* I can in no way guarantee that this flavor combination will be to your palate, considering how I cannot seem to muster up the courage to buy a bottle of strawberry milk from the grocery store. Our best bet is to hold our breaths and keep our fingers crossed.
Foreword: I'm finally posting this recipe, which was originally intended to be out by June, but wasn't, thanks to a doctor's visit for the laptop (3 weeks!). Hopefully with this recipe you'll be placated about my extended hiatus. Its good to be back and fill this void. Peace.
"This is where your leftover oranges meet their mushy end"
The red packets have been collected, the pineapple tarts and shrimp cookies finished, and only crumbs remain at the bottom of the snack jars. Those red packets remain on your desk - opened and emptied. Chinese New Year is officially over.
It signifies the end of something else, too - holidays. The last two months have been a constant series of holidays, one after another, where everyone seems to have fled the country and getting good seats at diners is guaranteed. Now, its hello to work, hello to school, and hello to reality. Welcome back.
"But what I do know, is how to make granola great again"
Big things have been happening.
Numero uno: I did the big chop. Bangs and all. That I have not had in seven whole years. (That’s the same number of years of an average dude’s pants) I’m still feeling a mixture of shock (what did you do!), hope (maybe I’ll finally look half-decent), and exasperation from blinking hair rapidly out of my eyes as I do half-assed attempts at headstands. Not to mention at times resembling a particularly hairy species of fungi thanks to the humidity.
Of course, not saying that I don’t like it – I love it. (the money for that came from my waitressing-slash-dishwashing gig; t’was hard-earned) And the thought of not having to spend so much time washing hair is pretty damn good.
Pound cakes have long been the bane of my existence. Don't get me wrong - I don't mind a hefty slice of the cake myself, and, in fact, it was the first cake I baked. Ever.
I can still remember pulling that 9x7" pan out of the oven at 11 at night, watching the steam rise as I cut into the browned and cracked crust, taking a bite of the rich, buttery flavor of the cake alongside my mum. But, I can also recall having to wipe and scrub and wash the mixing bowls and all too-many utensils, having to mop the butter and flour off counter top, walls and floors, finally tumbling to bed dusted in flour.
Never again, I told myself, shall I bake again on a school night.