It’s Holly

I don’t know why, but soufflé has always seemed like the most daunting baking task in the world. Rumors of the kitchen having to be perfectly quiet so the soufflé doesn’t fall is enough to make anyone run. But not me – I don’t run from a [food] challenge. I take that shit head on, son.

So, thanks to some rainy weather and about $15 worth of chocolate, I was determined to make soufflé. I’m not one to *not learn from other people’s mistakes (especially when it involves a lot of chocolate), so I found this blog with this recipe (thanks, tastespotting!).

And so, the task begins.

Melt all that lovely chocolate

It’s hard to believe this started out as 6 egg whites, but lo and behold. Who was the french guy that decided that beating egg whites into an airy submission would be a good thing. You know it was a french guy.

Whisking in a small amount of the whites into the melted chocolate mixture

Ooh, side note. Apparently, you’re supposed to keep the chocolate warm so when you mix in the hot milk mixture, it doesn’t separate. Mine separated. Room temp chocolate + hot milk = fat coming out of chocolate making it really ugly and utterly unusable. Then I whined… “Moooooooom… my chocolate separated!!!” She says “well, put it back together.” Hmm… put it back together. I broke out the hand mixer and whipped it into shape, and sure enough, it went back together. Thanks Mom!

Let’s get it in the oven before I mess something else up…

Alllll set!

Alllll done! I couldn’t believe I got soufflé right on my first try!

And it was a ceramic rammikin of chocolatey dense and airy goodness.

Now, I’m all about soufflés. I think I’d like to try a savory one – cheddar and bacon, perhaps? Smoked gouda and spinach? Endless combinations!

I can’t remember what I was watching or listening to, but someone who is a half breed like me said they related to one race more than the other.

I can honestly say that I don’t identify with one side more than the other. I don’t consider myself more Filipino or more black, but in society, I feel I’m considered just black (and have been treated as such on a few occasions).

I can also honestly say that I don’t feel comfortable around all Filipinos or all black people. I like my happy mixed race group of friends, even the Whities (j/k, geez). When in a large group of either race, I almost feel like I don’t belong… or almost judged, I suppose.

With all that said, here’s your Friday Four:

1. Do you identify with race over another?
2. Are most of your friends one race?
3. What’s your favorite ethnic food? (you know i always gotta sneak in a foodie question).
4. Hillary because she’s a woman or Barack because he’s black?

Answer in the comments. Happy Friday.

Like, really?

So, we have two bathrooms at work. Neither is designated for either sex. With 50+ people working in a given day, it’s understood that the after lunch funk in the bathroom is atrocious.

So, out of the kindness of my heart, with all of my loving generosity (AND my own money), I purchased the new Febreze NOTICEables. Everyone noticed, of course, and thanked me profusely for my philanthropic donation to their own personal bathroom hells.

Today, no more than 10 minutes ago, I went into the bathroom to find my air freshener no longer there, and the smell of after-lunch ass and country garden industrial air perfume smacking me in the face.

What?! Where’s my air freshener? I run out into the warehouse to see if they moved it to the other bathroom. No? No AIR FRESHENER?! Someone really jacked my air freshener?! Like, really? Are you *serious right now?

I’m convinced the janitor has it for ransom until he gets a new mop. Of course, I put a notice up:

Hopefully, it will be returned soon, and we won’t have to endure the funk any longer.

::fingers crossed::

wtf, yo? like, really?

Sorry for the delay… NYC Continued…

We started off Saturday morning bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready to head over to Le Parker and eat at Norma’s. It was my goal to have foie gras all day, every day, but after dinner the night before at Picholine, I couldn’t even say “foie gras”. So, I got the duck confit has and left the foie gras for Aunt Tracie. (And I’m glad I did, because it wasn’t that good)

Aunt Tracie’s Foie Gras Brioche French Toast
Lunch consisted of lots of shopping (yay shoes from Irregular Choice!), a quick dimsum stop, and this corn Jonathan had been raving about. I was skeptical at first, like… “Jonahtan, calm down, it’s just frickin’ corn. But alas, it was the most amazing corn on the cob ever – grilled to perfection with butter, poblano cheese and a little chili powder. Good job, Jono.

Fortunes at Chinatown Brassarie

We did a little more shopping and we were back to the hotel to get ready for dinner. It was another Jonathan pick – Fatty Crab – where the entire menu was either pork fat or crab. Yesssss…

MMM! Pork buns at Fatty Crab

Ray, scarfin’ down the fatty.

We ended the night at Samovar – a Russian Vodka bar with true-to-life pickled herring and potato eating Russians running the place. Needless to say, a good time was had by all – especilaly when there’s vodka and no mixers involved. It actually snowed a little, too! It was pretty, but cold.

More NYC adventures to come…