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26-Nov-11

Pecan Lemon Cake

I’ve stressed before that I am not into vegan, gluten free, fat free……I love full fat, whole milk. GREASEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.

But you know what, I might start to change my mind. This cake requires no flour, no oil, no milk. Oops, there are eggs though. And fragrant pecan, spice and lemon.

One more thing, you can easily convert this cake by using any other nuts you want.

Ingredients (9-inch cake):

1 1/2 cups whole pecan
8 tablespoons sugar
3 eggs, separated
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons lemon juice
1 tablespoon lemon zest
1/4 cup powdered sugar

Directions:

Preheat oven to 375F.

Great a 9-inch cake pan and line bottom with parchment paper. In a food processor, blend whole pecans until finely chopped. Add 4
tablespoons of sugar and blend again. Set aside.

In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, combine egg yolks, another 4 tablespoons of sugar, cinnamon, ginger, salt, lemon juice and zest. Mix until creamy.

Add chopped pecan, and stir until well combined.

Beat the egg whites until stiff. Gently fold egg whites into the pecan mixture.

Pour batter into the prepared cake pan. Bake for 30 to 35 minutes until toothpick inserted into the center of the cake comes out clean. Let cool for 5 minutes before taking out of the pan.

Let cool completely. Sprinkle the top lightly with powdered sugar.

Comments (7) »
23-Nov-11

Ethan-37 months / Maya-13 months

Dear Ethan and Maya,

This month, your father’s sister Kathy from Toronto came to visit the family for a few weeks. She also brought her 6-month old daughter, Pearlie. We offered them to stay at our house as I thought it wouldn’t be too hard for two mothers taking care of three kids. Except I overlooked the-toddler-attacking-and-traumatizing-the-baby part. During their stay, Pearlie was basically in a routine of feeding, napping and pooping. Unfortunately for the remaining time slots where she’s awake, she’s become one experimental object for you both. You took turns to yank the toy from her grip, smack her face and stick finger in her mouth in a loving, aww, look-at-that-baby-who-can’t-move kind of way. Having not prepared to face not one but two most chaotic creatures in the universe, Pearlie could only sat in that rocking chair watching in HORROR as you both were about to approach her, before she commenced the Silent Scream of Death, the scream so high and silent in pitch that could suck all the air out of the room and set the world into slow motion in ETERNITY. She may not be able to crawl, but that kid can alter the universe WITH HER THROAT. Your father called her MOUNT PEARLIE, never stopped exploding.

What really amazed me though was that the explosions never seemed to bother you both at all. Cause that could easily infuriate the beast inside you, Ethan, and it would come out roaring so furiously that my head would rupture. Hot lava and volcanic ash everywhere. PARTYYYYYYYY! But on the contrary, when Pearlie started to get upset, you lost your interest over her that you would just leave the scene. And Maya, most of the time you just sat there with this look on your face, wondering why the hell such a creature would waste all that energy on crying when it could be used for much more beneficial things like EATING.

Except food, Maya, there are a few objects in the world that you love to play with – the objects that hold your attention for what seems like forever, maybe three minutes MAX: the remote control, my iPhone and my laptop. And I believe the ultimate reason for your obsession with these objects is because they are MY things, those things that I constantly have my hands on.

Recently you’ve started to show us that in fact you are not just playing with them, because you found out that somehow these things do something seriously magical. When we hand you the phone, you will put it against your face and start babbling. And you will always make sure you are not talking to the back of the phone. I can’t believe you are smart that way! Maybe we watch too much TV, and now you know the remote control makes things on that screen change. Besides biting and licking and throwing it around the house, you also love to bring the remote control to my face and press the buttons on it before you crane your body around to see what change you have done to the television. Your father hates it that I let you play with the remote control (and the tampons). But I have to say that you know how to work the thing better than he does. Do you know how frustrating it is to watch an episode of my favorite show when the person in charge of the remote doesn’t fast forward through the commercials fast enough? I’m glad that YOU CAN’T STAND THAT.

This month we all came down with a cold. No one second we don’t hear coughing, sneezing, nose blowing in the house. We didn’t go see our doctor right away because we know she would be just rolling her eyes thinking we just get so melodramatic that we think we are all dying. Well, not that she’s not nice. She’s one professional doctor that I won’t go for anybody else. But she gave us flu shots already. And now it’s not working, that’s totally not her responsibility.

So we just kept dosing you both every several hours with Tynenol that tastes like grape juice. And here’s where I get conflicted about medicine for kids, because I clearly remember my mother having to sit on top of me to prevent me from moving, so that she could funnel a spoonful of cough syrup down my unwilling throat. It had a burning, acidic taste so foul that I thought she were trying to poison me. But now kid’s medicine tastes like candy. And Ethan, you often throw a fit when we won’t let you drink the whole bottle. I’m relieved that we don’t have to struggle with you to get you to take your damn medicine. But then, it also sounds so unfair that we didn’t have candy medicine when I was your age! Our medicine tasted like piss! Goat piss! A goat who’s been drinking another goat’s piss! KIDS TODAY!

Probably because you had a hard time breathing while asleep, Ethan, for a couple nights in a row, you started to wake up at around 3am, ran over to our room screaming, “I WANT TYNENOL!!!” For hours, your father and me took turns to bring you back to your bed because you kept waking up wanting your Tynenol. When we realized there’s no way we would ever sleep again if we didn’t give in, your father finally got out of the bed, headed to the kitchen and gave you some Tynenol. The next morning, I was so mad that you didn’t sleep in because I clearly remembered I told your father to let you drink at least half dozen bottles. And when I could feel your gigantic eyeballs rolling and repeating I AM WIDE AWAKE even in the dark, I unwillingly pulled myself up, my head so heavy that I had to hold it in both hands. I figured that those bottles of Tynenol was given to me, not you.

Maya, for two mornings straight, I came in your room only to be stunned by a crime scene of homicide – your nose was bleeding so bad that blood was graffitied all over your face, bed sheet and crib. Your father and brother ran to my scream, and saw you in my arm with giant tears on your cheeks and green and red and brown mustache of snot above your lip. I was strong enough not to pass out yet unable to stop my heart from shattering. Being abnormally quiet, your brother stood by your empty crib, astonished, probably recalling the same awful thing did happen to him not too long before, and it’s horrifying. He took a few minutes to sink in what showed in front of him, then walked over and said, “Maya is bleeding. That’s ok.” before attempting to touch your messy face. I regret that I didn’t let him because I was just……I was just TOO DUMB to not let your brother soothe his traumatized sister. And now I have a hard time choosing between letting you suffer or seeing your brother caring you this much. Only incidents this dramatic deserve your brother’s kindness towards you.

I have no idea how much longer the virus is going to live in your bodies as it never seems to be going anywhere soon. I know there is nothing dangerous, not until you both keep me awake for another night and I fall asleep driving to work the next morning. But I also know that even if it’s gone, I will still be listening to the sound of your sleep or sneaking into your rooms to make sure you are well covered. Because my instincts tell me that unknown things happen when I sleep. And I thought that this instinct would become numb with subsequent child, but no, it never turns off.

Love,
Mommy
Comments (1) »
21-Nov-11

Victoria Sponge Cake

This cake resembles this strawberry and cream cake I made some time ago. Maybe a simple version. But both cakes will make you happy by only looking at them.

Ingredients (one 9-inch cake):

1 cup cake flour, sifted
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/8 teaspoon salt
2 sticks unsalted butter, room temperature
1 cup sugar
4 large eggs, room temperature
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1/2 cup good quality berry jam
5 strawberries, halved plus another 5 strawberries, chopped
2 cups whipped cream frosting
 
Directions:

Preheat oven to 350F. Grease two 9-inch cake pans, line the pan bottoms with parchment paper and grease the paper. Set aside.

In a large bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder and salt. Set aside.

With a hand mixer, beat the butter until creamy and smooth. Gradually add sugar, beating continuously until light and fluffy (around 5 minutes).

Add eggs, one at a time, mixing well after each addition. The batter may look curdled, but it will come together after you add the flour. Add vanilla and beat until incorporated.

Add the flour mixture and mix just until incorporated. Pour the batter into the prepared pans evenly and smooth the top.

Bake for 20 minutes or until the cakes are golden brown and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.

Remove the cakes from the oven and place on a wire rack to cool completely.

To assemble the cake, place one cake layer on your serving plate and spread with the jam. Place strawberry halves along the edge of the cake, and scattered the chopped strawberries in the centre. Gently spread the whipped cream on top. Top with another cake layer.

Serve it within an hour.

Comments (10) »
15-Nov-11

Meet Pearlie

Dear Maya,

This is Pearlie, the first child of your father’s sister Kathy from Toronto.

Before they came for a visit, I told Kathy how nice it would be if her family moves back over and you and Pearlie would grow up together sharing clothes, fighting for boyfriends, bitching about their mothers.

And me and Kathy telling each other how we never unchain our daughters from the water heater in the basement because we haven’t seen you girls at home since you start dating.

But I really doubt that she would ever consider moving back. For those few days they stayed at our house, either your brother’s constant cannibalistic tantrums or your habitual finger-sticking into Pearlie’s mouth or my inevitable cursing around the house, they both were completely traumatized. Last time I offered to babysit while Kathy took a day trip to the States, there wasn’t one minute Pearlie was not crying. She’s in pain being around us.

We were able to take this picture without any bloodshed probably because either one of you was drugged.

Love,
Mommy
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04-Nov-11

Honey Beer Bread

I am blogging this recipe not because I love beer. Why would you want to taste beer in a slice of bread? If you really love beer, drink it!

But I am telling you that I found this recipe last evening, and I could’t wait and tried it right away. First, it took me only 5 minutes to whip up the batter. Second, the bread is insanely tasty – buttery, honey, malty…..Not any traditional white bread can compare with. TRY THIS!

Ingredients (one loaf):

3 cups all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
2 tablespoons sugar
1 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons honey
1 can beer
1/4 cup unsalted butter, melted

Directions:

Preheat over to 350F. Grease a 9″x5″x3″ loaf pan. Line the bottom of the pan with parchment paper. Set aside.

In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, baking powder and salt.

Using a wooden spoon, stir the beer and honey into the dry ingredients until just mixed.  (Microwave the honey for 5 to 10 seconds beforehand to make it easier to stir in)

Pour half the melted butter into the loaf pan. Then spoon the batter into the pan, and pour the rest of the butter on top of the batter. Use a pastry brush to spread it around.

Bake for 50 to 60 minutes, until top is golden brown and a toothpick/knife inserted in the middle comes out clean.

Comments (18) »
29-Oct-11

Look what I gave birth to

Dear Ethan and Maya,

An untameable lion that looks this lovable? And a sweet chubby strawberry that I would gobble in one bite?

Gene, I can’t explain you.

Love,
Mommy
Comments (1) »
26-Oct-11

Ethan-36 months / Maya-12 months

Dear Ethan and Maya,

Happy birthday! You are so going to have a joint birthday party until you are allowed to protest for your own individual birthday parties. Not happening for the coming 20 years.

Over this year, your relationship as siblings has made a huge transformation. And Ethan, it’s mostly from your side. At first, you didn’t seem to notice there’s another human being called “baby” in your life. Everyday you lived in your banging and screaming world as usual when we tried so hard keeping our hair from falling, because the noise when that hair hit the floor could totally wake up your light sleeping sister. And at the beginning, I was completely convinced that the possibility of you getting along with Maya seemed totally unlikely. You are the most physically destructive human being I’ve ever witnessed at your age — we have to constantly beg you not to shove your legs over to our faces even when we are supposed to be quietly sitting on the couch and watching your favorite shows, because more than once after you got your leg on me, I felt like being knocked out with stars floating around my head. And seriously even now we’ve still been trying to not let you throw Maya off tall furniture or stuff her into a box and drop-kick her from upstairs. You often thrust her out of the way when she’s approaching ANYTHING! Anything she does seems unacceptable to you, even breathe.

Maya, we thought you might be intimidated by his size and roughness, but just the opposite was true. Because he’s always your hero, since the day you came to this world. You are excited when you hear his voice. You want the book that he always picks up. You blow that whistle because you saw him blow with it. You follow him around the house. You laugh when he laughs. You come back to him even when he’s rough to you. I believe you have transformed him. Ethan, over the past few months, you’ve slowly learned to be gentle and delicate when playing with Maya. “Slowly” because it happens rarely, but not impossibly. When you are in good mood, you will engage Maya into singing and playing, mostly your favorite game WRESTLING!  Occasionally when you are willing to share your favorite food or show her your toys, Maya will be all brightened up with smiles and grins like you are showing her the world.

And the most fascinating moment in this house is when you both engage in a “conversation”. Ethan, I can’t recall since when you’ve started to have a hard time closing your mouth. You do a lot of talking, a lot of describing how things are going to play out. A typical morning goes like this:

You: I WAKE UP! It’s not dark.

Me: What do you do now?

You: Pee pee and brush teeth. I want Sponge Bob toothpaste, not Lightening McQueen toothpaste. Okay?

Me: Okay, let’s go.

You: Then, I have cheese. I want big piece, whole piece and small piece together. Okay?

Me: Okay.

You: Where are we going today? It’s sunny day. We go to park. Who is coming? Oh, whose car outside?

Me: No body is coming, Ethan.

You: What is Maya doing?

Me: She woke up already. Because when you wake up, nobody is allowed to stay in bed.

Now, Maya, since you’ve also started to shoot words in machine-gun style out your mouth. The “conversation” between you both is completely nothing but a running commentary.

Ethan: Maya, you want this? Hold this! This is brown ice cream.

Maya: Mum mum……

Ethan: Now, this is green ice cream, you want it?

Maya: Mum mum……

Ethan: Are you done? You are done. Now I put it together. Okay? And, tell me what is it, Maya?

Maya: Mum mum……

Ethan: Maya, this is a DUMP TRUCK!

Maya: Duck! Duck!

And this is where your father and I realized we’ve never laughed so hard or been more aware that there is nothing in life more wonderful than this, OUR FAMILY, you both who have truly made us one.

During the recent Hong Kong trip, I was frequently asked if I would move back. And already, Ethan, I couldn’t handle the thought of you being teased for the fact that you are not even able to hold a pen without getting pierced into your palm at the age of three. Because at this age, you are required to be able to write a dissertation in order to survive in Hong Kong schools.

Growing up in Hong Kong takes a completely different set of skills — surviving as a kid with NO FUN.  And I can’t even recall that my childhood was this hard. Since when getting into a school has become such a dreaded test to kids and parents? Not only you have to admit into a prestige school, you’d better get it done before you are even conceived. Otherwise, you are determined to be school-less. CERTIFIED.

Being adults totally sucks. You have THAT much inevitable life pressure to face every single day. I would never let you deal with it when you are still young where you should be having fun exploring the world. You both are lucky that somewhere on the other side of world, kids your age are bombarded by their parents to work their ass off for college. And you are still cluelessly smacking your face in the wet sand, shuffling through fallen leaves, testing the hardness of the rocks with your teeth. All because I hope you can have as much fun as possible when you still have this privilege. The other day when I was about to take a shower, I found some sand and a tiny piece of leave inside my bra. I remembered we spent an afternoon in a park, and Ethan, maybe you shoveled sand in my shirts because you never thought my boobs were big enough. I DON’T KNOW! I only know that I might be sacrificing the chance to groom you academically as all day long you are SHOVELING SAND. But I would never sacrifice any silly moments like this one that we can look back to and laugh at it.

Just one night, before we both fell asleep, your father turned to me and said, “I want white cheese. I want big piece, whole piece and small piece together.” We bursted into laughter. Then we realized it’s our way of reminding each other of what we have to look forward to, of the reason our lives are really quite wonderful.

Ethan and Maya, I have been trying to keep up with all the changes going on in your lives, but even in the last 24 hours you’ve learned something new, and I can only type so fast. This is one of those moments when I wish I could rewind you, press pause, and replay you over and over again so that I don’t miss anything.

Love,
Mommy
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24-Oct-11

The Night with Jack O’Lantern

Dear Ethan,

Before you went to bed this evening, your father and you spent about an hour carving this pumpkin. Though he’s the one who did most of the carving and yelling. Cause he knew if he let you scatter those pumpkin seeds all over the kitchen, I would go crazy. Meaning: another night of insane quarantine.

Behold this evening before you both start having a beer night. The possibility of a geek being this creative is close to zero.

Love,
Mommy
Comments (1) »
23-Oct-11

Cookie Monster Cake

Last year I made an Elmo cake for Ethan’s second birthday. It seemed pretty logical that this year should be Cookie Monster’s turn. As if the full house of Sesame Street characters and the constantly playing of TV shows are NOT ENOUGH. I don’t know how to explain that except MOTHERS ARE DUMB.

This time, though, also celebrated Maya’s first birthday. For sure she recognized the character on the cake because I had been telling her since weeks ago that I was making her a Cookie Monster cake. And look! How much it looks DIFFERENT from Cookie Monster. Imagine if I wasn’t reminding her everyday.

Ingredients (9-inch 2-layered cake):

Chocolate Devil Food Layer Cake
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 1/4 cups boiling water
4 ounces unsweetened chocolate, chopped
1/2 cup Dutch-processed cocoa powder
1 1/4 cups unsalted butter, softened
1 1/2 cups packed light brown sugar
3 large eggs, room temperature
1/2 cup sour cream, room temperature
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Swiss Meringue Buttercream
5 large egg whites
3/4 cup granulated sugar
3 sticks unsalted butter, softened
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
pinch of salt
1 tablespoon blue food coloring
Others
1/4 cup Nutella

Directions:

Preheat oven to 350F. Grease two 9-inch round cake pans, and line the bottoms with parchment paper.

In a large bowl, whisk the flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt.

In another bowl, whisk the boiling water, chocolate and cocoa powder until smooth.

Beat butter and sugar together on medium speed in a bowl of a standing mixer until light and fluffy. Beat in eggs, one at a time. Beat in sour cream and vanilla extract.

Reduce the speed to low and beat in 1/3 of the flour mixture, followed by half of the chocolate mixture. Repeat with another 1/3 of the flour mixture and the remaining chocolate mixture. Beat in the remaining flour mixture until just incorporated.

Divide the batter and pour into the prepared pans, smoothing the surface with a spatula. Bake 20 to 25 minutes or until a toothpick inserted into the cake comes out clean.

Place the cakes (in the pans) on a wire rack to cool. Then invert the cakes onto a greased rack.  Cool completely before frosting.

To prepare the buttercream, put egg whites and sugar in a mixing bowl over a pot of simmering water. Use an electric hand mixer to beat constantly until the sugar has completely dissolved and the egg whites are hot. Remove from heat.

With whisk attachment, continue whipping the mixture in a standing mixer until thick, glossy, and cool.

Switch over to paddle attachment. While mixing on medium speed, continuously add softened butter in chunks until incorporated, and mix until it has reached a silky smooth texture. If curdles, keep mixing and it will come back to smooth.  Add vanilla and salt, mix well.

Reserve 3 cups of the buttercream. Set aside. Add the food coloring in the remaining buttercream and beat for another 10 seconds, or until the color are evenly distributed.

To assemble the cake, place one cake layer on your serving plate and spread with 1/3 of the white buttercream. Place another cake layer on top, and gently press down a little bit. Spread with another 1/3 of the white buttercream. Smear the remaining 1/3 of the white buttercream on the sides of the cake.

Outline the eyes and mouth with a toothpick, and fill with Nutella. Pipe blue buttercream on the face.

Cover and refrigerate the cake. Leave out in room temperature for at least an hour prior to serving.

Comments (21) »
18-Oct-11

My lucky dice

Dear Maya,

On your first birthday today, I wanted to let you know this:

Your father and I always wanted to have two children. We thought it would make sense as you could grow up together not turning into some spoiled rotten brats. Though your cousin Pheona proved it’s not necessarily true.

Having your brother, we thought we knew about parenthood, at least intellectually. We are good parents. We will always meet our children’s needs. Therefore we had you way before we could marginally handle your brother. And for the first few months since you were born, I felt like I was fighting a losing battle. Because taking care of two young children isn’t about understanding things intellectually. It’s about a full-fledged belly-flop into a giant hole filled with anxiety and depression – an overshadowing emotional spiral that makes coping with anything nearly impossible.

My daily life was torture. I worked my ass off to maintain your routine, to complete loads of laundry, to cope with your father’s not being around, to control my emotion, I wanted to throw up all day long. Everyday was a bad day. Days when you were so fussy that I had to be constantly pacing and rocking back and forth to make sure you didn’t start crying, I felt so exhausted that I would sob uncontrollably. Days when I got to prepare dinner that you had to be by yourself, and your screams sickened me so bad that I had to walk away to yell and cry to regain myself. Days when your brother had to be out of the house as I wasn’t capable to take care of you both. Days when anxiety robbed me of any sleep you allowed me. Days when I couldn’t see leaving the house ever again. Days when fighting never stopped cause I didn’t think your father did good enough. Days when I struggled to make it from hour to hour. Days when I only saw hopelessness and frustration and an overwhelming sense of failure.

I’m telling you this because one day you will become a mother. And I think it’s important to be honest and let you know that the whole motherhood thing is not easy. This is the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. And just look at what I did to my mother.

But then there were good days. Days when my emotional blues subsided and the weather got better. Days when the sun came up, your mile-wide smile welcomed me. Days when I saw your cheeks grew fuller overnight. Days when you threw out a word or two. Days when I decided to look back on this time fondly and remember your smiles, not your screaming. Days when I felt strong enough to handle this job. Days when I slowly got out of the bed and did it another day.

Days when everyone tells me you are a good baby because you’ve really become a good baby. Days when I watch you play all by yourself while I am writing this.

During the three weeks being away from you, your father and I had been worrying if you would forget about us. And you didn’t seem to remember your father the first time you saw him coming back. But you know what you did when you saw me? You spread your arms and wanted me to hold you. And once you were put in my arms, you brightened up like a sun-flooded room. I almost broke out into tears.

I’d say you should become a mother just for this reason alone.

We lucked out and didn’t get the worst baby. But one day you may roll that dice and get the grumpy baby, and oops, there goes the rest of your life.

Love,
Mommy
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