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Recipe: mu shu pork

It’s actually mu as in mu shu pork. When I was a kid, I ordered this at Chinese restaurants and my parents would exclaim, “Why do you order this? We make it at home much better!” They were right, but I loved the pancakes. I was also the one who ordered chicken strips at the seafood restaurant. My, how times have changed. I now refuse to order any Chinese dish that I can make at home. I usually go for those plates that make a fantastic mess to prepare… better their kitchen than mine.

Mom’s homemade mu shu pork (and yes, she always used pork – no chicken, no beef, no tofu, no shrimp versions) included homemade pancakes – the mu shu shells. We called them bing and I have no idea if that is the proper Mandarin word or just some nickname my parents made up. I learned that one of the terms of affection they had for me translates into “stinky egg” and not “dearest daughter” as I had assumed, so you will forgive me if I am cautious about littering the page with what I *think* is accurate Mandarin terminology.

lazy chinese girl solution: buy mu shu shells

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I love Peabody. She’s got the right attitude about life as far as I’m concerned and that earns my respect (along with the fact that she generally kicks ass). I’ve thought a lot about life and the lemons and how some make lemonade and others just turn into sniveling messes as if a giant lemon has fallen from the sky and pinned them to the ground. In times of crisis, the true nature of an individual emerges. Sometimes it will surprise you for the better, and many times it will disappoint you. I pride myself in rolling with the punches through shitty times, and I do mean shitty times.

I have seen people wallow in self-pity or let their tragedies define who they are and dictate their lives. Not my cuppa, kids. My friend’s mother has a terrific saying: If you look up, there is no limit, and if you look down, there also is no limit. Life always could be better, or worse. Get over yourself and make the best of what you’ve got.

It’s very likely I will be losing my hair in the next several weeks. My surgeon delivered this news with what I detected was a hint of sympathy last month. I neither need nor want pity. It’s just hair and it will grow back. I understand it’s not the hair, but the condition that elicits this response in people. I am a rock and I am so gonna own this. Rather than feel blue, I went and lopped my hair off and dyed it blue.

grab life by the hojos

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Recipe: zebra torte

It’s a battle for time, energy, and daylight hours. I haven’t endeavored on many of the more involved baking projects since I’ve been well enough to ski. After my initial ski whore phase where I was willing to tele any thin veneer barely covering grass and rocks, I have now reached the picky phase – only if there are freshies. We had no such freshies yesterday and so you get the recipe for Zebra Torte.

slice layers from the vanilla chiffon cake

I made this once before in my pastry skills course last spring. Problem with that course was that we crammed as much as we could into each 5.5 hour class and wound up divvying duties between partners which meant I didn’t get my hands on each step of the torte.

folding in the dry ingredients for the chocolate roulade

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