Tuk Trey

Happy Cambodian New Year!!!!

I have thinking about my heritage lately. Currently, I am participating in CACO's Oral History Project in light of the Khmer Rouge Tribunal that is (finally) taking place. 24 years I have lived among survivors who have never told their story. This coming month, I will sit face to face with my grandmother and help her tell her story. A story that I've only heard bits and pieces of. One that will be hard to tell, but cannot be hidden in the shadows or brushed under the rug. I am eager and proud to be participating in this important part of my heritage.

If you don't know anything about the Khmer Rouge. Google it.

So I've been thinking about all sorts of it. Cambodian stuff. I Netflixed The Killing Fields and City of Ghosts. Y'know, just to get in that depressing "my peeeooplllee!!" mood. I called my mother. I almost lit a little incense in a little bowl of rice and left an offering of fruit and coconut soda on the back porch, like I did as a kid. And, as I often do, I started thinking about Cambodian food.

Since I have moved out of my mother's house, the food in my house has not been the same. How I miss the giant pot of long jasmine rice, always plentiful and waiting, aromatic and sturdy. If I was ever hungry I would open the fridge and leftover Kha would be waiting for me, a soupy sweet caramelized pork dish with hard boiled eggs. And on those lucky days I had the flu, Mee Maam(not Cambodian, just what I have called my mother), would make Ginger Chicken Babaw (In Chinese, Congee): Rice porridge, scallions, ginger, and fermented soybeans. Cambodian food for the soul.

I miss it, badly.

Most of all, I miss a very potent dish, something that is not for the fainted hearted. Amok. To be... cautious... is a Cambodian seafood quiche. To be frank, it is a salted fish custard that is served with cabbage and other sorts of crudite. To me, its fucking delicious. I am also sure I can convince other people it is delicious too.

So, why is there no Cambodian restaurant in Portland?

This led me on a google adventure. I looked up recipes, compared them to how Mom makes it or Maht-Yeay(actual Cambodian, what I call my grandmother). I reminisced and tasted by reading, completely indulging in the recipe as if i were shoveling it into my mouth. There wasn't enough. I wanted Cambodian food.

And then I stumbled upon this old article:

http://www.salon.com/mwt/food/eat_drink/2007/06/26/khmer_food/index.html

very interesting. and also, just more drive for my whimsical fantasy of the future.
There is no silly judgemental write-up I can offer you on some "divy" Cambodian restaurant. Perhaps one day there will be.

Soor S'Day Chnnam Tmeay

Also: Tuk Trey = Fish sauce

bake therapy

I cannot follow directions. CAN'T
My desire for disregard is the reason why i have no knack for cooking and must eat out all the time.
Over cooked pasta, under cooked poultry, over garlicked arborio, and caramelizing gone horribly horribly wrong. These do not make for a good meal.

So I bake. You can't get away with cheating when you bake. Well, not a lot.
I've been fidgeting with the perfect chocolate chip cookie for months (more likely- years). It started with the back of a Nestle tollhouse bag of semi-sweet chips when I was 12. It was the middle of summer and I was bored. we had everything in our cupboard except for the brown sugar. i didn't think anything of it and subbed the brown for the white. rookie mistake
it has evolved to dozens upon dozens of tic-incremental fudging of recipes. I know a few people who have achieved the "perfect chocolate chip cookie". I eat their cookies with envious pleasure and side-eyed glanced. what do they know that I have yet discovered? They have willingly offered their recipe to me, but i cannot accept. For me, it has become personal. I must venture deep into the forest of measuring cups, baking powder, sugars, and emerge with a gilded platter of chocolate chip cookies that will define my achievement in suburban housewifely womanhood.

you think i am being sarcastic.
i am not.

Things happen

Haven't been writing.

Been uninspired.

My only brief moments of clarity come when I am taking the last spoonfuls of my required weekly intake of hangover pho. or at 3 AM wasted, and watching TLC in search of life's truths. Have you heard of the show 17 kids and Counting? It is about a family of a million kids by some fundamentalist Baptists. They are the Duggars, and I love them. especially when I am drunk. Please, read the madness:

The Goose Mon, Jan 26, 2009 at 3:40 AM
To: jimbob@afo.net
it just the last name I was born with.

I just wanted to email you to tell you that, although i have a different belief system, i absolutely and sincerely ADORE your family. the purity and the genuine nature of the love that your first born bestowed to his future wife made my heart feel warm. regardless of our beliefs and our backgrounds, your show has never made me point and judge, nor have i felt that your family has pointed and judged me. it just wants me to say awwwwww. and i love michelle, absolutely. she is your strong half, please give her more flowers. your family is gorgeous and they all have those beautiful duggar eyes, and i am sure that you and michelle are proud of the children you have raised. congratulations, not for one instance or another, but for your ability to continue a noble existence among our American pop culture.

your progressive, liberal and buddhist feminist from portland
(who does not know her capitals from her commas)

The (i wish i hadn't kissed a boy yet) Goose

Jim bob, michelle is way hotter than you. you are a lucky dog

His Reply:

Jim Bob Duggar Sun, Feb 1, 2009 at 6:22 AM
To: The Goose
Hello Goose,
Thank you for your email. Michelle did not grow up going to church or have a relationship with God until she was 15. It is never to late. Michelle had already experienced a lot of negative things that had ‘messed up’ her life. The good news is becoming a Christian is not about being perfect, but about being forgiven. Ask God to forgive you for the things you have done wrong and vow to give Him the control of your future decisions for the rest of your life. God will take you on an exciting adventure way beyond what you can ever imagine. Most people in the world are so bogged down with past life failures they live in depression and defeat. Once you ask Jesus to forgive you for your past, you are forgiven based upon His Word. You still will be ashamed of your past choices, but you are free from the guilt. Then it is important to go back to others and ask them to also forgive you for ways that you have wronged them (if you have lied, gotten angry, stole things, been disrespectful, etc...). Step by step you make things right with God and man. It is a great feeling. Then you get to share with others that they can also be set free.
We encourage you to listen to ‘Hell’s best kept secret’ by Ray Comfort at www.wayofthemaster.com . Also find a ‘Baptist’ Bible teaching church. You need that encouragement from others that are also seeking a relationship with God. Don’t expect your friends or family members to understand or be excited about it as you are.
Let us know how you are doing, We would love to hear about your spiritual journey. -Jim Bob & Michelle Duggar Proverbs 3:5,6,7 www.duggarfamily.com


Oh and it does not end. My rebuttal:

The goose Sun, Feb 8, 2009 at 4:11 AM
To: Jim Bob Duggar
Jim bob-
i understand. i understand that i need to give my life to God and Jesus and ask him to accept the mistakes i have made in my life. that is a run on sentence, I'm sorry. but how do i know that this is the right path that i shall(should) lead. my life (i am a cocktailer, a person that sells alcoholic drinks to people) cannot maintain the stringent and disciplined life that you and your family lead. everybody needs to live, i can only support myself in this way(right now). i want to give my life to god but there are so many different ways to interpret god's ultimate will. do i confess, as a catholic? do i go on a mission as a Mormon? do i become a nun, a priest a monk..? what do i do? i know that my current lifestyle is not the way to become one with god, but i KNOW that is is the only way i can support myself within this modern society. these are two extreme opposites. i do not know how to find a happy medium between the two. how can i exist in god's world and this world harmoniously and respectfully?


your still very progressive, liberal, and independent fan from Portland
The (still wishing she had never kissed a boy) Goose

ps. is there a specific reason why your daughters wears skirts all the time, or is just a preference? i like pants....i don't know if i can understand not wearing jean pants. they are comfy and roomy!


I think that was the breaking point:

Jim Bob Duggar Sun, Feb 8, 2009 at 8:47 PM
To: The Goose
Hello Goose,
We encourage you to start reading the book of John. Read the words of Jesus and let them sink in. Ask God to reveal Himself to you and give you understanding. Also sign up for the free daily success emails off the link on our website. Let us know what God does in your life. -The Duggars




awesome.

Update

I had my last drink on September 22nd. It was a fat glass of barbaresco and I was sitting alone at Touche, trying hard to dive right into my Tom Robbins novel. My eyes glazed back and forth over his elaborate text, but my mind wandered to more wanton thoughts. While I knew the barbaresco would be my last glass, it certainly was not the first of the evening. I started my regular rounds of crass text messages, a little charm of my stunted emotional growth, knowing i'd blush about it later. But i didn't care. It was a personal farewell party, an introspective gluttonous binge, my own mardi gras to prepare for the oncoming ash wednesday. Tonight, I drink, and tomorrow I begin my lent.

I have not had a sip of alcohol nor a morsel of bread since then.
That is, until last night.

12 Bridges gin, stirred and served up with a big fat twist. Within the first sip my nerves were rattled to the bone, and i giggled with elation. Baby, it was good.

My mission failed. I was supposed to wait until halloween, but as always my greedy side took the best of my strong will. If this is any insight to my character it would have been this last Thursday. I broke one very important self-inflicted rule, and as i witnessed the smoke smoldering from the plane, i decided to sit back relax and pour myself a martini and let it come crashing down.

Now that i've finished my perfectly stirred gin, and the plane lay indistinguishably on the ground, I will get up dust myself off and pick up the pieces to start over.

Today is day one again.

"Like every American I'm speaking with, we are ill."

I am afraid of this woman:



thank you, Katie Couric, thank you. Its comical to watch her circle around the drain and spew out buzz words. She's the smartest hockey mom I know.


And, although hilarious, this is disturbingly similar:




It nauseates me so much that i'm writing about on what i thought was my food blog. I can't wait to watch the debate on thursday.

let's keep tweedle dee and tweedle dum far away from the White House, please?

One last real-life note: start hoarding your monies in the mattress. times is gettin sticky

Also, I've (miraculously) put the bottle down, as well as my fork until Halloween. Trust me, green tea is not as good as bourbon, but i don't feel like looking like a fatty for my birthday. If all goes well I'll tell you about a different kind of food adventure, one of a treacherous non-delicious sort.

love and fluffy bunnies

Wong King's

My Sunday usually follows this ritual:

Wake up at around 10
drink 5 pints of water
curl into the fetal position on the couch
watch No Reservations/Bizarre food/Iron Chef/Jon and Kate plus 8/Whatever mindless television that will distract me from my dehydrated body
do that until 2, when i have to start getting ready for work.

i know, its sad, i'm trying to fix it.

A couple of weeks ago, i happened to be watching Bizarre Foods, and that day Andrew Zimmern was exploring Hong Kong and the wonderful world that it dim sum. So I called (texted) Robert.

"11:30, Wong King's. Dim sum"

When I arrive, I grab a numbered ticket, 213, and ask the perfectly costumed hostess what number they were on.

I need you to imagine your thickest Chinese accent, because to phonetically write it out may just be too offensive/complicated.
"Number one thirty five"

Knowing it would be quite a wait, I bring the tom robbins book i've been trying to take time to read, and i wait for my dining partner's arrival. Just as i was about to whip out a cigarette to pass the time, my aunt, tiny perky adorable, comes up to me and says hello. This is how much Wong King's is a dim sum mecca. I believe every time i've eaten here i've run into her and her family. Her family from the outer edges of beaverton. They braved tunnels, bridges, urbanism and 82nd ave, just for the perfect morsel of har gow and siu mai. well done, Ming Vong, well done. All asians, chinese, vietnamese, cambodian, etc know where the good stuff is, and that is on Division past 82nd.

Many an article, as you have probably read, has mentioned that (asian)immigrant culture has immigrated from china town (decrepit amalgamation of the homeless, the drunk, and the immoral) to the lands of 82nd ave (decrepit amalgamation of used-car lots, prostitutes, and gang activity).

When Petruchio finally arrives, its still another half hour before we get seated. I hardly had a chance to pour our teas when we were immediately confronted by an overly energetic chinese man with tray in hand

"Steam dumpling with beef tripe and shrimp"

We look at each other, confused and intrigued, and obediently nod our heads. Why not? I am ready to ravenously dive into the little metal pot for some unidentified and unfamiliar dumpling. Then this miniscule woman comes charging in with her giant cart in tow, and pokes her head smartly between me and my chopsticks.

"Har gow, siu mai"

These two things being the reason i ever go to dim sum, caught me off guard. I was looking at my first order beckoning to me, a mere few inches from my face only to be taunted by this woman for to order more. So I ordered them both. Robert and I smile at each other with approval. I was hungry and ready to indulge in my craving for shrimp and bamboo shoots. Before I knew it, another little Chinese woman rolled by, our chopsticks still in midair and ready to dive into our untouched dishes. She stops us and tries, in indistinguishable english, to demonstrate how wonderful chinese broccoli is.

I'll save you the rest. Cut to about 15 minutes later. 8 plates in front of us, most of them containing shrimp, and not one morsel has been eaten. I have confused their friendly nature as good service, but really it was an attack from all angles. They were pushers, delicious steamed treat pushers. Taro root bun? pork dumpling? shrimp rice noodles? They knew i was itching, and vulnerable. I needed a fix and they were eager to provide it for me.

Finally, I was able to say "no", and with that most of our dim sum carrying friends left us alone, smirking at our table spotted with small plates. Job well done. Its time to eat.

Har gow: my favorite. Honestly, if you are an apprehensive round-eye, i recommend you start with this. It just shrimp and bamboo in a tapioca wrapper, and cooked in a bamboo steamer (most dim sum is). its skin is nice and sticky and finishes with a happy little crunch from the bamboo. i could eat 12 orders of this.

Siu mai: another classic, it is a pork and black mushroom dumpling. Because of the pork, i always get caught biting into some sort of fat pocket which kind of grosses me out. As much as i love it, i am always poking it around my plate

hom bao: also known as the chopstick safe kid food. Its a steamed bun made of a sweet flour and filled with salty barbeque pork. I love to grab it with my hands and peel off the paper bottom, break off each piece and give it a little pinch. Also, White people friendly.

Among other things, we had those dishes along with Taro dumplings, Shrimp rice noodles and that unidentified first dish. We were full, and Robert told me a story about his classmate that he thinks is a narcissist, then i realized that i related to his classmate. Now i am afraid that i am a narcissist. but i forgot that i am blogging, and now i am blogging about my concern about being a narcissist, which may be (besides throwing your very one fake funeral) the perfect example of one's self-centeredness.

Moving along, the trek you'll make to Wong king's, as well as the bombardment of food pushers you'll defend yourself from is well worth the circus you'll have in your mouth. I recommend everyone try the phoenix talons and beef tripe at least once in their lives.

notes

I have 4 places that i have yet to write up about.

i came home after work and looked in the fridge. My roommate, after an big day at ikea, brought home some ikea caviar and left a note saying i have to take a picture of me eating it. apparently it costs $3.50. i'm totally intrigued, and horrified. Usually, the cheaper end of caviar goes for $7-10/ounce. this lumpfish caviar is 3.50 for 2.8 ounces.

my mom read my blog. she said that after that she realized that i will never lose weight. then tried to bribe me with plastic surgery for going on a diet. i love you, mother, but the absurdity of your offer never ceases to dumbfound me. every time you say it.