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There are two types of people in this world: one who drinks coffee, and one who drinks tea. And maybe there’s another type who only drinks chocolate. I’m the latter. I prefer a steaming cup of melted chocolate over latte or chai anytime. But this morning, I ran out of cocoa for breakfast. After rummaging through everything in the kitchen, I found some teabags. They were organic bamboo tea. Better than nothing, I thought. I brewed my tea, poured into my favorite mug and mixed in a dollop of honey and a few stevia leaves. The stevia’s from my garden. Its leaves are nature’s own sugarcubes. You can even eat them on their own. This drink, in the end, tasted mildly sweet and comforting (making me thisclose to leaving good old chocolate for tea leaves).
The best things in life are free. My eyes can never agree more. Catnaps are there for the taking, and at this moment, my pillow appears as delicious as toasted marshmallows. The afternoon’s rays are practically illuminating the whole bedroom as I type this. Everything seems gentle and calm, and though a bit warm, the bed looks inviting. I’m going to leave you here for now. I’ll see you after a sweet doze underneath the blankets.
Breakfasts in bed are dreamy in notion. Wouldn’t it be nice to wake up from a dream, only to have your beloved presenting you with a tray of toasts, crispy bacon and freshly squeezed juice? Similarly, albeit a lot less romantic, I had my breakfast in bed with…a bunch of books. On top of my list right now are books on digital culture, which serves as the basis for the PhD project I intend to embark on. Like most academic books, they’re a bit on the dull side. But the developing theories on identities and bodies in cyberspace are nothing short of fascinating.
I’m proud to have baked my own birthday cake this year. It feels very grown-up to have done so. I call it the Betty Crockeresque rite of passage to being autonomous. The homemade cake bowled over my family the most. For a hint of variation, I put in chunks of pineapples into the batter alongside the carrots. While I usually enjoy the cake with good old whipped crème, I chose buttersweet frosting instead for a more traditional vibe. The sugar melted deliciously into the warm crevices of the cake. It was rich, tart and slightly nutty from the carrots. Above all, it tasted good. The candles were the only ones missing, really. I didn’t miss those much though. After all, twenty eight candles are a bit too many to blow ;)
I’ve had a lifelong affair with salmon. I first tasted the fish when I was living in London as a child. It was a smoked salmon sandwich with a thick slice of cheddar to savor with. As I bit into the sandwich, I imagined the salmon as ham. Both share that same intense pinkness. I was the only child in school who practiced eating kosher. The rest brought their ham sandwiches for lunch. So I guess that explains the odd imagining. That was almost twenty years ago. I remember the story perfectly as I prepared dinner on the eve of my birthday. I had fresh salmon chunks with me in the kitchen. I whipped up my very first pan-fried salmon with lemon parsley sauce. Did I mention that I wore my pearls and little black dress as I chop and fry? I succeeded with the apron as my witness. I invited my half over for dinner and our night looked like this. Nothing tastes better than adulthood.
At seventy-five, my grandma is still a one fine trouper. Today I caught her scrubbing and arranging in my ma’s kitchen. When I offered help, she testily refused and said she could manage (such a “grandmother” thing to do). I just stood in the kitchen, admiring her labor. The space was spick and span. Every single jar, bottle, plate and shaker was in order. And we all had grandma to thank for, as she did all that out of love (and perhaps, out of a little ennui too).
Today I’m glad to have this little new installment in my apartment— a dining table. It’s woody, barky and doesn’t come from the shelves of IKEA. Don’t get me wrong though. I still love the Swedish "McDonald’s" approach to furniture. But I thought I’d allow some variety into my home this year. The one I had before, in fact, was a white table for two from IKEA. It fit perfectly in the small apartment I lived in. This time around, I have about 900 square feet of space to play around with. With this table in tow, I can now host dinner parties or Sunday brunches with more comfort. Cheers to more food on the table!
