Love Cake's New URL

Hello my dear readers, Love Cake has moved to www.ourlovecake.com. See you there! :)

Soul Pancake: What does Love look like to YOU?

 ( Go get your tissue box). LOVED this video. <3

I Fondly Remember the Disgusting Smell of Sugar Crisps cereal...

Did you enjoy the Super Bowl this year? I have never been a huge  TV sports fan but I thoroughly enjoyed watching it this time around. I am normally one of those who watch the big game to discover the new commercials. The only ad that truly caught my attention this year, was the Budweiser commercial featuring the heartwarming story of the horse who recognized his first owner. It shook my childhood memories and reminded me of a long lost furry friend I once had...

The next morning, I went on a wild goose chase all over the house to find two old Polaroids. I am not sure if I kept them in an album that I left at my parent's house up in Canada, or if they moved with me and are still buried somewhere in the unopened moving boxes since this past summer...I still haven't found them, but I will keep looking.

These two photos were the only ones I had of happy kiddie me holding my puppy named Chico. Back when I was four or five, we lived in a triplex apartment complex with my parents, brother, grandmother, two uncles and an aunt in Longueuil city. While we didn't seem to be crammed enough, one of my uncles brought home two German Sheppard pups. They named them Chico and Mino.

I barely had any toys growing up. These puppies were the best thing I ever got to play with. Chico was my favorite pup. He had a little mole on his left cheek and had the softest look on his eyes, as if he worried whether I was ok. He had this compassionate head tilt and and a soft, constantly concerned frown where his brows would be, if he had any. I found so much comfort in him and we bonded so greatly.

Barely a few weeks later, on a school morning, I woke up and realized in horror that both puppies were gone. My parents decided we were overly crowded in the apartment and that they required too much attention.  I wished they warned me ahead so I could hug Chico goodbye. I was so sad but I wasn't allowed to display my anger and sadness to anyone. Because I was only a child, I was ordered to just accept their decision and move on. And so I did.

I did a pretty good job at letting him go. But whenever someone poured themselves a bowl of disgusting Sugar Crisp cereal, I was reminded of Chico. I started hating that cereal a little less since Chico was gone as they reminded me of him. With his bionic dog ears, he would run up to the kitchen before they even had time to finish pouring their milk. I hated the smell of those cereal, which reminded me of roasted coffee beans, back then. Now, I'm sure I would get a little teary if I smelled them again.

Many years later, while I was working at my parent's store, the one in the Villeray neighborhood, a huge German Sheppard dog ran into the store, followed by a middle-age man. The dog ran without hesitating around the counter and jumped on me and licked me. This wasn't uncommon though, and most dogs would do that whenever they came into the store. Perhaps my father would give them treats. But this dog was different. He was persistent and kept on kissing my hands and thighs with his snout, and stared right at me. And then, I saw a mole on his right cheek. " Could it be you, my Chico?". I quickly chased that thought and was too shy to ask his owner anything. When they left, the dog dragged his paws and didn't seem to want to leave and his owner whistled and said " Come on Chico! Let's go buddy!". It was such a happy and sad moment at the same time. I am almost 100% certain it was him....

Finding your own carb :)

A while back, a dear friend asked me how I knew he was the one....

People are so afraid of carbs nowadays. They ruin your sweet, skinny, lean look. People are so afraid of relationships too. They ache your heart. I wish people wouldn't fear carbs so much. I think if you've had issues with carbs, you just need to learn to juggle with portions and allow room for other food categories on your plate. Easier said than done, I know. I don't think running away from carbs completely is healthy as it makes you backlash and splurge into an unhealthy decadent dessert to overcompensate for the lack of solid and healthy carbs.

I surely love my jasmine rice. Yes, I am feeding the Asian stereotype. Well, in my case, it is true that I can barely skip a day or two without rice. I quickly realized that Komar was my jasmine rice, vital for my overal sanity.

I knew it was him when I realized I couldn't spend a day without him from the moment we met.  I couldn't tell whether it was love or passion or just attraction at first. All I knew was that I could not imagine a day breathing without knowing he was o. k and happy somewhere ( back then, he was in D.C while I was still up in Montreal). We cared about each other, as simple as that. He always made sure I felt and knew how much he cared about me. We didn't need to play mind games or try to decode each other. Our feelings were pure and backed with clear actions. No promises were spoken in vain. We were together, as committed to one another.

I wanted to be the best friend and support I could be for him and I could feel he felt the same way too. When we JUST met each other, we connected in a very special way and I wasn't afraid of being vulnerable with him. I wanted him to be happy and he as well for me. I gave him my heart and he kept it pumping since.

I knew he was my rice. He makes my heart and soul feel satiated and content, yet I always want and need more. I discovered very quickly that he was my jasmine rice. He brings me comfort in a way no one else can. He is addictive yet, never sickening and I enjoy every instant with him. He is so flexible that I can garnish his life with any craziness I want and it would pair well with him. Even when we argue, I still feel so much love in his frustration, because he's fighting hard to make his point come across simply because he cares THAT much. Otherwise, you wouldn't hear a peep coming out of him. ( yes, quiet guy). :P

He keeps my heart and soul healthy, full and happy. I met several wrong carbs, and used to chase after "ice cream parfait" men. There are plenty of banana splits, brownies and hot fudge sundaes out there, all very attractive and yummy. But I could never digest that every single day. And after the first sugar rush, you crash very fast into reality and routine.

Once you find someone who could be your potato, bread, pasta or rice and you know they feel as nourished the same way with you, then I think that is how you know....

Fancy Truffles

Oh those fancy truffles. They fascinate me, whenever I walk by them, locked in a glass box  displayed on rice grains or some kind of hay, for fine appreciative gourmet palates. If they weren't labeled properly, they could easily pass for a pile of poop that can cost up to $2,000 per pound..

I strangely had too many occurrences of people seeing me as poop when I was in fact...a person? :P

For a very short period of time ( not short enough for me, in retrospect), back in college, I was "seeing" this guy who simply refused to acknowledge who I was. ( "Who are you???" I can hear you ask that after reading this. Well, definitely NOT JUST what he thought I was. lol). He could not get pass my ethnicity because he sort of had an Asian girl fetish. I'm not saying that it was all he was into, but he seemed to have a bucket list of things and people to conquer before he died and "Asian girl" must have been on that list. It did not matter what I liked and was passionate about. He would treat me the way he thought and expected all stereotypical Asian girls should think and behave. He didn't even see a tiny bit of my personality, which amazes me since I'm not the quiet and shy kind of person. I made our platonic back and forth last longer than it should just out of curiosity and boredom, I presume. At that age, I was so hungry about learning and discovering myself, and despite the fact that I knew it was clearly going to end absolutely nowhere decent, I still hung out with him to try to understand what was going on in his head. It was obviously a waste of time since in the end, all he was was a complete delusional manipulator. He treated me like poop while I had more layers to me ( clothing AND in the multi-dimension meta sort of speech). I could have been explored at a higher level of curiosity, like those fancy truffles. But it was easier for him to just believe I was easy poop for him to check off his list. I'm not saying I'm fancy like those truffles, but I have definitely more than meets the eye. All this guy cared about what my squinty "not so squinty" eyes. Thankfully I didn't give him any satisfaction so unless he scored an Asian girl after me, that little box on his list is still unchecked. *DEEP SIGH*.

Another example was back when I was working at my parent's convenience store. Our customers just assumed that my family was probably struggling, stranded in long retail hours. They made so many assumptions ( let me specify that it was a very rough neighborhood). They assumed we weren't educated or were poor (we weren't rich, but definitely not poor). They assumed that I would spend my entire life stuck in that store and would take over later on and never go to College. They clearly did not know my family history and why we were doing what we were doing, which we had no interest in sharing with them anyways. The few who discovered we lived in a nice family single home in the suburbs, while both my brother and I attended private schools since our early ages seemed in ultimate shock. It's also funny how many assume that immigrants move to America by choice to pursue the American Dream. My family were living the Asian dream before it all went to hell...They were forced to flee their country and start back from square one and rebuild themselves.

All of these situations above, I could see why that dude and our customers would treat me and family that way, based on sad stereotypes. But my last example is what shockes me the most.

I had this friend who lived near our house and I thought we were getting pretty close. Her self-confidence has always been the lowest but I never thought she wanted to become my friend thinking I was like her. (I am not judging people with low self-esteem, just acknowledging how it could become a problem, but I believe being a very confident person overall).  I hear "misery loves company" but that is accurate if misery accurately identified another misery. In our case, I think she has mistaken me with a another potential sad person who could relate to her. I did care about her though a lot, back then, and really wished her confidence level would boost up. She was a good friend for most times, despite strange things she would say and do at times. But here is what happened last year, when it all went down:

Last year, I got very ill. And my husband just found out the very same week that his company was laying of hundreds of employees and his departement would be affected. They gave him four months to seek elsewhere for a new job, after working there for eleven years. I went and sought comfort in my friend and shared with her all my worries and mentioned dramatically how I didn't want to become homeless. We only had one income, and I was expecting another baby on the way. A good friend would have said "Don't talk silly. Hubby will find a job since his resume is so rock solid" or "You guys will be fine" out of comfort or encouragement. Instead this is what she responded to me "Oh Davine, I would still come visit you if you were homeless" Oh, how generous of you, I thought. < insert sarcasm here>. She said and did plenty of other strange things, but I am not going to detail it all on this single post...

And then, our lives turned around miraculously and my health problems became quickly part of the past. My dear hubby landed on his feet and found a new and even more stimulating job, as we discovered he was underpaid this entire time. So it was a blessing in disguise and we built a new house and moved into a lovely new neighborhood. I have not heard from this friend since. A little bit in the beginning, when we just moved. She made flaky plans that always fell through. But now, she is gone completely. I'm not sure if this case was a poop vs truffle situation, but she clearly couldn't handle going from the person who would come visit me, without a home,  to the one realizing we were ok finally and are actually at our happiest now. I could almost feel her being bitter about it, when I thought she would be happy for us, as a real friend should.

I will not complain about being perceived as poop though. Better than the other way around where people could think I'm truffle but finally decide I'm poop....

Heart Shaped Carrots Tutorial

Something cute I saw on Pinterest... It's the little touches that make a meal special. ♥

Preventing Flu Using Onions...

This leaves me dubious. A friend posted this thread on Facebook and it caught my attention, considering we're right in the middle of flu season and all...

I'm not sure I am willing to risk my house stinking like onions, but what the heck...If it DOES keep the germs away, then, why not? Here's the article that was published on his wall:

ONIONS! I had never heard this!!!
PLEASE READ TO THE END: IMPORTANT

In 1919 when the flu killed 40 million people there was this Doctor that visited the many farmers to see if he could help them combat the flu...
Many of the farmers and their families had contracted it and many died.

The doctor came upon this one farmer and to his surprise, everyone was very healthy. When the doctor asked what the farmer was doing that was different the wife replied that she had placed an unpeeled onion in a dish in the rooms of the home, (probably only two rooms back then). The doctor couldn't believe it and asked if he could have one of the onions and place it under the microscope. She gave him one and when he did this, he did find the flu virus in the onion. It obviously absorbed the bacteria, therefore, keeping the family healthy.

Now, I heard this story from my hairdresser. She said that several years ago, many of her employees were coming down with the flu, and so were many of her customers. The next year she placed several bowls with onions around in her shop. To her surprise, none of her staff got sick. It must work. Try it and see what happens. We did it last year and we never got the flu.

Now there is a P. S. to this for I sent it to a friend in Oregon who regularly contributes material to me on health issues. She replied with this most interesting experience about onions:

Thanks for the reminder. I don't know about the farmer's story...but, I do know that I contacted pneumonia, and, needless to say, I was very ill... I came across an article that said to cut both ends off an onion put it into an empty jar, and place the jar next to the sick patient at night. It said the onion would be black in the morning from the germs...sure enough it happened just like that...the onion was a mess and I began to feel better.

Another thing I read in the article was that onions and garlic placed around the room saved many from the black plague years ago. They have powerful antibacterial, antiseptic properties.

This is the other note. Lots of times when we have stomach problems we don't know what to blame. Maybe it's the onions that are to blame. Onions absorb bacteria is the reason they are so good at preventing us from getting colds and flu and is the very reason we shouldn't eat an onion that has been sitting for a time after it has been cut open.

LEFT OVER ONIONS ARE POISONOUS

I had the wonderful privilege of touring Mullins Food Products, Makers of mayonnaise. Questions about food poisoning came up, and I wanted to share what I learned from a chemist.

Ed, who was our tour guide, is a food chemistry whiz. During the tour, someone asked if we really needed to worry about mayonnaise. People are always worried that mayonnaise will spoil. Ed's answer will surprise you. Ed said that all commercially-made mayo is completely safe.

"It doesn't even have to be refrigerated. No harm in refrigerating it, but it's not really necessary." He explained that the pH in mayonnaise is set at a point that bacteria could not survive in that environment. He then talked about the summer picnic, with the bowl of potato salad sitting on the table, and how everyone blames the mayonnaise when someone gets sick.

Ed says that, when food poisoning is reported, the first thing the officials look for is when the 'victim' last ate ONIONS and where those onions came from (in the potato salad?). Ed says it's not the mayonnaise (as long as it's not homemade mayo) that spoils in the outdoors. It's probably the ONIONS, and if not the onions, it's the POTATOES.

He explained onions are a huge magnet for bacteria, especially uncooked onions. You should never plan to keep a portion of a sliced onion.. He says it's not even safe if you put it in a zip-lock bag and put it in your refrigerator.

It's already contaminated enough just by being cut open and out for a bit, that it can be a danger to you (and doubly watch out for those onions you put in your hotdogs at the baseball park!). Ed says if you take the leftover onion and cook it like crazy you'll probably be okay, but if you slice that leftover onion and put on your sandwich, you're asking for trouble. Both the onions and the moist potato in a potato salad, will attract and grow bacteria faster than any commercial mayonnaise will even begin to break down.

Also, dogs should never eat onions. Their stomachs cannot metabolize onions.

Please remember it is dangerous to cut an onion and try to use it to cook the next day, it becomes highly poisonous for even a single night and creates toxic bacteria which may cause adverse stomach infections because of excess bile secretions and even food poisoning.

Please pass this on to all you love and care about.
— with Adonain Danny Rivera.

Sometimes, we all need a little reminder :)

Preserved fruits and New Year Wishes :)

A great year for me is ending. I have met plenty of new interesting people, discovered gems in the oddest ways and places, made some room in my heart for new kinds of love to grow and made some significant new resolutions.

I survived the world ending and I survived the end of some friendships that were once, my world. I really feel happy about the new minds I have been privileged to connect with this year. I truly hope these people stick around for a long while, but no matter what happens, all I can do is be thankful that they even crossed my path in the first place. Another eye opening year where I discovered people's true colors. I consciously decided to take a step back with certain people, some who aren't aware they are gone yet, but that's ok. That was the main reason they are gone anyways. They didn't notice, follow up, connect and respect. Like every year, I like to assess and declutter my emotional life. As I age, I understand that no one is worth chasing after. When people want to be with you, they reach out. Plain simple.

I am walking confidently into the upcoming year with hopes of fruit preservation. During the big storm we had a couple years back, my roots and seeds scattered and implanted in new areas. My life turned around and so many of my dreams bloomed. In 2013, I plan on gathering all my efforts in preserving what we harvested. I am done chasing new Love Cake ingredients. I am ready to cook with what we have in order to keep my family stable, and happy. In the end, that is all that matters.

Happy New Years Eve to all of you, my dear valuable readers, family and friends. May 2013 bring blessings and great opportunities for you and your family. Be safe. I hope you all get kissed at midnight, make a wish that comes true next year and that 2013 is filled with joy, health, happiness and simplicity. And tonight, it is perfectly acceptable to wear too much glitter. ;)

À la bonne franquette...

À la bonne franquette, c'est un nouvel ajout aux catégories sur mon gâteau d'amour. Enfin un petit recoin pour exorciser mes démons de Canadienne expatriée ( et s.v.p, veuillez pardonner mon Français qui me fuit au fil du temps).

Cela fait presque dix ans déjà que je respire à pleins poumons, l'odeur des États-Unis. Enfant, mes parents chargeaient notre vieille Buick Century de couleur moutarde ( remplacée quelques années plus tard par une Ford Taurus argentée...Dieu merci!) de valises remplies de marinades et condiments séchés Khmers, de fruits exotiques illégaux, de croustilles, de notre cuiseur à riz et de cadeaux rares pour mon cher oncle qui avait immigré dans les banlieues de Washington D.C. Douze heures de route, à endurer les taquineries de mon grand frère, la chaleur sordide de la vieille bagnole familiale sans air-climatisée ni fenêtres automatiques pouvant s'entrouvrir à l'arrière. Tout ce que j'avais, c'était un petit triangle de fenêtre pour me sauver de mon mal des transports. Douze heures avec les narines humant l'air de la route. Avec le temps, j'avais commencé à développer un "pif navigateur" car avant même que mon père nous annonçait qu'on était enfin proche, mon nez m'avisait déjà que l'on était rendu à destination. Tout simplement parce que l'air avait l'odeur DES ÉTATS-UNIS.

Dans ma mémoire d'enfant, c'était une odeur vraiment distincte. Tout comme l'odeur des vers de terre suivant les journées de déluge, ou l'odeur du froid de l'hiver ou du congélateur, l'odeur des États-Unis (comme je l'appelais, étant enfant) sentait comme un mélange d'aisselle terrestre humide, de crustacés provenant des vents de la plage (qui était loin pourtant) et de vieux feuillages avec un soupçon de criquets visqueux (même si les criquets ne sont pas visqueux normalement).

Jamais je n'aurais douté que je viendrais y vivre un jour. Qu'en trouvant l'amour, je serais déracinée des odeurs de l'hiver pour émigrer dans un nouvel univers olfactif. Cette odeur, j'ai continué à la sentir pendant plusieurs années mais récemment, j'ai remarqué que je n'arrivais plus à la discerner, et que je m'y étais tranquillement accoutumée. Un petit choc en réalisant que la Virginie, en catimini, était devenue mon nouveau chez moi.

Cette nouvelle catégorie, elle sera consacrée à mes chocs de culture, mes maux du pays, mes pensées nostalgiques et mes échanges inter-personnelles avec cette culture qui nous semble si familiaire à travers les films de Hollywood, mais qui constamment m'échappe et me laisse au dépourvue à chaque fois que je tente un rapprochement plus sincère, et plus vrai. Je me suis nouée de plusieurs amitiés, mais je n'en gratte encore que la surface en espérant qu'un jour, à force de gratter, je puisse gagner à la lotterie des amitiés avec les Américains...J'espère que vous aimerez me lire...À bientôt. :)

With the Holiday Season, comes a lof of "food anxiety"...This article written by Amy Chozick, published on The New York Times really spoke to me...

Please, Mom and Dad: Just Have a Taste

Bridging the Generation Gap, One meal at a Time.

By AMY CHOZICK Published: December 17, 2012 

MY childhood tasted of bland roast chicken and canned crescent rolls — starchy fare that typically came out of a box, plopped on our plates by our tireless working mom. Dining out usually meant wielding our trays down the line at Luby’s Cafeteria in San Antonio for mashed potatoes and a factory-cut square of fried fish, with a clover-shaped dinner roll on the side.

So how did we end up here, crammed around a corner table at Pizzeria Delfina in San Francisco this summer, arguing over whether we should order a second bottle of a primitivo from Apulia? The meal began with my sister and me offering Mom $80 to try the fried pigs’ ears with chile oil (they’re heavenly; she refused) and ended with Dad trying his best to swallow the sticker shock of the $300-plus bill. (“For pizza!”)

In the decade since my sister and I left South Texas and adopted the palates that come with our respective coastal cities, San Francisco and New York, meals for my family — and, I discovered, many others like ours — have become a source of tension, a stark reminder of the generational red food-blue food divide.

It’s as if each time my family sits down together for a meal, all the cultural differences from the place we came from (land of chain restaurants, big-box grocery stores and drive-throughs) and the places we ended up (lands of Michelin stars, artisanal cheese and locally farm-raised you-name-it) bubble to the surface like the yeast in my sister’s favoritesour batard bread.

Eating together inevitably leads to a long list of proscribed cuisines that are either too spicy (Indian) or too rich (French) or just too New York (brunch). Our mom, always eager to please, recently declared that she loved sushi, “just not the raw stuff.” The morning after Delfina, over dim sum at Yank Sing, an epic family fight broke out somewhere between the Shanghai dumplings and the Peking duck carts.

My sister, Stefani, and I are no better on a visit to Texas. On a recent trip, she declared my folks’ favorite restaurant on the River Walk “a waste of a meal.”

My parents have tried for years to get me to eat at Pasha Mediterranean Grill, built in a former Tex-Mex restaurant shaped like a sombrero. They swear it’s better than anything I can get in New York. The conversation usually ends with my rolling my eyes and saying, “We have pita bread in New York, Dad.” He replies, “Not like this you don’t.” And so on until everyone is annoyed.

As the holidays approached, my husband, having endured these fights for three years, encouraged me to use my reporting skills to investigate whether meals bring out the same generational and geographic rifts in other families. Can food, so often portrayed this time of year as the glue that binds a family together, also be the wedge that drives us apart?

Absolutely, said William J. Doherty, a social science professor at the University of Minnesota who writes about family rituals. “Food is physical, psychological and emotional,” he said. “There’s almost nothing like it as both a connector and a divider.” Tensions aired around the table — “a microcosm of family life and social relations” — often lead to broader, more healthy debates, he said. (True. The dim sum fight somehow transformed into a dayslong discussion about our parents’ retirement plans.)

Dr. Doherty suspects that parents in suburban and rural areas harbor unspoken pride in their children’s culinary snobbery. Yes, we can be insufferable to dine with, but we can also afford to eat out and learn about foods that were not available where we grew up. But like working-class parents who sacrificed to send their children to college, only to find that they have little in common, different tastes can also highlight familial growing pains.

“Food is a symptom and a symbol of change and how people grow apart,” said Heather Paxson, an anthropology professor at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. “People want their kids to do better, but there’s also the fear that they’ll be left behind or judged as lacking in some way.”

The reverse can happen to parents who forced their children to eat foie gras and Wagyu. “An adult child can go to one extreme and become an epicure, or say, ‘I want peanut butter and jelly every day,’ ” said Ellyn Satter, a dietitian and family therapist in Madison, Wis.

The generational food gap corresponds to the evolved way many American families eat today, Dr. Paxson said. Baby boomers like my folks largely adopted the frugal dining habits of their World War II-era parents. Dinners were about affordability and efficiency. My parents put dinner on the table each night to feed us, not to enlighten us about edamame and the wonders of a Le Creuset Dutch oven (which my mom now owns and uses often).

“It was part of the day’s routine,” said Marilyn Hagerty, a columnist in Grand Forks, N.D., who gained instant fame this year for her review of a local Olive Garden. “We had to eat. It was nothing we’d all stand around and savor.”

That all changes when children move away. For some, a new social milieu means adopting a vegan diet or giving up carbohydrates, while others, like my brother-in-law, drink onlyBlue Bottle coffee made in a handblown Chemex coffee maker. My friend Barry Dale says the only thing tougher than telling his Southern parents he was gay was telling them he was gluten free. (He does not have celiac disease.)

Ms. Hagerty’s daughter once worked in Hong Kong, and took her mother on a culinary tour of Shanghai. “I just thought she’d come a long way from the macaroni and cheese and tuna fish and noodles she ate in North Dakota growing up,” Ms. Hagerty said.

All that worldly deliciousness can turn even the most agreeable eaters into arrogant urbanites. But I also learned that within each family, neutral ground exists.

My parents and I completely agree when it comes to San Antonio’s regional Tex-Mex and barbecue spots. Stefani and I desperately miss the flavors of a bean-and-cheese taco fromLas Palapas (closed on Sundays “for family and worship”) and bring back jars of Rudy’sbarbecue sauce in our suitcases after most visits home.

Ms. Hagerty said that on visits to Grand Forks, her adult children rush to the Red Pepperfor its special “grinder” sandwich made with taco meat and white sauce. And each of the children’s kitchens has an aebleskiver pan, a tool Danish cooks use to make the little doughy pancakes that the Hagertys grew up on.

My family has developed some new favorites, but it has not been easy. One of my most heated food fights with my father started at Russ & Daughters, a landmark appetizing shop on the Lower East Side. My dad loved the look of the smoked salmon, chopped liver and dried fruit arranged like artwork behind glass. Then he discovered that the store did not have a toaster oven.

I tried my best to convince him that the bagels were so deliciously fresh they didn’t need to be toasted, but the thought of an untoasted bagel was too much. We left the store screaming at each other.

Years later, now that the shop has a toaster oven, he laughs at what is known in my family as “the toasted bagel incident.”

“The main thing is that we are all together at the same table, and not the food that is on it,” he said.

Still, he’d really like us to try Pasha.

Hearty Beef Stew

It is that time of the year again, when I start noticing steamy smoke coming out of my mouth as my world appears to frost all around me. I surprised hearing myself saying more than I should, regretting words that I said because of feeling invisible in Siberia, and craving warmth from my dearest friends and family. It is that time of the year when I become homesick and the urge of recreating what I once called "home"  are consuming me whole...

While I was demonstrating to my four year old how to pace himself with his hot boiling beef stew, it suddenly hit me that I was myself scarfing down the food, and that he probably mimicked that bad habit from watching me. And then, I realized I was not only rushing and not taking the time to wait for my soup to cool off, I also did not take the appropriate time to enjoy the warmth of each spoonful of all the things I had to be thankful for, and bolted throughout copious areas of my life.

It seemed that the illness which troubled me last year has implanted a sort of cooking timer in my heart, as if I was going to run out of time. I have been rushing since, rushing to finally start this book I always dreamed of writing, rushing to find deeper and deeper purpose and meaning to my life, and mostly, rushing into my relationships, new and old. I found myself opening too much and too fast to new people, as if I was speed dating and only had five minutes to show them my character in the hope that there will be a match. And all these new social media platforms such as Facebook give you the illusion that you know or connect with someone by discovering things and reading thoughts that would normally never be revealed this soon and out of any context. We are all knowing too much yet, still learn too little.  All of this overwhelming amount of virtual love combined with resentment towards those who really been loving me but didn't "support me in public" have been fogging my world view and perception of who truly cares and what type of relationships we were having.  As much as I am thankful for all the old friends I have reconnected with, it also made me very confused and vulnerable to being too exposed and exposing myself too much to certain people who ended up not worthy of my devoted friendly attentions.

I am now making this vow to myself in taking mindful slow steps, breathing through my emotions and perceptions when getting to know someone and embracing the natural pace of any bond that comes along with any new person I encounter. Strangely, I was much wiser when finding true love and not rushing into any relationships but I didn't apply those same rules when it came to making new friends.

For those who hurt me, I will let things simmer. From now on, I will choose to only surround myself with those who want to truly spend time with me, and perhaps, one day, we will grow a bond that will allow us to simply enjoy each other's company in the most mutual, comfortable and comforting way. There is nothing more true and pure than being able to have comfortable silences with a friend, even from a distance.

My dear old friends who know me inside out, I miss our comfortable silences. I also miss being able to be different from you without compromising our trust in each other. I miss feeling needed and never having to come up with an excuse to see each other. I miss being with you because you enjoyed my company, laughing hysterically together, exchanging thoughts and ideologies while savoring new flavors together for hours without looking at the time. I did not realize how scarce this type of exchange would become as I grow older, and as people are more weary of their time spent...Because never before I would have thought someone would not want to come see me because they weren't in the mood for what I was about to cook for them, when it was really all about spending time together in the first place...

Love Longevity Diet

Congratulations to Herbert and Zelmyra Fisher of North Carolina! They have been married 86 years and hold the Guinness World record for the longest marriage of a living couple. Zelmyra is 101 years old and Herbert is 104! I wish I could meet them so they would share their secret with us. :)

Engagement Party Cake

Today, we went to celebrate our very dear friend's engagement party. Our almost four year old kept on asking us who's birthday it was. We told him that his uncle Dan and future auntie Rebecca are getting married soon and that's what we are celebrating.

Me: "When family and friends are excited for two people who are about to get married and are attending a party before the wedding, we call that an engagement party".

Liam: "What does getting married mean?"

Me: "When those two people get married, on that day, they will make a promise to love each other forever in front of all their family and friends."

Liam: "What does promise mean?"

Me: "They will work very hard at taking care of each other, when they are happy or mad. They will learn how to share, listen to each other, take good care of each other and love each other so much. They will think about ways to make the other person happy every day. And they will promise to never give up trying. It is not always easy, but they will try and will promise to try. "

This was an acceptable answer enough to him. He remained quiet the entire car ride after that...As you can see, I didn't want to feed him the "Happy ever after" fairy tales lies and disillusions. I really wanted him to understand that it doesn't guarantee happiness but that it was a promise and that it required hard work to reach it. I hope that will give him solid foundation for his relationships later on. And I hope he asks me that question often so I can keep on telling him.... :)

Surviving off mushrooms and cultivating our own corny hope...

Every time we watch a Korean or Japanese movie, I have the urge to stuff my face with some deluxe instant Ramen noodles. It is almost midnight and I am craving for some instant black bean Ramen noodles. I never had these before, but thanks to this multiple award-winning Korean movie Castaway on the Moon, these little radioactive noodles have a total new meaning to my taste buds.

Komar asked me what I wanted to watch tonight, and here was my response: "I feel like watching something that will restore my amazement in humanity. Something that will showcase our brilliance, as humans. A movie that is grand, a masterpiece, in the same lines as Amelie, Forrest Gump, or The Matrix. Something new. Something wow. Something that will change my perspective on the world."
And Komar responded: "Just that, huh...". And there he was, flipping through our Netflix, when he selected this one. "Ask and you shall receive" he would tell me, if he could predict the future and the outcome of the movie. I was blown away. There was nothing cheesy or cliché about this film. It was a true gem and a subtle love story that respected the audience's intelligence and did not need to hammer every single line to us. I love movie revelations like these.

This is the story of this sad guy who failed a suicide attempt and turned castaway in the Han River and a girl who is addicted to the Cyberworld and hasn't gone out of her house for years. They both give hope to each other and overcome their restraints. This movie treats the common ways we fall in love in a non-common way.

 It made me think of the Little Prince quote that says "It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important.” ― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince. 

New home, new kitchen :)

Here we are, finally all moved into our new house . Sold our townhouse after eight days on the market and we were lucky enough to be able to rent back for about three months, while we waited until our new house was built. Our three year old had a great experience, learning each step of the process of building a house, and watching it evolve, from breaking ground to the finishing touches. The move went smoothly, and we got help from our family. Once we finally moved, it barely took us one day to already feel right at home. On our very first day, we were greeted by neighbors with scrumptious cupcakes and created new friendships in the blink of the eye. We invited them in, and they hung out at our place and the spark was instant. I fell in love, once again, and not only with my husband and kids, but with this new love nest, our new home that we built and selected from start to finish.

This will be the second house we have built and completely catered to our taste and needs. A brand new house, like a blank canvas, allowing us the selection of all our features and design. I couldn't ask for more. I really believe this is our dream house and the one where our family will settle in for a very long time. I cannot wait to watch my boys grow in it and build so many new memories in this house. But what is the most amazing is that even though we were able to select everything, from picking our lot to each little cabinet knob, we never would have been able to predict who would live next door to us.

I have to say, my mind is blown by how friendly everyone is in our new neighborhood. We landed on a gold mine filled with stimulating and fun people with interesting hobbies, talents and interests. We already hung out several times, went shopping and spent quality family times all together. Everyone is young, friendly, and with same age kids. I couldn't have dreamed it better. :D

Sharing a kitchen before getting married...

A very interesting article I wanted to share with you. Any thoughts?

Why Living Together Before Marriage Is A Bad Idea [Infographic]
Ashley Lutz | Jul. 13, 2012, 2:05 PM |

Proponents of cohabitation say that it gives couples a chance to try each other out before making a big commitment.

But studies show that couples who live together before marriage are less likely to be together 20 years later.

This infographic by MyMove.com and posted at visual.ly illustrates data from the Census and a University of Virginia marriage expert.

Check it out:

Read more: http://www.businessinsider.com/why-living-together-before-marriage-is-a-bad-idea-infographic-2012-7#ixzz20XtlPgOQ

A nice picnic, on a Sunday afternoon...

Pointillism is one of the painting techniques that I respect the most. I'm sure many of you will recognize this classic picture of George Seurat titled A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte. This painting is entirely made of pure colored dots applied in such ways to form this beautiful image. No lines at all, even though lines are, in fact, a series of dots disposed very closed to each other. When I admire this painting, it inspires me not only the respect for the complexity of the details and painting technique, but also for how it matches with my outlook on life, and what I pledge myself to live by. A multitude of dots, isolated, but together forming the big picture. Each dot enhancing the other, but each dot strongly impacting the entire picture. Before you wonder where I am going with this, here's my thought about life...

I remember one of my single female friends telling me how hard it was for her to enjoy a picnic at a park, when seeing all these happy families eating together, while she was still looking for love and dreaming of having children one day. She couldn't enjoy herself there, too busy comparing herself to everyone. I could sense some distress and her clock ticking, her fear of falling behind.  And I know she wasn't the only one who would see life as something linear, since that is what society conditions us to believe. Society dictates us a time line and a life path, where it is expected for everyone to finish school, find a mate, settle down, get married, purchase a home, raise children, while pursuing a solid career. Then comes the comparison between everyone on that time line. Who's ahead, behind, sideways...

I don't personally think anyone is ahead, or behind. Maybe just more comfortable in certain ways maybe. Well, at least not ahead physically or materialistically in the linear life path sense.

We are where we are, and accepting it and understanding our place is what makes our lives beautiful and meaningful. Like each color dot on that painting, everyone and everything has its place, and is instrumental in the large scheme of things.  Perhaps that is why I never understood or felt the "keeping up with the Joneses" inferiority complex and the fear of not fitting in. It is not important to compare ourselves with who's around us, because the only direction that matters, well, at least to me, is upward, towards the sky.

When we focus on elevating our minds, spirits and souls, working on bettering ourselves everyday, de-cluttering our minds, it does not matter anymore which peripheral direction we take. We cannot judge someone by where he or she is standing because everyone's journey to get where they got is so different, and personal. Converting jealousy and envy into inspiration. Seeing beauty in other's joys and empathy in other's misery.

To come back to my friend who constantly fears of falling behind, some may have been married for ten years already, compared to her, but during these ten years, she has lived other experiences that married people have been deprived of. I am not saying she is not allowed to dream or get frustrated they take too long to concretize, but I don't think not having what she wishes for, at that very instant, should ruin all the good that she has around and within herself. If our state of mind is unsatisfied, we can never be happy even with all the money and the strongest social status in the world. In the end, we are simply where we stand and we could stand still forever and still grow and evolve. Like mediation and introspection for example, they make us stop while furthering us with our mind and spirit, farther than our body and wallet can ever take us. 

There is a big difference between going "nowhere"and remaining still to assess our souls from time to time. Would we judge a monk or a priest for choosing the life they chose? They didn't "move forward" in the conventional sense; instead devoting their lives to religion and staying still in order to meditate or pray. They worked on their minds and hearts, making them grow stronger day by day. In the end, in my opinion, it is only how happy we are with ourselves and the rest of the world and how far upward we go that truly matters. It's not about direction, nor competition, but elevation and level of consciousness. Consciousness of ourselves, strengths, flaws and how we can contribute to our own lives. The world would be such a better place if everyone knew how to cook their own comfort food for their souls...

Phalllic Fish

An interesting article about the fish with its genitals on its head...(I can't find a more appropriate time to call something a dick head... *chuckles*).

Zoologger is our weekly column highlighting extraordinary animals – and occasionally other organisms – from around the world

Species: Phallostethus cuulong
Habitat: surface waters of the Mekong River in Vietnam

The male fish, a Phallostethus cuulong just 2 centimetres long, weaves between drifting vegetation in the sluggish waters of a canal. He closes in on a female, swims alongside her and tries to mate with her.

But to an outside observer, he seems to be doing it wrong. His head is right next to the female's, but he's at a 45-degree angle so his rear end is well below hers. Sounds misguided, but actually he's doing it exactly right – it's just that his gonads are on his head.

This is the challenge faced by all priapiumfish, a little-known group of Asian fish that have their reproductive organs on their chins, just behind their mouths. How does this Cronenbergian arrangement work?

Phallic fish

P. cuulong is only the 22nd known priapiumfish, which are named after the ancient Greek fertility deity, Priapus. They all belong to a family calledPhallostethidae and live in south-east Asia.

The new species was discovered in July 2009 by Koichi Shibukawa of theNagao Natural Environment Foundation in Tokyo, Japan. He saw one swimming alone in a canal near the Mekong River in Vietnam, and managed to catch it in a net. Working with colleagues at Can Tho University in Vietnam, he realised it was a new species.

Male priapiumfish don't have a penis like humans and other mammals. Instead they have a unique organ called a priapium, which faces backwards and looks like a muscular nozzle. It's actually a modification of the fish'spectoral and pelvic fins.

The priapium of P. cuulong has two attachments, both of which look frankly dangerous. At the bottom near the tip, there is a forward-facing serrated saw, or ctenactinium. Further forward, right under the head, there is a forward-facing rod called the toxactinium.

Machinery of love

No one has seen P. cuulong mating, but based on observations of other species it's likely that the saw and rod are used for grasping the female during mating. One goes on either side of her head, holding her still while the male transfers his sperm.

To help with this, the priapium tends to be shunted to one side. The six maleP. cuulong that Shibukawa found all had theirs on the right: other species tend to be left-priapiumed, or a mixture of the two.

The system seems to work. The oviducts of female priapiumfish tend to be stuffed full of sperm, so pretty much every egg gets fertilised.

Why, evolution, why?

We don't know why priapiumfish evolved their peculiar gonads, says Lynne Parenti of the Smithsonian Institution in Washington, DC.

They belong to a big group called the Atherinomorpha, which includes many other species with modified fins that transfer sperm. In most cases, like guppies and splitfins, it's the anal fin that's modified. The priapiumfish are a variation on this theme, Parenti says.

It's not just the reproductive organs that are attached to the priapiumfish's head: so too is its bottom. The fish's anus is on its priapium, slightly forward from the genital opening. Its guts perform a U-turn to reach it.

"There's not much going on at the back of these fish," Parenti says.

For my precious Moon Pie :)

She has been living in this warm pink house in the suburbs I grew in and opened her home and heart to me when I was about seven or eight years old. The minute I crossed her threshold, my little kid self would be anticipating one of her signature surprises: New flavors to discover? Soap bubbles in her swimming pool? Plenty of fun arts and crafts that would occupy us for hours on her back patio? A special furry kitty to pet? (I miss that cat...Oh my was she magical).  I have such fond memories of my sweet Moona ( I will call her this way since she would prefer I do not disclose her name on the internet). But the amazing thing is that she is still my Moona, even across all that geographic distance between us. I would have never expected that she would become closer to my heart, especially after I moved from Montreal to the D.C area.

She clearly wasn't just any neighbor. Dear Moona has been and still is a true source of comfort in my life. She entered my life when I was that tiny and has never left my life since. With her, I can remain as small as I want, but she will always see through my full potential and elevate me, like the moon acts on the tide. She is truly a guiding moon in my life, witnessing all miracles, hurdles, bumps and silver linings that come across my path. She is with me no matter where I go, in thoughts and prayers and she'd always know how to keep an appropriate distance when it was time for advice and crisis. Like the moon, she is there, omnipresent, but never overpowering, and I can be certain of one thing: I will never get a moon burn. She is a friend that I cherish and it is such a beautiful friendship that goes beyond race, generations, and life experiences. All those differences make our friendship so rich and magnificent. I hope she knows how much I value her. Hopefully she will know after reading this...

Thank you Moona for being there, and for being there to look over my beloved grandmother every time we were worried about her safety, while she was alone at home.  You rose to the occasion, every single time and showed such care that my entire family was blown away. Your heart is pure and good. I am deeply sorry for all those times in your life you were misunderstood. Moona is a family member that I chose to have in my life. You are truly one of a kind. ♥