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Candied Bacon and Brussels Sprouts

OH MY GOD I HAVE NO WORDS FOR HOW DELICIOUS THIS IS.

For context, I’ve never cooked brussels sprouts before in a method that wasn’t boiled. At least successfully. My attempt to oven roast them resulted in burned spouts. Yeah, I screw up now and again. But since I’d enjoyed spouts at my in-laws’, I was keen to try cook ’em.

I wanted bacon this morning, so I got up while the kiddlywinks were still asleep and decided to try Gordon Ramsay’s method of frying up bacon in a way he says he was introduced to in America: Fried, with sugar. So I dropped my bacon in my pan, without the olive oil (I figured the bacon would render out very nicely) added a small pat of butter and brown sugar (I tend to use brown in my household) and cooked it over lowest heat on my biggest burner, turning the bacon frequently. As it cooked, I remembered watching somewhere that brussels sprouts are best if caramelized. I figured, I’d try doing that with whatever was left over after I was done frying breakfast for myself and the oldest boyo. But first, I finished coating my bacon with that delicious bacony caramel by turning it over and over until it was silky and oh so tempting. It looked like jeweled ham.

So I chopped up a handful of brussels sprouts that I’d had in my fridge for the last week and fried it in that pan for four or five minutes and… let me tell you, I ended up eating up the spouts first over that beautiful bacon, which is that perfect addictive salty-sweet goodness that makes people love American Kettle Corn. Uhmf. They were gone before I remembered I was supposed to eat them with the bacon!

Oh. That black mass on my rice (because rice for the Asian!) is the caramel goodness scraped from the bottom of my pan after I was done. It was savory candy. DELICIOUS AND CRUMBLY. I even scraped it off the tongs.

Not the healthiest breakfast, but there ya go. As an occasional treat of a brekkie, it should be fine to indulge in once in a while.

She’s a growing girl

Hard to believe it’s been a year and a half since Jaenelle was born. Heck, I’m having trouble believing it’s been a month and a half since Rowan’s been born. O_O Time flies when you’re sleep deprived and on Mummy time!

To that end Jaenelle proves to us that she’s growing. She’ll say phrases, short sentences. Not really a lot of singular words. She’ll chatter at us, in discussing tones, and occasionally say a whole thing. The most memorable is when Rhys and I were putting the babies down for an afternoon nap a week or three ago. Rowan was snoozing in his cot, Rhys was rocking Jaenelle in his arms and I was telling our little girl that naps were a good thing. Suddenly, Rowan yelled in his sleep, startling us all.

“What was that?!” I said, peering into the cot. Rowan was still asleep.

Jaenelle, solemnly gazing at her brother, then very clearly said: “Vincent did it.” Then she looked away. We laughed and told the maligned big brother, who acted comically aggrieved and said he couldn’t be mad.

Jaenelle’s said a few other things, like “Almost made it,” when she almost succeeds at trying something; “try again, you can do it”, “good try” to encourage herself, for example.

Another of Jaenelle’s big achievements is taking her first steps! I was giving her small pieces of yakisoba noodles, having discovered that noodles are one of the things she will chew and swallow. I was holding out a piece and coaxing her to come and get it. Jaenelle pushed herself to her feet as she often does, but then took one step…two steps…three…four! I was happily cheering and swept her into my arms, kissing and cuddling her excited little face and heaping praises for her newest achievement. Jaenelle got her noodle and then went on to toddle around the room in sets of four steps before going down on all fours. Hail the power of yakisoba!

Feeding has taken some significant steps as well. She likes to sample our food and drink, if she sees us eating it. Lasagna, noodles, rice with sauce, bread with a bit of butter, crackers, cookies, as long as it’s a small piece she can moisten and gum into mush, we give her a sample. I gave her a thin slice of nectarine last week and today she went after the whole ones. She managed to scrape away some skin to expose the sweet, juicy flesh to suck on. I took a bite and now Jaenelle’s biting at it, going “yummm, yuuuum, nom nom!” Actually getting the soft flesh and swallowing.

Rowan has been focusing on mostly feeding, sleeping, and being cuddled. Jaenelle has learned that he likes his pacifier and helps by trying to give it to him. Sometimes even if he doesn’t want it. She’s trying.

These days he has some periods of where Rowan likes to look around and coo. His jaundice is fading and he is becoming cutely pink again. He has a bright, keen, and piercing gaze that reminds me of my Dad’s. I wonder what he would’ve said about his grandkids.

Hello World

We have another son, born this week! Meet Rowan! We have another big eyed cutie! Born at 36 weeks gestation, emergency c-section, weighed 2.22kg at birth.

He’s staying in the NICU because he started having some of the usual preemie setbacks (some jaundice, lethargy, low blood sugar) but he seems to be causing no worries to the NICU staff.

Older siblings are excited, and Jaenelle I am told seemed to just stare at the newbie with some puzzlement.

Lacatation biscuits work, by the way, and are very potent. Two cookies are overkill so I might try doing half a cookie.

My energy levels are still low as I want to only eat and sleep and my body has been giving me little choice about the latter… I start faceplanting about 15 minutes after a meal. so, recovery mode it is.

That’s all for now! ^,^

Leaderprice Viande et Pommes Recreation

This is a recipe that we were originally introduced to as a frozen food by my middle brother Al’s Morrocan friends when we lived in Paris in the late 90s. It was basically ‘viande et pommes (du terre)’, and sold in the frozen food section of Leaderprice in 1 kg bags. Despite the unassuming name, the tiny diced potatoes, which had similarly tiny chunks of meat, were deliciously spiced – we could identify pepper, but the rest was a mystery, only hinted at by the fact that the potatoes were yellow-orange in hue when cooked. You just had to pop them in the microwave or stir-fry to enjoy. It was very much a budget cheapie frozen food, as there was much more potato than there was meat!

Believe me, we could each eat one of those bags. It’s a miracle that we didn’t end up massively unhealthily obese then, but we also walked a lot back in those days. Also, teenagers, I suppose.

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Latkes

So I recently started having a rather peculiar potato craving (and no, I’m not pregnant!) that I acquired from surfing Pinterest recipes while taking care of the baby (usually while holding up her syringe of milk; she’s currently on a nasal-gastric tube only feed.)

Happy bright eyed baby girl
Jaenelle giving me a cute, crooked smile

Anyway, I ran across a recipe for latkes that struck me as super easy, even though I don’t have a cheesecloth to squeeze the shredded potatoes with. I figured I could use the food processor to make my life easier too, so I’ve been wanting to try make this since I saw the recipe for the things about a month ago.

So the other day, I found myself with time to try it; Jaenelle was having a very comfortable sleep in her cot in my work area, and I didn’t think this would take much time to prep and would make a nice side dish with the honey mustard chicken bake I was doing. I had plenty I thought… and ended up with a couple of unexpected but welcome dinner guests, who gave me a big thumbs up and rave reviews about the meal.

I made these with a bit more flour than I should’ve, but they turned out wonderfully – more like a latke-fritter than a proper latke, and still yummy and filling. Next time I’ll use less flour and egg. The onions, which were pre-diced and frozen, ended up meltingly soft and sweet with the potato shreds. Yuuuuum~

I wonder if one could make these as just onion pancakes. =9

Latkes

Shredded potato and onions result in a more flavorful version of the more well-known hash browns! Eat alone or as a side, it’s a flavorful snack!

Ingredients  

  • 3-4 large potatoes peeled and cut into long quarters
  • 1/2 cup all-purpose flour
  • 1-2 tbsp seasoned salt (or plain salt and pepper)
  • 2 eggs scrambled
  • 1 large onion peeled and cut to strips
  • oil or butter for frying

Instructions 

  • Using food processor, shred potatoes. Pour shredded potatoes and onions into a collander lined with a cheesecloth.
  • Gather up cheesecloth around the potatoes and onions and squeeze out as much liquid as you can. Put into a mixing bowl.
  • Add the seasoned salt to the eggs and beat, then pour over the potatoes and onions. Stir in.
  • Gently fold in the flour until well mixed.
  • Pour some oil into a large frying pan. Heat oil on medium heat, and drop in carefully a spoon of potato mixture, flattening slightly. Fry until golden brown, then flip over with a spatula. Remove from pan onto a baking tray lined with paper towels when the other side is golden brown too.
  • Serve with sour cream and chives, or use as a side dish / hash brown replacement.

Merry Christmas

Home for Christmas!

Jaenelle is home! We’ve been home since Monday, and we’re all settling in and adjusting to her various medical needs (Mostly her feeding and medicines schedule.)

She had a tube change this morning, and since the NG tube was out for a little while, I took the opportunity to take a photo of her in a pretty dress she was meant to have on for her uncle’s wedding (we couldn’t go, sadly, because Jaenelle was still in hospital) and combine it with an idea I had while admiring the Christmas tree at the cardiac ward that we were staying in: bundle up all the cute babies, put ribbons around them and put them down with the gifts, because they were the most precious gifts of all.

Things are improving, and I think everything will be smoother once things are better set up. I am recovering from the hospital stay, and reckon my back and hip muscles will eventually loosen up again one day.

There aren’t as many presents under the tree because I didn’t get the opportunity to really do shopping; and the older children being older, preferred to have the ability to choose what they got (either money, or books. I’m happy that they went for books; though this means that they weren’t getting them on the day. I’ve been told it’s no problem.) I’m hoping that I can at least bake a cake for Christmas…

As always, we endure, adapt and survive, but when she smiles, it really is worth it! (Apparently she finds Uncle Aff’s voice very ticklish and smiles a LOT when he talks to her.)

Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year to everyone!

Growing Up Asian

So, my housemate links me this video, and goes ‘You have gotta see this.’

He’s a mutt, so before anyone screams racist, his Dad was from India; so when I brought home some indian sweets the other week, he just couldn’t get excited; though he did tell me the store I got it from had some delicious spicy stuff – and I guess that explains his cast iron stomach.

Anyway, a lot of this was relatable – some wasn’t,  because I had an allowance, for example, and while my dad, oddly enough, never really pushed me to have super good grades, my mom kind of did; even though my grades were pretty good (80+ to 90s… well, except PE and Filipino, because I hated those classes) and I spent my youth pretty much with my head buried in a book. I’m not really sure what gave me my study ethic, other than “if I get this all done and out of the way already I can go do stuff I like to do” so I tended to do my homework during recess (which some teachers had issues with, and some didn’t; but this saved my ass in college because holy crap the reams of homework I had to come home with.) These days kids barely have a fraction of the seatwork or homework we had! Such low standards these days… /asianmomgrumbling

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Writer Emptor

Every one of us has the dream of becoming popular enough with our readers that we will be able to set aside our day job and simply work at writing – be the next Larry Correia or Andrew Weir. That we will be able to pay attention to only the work of crafting our story, and someone else would handle the nitty gritty details of financial remuneration and accounting, the contracts and such – the ‘icky’ business side of writing.

I’ll be honest and say that the mindset – especially when it comes to financial matters – gives me the heebie-jeebies. Granted, I’m not the best person when it comes to finances; but I do know the basics and how to prioritise them; so I can understand why the mindset has appeal.

But that mindset is where predators can swoop in. And have. Dear God, they have.

I’ll spare the gruesome details here because you can read about them written by people far more able than I to write about these abuses. Mario Puzo can’t write about it any more, but the guy who wrote Fight Club was a victim, and he did.

Mad Genius Club has a post about it. Kristine Kathryn Rusch has been writing about this kind of thing for years, and finally she has the smoking gun. And the effects. Which is being hushed up – the reaction to this is frankly, stunning… but unsurprising. It’s a bit akin to people who were at a terrorist attack, except that they’ve been victimised for years. You don’t want to admit when you’ve been a victim in circumstances like these, and the predators and abusers don’t want their cover blown. And in fairness, there are likely to be honest literary agents out there who see this as a big threat to their jobs when they’ve done nothing wrong. There are new writers who w

Everyone has a very good reason to be scared, and not want to see the reality.

Me, I just feel sad for the people who are victims of this. I mean, nobody can tell me that Mario Puzo’s estate for his books, the licensing of the movies, etc, isn’t in the multimillions. It also makes me angry that it seems that the other clients of Donadio & Olson seem to be unaware of this happening.

 

Some writers represented by the agency told The Post they had not been contacted about the theft, and did not know if it affected their royalties.

“This is the first I heard of it,” said McKay Jenkins, a nonfiction author.

Bert Fields, a lawyer representing the Puzo estate, said he learned of the arrest from The Post.

The alleged theft was first discovered last fall when an unidentified author who was expecting to receive a $200,000 advance from his publisher asked Webb why he had not received the payment.

According to the complaint, Webb put the author off for months.

“The author did not receive the payment because Webb had converted the funds to Webb’s own use,” says the complaint.

“The agency’s singular focus at this time is ensuring that all of its impacted clients are made whole to the greatest extent possible, and the agency is cooperating in every possible way with the government’s efforts,” said Matthew Adams, a lawyer for Donadio & Olson.

Calls and an e-mail to Webb’s attorneys were not returned.

 

That’s insane. It’s unthinkable. It’s the kind of ‘don’t tell the passengers we’re sinking’ cover-your-ass. Why weren’t the clients told – they have every right to be. But as Kristine has pointed out, there are no oversights for literary agents, and no enforcement. So it’s no surprise.

Good luck to the authors and creators who have been hurt by this crime. I wish you the best, and hope you get the earnings you were due.

 

 

 

Why Humans Have Different Skin Colors

I  mentioned that I went back to the Philippines recently, and brought back lots of stuff. One of the things I also brought home was a container of whitening lotion – to use on my elbows, which tend to darken because I lean on them a lot while typing or drawing, and since I do a lot of that, they darken (as well as dry out) on a regular basis. I’ll cheerfully admit to my vanity that I have even skin tone – a lovely golden toast color, that I have no desire to whiten, the way a lot of Filipinos, and well, Asians want to. I don’t agree with the latter explanations of the post; white skin in Asian culture is tied to wealth and nobility, and existed as a paragon of beauty (for both men and women) – note the reference to pre-Qin China.

Personally, skin colour is one of those things I’ve never paid attention to in my dealings with people. I treat everyone the same – entirely dependent on how the person I am interacting with behaves. (Apparently, that’s ‘racist and discriminatory’ to some folks who haven’t picked up a dictionary within the last 50 years, the claim of which makes no sense, since it’s the other person’s behaviour toward me that I’m judging them by, e.g. their own actions and words.) I’m big on treating people as people, which is far less stressful and aging than constantly being on the lookout for something small and petty to be offended by. There are bigger things to get upset about, but that’s a discussion for some other time.

Me, I like my golden toast skin hue (It’s a permanent, perfect sun-kissed tan that I never have to work on!); although since I live in Australia, it makes it a bit hard to find make up at times. Fortunately, I am not the only Asian in Australia, and there are Asian grocery stores and such that I can source the occasional specific-to-my-ethnic-mix cosmetic needs, which are not, fortunately for me, that great a need. (Just need a thin layer of foundation so that the make up has that to cling to, in order to last longer. (More of the blush than anything else, really.) I should’ve picked up a pack of that face powder while I was back in the Philippines, but I forgot, having other priorities at the time. No biggie; and I’m not going to scream ‘BUT THAT IS UNFAIR’ (if I do, I’m joking; much in the same way I make fun about my being short, and there being no lovely thigh-high boots for someone as short as me that also has curves in my calves and thighs.) Also, seriously, there’s the Internet, and if I really was looking for that and willing to pay for it, I am pretty sure I could find that face powder.

Still, the reality is, folks have skin hues, as part of their physical descriptor; and frankly, that’s a better alternative to transparent skin. Can you imagine what that would be like? Seeing one’s muscles, bared? No thanks. Besides, this completely ignores the benefits of skin hues and melanin. Long and short of it is though, physical description is part of of how we tell each other apart – it’s how humans are able to identify a friend or a member of your family, because unlike other animals, we don’t identify each other by scent. We do it with our eyeballs and the use of our disproportionately huge brains. There are numerous theories why different groups have different skin colours (my main one is ‘evolutionary development in response to environmental exposure to the sun and it’s strength in varying regions of the world’) as well as legends, myths and folk tales that served as an explanation for our ancient fore-bearers. They served well enough that these folks got on with the business of living instead of sitting there, paralysed by ‘why?’ and starving to death.

A friend of mine recently told Rhys one of the more humorous Filipino folk tales as to why human beings all have different skin colours. It goes somewhat like this:

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A Visit Back To The Mother Country

Wedding couple at the San Augustin Church

The wedding had all the ceremonies observed; we did our parts too!

 

The family all visited the Philippines for the first time in 6 years; for my youngest brother’s wedding. It was a short visit, hectic – but ultimately fun and wonderful. I sadly didn’t have time to interview my Mom for stories as I would have liked (so I can start writing those family stories), but she had fun being Lola to her (currently only) grandchildren, and ‘spoiling her baby daughter’ – so I have a load of daster dresses (yay!) and having Rhys and I eat with her at her new favourite food places. I went home with the intention of being able to eat some of the foods I seriously missed while overseas, and while that ambition was partly fulfilled, I feel rather sad that I didn’t get to sample more of the smorgasbord that is Filipino food and restaurant variety.

The Tombstone Hamburger Stack challenge

We didn’t have the time (it was late at night) to try this challenge, alas.

(To our amusement, the kids simply adored Jolibee, though Vincent found the burgers ‘too small’, and Rhys could eat three Filipino-sized servings of food by himself.) I didn’t get a chance to eat fishballs, or Goldilock’s Cathedral Windows, but I did manage to have some Red Ribbon (and introduced Vincent to the joys of mamon, that fluffy Filipino angel food-sponge.)

I did bring home lots of powdered juice mixes and Mom, upon finding out that Nescafe Berry Coffee was something Rhys – the consumate tea drinker – deeply enjoyed, made it a point to ensure that her only son-in-law had a package of single-serves to bring back to Australia. Note to self: next time, bring even LESS clothes, and bigger suitcases for the children, because while I sent home two balikbayan (return to homeland) boxes full of pasalubong (‘welcoming’ gifts) we got given so much there’s a huge plastic chest of stuff we couldn’t fit on our baggage allowance (30kg per person) that Mom says she’ll send in parcels – with more food things that we liked, but didn’t get a chance to bring home more of. (Waah, I realised just now I left behind my little cookies with the little drop of hard icing on top. I wanted to nibble on those while on the plane ride home!) The pasalubong will mostly go to folks my Mom knows; as they’re mostly ‘thank you for taking care of my Mom for me’ appreciation gifts.

I will have to learn to make taho myself though. =/

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Support Your Local Medical Examiner

There’s a snarky meme/ badge pin / livejournal icon I’ve seen before – and used, because I find it funny – that goes Support Your Local Medical Examiner: Die Strangely.

Well. I guess some people… took it to heart, maybe? o_O

But dangerous solo sex is becoming a global issue, with forensic examiners claiming one to two people per one million are killed annually in the act of searching for the ‘ultimate orgasm’, which in most fatal cases can mean oxygen deprivation.

It comes as the body of a man was reportedly found in Hamburg covered in sliced cheese with pantyhose pulled up over his upper body, while he was wearing a diving suit and a raincoat.

He had placed a plastic bag over his head and was sat in front of an active heater, according to local media.

Yanno, the whole idea of pursuing the ‘the little death’ is that you come out of it alive afterward… I mean, I’ve heard of the auto-erotic asphyxiation thing (Thanks so much, David Carradine, I could have gone the rest of my life without knowing about that) but the cheese, raincoat, diving hose and sitting in front of the heater is new. And how did this person find panty hose that fit over their upper body? Was it on top of the raincoat and diving hose?

I’ll leave aside that whole plastic bag over one’s head is a bad idea, because, as the Housemate told me when he linked it to me, “I’m pretty sure that guy was like “Time to fuck with the medical examiner.”

At any rate, that’s enough Internet for today.

Let There Be Light

I recently came across some very interesting articles, which I thought I would share with my readers and friends. While the articles are a bit old – a couple of years as of this posting – I still am delighted with the scientific discoveries.

The first one is about how human eggs ‘flash with a bright light’ at the moment of conception, ‘highlighting the very moment when life begins.‘ A literal spark of life!

Human life begins in bright flash of light as a sperm meets an egg, scientists have shown for the first time, after capturing the astonishing ‘fireworks’ on film.

An explosion of tiny sparks erupts from the egg at the exact moment of conception.

Scientists had seen the phenomenon occur in other animals but it is the first time is has been also shown to happen in humans.

How awesome is that? And seriously, how sci-fi is that to imagine? In my head, I see a a mini movie, complete with fwaaaaaaahhhh~~~ sound effect, the moment conception happens. And it seems to me very fitting, because how miraculous is life? How wonderous to behold. (And come on, it’s loads more fun to imagine it happens that way.)

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Geeky delights

Eldest son had his birthday recently, and of course, got presents. He’s older now, and it’s actually easier to buy him things, given his recent introduction to manga – he blew through the various ones I have that we parents deemed okay for him. He loves Card Captor Sakura – we pushed to get the 4 omnibus set; and is excited to learn that CCS: Clear Card is currently ongoing. His response when he found out that Skip Beat! isn’t over yet: “NOOOOOO!!! I have to wait!” Sometime recently he asked me if there were going to be any more books in Dave Freer’s Dragon Ring series (I don’t know.) and soon he’ll be old enough to be introduced to Monster Hunter International, and later, The Dresden Files.

Reading boy = happy parents.

He also loves video games, of course, but we don’t go out of the way to get the latest and the newest consoles (our house has a Sega Dreamcast, a Nintendo 64, Xbox 360/1, I thiiink we have a PS2, but that thing isn’t hooked up and is somewhere… maybe a PS3 now, inherited from my brother-in-law) because we tend to play on PC for the most part (insert PC Master Race joke here), but it’s the holidays.

Well, this was his big pressie – a full scale display model (ergo, it’s purely decorative and not sharp) of Frostmourne, the sword of Arthas the Lich King. Aff got him a small Arthas figure and some awesome tech swag – a desk-mat, a Genji themed mouse, and Heroes of the Storm Turtle Beach headsets – sort of a mix of birthday and Christmas pressies, really.

The sword replica is almost as big as he is too, and he had problems lifting it, remarking repeatedly that it was heavy and huge and he couldn’t imagine how Arthas would swing it around… then his father picked it up one handed, to his glee and delight.

We’ll have a ‘proper’ party for when some friends will be around (School holidays = kiddies go off to Grandparents to visit, usually.)

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