Lingbo's Awesome Blog » Dessert

Meet Felice, Creator of the World’s First Linux Birthday Cake

Lingbo Li — Tue, 30 Nov 2010 22:16:43 +0000

My roommate Felice is neither a typical Harvard student nor a typical pastry maker. When I first saw her, she was powder pale, with a green mohawk, combat boots, and no eyebrows. This will be interesting, I thought. Maybe we can do each other’s makeup.

We lived together entirely by accident – my roommate and I at the time were looking for some more people to make a room of 5. She gamely agreed.

Felice turned out to be the brainy lovechild of a punk rock Betty Page and The Odyssey’s Homer. In between translating ancient Greek texts for her senior thesis and poring over orgo homework, she watched a constant stream of L-word spinoffs and brutal slasher flicks.

One day, she’ll be a surgeon, a programmer’s wife, and proud mommy of the cutest pet rats ever.

Felice and her boyfriend, Yuvi Masory, hacker extraordinaire

Felice ended up being my favorite roommate my strange, wild junior year. The five of us in that doomed rooming group were an unlikely melange of misfits – “a flophouse” she aptly described it – and it wasn’t long before chaos swept our cinder block duplex.

One by one, like an Agatha Christie mystery, the room fell apart.

One girl left, amidst a swirl of unanswered questions. And then there were four.

For the rest of us, latent problems became crises. Annoyances became vendettas. I was literally scared to return my room, and when I did, I locked the door and braced myself for collateral damage. By spring semester, the bickering reached a fever pitch.

I spent most of my semester either in class or hopping from one food event to another, spending more time in Boston in a month than most Harvard undergrads do in all four years.

And then there were three.

Felice ended up being the mediator; her room was the bunker, the common room was no man’s land. After she listened to everyone’s problems with saintly patience, we laughed about the black comedy unfolding. In between complaints, I wrote my anthropology essays in her room decorated with 50′s pinups and queer icons as she Skyped her long distance boyfriend.

In a school where people frequently hide their insecurity beneath a shiny veneer of ambition, Felice was refreshingly genuine about both. She didn’t dye her hair funny colors because of some calculated counter culture attempt. She just liked dying her hair.

And she understood, perhaps better than anyone else I’ve met, about what it means to feel profoundly, deeply different without apology. She was silly and joyful about her quirks and didn’t bother to hide them.

She doesn’t collect business cards. (While I have so many lining my tote bag.) She has the same insecurities like everyone else, but doesn’t fall to unwitting flashes of cruelty when she feels down. It’s refreshing.

So when she takes a stab at baking, it is infused with an equally individualistic sensibility.

Yes, that’s a birthday candle betwixt her rouged lips.

For her programmer boyfriend’s birthday, Felice made her favorite stalwart Linux enthusiast a cake shaped like the operating system’s logo. Earlier, we had dropped by IHOP for dinner while he showed me his flashcard generator program, executable via the command line interface.

Different can be beautiful, and delicious.

Zinneken’s in Harvard Square Brings You Belgian Waffles

Lingbo Li — Tue, 24 Aug 2010 16:19:50 +0000

This exclusive tip just in: Zinneken’s, a Belgian waffle shop, will be opening in about four months in Harvard Square.

Zinneke in Brussels dialect means someone of mixed origins, which not only represents the founders, but also their ambitions to introduce authentic Belgian food to Bostonians. They promise that Zinneken’s baked-to-order offerings will to put your standard Americanized “Belgian waffle” to shame. Zinneken’s signature showpiece is the Liège waffle, aka sugar waffle, which is sweeter, smaller in size, and denser than their conventional brethren.

But it gets better!

All photos courtesy of Nhon Ma.

These sugar waffles ($4-6) are named for their caramelized sugar coating and will be served with everything from Nutella to Chantilly cream. I particularly like the proposed “Oreos Freakin’ Party” (no joke) special which involves a grind-tastic blend of Oreos, strawberries, and whipped cream. See the menu from their brochure below.

Harvard Square’s Waffle Pioneers

Who would chase the perfect waffle recipe across continents? One founder, Nhon Ma, is a Harvard grad who jumped from the corporate world to pursue his true passion: food. But it wasn’t a random coincidence, by any means. In fact, his mother was the only Asian chef to ever get a coveted Michelin star in Europe. After spending his childhood taste testing her creations, Nhon cut his teeth by working for her.

He met his business partner Bertrand Lempkowicz in high school, who’s leaving behind his Brussels communication company to join the venture. They’re still in the process of signing the lease, but envision the shop will be “a cosy European atmosphere” that serves up authentically light and fluffy waffles to passing crowds.

Photos from their Facebook page and Twitter show a test run of snackers munching on waffles with a variety of toppings.

Beyond waffles, Nhon promises that Belgian chocolate, French macarons, flourless fudge, Belgian chocolate brownies, and sweet crepes are also in the works.

Their retail space will be at 1 Mifflin Place, #400. Looking on Google Maps, it looks like it’ll be near FedEx and Harvest. Actually, this is their administrative space – the actual location is under wraps. Nhon reveals that it’ll be closer to Harvard Square, not far from Tommy Doyle’s andUpstairs on the Square.

Can’t wait! Look forward to an interview with Nhon Ma coming soon.

Their tentative proposed menu – with delicious photos! – after the jump.

Gluttony as Work: Interning at Serious Eats

Lingbo Li — Mon, 19 Jul 2010 23:13:58 +0000

[For Joanne Yao who requested a post about what it's like to work at Serious Eats on my call for blog entries]

Working at Serious Eats is, pardon my pun, serious business.

What are aren’t paid in wages we’re more than compensated for in amazing food – the creme de la creme of what New York can offer. I’ve sampled NYC’s top 7 falafel sandwiches, 11 bowls of the best Taiwanese shaved ice, and countless sandwiches.

Whenever editors travel, they tend to bring back regional specialties – chess pie from Kentucky, cheesy bread from Brazil, candied jalapenos from a food fair. They’re all fantastically nerdy about food and generous with their knowledge.

Ed Levine, Serious Eats Overlord, surveying the cupcake spread in his “Phat Beets” tee. Because of his diet, he (wisely) opted out of the tasting.

A typical day at work might begin with a bag of peanut brittle on the table, courtesy of the manager’s mother. Maybe an intern made a pizza; I munch on one slice, then another. Around lunch, the UPS guy comes with a delivery; or maybe it’s a PR person dropping off some lobster rolls – free rein on that. Finally, in the afternoon, an intern runs out and comes back with 2-3 sandwiches for our “Sandwich a Day” feature and I saw them up into bite size pieces. They disappear. If you’re still hungry, there are 8 bags of potato chips in the cabinet from a kettle-cooked chip tasting organized by intern Aaron Mattis awhile back. Maybe Adam Kuban left pizza in the fridge. And don’t forget the bag of frozen Sushi Poppers in the freezer, ready for defrosting. Although no one except me has touched those.

Then there are regular tastings: the best hot dog, best American cheese, etc. The photos in this entry from the Best Cupcake in New York tasting organized by super badass fellow intern Leah Douglas. Leading up to last Friday’s cupcake tasting was sampling treats from dozens of bakeries.

Yep, Magnolia got unceremoniously cut early. Crumbs crumbled. I developed a bizarrely discerning palate.

And as far as what I actually end up writing about is mostly due to whatever I dream up. The idea of eating a butt-ton of shaved ice was my own beany, beany idea. Carey, the NY editor, gave me a go-ahead on a Flushing food court roundup, so off I went on the LIRR toting my new DSLR.

(My new life insight: the difference between an eccentric Asian girl snapping food photos and a journalist? A proper camera.)

Ed and Melissa from Cupcakes Take the Cake shaking hands over the cupcakes. I call this photo “The Treaty of 2010 Cupcakes.”

More photos of our epic cupcake tasting after the jump.

Meta-photo! We see Robyn in some form of photo-taking about 55% of of the time. No one bothers to take photos because Robyn is so good.

Prepping cupcake tastings is absurd work.

Robyn Lee in action! She is hilarious and talented with a camera.

One bite at a time, baby.

Chichi leaning over Leah’s shoulder, ready to eat some cupcakes.

Melissa from Cupcakes Take the Cake

Melissa’s amazing doodle! (I am the one documenting everything, of course). Robyn is on the floor hugging a beloved manatee, she also write a blog called “occasional manatee.”

“LEGALIZE FROSTITUTION” (duh)

Kickass Cupcakes to add ice cream cupcakes

Lingbo Li — Wed, 23 Jun 2010 18:14:35 +0000

kickass cupcakes

Kickass Cupcakes, the Davis Square cupcakery (which famously abhors Yelp) is announcing a new line of ice cream. The inaugural flavor is vanilla with chocolate chunk – with the added kick of choco and vanilla cupcake bits. One cone is $2.99, 3.99 with frosting, and a pint is 5.99.

I always liked their Cupcake happy hours on the last Monday of the month when they give out free mini cakes. And I give them major points for flavor creativity. However, they’re not noted for excellent service (as Yelp will attest) – I remember trying to buy 5 separately boxed cupcakes for a friend’s birthday present last year to um, mild hostility. Hopefully, the sugary addition of cake bits in ice cream (frosting is over-the-top) will go far to redeem them.

Are you going to try these out?

How to make and eat biscotti

Lingbo Li — Thu, 18 Mar 2010 19:15:17 +0000

Here is a template for an ideal morning:

Wake up early, exercise. Shower, put on a dress and heels. Apply lip gloss, even though it’ll come off on the coffee lid. Brush your hair by running your fingers through it. (You don’t own a comb.)

Stop at a coffee shop (it can be Starbucks, but better pastries are to be had elsewhere). Buy black drip coffee and biscotti – just one. Get your own table, and a magazine. Nothing too serious, a tabloid is best. Eat and drink very, very slowly. Write down the things you want to accomplish that day, but don’t feel bad if you only get around to half of them.

Linger, then leave.

When I confessed that I wanted to make biscotti, my friend Daniel admitted, “I don’t bake. Baking is not cooking. It’s science.”

He’s right. You can just substitute oil for butter and expect an equally delicious result. The issue is, I come from a culinary tradition of imprecision.

I remember watching my mother bake her cakes in the brown glass dish on Saturday mornings. She has two cakes my tummy knows well: apple and sticky rice. Whenever she comes to visit me at school, she’ll bring a slab of sticky rice cake, lined in red bean paste and presented in white Tupperware. It’s always presented along with a set of clean bed sheets, or admonitions to exercise (I do, every morning, I’ll protest).

Growing up, I’d watch my mother’s recipe-following methodology. She would usually quarter the sugar (Chinese people dislike very sweet desserts) and halve the fat. Recipes were more of a suggestion, and as a result, her baking was delicious in its own way. It was made with love, an ingredient that cannot be boxed, canned, or sold as a self-rising yeast.

But her cakes always had a denseness to them that never resembled the spun sugar confections you’d find in a grocery store. I found their airiness exotic; the desserts I ate were never frosted or made out of pastry flour.

Even with all of this, I wanted my first real baking attempt to maintain a degree of precision. I also wanted to hedge by bets by trying at least two different recipes.

So I picked biscotti, because there’s nothing more luxurious to me than biscotti and coffee.

halfway there!

I tried one recipe that called for butter, and another than only used a splash of oil. I couldn’t find white chocolate, so I subbed in Valrhona bittersweet. (Only the best for my toddler baking!) I used slivered almonds and dried cranberries from Trader Joe’s. I didn’t have orange zest, so I put in some lemon instead. And Shaw’s ran out of almond extract, so I subbed vanilla.

I was already running into precision issues.

I also didn’t have an electric mixer, which might explain why the buttery recipe didn’t seem to hold together. That batch of dough was incredibly sticky and hard to work with. The non-butter dough held together much better, sliced like a dream, and ultimately, proved victor.

But who knows what might have happened if I had an electric mixer and another go at it.

My finished product

Although I can’t promise not to riff a bit on the recipe. It’s in my blood, after all.

Cranberry, almond, and chocolate biscotti
Adapted from Bon Appetit, December 2002 recipe

Ingredients
•   3 cups all purpose flour
•   2 teaspoons baking powder
•   1/2 teaspoon salt
•   1 cup sugar
•   3 large eggs
•   2 tablespoons canola oil
•   2 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract
•   3/4 cup slivered almonds
•   1 cup dried cranberries
•   1/2 cup chopped Valrhona bittersweet chocolate

•   8 ounces Valrhona bittersweet chocolate for dipping

Preparation

Preheat oven to 350°F. Line large baking sheet with parchment paper. Whisk flour, baking powder, and salt in medium bowl to blend. Using electric mixer, beat sugar, eggs, oil, and vanilla extract in large bowl until well blended. Add flour mixture and beat until smooth. Stir in almonds, dried berries, and 1/2 cup chopped chocolate. Drop dough by heaping tablespoonfuls in two 12-inch-long strips on prepared baking sheet, spacing strips 3 inches apart. Using wet fingertips, shape each strip into 3-inch-wide log, pressing evenly (logs may look slightly lumpy).

Bake logs until lightly browned and almost firm to touch, about 30 minutes. Cool logs on sheet 30 minutes. Reduce oven temperature to 325°F.

Carefully transfer logs to cutting board. Line same baking sheet with parchment paper. Cut each log crosswise into generous 1/2-inch-thick slices. Stand biscotti upright, spacing about 1/4 inch apart, in 3 rows on prepared baking sheet. Bake until pale golden (biscotti may be soft but will firm as they cool), about 20 minutes. Cool completely on baking sheet.

Line another large baking sheet with parchment paper. Place 8 ounces chopped bittersweet chocolate in a medium glass bowl. Microwave separately on medium in 20-second intervals just until chocolate is soft to touch, about 40 seconds total (do not overheat or chocolate will burn or seize). Stir chocolate until smooth.

Dip 1 end or 1 side of each biscotti in chocolate; place on baking sheet. Chill until chocolate is set, about 30 minutes. (Can be made ahead. Arrange in single layer in airtight container and chill up to 5 days or freeze up to 2 weeks.)

Orange-Chocolate Biscotti
From Bon Appetit
Since my version of this recipe lacked an electric mixer, I’ll republish this without changes – I can’t say whether my crumbly biscotti was a result of my ineptitude or the recipe’s basic structural problems. For the record, I tried whisking the butter and eggs, subbed in almonds for the pecans, and lemon for orange zest.

2 cups plus 2 tablespoons all purpose flour

1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder

1/4 teaspoon salt

3/4 cup sugar

1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, room temperature

2 large eggs

2 tablespoons Grand Marnier or other orange liqueur

1 tablespoon grated orange peel

1 cup pecans, lightly toasted, coarsely chopped

6 ounces bittersweet (not unsweetened) chocolate, chopped

Preparation

Line large baking sheet with parchment paper. Whisk flour, baking powder, and salt in medium bowl to blend. Using electric mixer, beat sugar and butter in large bowl to blend. Beat in eggs 1 at a time, then Grand Marnier and orange peel. Add flour mixture and beat until blended. Stir in pecans and chocolate. Gather dough together; divide in half. Wrap in plastic and freeze 20 minutes to firm.

Position rack in center of oven; preheat to 350°F. Using floured hands, form each dough piece into 14-inch-long, 2 1/2-inch-wide log. Transfer logs to prepared baking sheet, spacing 2 inches apart. Bake until light golden, about 30 minutes. Transfer parchment with logs to rack. Cool 20 minutes. Reduce oven temperature to 300°F.

Place 1 log on cutting board. Using serrated knife, cut log on diagonal into 1/2-inch-thick slices. Stand slices upright on baking sheet. Repeat with remaining log.

Bake biscotti until dry to touch and pale golden, about 30 minutes. Cool completely on rack. (Can be made 1 week ahead. Store in airtight container.)

Chocolate cake at Troquet

Lingbo Li — Fri, 19 Feb 2010 02:47:22 +0000

My gay best friend and I rushed in 20 minutes late to a cake and wine tasting at Troquet, so I missed the cake making demonstration. But hey, I did get to do the important part: eat it all. Twice.

Troquet chocolate cake and port wine

The space is a cozy. It’s narrow, with a line of black lacquered two tops in warmly painted room, perfect date material. And the best part? Over on the counter were over a dozen small plates of chocolate cake kissed with confectioner’s sugar, a duo of raspberries nestled on the corner.

I recounted my horrifying lost iPhone story to Christine Liu, editor of Boston Citysearch, and the host of the shindig.

Me: So I get back to my room. And my roommate says, “Lingbo, your friend D is looking for you, he’s really worried.” So I head over to his room. 5 gay guys open the door saying, “You’re alive! The guy who stole your phone told D that you were at this address in Roxbury.”

Christine: Woah.

Me: So the police officers come up and said they sent squad cars out to Roxbury to look for my body. And had filed affidavits for my cell phone carrier. Then they yelled at me: “Next time you go out, you have to leave contact information!” Later, my roommate hugged me and said she was glad I wasn’t dead.

Oh, and they booty texted all my recent contacts.

True story.

I also met the great Michelle-Kim of Fun and Fearless in Beantown, along with assorted other bloggers and industry folks.

Chocolate and booze? How could it be a bad night?

Exactly.

If only no one had stolen my iPhone.

Food porn of the day: molten chocolate cake, coffee ice cream at Finale Harvard Square

Lingbo Li — Thu, 11 Feb 2010 22:22:54 +0000

A love affair with coffee shops – The Biscuit in Somerville

Lingbo Li — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 20:00:01 +0000

Fruit tart ($3.50) at The Biscuit in Somerville

It was spring, freshman year. By then, the Cambridge frost had receded from the cobblestone, and warm air spilled out from T stop as you walked by. To cheer myself up, I’d appoint myself in a wrap dress and green wedge sandals, the ones my mother bought me from China, and slip on a pair of $10 sunglasses. Then I’d find a coffeeshop.

And I’d sit there, feeling the caffeine ooze into my blood, my fingertips, buzzing in the back of my mouth. There was something nice about being surrounded by people you didn’t feel guilty for not knowing.

As a result, I’m an unapologetic table hog. I’ve planned days where I come in the morning, buy a large cup of joe, stake out a table, and stay for a good 8 hours. I love how coffeeshops occupy a liminal space that is not quite home, school, or work.

You can go by yourself, or with a friend. You can talk, or not talk. You can linger, or you can rush. You can eat, or just drink.

The Biscuit is a favorite of mine that I often forget. They suffer from a few flaws – there’s no wifi, and seating could be more plentiful. Their pastries are enormous – think, biscotti the width of your forearm – and cheap. But you’d probably have better luck, in terms of execution, with their hot sandwiches. You can even get them in halves for $3.25 each. Blissful.

I was seduced by the candy-toned hues of their fruit tart ($3.50), but was a little underwhelmed by the crust, which was more of a brioche than a pastry crust. Maybe a personal preference. Even so, I love the charm of their mismatched wooden chairs, chalkboard menu, and low prices. If you’re looking for a more substantial lunch, Kebab Factory down the street has Cambridge’s best Indian buffet by far. It’s a lovely part of town, and one that Harvard students don’t often discover.

Find it!

———-

The Biscuit

406 Washington St
Somerville, MA 02143
(617) 666-2770

Valentine’s Day in Boston ideas: Shoulda put a ring on it

Lingbo Li — Thu, 28 Jan 2010 23:03:27 +0000

Since my foray in Jewish speed dating clearly hasn’t earned me a date for Valentine’s Day, I’m turning all my brilliant ideas over to you, dear reader. This list of a sugar-themed crawl of Cambridge is meant primarily for the adventurous and thrifty, a winning combination in my eyes. I realize that my awkwardly inserted mentions of makeouts perhaps should be cut. I’ve spent too long with my Macbook to know what you crazy kids do these days.

Or, if you’re sexy singleton, a la Bridget Jones and pre-Big-and-wedding Carrie Bradshaw, try my “For all the single ladies” v-day list. Except I’d probably switch out the movie options – I just don’t watch enough quality cinema to know of movies where men turn out to be evil puppy-eating beasts – a much better ointment for the soul than some 40-something tearing up as her man abandons her at the altar. Buzzkill, much?

I’ll be hitting the gym, regardless.

Food porn: sfogliatelle and a cappucinno from Modern Pastry

Lingbo Li — Tue, 15 Dec 2009 03:53:12 +0000

Whenever I think of Italian, I actually think of Giada. I remember the first time I saw her – it was in paper version of the New York Times. I mean, who even reads the paper version of the Times anymore? Nobody. They’re bleeding cash. Anyway, it was the cover of her book. She was wearing a blue shirt that matched her eyes, and it was the kind of photo that takes your intestines and whips them around with an eggbeater. There’s a certain cheesiness to how attractive she is – an obviously exploitative quality that always makes me feel awkward about staring. When she’s cooking while I’m at the gym, I’ll watch her whip up a cheesecake, or some stuffed shells, or whatever it is she is making. She narrates her motions with a eager, wide-eyed zeal that ever-so-slightly feels scripted. Then she’ll replace the “real” parts of food with words: oh, it smells amazing! Mmm, this is delicious. It’s funny how on TV, chefs are forced to be self-congratulatory to compensate for you not being there.

Piattini Gelateria and Match mini burgers

Lingbo Li — Wed, 09 Dec 2009 07:01:36 +0000

It’s Reading Period! I granted myself a free day wander down Boston’s beautiful Newbury Street, visit some fabulous friends, and eat some junk food… because I deserve it.

I have a good relationship with gelato. We’ve gotten along thus far – I had some truly makes-your-mouth-sing gelato on my brief stopovers in Rome and Paris. (Not as glam as it sounds, I was on a rowdy Topdeck tour that produced utterly cookie-cutter photo-op travel experieces.) I still fantasize about those heavenly fig and honey concoctions that I ate two years ago. So I was looking forward to some inventive varieties.

I saw recently opened Piattini Gelateria and Cafe and decided to give it a try. The super sweet waiter patiently explained every single flavor on the menu (rosemary honey, turkish coffee, fior de latte, thai coconut milk, chocolato scuro, frutti de bosco. And the sorbets were grape, mojito, limone, and pesca).

I sampled a chocolate with hazelnuts that wasn’t on the menu, which was so intensely rich that I decided on spoonful was enough. Rosemary honey felt like chugging floral-scented lotion, so that was a pass. Fior de latte (Amish milk) had the “lightness of vanilla without the vanilla flavor” – it seemed more like a fluffy absence of flavor than a flavor.

At an impasse, I gave thai coconut milk and mojito sorbet a go.

I think the major weakness of the gelato was that it wasn’t very cold – by the time I ate it, it had become soft and a bit melted. It also had a lot more air that I would normally expect. It seemed that chocolate flavors are you best bet here. I had been hoping for something deliriously coconutty, but rather, it was seemed more like run of the milk coconut ice cream.

The mojito had a nice sour, puckery note and icier, grainier texture of sorbet worked well with the flavors.

The bill for this small dish came out to $4.82. Plus tip, this ended up costing me about $6. My credit card felt a little sad.

I wish you had been a more transcendental $6 spent.

Afterwards, I hopped by Lena’s apartment on Newbury. I ate some of Lena‘s tasty homemade key lime pie while she looked pensively at a barking Hamlet.

“Was that a fart?” I asked when I heard something whiney come out of his furry body.

“It’s very possible,” she replied.

After a bit more chit chat, we hit Match for $1 mini burgers and onion rings. Unfortunately, they make you buy a drink, so I bled $3.50 for a small glass of diet Coke… but I got to sample the lamb and turkey burgers. I think they had a big of a heavy hand on the pepper in the lamb burger, but it was cooked well. Overall, kind of greasy and not too remarkable, but tasty nonetheless.

The onion rings are greasy good (with potent BBQ), but I wish the batter on the onions wouldn’t break apart so easily. A bit of cohesion would make it feel like eating onion rings, rather than your mouth trying to make harmony as the batter portion threatens to abandon onion ship. Ahh! Naked onion center!

You know what I mean?

Getting fat again

Lingbo Li — Tue, 01 Dec 2009 18:44:44 +0000

So I use “fat” in a tongue-in-cheek way. But I definitely spent the last few weeks watching what I ate, which meant no crazy banquet dinners, dinners of scrambled egg whites and vegetables, and the occasional helping of cheese dip, heaped high with guilt.

As a result, my stomach became a cast iron tank. My collarbone and ribcage took greater prominence. When I lay down, I marveled at how my skin stretched over my gently jutting hipbones. It felt like a lesson in skeletal anatomy.

So on my first day back on Planet Girl, I felt totally free to go on a carb-and-calorie rampage. I was going to eat EVERYTHING and ANYTHING I could possibly ever want to eat. I was going to ignore stomach pains. I was going to consume whatever was put in front of me, especially high in simple starches, sugar, and fats. I was going to try to undo whatever I had done to myself.

The night before, I’d made good work of a ginger-and-scallion lobster dish, a beef/pepper/pineapple stirfry, and a salt and pepper fried squid at Peach Farm in Chinatown. The verdict: the cooking was a bit rushed, and the quality suffered as a result. My dad commented on how slapdash the dishes seemed to be put together, although the beef stirfry was meltingly tender and delicious. Then I topped it off with a half a red bean bun as I stalked around on my 5 inch clear heels, bronzer still caked on my stomach, legs, and arms.

I went to bed with a horrible stomach ache.

I woke up in the morning and ate a bowl of cereal with milk, pistachio muffin, and orange. I was just getting warmed up. For lunch I had a tray of salmon maki from the Greenhouse Cafe. It was horrible – the rice was gummy and hard, the fillings nearly flavorless – but I downed it all anyway. During section, my TF brought in a bag of chocolate squares. I had two – dark and caramel.

Afterwards, I headed to the North End to return my wonderful stylist’s hair straightener, then went on a “best of” spree, informed by the folks at Chowhound.

First there was a chocolate chip cannoli at Modern Pastry...

Then tiramisu at Caffe Vittoria. Tasty, but nothing transcendental.

My favorite!!! An incredible slice of Pizza at Express - incredibly gooey, salty, cheesy, with the perfect cheese-sauce-crust ratio. The only downside - they refused to serve me free water. WTF.

Then I had a carnitas burrito with guacamole from Qdoba.

I don’t even normally eat burritos when not on a diet. But I felt like it was a nice finishing touch.

I had a horrible stomach ache again after all of this. I’m working on this fat thing. It’s hard, though.

Photo of the Day: Chocolate terrine with thai basil ice cream, sea salt

Lingbo Li — Wed, 30 Sep 2009 14:05:54 +0000

Thai basil ice cream (tastes precisely like thai basil, except it melts in your mouth) on sea-salt specked chocolate terrine, found at Ten Tables Cambridge.

Sweet treats from around Boston

Lingbo Li — Sat, 19 Sep 2009 20:47:10 +0000

This is a durian shake from Chinatown. Durian is the infamously stinky fruit that is sometime even banned by law from consumption in certain places since it smells like… an outhouse on a hot day. But its spiky exterior belies a decadently rich, creamy custard-colored flesh, which has been ground up here into a shake. A friend and I drank it one sip at a time, speculating what notes we picked up in it. Bizarrely, I kept thinking, “Garlic! It’s kind of like raw garlic!” and pinned the aftertaste down as black sesame. Anyway, odd – but still tasty, and very sweet.

So sparkly, yet edible. A miniature carrot cupcake from Sweet.

I got bulldozed into eating some Berryline (my life is so difficult!) when out with a friend who insisted on buying me one. I got blackberries, my favorite. I don’t think I could ever get sick of the tangy-sweet flavoring.

No shirt has ever been truer.

Little insects make your honey. No, really.

Lingbo Li — Tue, 02 Jun 2009 00:40:51 +0000

It's good I am not scared of bees, since I took this closeup.

Read my article at GoodEater.org about the joys of beekeeping wearing funny looking suits.

I’ve still been working on my little jar of Mike Graney’s honey, produced in Boston’s Jamaica Plain. I’ve now mixed it into my nonfat plain Greek yogurt from Trader Joes, along with some Bola granola (see last post), a pretty damn awesome combination. Bizarrely, I kind of like my yogurt to be kinda thin and watery, though.

I also eat it with torn off bits of ciabatta dipped straight into the jar. Hygiene highly questionable. But delicious. Mmm, honey.