how glad I am to have created this blog, a place where I can document and just pour out everything I'm feeling at the moment. Journaling does help you to evaluate your situation and yourself, even, from a different perspective. There's something about putting your feelings in words that really makes you question yourself sometimes...

Those Birthday Days II

I slept at 4am, trying to come up with designs for t-shirts and hoodies and teaching myself how to make vectors and use paths, and more importantly, having a tremendous amount of fun with it. But, that's another story...

Following a less-than-tumultuous day was another busy, sunny day. The first thing I did this morning was head off to America's only Taco Bell on a beach to partake in some Earth Day activities for, admittedly, extra credit. But boy, I have been missing out. The sheer number of volunteers, surfers, scientists (one of whom my physio class helped do a plastic transect for), and even children at the beach was astounding. The beach was amazingly shining and litter-free, as was the creek. After a fun time walking around and joking around with two of my friends and missing low tide to observe some tide pools, my mother and I went to the local Fresh and Easy to buy polenta, whole wheat flour, puffed cereal, among other foodstuffs.

After spending a couple of hours at the beach and supermarket, my mother and I went to Kohl's to spend some cash card, buying some puzzle games and books for her cousin's daughters, new work-pants for dad, and, for me, a pair of red sandals (my first ever!). Having satisfied our shopaholic cravings for the day, we headed home.

My comfy, new red sandals after a day of walking. Wonderful cushioning saved my feet.

Then it was off to the Vanderbilt reception at the Palomino Restaurant in SF. Being shy from lunch time and dinner, from 3-5pm, they served just appetizers such as thin-crusted pizza and calamari (and not the parents anything at all), and I chattered (or more like listened) to a group of predominantly female and white group of admitted and committed students, feeling a bit awkward due to the gregariousness of most of the girls. It was definitely a smaller reception than the other colleges, and it is probably because of the stigma of being located in "the South," where people think others transform into "country hicks" or have nothing to do due to being landlocked. But who knows? Vanderbilt provided me with a stellar financial reward package, a great opportunity to study in its reputable medical program, and beautiful (yet humid) weather. Whether or not I'll attend is still up in the air.

After the brief, slightly uncomfortable reception, my parents and I went to chinatown, doing what else but buying some food and eating at a Szechuan restaurant, indulging as best as we could on a windless, cloudless, bright and warm day.

A flashy car with hydraulic bouncers and a couple of friendly-looking Latinos.

Dried jujubes! It was something I was excited to see because of my love of jujubes.

Highlight of the day: So the above two pink labels are different in that one is grown
in the South and the other, in the North. I see my mom alternating scoops between
the two into her plastic bag. I ask her what on earth she was doing. She responded,
 "I don't want  to discriminate." I couldn't stop laughing.

Humongous fly encapsulated in what appears to be amber. Fake? Looks unreal to me.
Also, wouldn't it also be of scientific value if it were real??

Szechaun cuisine contains chilies predominantly, something I didn't find out until today.
 The fish inside this chili-oil concoction did not smell fishy whatsoever, tasted
extremely creamy, and barely tasted spicy at all. It definitely gets full marks from me.

The rest of the dishes were delicious too, of course. Especially those peanut noodles
at the right. However, I had to ask for my ice water about 3x before
 someone remembered my request.

The end of a wonderful day. My self-portrait must be
 somewhat lacking, for sure.

Those Birthday Days

Maybe it's because I'm facing the prospect of moving all the way across the country. Maybe it's because I'm about to no longer be able to see friends and family on a daily basis. Maybe it's because the reality of turning 18 is just slowly starting to sink in. Or maybe it's even because of the unusually estival weather today. These ephemeral days increased my sense of urgency to journal my day-to-day life. Lately I've gained an entirely new perspective of myself and my community, perhaps feeling a bit detached, like a tourist. But it's not a bad thing. This feeling of detachment prompts me to look at everything around me in a far more appreciative manner, knowing that these kinds of days--time, is limited.

The orchids capture the warmth of dawn.

Imagine if every morning started as beautiful as this.

First of all, I was awakened on my birthday by the sounds of mom chopping up vegetables at 3:30am. Nodding back to sleep, I woke up again to the glorious sunshine and the delicious smells of khao swè thohk, or a Burmese-style noodle salad, which I took to school to share with my friends. After enjoying some traditional birthday noodles with the most tender chicken ever and two soft-boiled eggs, I headed off. At school, I enjoyed several choruses of Happy Birthday (I feel so blessed to be adored by my friends!) and realized how great they were in hiding their pained faces as they ate the overly spicy (too much red onion), yet delicious, khao swè thohk. They definitely made both me and my mom happy!

The sunlight fills the kitchen, too.
My mother is enjoying her breakfast after
 toiling over the noodles.

 Khao swè thohk at its finest and spiciest. (Sorry for the excess onions!)

My birthday dish, chow (fermented something...)  and khao swè. 

Tender "running" chicken from the 99 Ranch ran
 straight into the stockpot. Sorry, guys!

I also received a beautiful flower-apple amigurumi creation from Cindey, as well as her pineapple-juiced sourdough starter, which were bubbling away happy almost immediately after being fed once I go home! Most of my friends told me they were going to give me their gifts later, which I actually prefer to having to carry lots of conspicuous gift bags around school for the whole day. I requested pajamas, but I wonder who is actually going to follow through with that... Anyways, the starter made me really happy because I split it into two and  am looking forward to baking some amazing sourdough bread in the upcoming weeks.

My bread flour-fed starter with 100% hydration.

My whole wheat-fed starter with 200% hydration.

Not only did my mom also make one of my all-time favorite Burmese dishes, ka la hin, a sort of broth-based gumbo, or as I like to think of it, inverted vegetable soup (with the proportions of broth to vegetable switched). My day ended with a visit from my best friend who came to my house bearing a gift--an amazingly orange weatherproof jacket, courtesy of the kids' section (that's one advantage to being a shorty). All-in-all, there was no better induction day to adulthood than 4/20/2012. I haven't felt this thankful in a while...

Some of the constituencies of  ka la hin, which usually consists of whatever happened 
to be in our fridge. Here it was zucchini, sweet potatoes, green beans, and more. 

The kitchen table at dinner. The colorful fruits are just a microcosm of my everyday diet.

Never Again 17

Within the past couple of hours, I was wondering what sort of felony I should commit before tomorrow. Preferably one that isn't too egregious nor too juvenile. It was fun toying with the idea for some moments and letting my imagination go wild.

Anyways, maybe it's due to the sunny weather, but today has been quite an ephemeral day for me. Hearing sounds from the kitchen as early as 3:30, I jumped out of bed at 5:30 to make citrus (buddha's hand), coconut scones adapted from this recipe, substituting the butter with coconut oil and the sugar + sour milk with 1/2 cup buddha's hand syrup, freshly-squeezed lemon juice, 1/4 cup soymilk, and some tablespoons of xylitol. I also added some wheat bran, flax seed, and butter-vanilla emulsion. I enjoy my mom's kaw-aye khao swè, which literally translates to "glue water noodle." Despite its unappetizing translation, it actually is a noodle dish in chicken stock, spices, and thickened with corn starch. Topped with cabbage, onions, beansprouts, and chives alongside homemade whole-wheat noodles, it makes one heck of a breakfast.

Citrus-coconut scones dusted with powdered xylitol, baked on a pizza stone at 350  for 20 minutes.

I arrived at school to yearbook class first period, and the yearbook representative brought donuts to celebrate our completion of the book, slated to arrive around May 10th. Sharing my scones with my classmates, the whole morning went by like a breeze. During lunch, my friends and I basked in the sun, talking about roly-polys and playing word games. After sharing more than enough laughs to power the whole city of Monstropolis, I went to my english class, taught by my favorite and most respectable teacher, learning many tips for the upcoming exams and be elucidated about the meaning of the ubiquitously enigmatic poem, Evening Hawk. (I've never been apt at tying in poetry to greater themes of humanity. And I also learned that the only difference between poetry and prose is that poetry has rhyme and meter.)

Regrettably, I had to leave the class early to catch the unexpected charter bus for our badminton match, which we, the school, won with a score that is too close for comfort. The charter bus was interesting--containing windows, each tinted different colors, kind of like Instagram filters. The gym was tremendously stuffy, and everyone was "profusely sweating." I love the sunny weather, and the mirth it creates in everyone. All in all, it's been a fun last day of being 17, and I couldn't ask for a better one. Today was the paragon of the last day of being a teenager.

Charter bus view on the ride home...back to my car at school, that is.

Wistful

Oh, how I miss those carefree days in the forest

My. Body. Is. On. Fire. Sensitive to even the mildest discomfort, this body-encompassing rash I am having is not easy to tolerate. I attribute it to the state of my life now. My recent lifestyle is keeping me chained down. My days are ridden with inactivity, restlessness, lots of sugary and overly decadent foods, and to show its anger (or just possibly stricken with some disease), my body decides to flare-up. As a result, my mental state begins to become a tad depressed, anxious, and guilty too. And I feel as if there's nothing I can do about it. I feel trapped in this perpetual lifestyle of striving for success as the sacrifice of my health.

I want to run in the forests everyday. I want to swim. I want to dive into a sea of icy cold water to escape the itch--anything that'll distract me from this irritating sensation. I want my body to return to the way it was several weeks ago, when there was no ceaseless itching or general discomfort. I want the sunshine and to rejuvenate my atrophying muscles. 

I want the opportunity and time just to walk around the neighborhood and smile at the gardens

But why is it so difficult now? Sure, I'm getting matters at hand accomplished (I just completed my school's 2012 yearbook publication, with the last deadline being today), but what use are the small successes right now if I'm not getting to do what I truly want to--enjoying life and my health?

At least my terrariums are flourishing wonderfully, giving me small moments of happiness in these forlorn days.

Everything is Golden?

Now, how do I start this post without being too cheesy? Well, I guess I'll just start off with how the day went by. I woke up around 8, ate a hearty breakfast, then headed off to school to work on the yearbook. After spending several hours with my adviser and fellow editor-in-chief, my parents picked me up to visit some college receptions.

At the Marriott, my parents and I walked into the lobby and were led to the reception, passing by an island of Starbucks coffeemakers at the entrance. The first college presented the generic pitch of being socioeconomically, ethnically, academically "diverse" and lauded the class of 2016 for being the highest achievers that admissions officers have seen in ages. Before it was over, we left (not before grabbing a couple packets of Tazo tea and an irresistibly adorable mini jar of honey) to attend another reception being held at a rather luxurious home in an affluent neighborhood less than ten minutes away. 

This is a small preview of the private location of the reception of the second university (yes, I have a bad habit of using "college" and "university" interchangably.) It's gorgeous, isn't it? They're probably sending some sort of subliminal message to the potential undergraduates...

Now, this second reception was the one of the university that currently stands as my top choice, and it is all the way on the east coast! My parents and I were one of the first to arrive, and standing by a couple of people dressed in business-casual attire, we all felt under-dressed. Although the host reassured that this was an informal gathering, we couldn't help but feel a little awkward in this sophisticated and classy environment. Hors d'oeuvres were served, including salad in take-out boxes, macaroons, cheese and crackers, and even artichoke! (I don't understand why artichokes are served at a social gathering; I just don't find it practical.) Despite the mild discomfort, I met many kind people from high schools I have never heard of before and ate delicious food, dabbling in one of my first semi-formal congregations. 

My conviction in choosing this school strengthened. My goal since the beginning of the school year was to get as far away as possible and not to escape my family. I seek independence, a whole new environment, and an opportunity to expand my horizons. What is a better alternative than through a distant college? I can imagine myself as a part of the group I met in the future. Then came the bittersweet moment.

Why does beauty always evoke introspection?

I want to go far, and my conviction to go to this university is pretty solid. But I love my parents, my friends. This coming week, I'm probably going to be loving my friends ten a hundred-fold when I see what they do for my birthday. The prospect of finally living on my own, my coming-of-age, and combined with a beautiful evening sunset, made me feel sad. My happiness in the beginning of the day is subdued, and taking its place is a small melancholy. 

I know my path lies straight ahead, but I wonder whether or not I am aware of how blindly I am running towards it.

Is everything as golden as it seems? Or is it merely a passing glimmer?

Dumpling Day

Saturdays should be 48 hours long, but I probably shouldn't be too greedy. There's so much to be accomplished within this 24-hour reprieve.

Homemade cabbage and pork potstickers cooking in a pan with water and minimal oil--just the way my grandpa did it.

Although they aren't arranged so prettily, I can assure you that the taste was perfectly delicious, and the ponzu-suka pinakurat sauce complemented it amazingly.

As ephemeral 24 hours may seem (especially with most of it taken by sleep), a lot can be done within a day. You can practice using your newly-built road bike by the ocean beach on a sunny day with your cousin, fantasize about your summer, make zucchini waffles and homemade potstickers (including the dough) with your parents, and, best of all, feast on the fruits of a productive day. 

These dumplings epitomized the proper balance of soft and crunchy textures. Every bite left me craving more!

Today was definitely a day well-spent. And if you ask me, it's probably the fact that the day is so short that makes every hour more valuable and worth living to the fullest.