[Recipe] De Lanor Asian-inspired Soup

My adorable brother gave me a nice recipe for an actual Asian soup. Since I couldn't find all the ingredients, I adapted it, and the new version is so nice that I'm sharing it with you...

For my de Lanor Asian-inspired soup, you'll need:
* some veal stock (I used a brand that comes in 4 doses packs, and I used 2 doses)
* 1 onion
* 3 or 4 shiitake mushrooms
* 4 or 5 black mushrooms
* 100 gr enoki mushrooms
* 3 or 4 baby pak choi
* 2 or 3 chives
* some olive oil
* soy sauce
* salt
* some dried Asian noodles
* some tofu
* hoisin sauce

Prep & cooking time: about 30 minutes

Here's some of the "cast": baby pak choi, enoki, and chives

1 - Cut the pak choi approximately in two (mostly white and mostly green), and wash them.

2 - Cut the white part of the pak choi in thin slices.

3 - Wash and cut the white part of the chive.

4 - Cut the onion in thin slices.

Here's a plate of (mostly) white:

5 - Put some olive oil in a big pot, and sauté the onion, pak choi, and chive on medium-high heat. Add a spot of salt.
When they look tender, add one litre of water, the veal stock, and a few drops of soy sauce:

Let it simmer gently.

6 - Slice the black and shiitake mushrooms, and cut off the roots of the enoki mushrooms:

7 - Add the mushrooms to the soup:

8 - Cut the pak choi green leaves into smallish bits:

9 - Cut the green parts of the chives, and have them ready to be added when you'll serve the soup.

10 - Add the pak choi leaves and the noddles (the ones I chose are very thin and cook in about three minutes)

11 - [aka confession time: I bought the wrong kind of tofu, but my mistake ended up being delicious] I wanted to fry cubes of tofu, but the one I bought was too soft, and I ended up with scrambled tofu, which I generously coated with hoisin sauce.

12 - Pour a bit of everything from the pot into a bowl or plate; sprinkle with the cut chives, and add some scrambled, hoisin'ed tofu to the side.
There you go:

戴きます!

I Am [Somehow Like] Spock

I didn't become a trekkerie (that's what I call myself, since I'm a trekker and a trekkie. Deal with it) when I was a toddler, but once I started watching Star Trek, it took me two episodes to fall in love with everything in it.

I was am quite fond of Spock [Note to the world: the first to mention the pseudo-reboot gets introduced to my knee from up close], and it's rather recently that I understood why: I am Spock.

Well, I'm not a half-Vulcan man or a science genius, but my parents are as different as Sarek and Amanda Grayson.

My relatives treat me like a cultural mistake.

The Anglo-Italian side has been mostly ignoring me since long before my birth (there's a Sybok in my life, too).

The Franco-German side has always viewed me as a kind of useless addition to their prestigious lot (allow me to laugh at their stupidity and arrogance).

It took me a long time to build myself since I wasn't sure of anything about my roots (it's tough to build something when you don't have the blueprint or the background, and no one gives you the feeling that you belong), but I did it.

In the end, I got a little revenge: the two grandmothers, both matriarchs (in the ethnological sense, coz I had to be born into two pockets of true matriarchy in Europe), both ended up with only me as their only option to claim an heiress to both their lines...

What's that thing about karma and a beach? Something about 'and then you fry'?...

Cherry on my cake, I could have picked either of their surnames, but I decided to choose my own. It's healthier for me to have created something that has no link with either witch, and none of my relatives can say anything about me, because they don't know my new surname.

Strangely, the odd behaviour because I'm a "happy mix" (using "happy" loosely here) doesn't stop with my relatives. Some of the people with whom I work are treating me differently because they think I'm not the real McCoy (Look! Back to Star Trek!! Awful pun. Sorry!). We're all teaching languages, but they're using one language amongst themselves, and they switch to another one when I'm around. I understand both languages, but they sound as if I'm not worthy of being addressed in the other language - how delightful, guys (Oh! The Sarc font is on, methinks). That's grating on my nerves a bit, but I'm beginning to realize that they were probably raised in barns.

I think I'm going to start using another language to chat with them and wait and see how long it takes the penny to drop...

... I'm suddenly wondering if that plan makes me more "Romulan" than "human" (then again, it's not bad if I'm Saavik: she's the one who got Spock in the end).*insert impudent grin here* 

Cheerio!

I Must Be Fine Then

I really must have the Void at bay these days (which is awesome - for me).

There has to be something in the air - and I don't mean Christmas.

Ah... Christmas! I've got the feeling that I'm in a bad remake of an episode of Friends, as I know I'm getting something big for Christmas, and I know it's not to give me something big (I've never been interested in big, ostentatious gifts - I'd rather get the tiny thing that costs 50p, but that I really want... Been there, done that, didn't get the T-shirt), it's just to show off (and probably make me feel bad for not having that much money - and, by the way, the holidays are always too much "Oh, but you're wasting your life being a teacher/a writer. You could make so much money if only you <insert stupid idea #3 billion&2>").

But this is not about Christmas.

Nope.

This post is about the weirdness around me these days.

So, without further ado, and in no particular order:

- Neighbours have announcements to make, and I've got one of my own. They get notices on the message board... I don't (I can really feel the love /Sarc off).

- On an overcrowded bus, I keep moving backwards to allow an old lady (she could have been young, or be an XY, same issue: misplaced entitlement) to walk closer to the door as she was getting off at the next stop. At one point, I end up blocked by an old grumpy guy behind me. We reach the stop, and as I'm stuck until Grumpy frees me, the old lady barks at me to move. 

I froze a bit on that one... Wish I'd barked back that I wasn't made of paper and I knew no one who could blink me out and back in. Perhaps she was having a bad day, but mine took a nosedive because of her barking pettiness... Yea... That's the issue when the Void is hunting you: molehills end up looking and feeling like the Himalayas - dumped onto one's ribcage.

- I mention DIY projects to people I know, only to be told that the glue I plan to use is crap (I never mentioned the exact variety I'm planning to use, but, hey! How could I know anything?).

- I mention something I'm going to buy to renovate something in my flat, and I'm encouraged to have it delivered (that would just add a third of the price to the bill) as I'll be unable to carry such fragile and cumbersome items back to my flat in one piece (yea, I'm that clumsy in some people's mind - coz that wasn't out of kindness or concern for me. No... Plain old "That gal will never, ever be capable of doing that").

- Since depression doesn't show (no purple and/or green spots on my face spelling out what the issue is), I've been recently dealing with:

     * people who showed compassion for other people's psychological issues whilst totally ignoring mine ("Aren't you better yet?" Fuck, no. I wish I were, but there's still a sodding sword of Damocles in my life. Sorry to be such a bother, eh?).

     * people who said I should just stop taking the medication that's preventing me from blowing a fuse, coz (fasten your seat-belt! No. Really!) they've heard a doctor on telly say that too much St John's wort can become a poison. Gee! Thanks! Too much water's a poison, too. Should I turn to vodka then? (Mind you, that's beginning to sound like a reasonable option!)

I've got the feeling that whatever I say is going to be twisted, ignored, or belittled.

I'm currently disappointed and angry, but I've got one huge project ahead. That's a bit scary (*cough* Make that a lot!), but that's exciting, too... and you can bet that I won't talk about my project with the odd bipeds in my life, who've been, consciously or not, trying to bring me down.

With the amount of weirdness around, I really must be slightly better (I'd have been crying on a bridge, pointedly looking at the river, just last year).

I really hope I can keep keeping the Void at bay...

Once upon a... Bridge

How odd...

I was checking my photo folders (I've got folders that have sub-folders that have sub-sub-folders, etc...), and I found a little miracle. A collectable. A memory of a bitter-sweet past.

I give you, in the spring of the year 2008, the Pont des arts in romantic Paris:

Towards the Pont neuf ->

 Towards the Eiffel Tower ->

You'll spot a few locks on the first photo, but that was nothing compared with the mess it is today (just search for images for that bridge, and you'll get to see the extent of the damage [and I do mean damage because that idiotic fad of leaving a Love Lock is endangering the integrity of the structure, and the keys are polluting the river, but... hey! It's for lurrrve! /Sarc off ].

The pointless and dangerous locks are being removed, and a few sections have been covered with something that looks like plastic... and a few plonkers - in lurrrve - have used permanent markers to leave messages on those.

Since there's a big metal "X" in the centre of each section, I'd like to see those plastic-free (if you fall by stepping through those, you deserve to drown; that's active Darwinism), but it's certainly not going to happen because:

a - some brainless adults would try to step through those and either get stuck or fall into the river, and the Fire Brigade would have to intervene

b - some brainless pseudo-adults would be engrossed in taking a pseudo-romantic selfie, and their kids would fall into the river

That poor bridge is probably going to end up with plastic panels covered with graffiti.

It was such a lovely bridge...

... I bet the people who make locks, and the people who sell them, are laughing at the gullibility of the masses.

The people making and selling permanent markers are next in line for a good laugh, I fear.

*sigh*

Mind the Bucket

There are many variables in life...

How long will I stay in good health?

When am I going to get rheumatism?

With the unique DNA we all get, how tall will I be when I'm an adult?

Will my hair become lighter or turn darker when I'm over this or that age?

And so on, and so forth.

There's ONE thing we can all be sure of: one day, we're going to die.*

Now, my dear (superstitious, and scared of her own shadow) grandmother used to say that merely thinking about death wasn't going to make you die - and she had quite a point.

What brings this post on is that, today, I mentioned a tragedy where someone who died, at a young age and unexpectedly, had his wishes not respected by his parents because he'd left no will.

I said to someone that we are all going to die, one way or the other, that aneurysm is a silent killer that can be in all of us (and that's not taking into account the nutty cab driver behaving like a demented pilot in a bad Sci-Fi plot). That person looked at me as if I'd just predicted the day of his death when I recommended that he write a testament.

I can understand that fear... I'd like to go to sleep one night, and just drift into eternal peace, but that dream scenario might never happen, and I have a testament stating clearly what I expect after my death, and who should get my possessions (it's still in the black box, in my Tax folder).

I can understand the fear, but since we are all going to die, it's an act of love to unburden the people who will have to deal with everything once we've kicked the bucket: we plan things for them, and they don't have to think too much whilst dealing with the grief of our passing.

I'm probably unfair, but not planning for the future after our death has a kind of "playing ostrich" quality in my book. I've seen (or heard of) all kinds of tragedies, just in my family; just because male and female relatives lived as if they would live forever, as if they'd never, ever die - and when they did, their spouses and children were left to fend for themselves, and in a few cases things got really nasty. All that because someone played ostrich and refused to consider the possibility of death.

Then again, once they'd kicked the bucket, they no longer were with us to see the aftermath. That's one way of life

Be afraid all you like, but writing a testament, leaving your body to science, allowing your organs to be harvested, etc... These things don't take long, and once that's done, you don't have to think about it again.

There's nothing wrong with planning for a future that we're never going to see. To me, it was a way to try to leave some love around after I kick the bucket (which will happen someday - hopefully in about a hundred years... or more).

*: merely a statement. I'm fine these days (Void at bay for the moment). No need to worry.

Marketing Tips for Any Company

As a patron, allow me to give you some tips...

1 - In spite of what some strange study says (all right, it was supposed to be about sales in luxury stores, but I can think of one big department store where I live where the employees are taking this philosophy a step too far!), I want you to be nice. Perhaps some masochist answered a poll and declared that being treated like crap made them spend more money, but if you look at me as if I had the Plague, smelled like rotten eggs, and had just killed your favourite puppy because you work in that place, and you're sooooooooooooo important...

            a – I won’t buy anything from you

            b – I’ll never come back

          c – I’ll tell everybody (even complete strangers on the street) that you’re nasty people, and you’re to be avoided like the plonkers you are

2 - If I tell you that there's something I need, it's not your place to look down at me and patronize me by saying "We know better" / "We know what you need".

You're not a seer; you're not perfect, and if I tell you that I want "this" or "that"... Guess what? I do want "this" or "that".

If you don't listen to me, I'll go find someone else who'll give me what I want because, Cupcake, there will be another company ready to do exactly what I want.

3 - When you pay a company to launch an ad/commercial campaign to promote whatever you sell, ask a handful of real people what they think of the ads or the commercials.

I'll speak for myself, but if the ad or the commercial is sexist, racist, or just plain idiotic and/or patronizing, I'll growl, and I'll go see another company.

Now... think (if you can, that is). You should be charmers, not plonkers (see "Issue #1").

4 - You do not have to offer me any kind of discount (or anything), but I just bet that there are studies that prove that rewarding loyalty is a good thing for any company.
Whether it's a loyalty/rewards/points/advantage/whatever card or just giving away tiny free samples or a bookmark or a postcard, it can be a good thing for you to consider the option. Everybody likes unexpected gifts, and if so many companies are doing it, it has to mean that they've computed that it was a good call to do so.
Make your clients feel special (with tiny things). In spite of the study mentioned with Issue #1, most people like to be treated nicely, and a smile, a good service, quality products, and a reward for loyalty (or the promise of a discount for coming back) are all in your interest.
Make money by all means (that's your business), but don't be greedy. If you're greedy, you'll quickly forget that your patrons can go somewhere else, and you'll fail.

5 -  Last massive issue for today: Shipping&Handling.
Today, "handling" per se disappears in the cost of whatever we're buying.
Remains the issue of shipping.
Of course I've read articles about people who order something at 11pm and expect it to be delivered the next day before 10am - and they're ready to pay for that. Fine. Good for them.
Whilst I can understand the need, and I do approve it, you need to understand that some people do not care about slow delivery.
As well, international slow delivery should be an option. I mean, if I'm not ordering a pot of fresh butter, I don't care if what I ordered takes a month to reach me as long as shipping doesn't feel like a highway robbery.
The issue is all over the globe.
Let me give you two examples:
* I tried to order a packet of tea from an American company (I know, I know... Don't ask!). Packet price? About $10. Shipping in the US? About $4. Shipping to Europe? Over $40 because the only option was to have it airmailed. I didn't order it. I'll go buy a different tea here in town...
* I wanted to buy a Japanese book (I love the story, and I know it'd be a way to boost my reading skills: motivation by passion/addiction). Price of the book? Not even ¥600 (that's £3!). Compulsory airmail shipping? About ¥2000 (that's £11). I haven't bought the book.
I bet I'm not the only one not buying something when I see how expensive "shipping" is going to be.
Basically have the Apparition/Beaming delivery option (1), Standard delivery (2), and Snail-slow delivery (3). Then, you're sure to please everybody.
Every once in a while, for whatever reason (your anniversary, or the client's birthday), offer free shipping on one delivery. Not everyone's going to be tempted, but some people will indulge if there's no shipping.

6 - And then... Whatever you're selling me, remember that you must beg me to "Opt in" if you want me on a mailing list, or anything. I shouldn't have to write to you in order to "Opt out". "Yes, bug me, and sell my details to your friends" should never be the option by default.
If I have to tell you to leave me alone, the next letter shall be to send you packing.

There.
You have it.
Now, it's up to you to listen to me, but never forget that the competition is right next door, and nothing's keeping me from going to do business with them.
You're responsible for your marketing strategy...

Ukrainian Dinner (Training for Christmas)

The family's planning "unusual" (for us) dishes for the Christmas break.

I've found an old article about Ukrainian borscht, and I've decided to make that (I'm also in charge of the Christmas cake, and I'll look towards Japan then).

Since I'd never made borscht, I thought it'd be wise to train.

Here's my first borscht:

It needs a tad more pepper than the recipe said, but it works nicely. I'll just have to add onion and mushroom dumplings next months... ^_~

Interested in the full recipes and a step by step photo entry?

Instant Connection - The Anti-Spoiler Edition

Must.

Generate.

Clicks.

(You may replace "Clicks" by "Traffic", "Movement" or "See me, please! See me!")

I've just had the most unpleasant net experience (I can picture the average troll pointing out that I can write what's on my mind [because I can write, I own a computer, and I live in a country where I can publish what I think] and I don't live in a place where I'm bombed, shot at, abducted, or whatever, and so I shouldn't complain).

And I know I'm about to growl because of a bloody detail that's soooo "first world problem" - except that it's not that simple (because what happened  is an important part of my anti-depression safety net).

The thing is... traditional ways to fight against depression aren't working for me, and I had to DIY a way to not blow all my fuses.

A part of my coping technique involves having things (films, series, animes, etc...) to watch: I'm a squirrel for things to watch in the future. My line of thought is: 'If you want to know what happens in Series 2 of XYZ, you've got to be still alive to watch it.'

Incidentally, there are a few things that haven't been produced yet, but that we know will be produced, and these are my "You've got to be alive in 2016". I take one step at a time; I just know how quickly the Void can come back.

There are things I watch as soon as they're released because they're a treat and I need them to fuel my inner balance and make sure that I'll keep the Void at bay.

Now, be ready to pardon my French, but I fucking hate spoilers. It's "funny" because I was talking about spoilers just this week, and I was saying that stating that Hamlet dies at the end of the play isn't a spoiler because the story's been around for centuries and classics are off the potential spoiler list. However, last night's episode of anything is off the menu until people have had the opportunity to catch up - otherwise, you're Sheldon in The Big Bang Theory (the instant version).

Yet... some people seem to be unable to not blab about last night's episode once they have seen it (if you haven't, they cannot understand why you're upset that you were told about a major plot twist). 

And then, there are the media people. The ones who want to be the first ones to talk about the major plot twist because that's going to generate clicks on their links and have their websites get more traffic.

Consideration for the rest of the planet who hasn't seen last night's episode (and who won't be able to watch it for monthS, but who follows them, and thus will get to read the effing spoiler)? Nah... That's so 20^th century!

Now, they've got to behave like the worst tabloid around. 

Check the info before publishing anything? Nope. The info must be out there, from our site, and fuck the consequences.

Avoid publishing spoilers for a few hours (a day, maybe???)? Fuck that! We've watched the show, and everybody should have been in front of the telly then, as well.

That goes in the same twisted bag that wants you to be answering e-mails 24/7 (because sleep, cooking, walking the cat, and Real Life do not happen in today's world).

Just like people cannot let go of their mobiles even when they're dining with friends. If you're not on your phone, too, but are pissed off that the biped in front of you is ignoring you to chat with his cousin on the phone... basically, what's wrong with you?

I love today's technology. 

It's great to be able to phone home and say that the traffic is hellish and the bus is stuck so no one worries. 

It's fascinating to watch a rover land on Mars or watch a play, live from London or Los Angeles, online, or watch a press conference, live as well, from the White House.

It's bloody disappointing when someone behind a group (when it is not their topic of choice at all!), tweets about a spoiler in a series that was broadcast three hours ago - just because that puts their tweet "on the map".

As you can conclude, that just happened to me. I read my Twitter feed, and there I got the mother of all spoilers for tonight's episode (these past weeks, I'd caught the previous night's episode on the iPlayer the next day at breakfast; that was my treat). I'm still going to watch that only in the morning, but now I bloody know who is Missy in Doctor Who (I'm not going to name the happy bunch - probably just the one, though - of wankers that did that; I refuse to acknowledge them from now on).

I unfollowed them, but they won't even notice.

They're a perfect sign of the times: if you don't share the same philosophy about instant connection (and you don't have the same schedule when it comes to what they follow), you're screwed and they don't give a fuck.

Well, they're forever deleted from my world. And that Plonker Award goes to... *drops the trophy into the nastiest garbage can in sight*

**********

PS: I surfed Twitter a bit, and I spotted a few things:
* more idiots retweeting the spoiler just to be sure to not be late to the party
* bipeds inviting the world to watch the show as it's broadcast (promoting piracy, are we? Cos I'm quite sure my nonna couldn't watch it last night in Torino) or avoiding social media. I caught the spoiler on a feed that has NOTHING to do with the BBC, but since I'm a seer I should have known - or I should have turned Twitter off - basically, my friends cannot reach me by tweet so that some adolescent wanker can tweet a massive spoiler? That's giving a pass to uneducated plonkers and punishing the ones who couldn't watch the Beeb last night (sorry, I was working! My bad!)
* a few trolls/wankers rejoicing that the spoiler got out. What's Bedlam number again? I think they need to check a few miserable twats.

I am furious (understatement of the week - if not the month).

Bus Drivers - The Curate's Egg Edition

I've had a completely strange day going to and coming back from work today.

After my latest tube debacle (see prior post), I decided to wait for a bus to go to work today.

On my street, there's a stop with two different lines: the first takes me two streets away from work, and the other line has me taking another bus (and I've got two choices of lines when I change buses: one takes me near the stop of the first line from home, and the other stops at a ten-minute walk from work).

As I arrived at the stop where I take bus #2, the nicer bus had just left, but the other one was turning the street and driving my way...

And then... I met the nicest driver I've seen in a looooooooooooooooooooooooong time. I hopped on, and:

Me: Hello!

The Driver: Hello! Have a nice trip!

Me: (blink, pause) Thank you so much!

The Driver: You're very welcome. Have a great day!

Me: (properly flabbergasted) Thanks! You, too.

That man was kind with everybody. It's simple; by the time I reached my stop, I wanted to give him a hug.

Just before I left that nice bus, there was an odd noise below the bus. The nice driver stopped, went outside to check if we were losing bits of the vehicle (after joking with us and asking us to not steal his bus, leaving him stranded). He couldn't spot a thing, but he tried several manoeuvres, commenting on the results each time, and everything worked. We were all smiling.

I felt happy on my way to work, and I was smiling like a Cheshire-Cat high on something.

To head home, I walked to the stop where the direct bus takes me straight back to my street.

Different plot then...

The bus arrived, and I hopped on and said "Good evening!' to the driver who answered kindly, and then... the Hulk got out. Traffic was hellish, and he drove as fast as he could when there were no cars in front of him; he honked to make cars move (because he was in a hurry), and he even used his lights at a red light to make a car get out of his way (because honking hadn't worked).

Then, the icing on the cake...

At one stop, no one signalled him to board, so he stopped slightly ahead of the stop itself, and he waited for people to leave the bus. Since the front door wasn't open, an old lady and a bloke with a bike boarded by the rear door. The driver got up and barked at the bloke to validate his card; the bloke-with-bike barked back that he was coming to do it, and the driver shouted that bikes aren't allowed. The bloke with a bike left the bus... as did the old lady who then walked to the front door that the driver had opened for another lady.

The Lady: (just at the door) Are you going any farther or is this your last stop? [in her defence, that bus line is properly nutty when it comes to stopping mid-way or changing route, and since he wasn't moving in spite of the green light, she did have a point]

That driver (small "d" on purpose): (ignoring her)

The Old Lady: I don't understand what you said.

That driver: (ignoring her)

The Lady: (boarding the bus) Are you going to the terminus?

That driver: (closing the doors and leaving the old lady on the pavement. Talking to himself) I always get questions. All day long... [Clue: that's your job, Cabbage. You're being frigging paid for that]

The Lady: (catching the clue bus, and not in the mood to let that bully get away with it) Excuse me?

That driver: I'm getting questions all the time.

The Lady: I just wanted to know if you were stopping at that stop or driving on. That's all.

That driver: Well, I'm tired of getting that kind of questions all the time.

The Lady: (dripping sarcasm) Well, excuse me for disturbing you. (walking away)

That driver: Well, I'm going home now. I'm in a hurry.

The Lady: (not backing down) Well, I'm going home, too.

*blink*

I sincerely hope the lady will report that bully to the bus company because that biped needs to be reminded that no one died and made him king, in spite of what he seems to believe.

If I didn't like so much the time I spend reading when I'm on the bus, I'd be sorely tempted to walk to and back from work - because drivers like the first one are so rare it feels like a dream when we meet one... The other variety is much more common, alas.