What’d I tell ya? One week, and I’m right back at it.
Not that it took me an entire week to get over my plane nausea, but I’m finally relaxing on a Sunday night with a hot beverage and it seems like the perfect time to sit down and talk a little bit.
Thanksgiving came together quietly; boxed stuffing and hand mashed potatoes. My parents make a real effort to do turkey and the whole thing because I loved it growing up, which is really sweet but if you could only imagine four people trying to eat your traditional Thanksgiving spread it almost seems like a dare. When I was a kid I used to think brining a turkey was some secret thing my dad discovered after intensive recipe testing and that’s why our turkey was never dry, but as the story goes this is the way the rest of the Thanksgiving-celebrating world preps their birds as well. I’m seeing all these pictures and articles on spatchcocking turkeys, though, and I’m thinking that may just be my next trick. I mean request.
I took my sweet time settling back into post holiday life, which in LA, was particularly rainy. It beat down hard and relentlessly, and I hoped for a minute we’d be saved from the drought. Unfortunately, a couple of rainy days in California is probably small beans at best. Rain doesn’t really make me think of puddles and rain boots (proof: I forgot to wear my rain boots and now I probably won’t get to use them until 2015). What it does make me think about is bánh xèo, this crepe-like Vietnamese dish my mom would always make on the first rain of the year. It would be a gray, muddy day, and she’d ask me if I thought it was a good day to eat bánh xèo. If you’ve ever eaten this, you don’t need me to tell you what my answer is. Actually, if you just know me, you don’t need me to tell you.
This all sounds really sentimental, but what I’m trying to say is, it was abnormally rainy for LA this past week so friends and I whipped up some bánh xèo. It’s a good time, learning how to cook better. Also, note to self of the cooking 101 lesson that is always reinforced when I make fried foods: a very hot pan is everything.
As usual, there’s always some stories about growing up peppered into my blogs. I know what it’s all trying to tell me. To my plethora (right?) of underage readers: childhood is so good! Don’t even worry about it.