The Art of the Manly Pie

This Easter, I had the pleasure of tasting one of the most delicious apple pies I have ever eaten in my entire life. Tragically, I almost missed the experience because after gorging myself on holy ham, I had little room left for dessert.

But who can pass up a slice of homemade pie?

Apparently not I.

What was supposed to be an obligatory taste of dessert turned into an unexpected love affair. This pie was like a warm embrace... like finding an unexpected meadow of flowers in the middle of a dreary hike. Yes, I do believe the clouds parted and divine light shined through as I ate this pie.

Did I mention woodland creatures came out of the forest to greet me?

Suffice it to say, it was good pie, good enough that I ate a second slice even though I was stuffed to the seams with holy ham.

The subject pie was provided by Minty Monty, a self-taught maker of pies. I immediately contacted him to see if I could learn his secrets or better yet, serve as an apprentice during his next pie-making session. Monty was gracious enough to agree to the latter. His email confirming our pie-making session summarized our goals aptly:

"We shall make pie. Then we shall eat pie. "




If you're thinking this looks like pie porn, it is.
















We also made a commemorative customized turnover with extra crust scraps.




Thank you, Minty Monty, for the best apple pie of the year.

Holy Ham!

It had been five weeks of Arbitrary Vegetarianism, many days full of challenges and introspection. In these last five weeks, I've looked Salami, and Brats, Lamb Chops in right in the eye and managed to stand firm.

So what happened on Sunday?

On Sunday, the Lord was resurrected.

And maybe I ate a whole lot of Ham.

Although I knew that there would be ham at Easter, my consumption was not premediated. I was helping Jaja out in the kitchen and was tasked with dealing with the glaze. I dutifully juiced some lemon and orange into a bowl of marmalade and then proceeded to heat the mixture until it was nice and thick. Then I went over the ham and drizzled the hot luscious glaze all over that big hunk of wonderful meat.



You can see where this story is going.

After all, am I not human?

After getting that close and personal with an Easter Ham, is it reasonable or even possibly fathomable that I would not partake in the proper celebration of the Lord's resurrection? My mind started racing as I tried to squeeze this large hunk of ham into one of my exceptions. Definitely not a broth/juice. Definitely not wild game. Definitely not a Small Bit (my favorite exception)... unless you're an ogre. Unless you're an ogre!

Oh wait, I'm not really an ogre.

As I ran these scenarios in my mind, I wondered why I didn't see it fit to have a religious exception. I mean, Religious Exceptions are some of the most established and widely accepted exceptions out there.

Oh right, I'm not really religious.

Years ago, while hiking to a church at the top of Marseilles, I had an epiphany that the physical hunger of my bottomless tummy was actually symptomatic of a deeper hunger - a sad spiritual emptiness. Suddenly it became all too clear to me that it was my a-religiosity that compelled me to try and fill myself with worldly goods, and yet, I knew that fulfillment could never be truly had this way. At least this was my explanation for why my a-religious self was weeping during church services conducted in a language I couldn't even understand. This revelation was all fine and good until I left the church and then immediately started wondering what was for lunch. Mu and I ended up eating a large platterful of raw seafood:



Doesn't quite look like spiritual emptiness, does it?


So back to Easter. What better way to fill an empty aching soul than with a huge hunk of ham? Suffice it to say, my soul was very very full this Easter, so full that I wish I had been wearing elastic pants.


But then again, what's a religious holiday without a little commemorative sin?

So Big!

A couple of weeks ago, I attended a taiko fundraiser benefiting the local Japanese immersion program. One of the highlights was the Roll-Your-Own-Sushi booth. That's right, for four raffle tickets, you could make your own California roll, with the aid of the friendly Japanese people staffing the booth. First, we were provided with a sheet of nori with sushi rice. Then, there was a plate full of toppings (imitation crab, cucumber, egg, roe, avocado) to add. After that, with a quick squeeze of a bamboo mat, presto, I had my own personal California roll.

When I got to the part of the station where the nice Japanese lady cuts your sushi, she lifted her knife and remarked, "So big!" I was a little embarrassed because I was with a friend who clearly heard the comment. My roll didn't seem incredibly large to me - I just wanted all the toppings, but I didn't want any gaps. (It's just terrible when a bite of roll is missing a key piece of avocado, for example.) The Japanese lady kept saying stuff to me in Japanese, but I just smiled and nodded. If you allow a Chinese person into a roll-your-own-sushi line, you have to expect that you are going to get some "so big!" rolls.

The solution: make your own rolls at home, where you can yell, "So big!" out loud freely! With no shame! In your underwear!

(*Note: I did not make the below-depicted sushi wearing only underwear, but you get the point. )

"Govern a country..."

"... like you cook a fish. Do not overdo it." - Lao Tze.

The answer: filet of halibut steamed with Chinese black beans, ginger, and scallions.

Treat fresh fish gently, and it will never disappoint.

Guess Who's Coming To Dinner?

There's nothing like having ox tail stew for the first time, a long-neglected cut of meat. A dish for only those with Patience and Fortitude, it takes at least two hours to simmer and some degree of social boldness to pick the meat off the bones.


Also introducing for the first time, Emergency Company Noodles:

As usual, headcount was entirely uncertain until hours before dinner, and as usual, I feared bellies would leave still hungry. So I whipped up some seafood chow mein, aided by the use of Korean instant ramen. The package yields al dente ramen noodles (decent level of hi-gluten flour), one packet of red hot seasonings, and one packet of dehydrated vegetables -- all helpful ingredients in a pinch. I enhanced by adding shrimp (sliced lengthwise to double the quantity); dried shrimp, dashi, shiitake mushrooms (to add flavor); and baked tofu strips (to add bulk).

The result? Empty plate, hopefully full bellies.

Food From the Mothership

Little Bro says Mom's vegetarian potstickers taste like meat dumplings, the ultimate compliment.