tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-100253442024-03-07T08:02:59.426-08:00The Wootang Diarieswootang (Terry)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05169311244716972219noreply@blogger.comBlogger183125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10025344.post-48969976818537780152014-11-25T08:24:00.001-08:002014-11-25T12:17:20.713-08:00Why cupcakes thriving in England, but diving in US<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Some of this year's winners at Britian's National Cupcake Championship except for the Mary Poppins cupcakes, which were for display, not competition.<br />
<br />
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By TERRY TANG</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ever since the cupcake bakery chain Crumbs crumbled in the
U.S. earlier this year, people have declared the mini cakes dead several times
over. If only the cupcakes here could get a spa weekend in England. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Our neighbors across the pond crowned several winners at
Britain’s National Cupcake Championship earlier this month. The final judging
round in Birmingham on Nov. 8 was clearly a huge deal. It was not a bunch of
bakers getting together in someone’s kitchen or rec room. The contest was held
on the second day of Cake International, or The Sugarcraft, Cake Decorating
& Baking Show, at the National Exhibition Centre. It was organized by
British Baker magazine, an industry publication. The judges included the chair
of England’s Association of Pastry Chefs. The finalists had been whittled down
from more than 150 entries covering categories open to amateurs and professional
bakers.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Martyn Leek, a British Baker editor, said this is the sixth
year the competition has been going on. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“For trendsetters in trendy parts of London, cupcakes are
passé. They’ve moved on,” Leek said. “For the child coming home from school,
they want a treat. There’s still that wow factor, an innocence.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As a cynical American,
I was surprised that someone went to the trouble of organizing such a
competition. But what was even more surprising was the number of people in
attendance at Cake International. The cupcake was alive and kicking. Crowds of
women and men (but mostly women) were snapping up cake decorating supplies as
well as photos of cakes and cupcakes on display. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was left overwhelmed by The Sugarcraft, Cake Decorating
& Baking Show. It was like Comic-Con but for baking geeks. I saw some cake
decorating implements I have yet to see in U.S. stores. There were authors of
cake decorating books doing signings at booths throughout the hall as well as
demonstrations with everything from gum paste to melted chocolate. The only
thing missing was people dressed as their favorite cake or dessert.</div>
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Leek said he’s seen items like cake pops and whoopee pies
being hailed as the next cupcake but they haven’t succeeded on the same level.</div>
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“You’re either a fan of the cupcake or you’re not. There are
some bakers in Britain that don’t do cupcakes. But there is an audience,” Leek
said. “Whether it’s growing or waning, who can tell. Bakers who do it well sell
well.”</div>
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Manjit Reyat, who came from Coventry, which is a 10-minute
train ride, said the crowd is much bigger than when she came in 2012. She said the
interest likely stems from the TV baking competition show, “The Great British
Bake Off.” The show, which airs on BBC One, just finished its fifth season. Twelve
contestants vie to be declared the best amateur baker. Each episode has bakers
facing three challenges and one person is eliminated every episode.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But they<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>don’t just do cupcakes but tarts, croissants and desserts I can’t
pronounce.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I think people are definitely fans of the ‘British Bake-off’
and fancy a go at it themselves,” Reyat said. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She also thinks the size of the country may have an effect
on cupcake fatigue.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You’re bigger out
there (in the U.S.). They come and go quite quickly. It’s still thriving here,”
she said. </div>
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<span class="normal-c-c0"> Alan Whatley, chair of the
Association of Pastry Chefs, said “cupcakes are not on the decline, not at all.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> "I think in England
we’re very good at revisiting things and making them fresh,” Whatley said. “We’re
good at keeping momentum going."</div>
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__</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For a complete list of this year’s winners of the 2014
National Cupcake Championship, go to http://www.nationalcupcakeweek.co.uk/page/2014_winners.html.</div>
wootang (Terry)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05169311244716972219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10025344.post-87365891145184733232013-09-29T14:47:00.003-07:002013-09-29T14:47:37.378-07:00Stuffed Bean Curd SkinsStuffed bean curd skins are similar to egg rolls, except they are braised, not deep-fried. Also, at the Asian supermarket, the wrapper will either say bean curd skins or egg roll wrappers. Apples and oranges. So, if I can make these, ANYONE can. You will need a ground meat for your filling--pork, turkey, etc. I used turkey. After that, you can simply throw in whatever you prefer--water chestnuts, chopped shitaki mushrooms, onion. Here's what I like to use:<br />
<br />
1 lb. of ground turkey<br />
1 Chinese sausage link (cut lengthwise and then diced)<br />
1/2 can of water chestnuts, chopped<br />
1 carrot, grated<br />
1 egg<br />
1 cup of dried breadcrumbs<br />
soy sauce<br />
sesame oil<br />
wine <br />
salt<br />
pepper <br />
chicken broth<br />
oyster sauce<br />
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All you do is throw all the food into the bowl. You can eyeball it with the soy sauce, maybe about 2 tablespoons. Then add a few drops of sesame oil, around 2 teaspoons of cooking wine. A couple of dashes of salt because the sausage is already salty. Then a dash of pepper. Mix it really well until it seems like everything is distributed. I like to mix with a pair of chopsticks. You can then cover the filling and leave it anywhere from a couple hours to overnight so that everything marinates.<br />
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Handling the bean curd skins is probably the hardest. One pack of these can be found in the refrigerator or freezer section of the Asian supermarket. Pretty much every store carries this brand.<br />
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You have to unfold the sheets and they can have the texture of flaky phyllo dough. Use a brush to douse them with a bit of water so they become more pliable. Use a pair of kitchen shears and cut them into pieces that are going to be rolled up later. How big you cut them depends on how big you want the rolls. I prefer pieces that are about 3" wide and 4" long.<br />
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Put about 2 tsps of filling (or more if it will fit) and the width side. Then fold in the left and right sides and roll the skin over and over. Stop just before it's completely rolled up and brush a cornstarch-water solution on the roll so the last of the wrapper will be sealed against it.<br />
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Pan-fry the rolls on one side until it's slightly brown on medium heat. Then turn them over to brown the other side. Then lower the heat and pour in some chicken broth, enough to cover the rolls half-way. I personally prefer throwing in a bit of oyster sauce at this point too. Cover the pan. The stuffed bean curd skins should be cooked in about 5 minutes. But cut one open just to check. Voila!<br />
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<br />wootang (Terry)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05169311244716972219noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10025344.post-78626128211565745932013-07-20T22:23:00.003-07:002013-07-20T22:37:01.478-07:00Life On 'Mars'Veronica Mars is all grown-up. So grown-up that she fits on a big screen now! It was very surreal for me to not see "Veronica Mars" on a little monitor at home. <br />
<br />
This weekend I was in San Diego because the fan-girl in me dared to hope that I could get into a special "Veronica Mars" fan event where one did NOT need a coveted Comic-Con badge for entry.<br />
<br />
Let me rewind a bit. I watched "Veronica" when it first aired on UPN back in 2004 up until it was canceled after a third season on the then-new CW network. I don't get cult-ish about many TV shows. I remember being pissed that VM got dropped but overly-soapy teen shows like "One Tree Hill" got to stay. So earlier this year, as soon as I read that this Kickstarter project could be the make-or-break step to reviving the teen detective as a movie, I seriously considered donating. The only reason I was hesitant was that giving money meant I might not be able to ever write about it. But the fan-girl side of me won out.<br />
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Back to present day in San Diego...I got in to the panel at the last minute after getting on a bus at 5:30 a.m. to get to the waiting spot for a precious wrist band and then having to come back at 7 p.m. as a "standby" entry. I was so elated that I got to truly feel like part of Comic-Con weekend with one of my favorite shows and at no cost. Everyone who was a regular on the show was there, including star Kristen Bell, and of course, creator Rob Thomas (not the Matchbox 20 dude). Characters represented were: Keith Mars, Wallace, Mac, Logan, Piz, Weevil and Dick Casablancas. I wanted to document some of the highlights for myself before they become cobwebs in the back of my mind. <br />
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_Making friends with the people who were in line with me. It's amazing how Comic-Con brings out geeks and nerds of all backgrounds. I met a Asian woman from Fremont, Calif., who is an optometrist. I met a woman who is a writer for the latest "Transformer" cartoon. Overheard a guy beg her not to kill off Optimus Prime _ again.<br />
<br />
_The actors who pay Weevil and Wallace showed up in the morning with donuts for everyone. There was a film crew documenting this. So, I might be on camera someday being shown helping Francis Capra tear the seal off a box of Winchell's. <br />
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_Saw two minutes of footage from the movie that was not shown at the Comic-Con panel earlier in the day. The scene was Veronica at the check-in table at her high school reunion, which was being run by her bitchy school nemesis, Madison. Madison pretended at first not to recognize her.<br />
Veronica: This is my 'I think you're an asshole look.' How about now?<br />
Madison says something bitchy back.<br />
Veronica: You've been sitting her since graduation, haven't you?<br />
<br />
_Kristen Bell said she had no idea why she and Jason Dohring (Logan) have "boatloads of chemistry." Rob Thomas said he's not sure how it happened. Logan was supposed to just be the "obligatory, psychotic jackass." But the more they saw them on screen, the more the writers started writing in the direction of Veronica and Logan being the "it" couple.<br />
<br />
_Chris Lowell, who played Piz and Veronica's love interest in the last
season, said he was surprised that he was going to be in the movie. He
fake-cried because he knew Piz wasn't as loved as Logan (Jason Dohring),
who everyone wanted to end up with Veronica. Even some of the actors
admitted Piz is the better guy but they still wanted her with Logan, the
bad boy. In a pathetic attempt to make Lowell feel better, his friend Ryan Devlin (who played a student who turned out to be a serial rapist in the third season), took the microphone and said "Who do you want for Veronica? Piz or the rapist?" Of course everyone cheered for Piz. Chris Lowell had a "that's supposed to help??" look on his face. LOL.<br />
<br />
_During the audience Q&A, someone from the back said "I have a question!" It was Ken Marino, who played Vinnie Van Lowe, the rival private eye to Keith Mars (Veronica's dad). A very funny guy. "How many scenes do I have in the movie?" Rob Thomas replied "You have a love scene with Kristen. It's happening Sunday. Oh Kristen, did I forget to tell you?" Then the actors demanded that Ken serenade them. So he sang a verse of "Private Eyes," a reference to a scene he did on the show.<br />
<br />
_Ryan Devlin said when the Kickstarter project was announced, his father, an attorney, sent him an email detailing all the possible reasons his character could be out of prison because he wanted him to be in the movie. Awwww.<br />
<br />
_Staffers brought out a giant cake shaped like a camera lens and two giant birthday cards in honor of Kristen Bell's and Percy Daggs' (VM's BFF, Wallace) birthdays, which are three days apart. (Kristen loved it: "Seriously you guys, it's like 'Cake Wars' down here"). The cards were signed by everyone who got a wrist band to get in.<br />
<br />
_Ryan Devlin co-founded a granola bar company that is called "This Bar Saves Lives." Money from every purchase goes to help a child with severe, acute malnutrition in the world. He said the event's sponsor, Samsung, bought 5,000 bars in honor of Bell's birthday and has been giving them out all week. Samsung's purchase will help feed 33 kids. And we all got a bar to take home.<br />
<br />
_When asked if there could be more movies or a limited run on Netflix like "Arrested Development," Rob Thomas said "Netflix has my number." But also, he said we have to wait and see how the movie does and all the actors have other commitments like TV shows in the next year. If the movie, which comes out sometime next year, is a huge hit then they won't need Kickstarter next time.<br />
<br />
_Every single actor couldn't express their gratitude enough. All of them seemed very genuine. They said how they see the work is different when they realized that fans are the reason they have the job to begin with. Fans were basically like "Here's my money."<br />
<br />
Anyway, my pants could fall down on the street tomorrow and I would still say I had a fantastic weekend. Can't help but wonder if Twitter and Facebook had been as prevalent back when VM was on, would the show have lasted a little longer. But, it makes the movie becoming a reality and all the press interest surrounding it that much sweeter. Going to end with the trailer that I saw at the fan event Friday night. <br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/LVJhjV3EOY4" width="560"></iframe><br />
<br />wootang (Terry)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05169311244716972219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10025344.post-17191367745172799812013-05-20T23:25:00.004-07:002013-05-20T23:42:50.774-07:00Have Shower Will TravelFor the last month, I've been preoccupied with throwing a bridal shower for my cousin Jennifer. With A LOT of help from my wonderful cousin, Lisa, we were able to pull off the shower I always wanted...er...a travel-themed shower. See, our cousin Jennifer's love of traveling and seeing other countries is something she passed onto me. I don't think I would have given much thought to the idea of how other people see the U.S. if I hadn't seen how much she traveled. In college, she went away for a year to Spain. I was in high school and hadn't traveled beyond Canada. I thought it was really gutsy to spend a year in another country. I still couldn't get up the nerve to do something like that by the time I got to college. I'd been to a few other countries but with my family. Hence we were on tour buses and I learned quickly that that was no way to experience a country. So, like Jennifer, I took my own trip in 2003 through several European countries and did the hostelling thing. Boy, am I glad. I met people from all over the world who became great friends--at least for that trip. Anyway, I knew this was the theme I wanted to do. After careful and thorough research on various blogs, Lisa and I borrowed a few ideas. I think they all worked out great. And for the first time, we had people eat outside in my parents' backyard.<br />
<br />
The most cost-cutting thing we did was incorporate old maps into our decor. Lisa was going to go down to the local AAA office but she found tons of maps in her mom's garage. This is the great thing about most Asian parents: They always have old luggage that they used to visit relatives in China or Hong Kong and they save every map they ever bought or received.<br />
<br />
Lisa cut letters out of some map and then glued them to the doilies. She also outlined the letters with a black marker so they would stand out more. She and my mom tied string around each doily and then tied them to a string draped across the window. We also added a bunch of tchotchkes that Lisa and I had that represented other countries i.e. a ukele and a mini Eiffel Tower.<br />
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We made paper airplanes out of the maps (or rather our guy cousins did) and clipped them to the laundry line.<br />
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Lisa found her old world map (Remember the USSR and when Germany had that whole East side/West side thing?) and pinned that to the fence along with more paper airplanes. We also put out luggage. They functioned as props along with a container for a shower game.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our deck "decked" out with a world map, luggage. A borrowed patio table is decorated with flowers and framed photo of the bride.</td></tr>
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Another budget-saving idea for favors: I hate to say this but airline barf bags. On other blogs, I saw people had ordered little plastic suitcases, which cost like $3 each, or made suitcases out of cardboard and decorated them with stickers. Um...yeah, not gonna happen. Either too much money or too much work. So, on the flight home, I went into the lavatory and took the entire stack of barf bags to my seat. But I still didn't have enough. So I asked the flight attendant after we landed if I could have some. They ran out of a fresh stack so he actually spent a few minutes helping me pluck bags from the seat pockets. We decorated the bags with stickers and rubber stamps with a travel theme. The only drawback was that when I opened one of the bags to stuff it, I couldn't get it open. It might be because of the wad of minty gum stuck inside. YUCK!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Lisa really enjoyed telling people to go to "baggage claim" to get their favors.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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For the table, we had foods that represented different countries Jennifer visited _ sushi for Japan, chicken satay for Thailand, a pavlova for New Zealand and some tropical fruit for Hawaii for example. Major kudos to my brother Gary for cooking almost all the food and my cousin Suzie for making the pavlova.<br />
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And of all the weird coincidences, the day before I went to the Maker Faire in San Mateo. There's a section called the Bizarre Bazaar where local DIY artists sell stuff _ everything from jewelry to soap to silkscreen T-shirts. Well, a woman who runs her own design business on Etsy, (http://www.etsy.com/shop/GrannyPantyDesigns) where she upcycles maps of all things into gift tags, flower bulbs, etc. She actually sold garlands of mini paper airplanes for $15. Since we already went to the trouble of making our own paper airplanes, I couldn't justify buying anything. But I found it impossible to resist these cupcake toppers.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lemon-vanilla cupcakes with Earl Grey tea frosting _ one of the few things I made on this table.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sorry, but those paper airplanes are effing cute.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
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We also adapted a game of "How well do you know each other" by making the bride to be wear ugly clothes that were packed in the luggage every time she got an answer that didn't match with her fiance's. Overall, I think everything looked pretty close to how I pictured. I
liked putting little touches too like the globe and the travel books on
the tables. We also labeled the beverage area as "in-flight beverages" and the gifts table "gift shop." Except for wondering how my life came down to rummaging in seat pockets with a Southwest flight attendant, I had fun doing it. That's partly because I had the BEST party-planning partner in the world in my cousin Lisa. She wasn't too anal, she wasn't lazy. She was just right. She did all the signage, put up most of the decorations and oversaw the games and ice breaker activities. And her husband, Nelson, a longtime family friend, was a gift from party-planning heaven _ patiently helping and not complaining once. I'm lucky a lot of my family also makes for the best team.<br />
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<br />wootang (Terry)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05169311244716972219noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10025344.post-91031532971567034172013-03-19T08:57:00.001-07:002013-03-19T09:03:58.674-07:00Dear Mike...Dear Mike,<br />
<br />
When I found out you needed a kidney transplant, I was really scared. I didn't tell you that I was scared at the idea of your no longer being around. But that's the world I live in now. No Michael Hogan.<br />
<br />
I wish so much that I had made the time to see you during my visits to the Bay Area this past summer. But with all the family obligations and the other now seemingly trivial plans, I told myself there would be an opportunity to catch you during my next visit. Well, lesson learned. I know that you would tell me not to feel bad. You would say there's no way I could have known what would happen.<br />
<br />
I keep thinking about the last time we saw each other. I had just finished running Bay to Breakers in May. As soon as I showered and changed, I took a cab over to UCSF to see you. Mister, I cannot believe you actually thought we could go out to lunch while being hospitalized for post-transplant/kidney-rejection issues! Watching you sitting on your hospital bed, I was stunned by how much weight you had lost. As Eric said, we know you loved that but it was still off-putting. But what amazed me even more was how focused you were on others during your recovery. First off, I didn't bring you anything. But you thought to ask your roommate to go get me a cupcake and cake pop from a local bakery as well as that gift certificate to Baker & Banker Restaurant. I still have no idea why you thought I was the one who deserved gifts. I haven't used that certificate. I had been saving it because it felt only right to take you there for dinner. Sucks that isn't going to happen. Presents aside, I was even more touched when I asked you how Eric was doing after donating his kidney. While Eric had already been out of the hospital and back to daily living for some time, you said you wished everyone would lavish attention on him instead. You said he's the one who made the sacrifice. The best thing people could do for you was to send goodwill and gifts his way.<br />
<br />
For all the times you drove me to new levels of exasperation, you never failed to impress me with your kindness, consideration and charm. I remember in 10th grade, we had a joint birthday party at my house for all our friends with November birthdays and I told you that my mom would cook separate food for you because while everyone was OK with pizza, you loved Chinese. So, you thought to show up with a bouquet of flowers for her. Not bad for 16 years old, Mr. Hogan. I also remember during our senior year, it bugged the hell out of you that I was still getting picked up after school by my mom because I had no car of my own. So you took it upon yourself to offer you and Dennis as my personal drivers. I still don't understand that, LOL, but that was one of your quirks that added to the Mike-ness of you.<br />
<br />
I know you used to worry too much that if you didn't hear back from a friend -- old or new -- by phone, email, text, etc., it meant they might not want to hang out with you or didn't care about you. I'm not sure if you ever grew out of that completely. But if you saw all the lovely things people have written about you, you would know your concern was for nothing. You may be afraid that with your passing, everyone is going to just forget about you. But I can tell you, I've thought about you every day since your death. That will be true in 10 months and in 10 years. <br />
<br />
While I mourn the loss of all the things you didn't get to do or be in your too-short time here, you'll be with me. I know I'll be somewhere and I'll ask "What would Mike think?" Your absence doesn't mean the end of our friendship. I hope you know that I love you very much.<br />
<br />
Always,<br />
Terry <br />
<br />wootang (Terry)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05169311244716972219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10025344.post-44368219333565254852013-03-06T21:33:00.000-08:002013-03-06T21:57:48.860-08:00Recipes--what's your type?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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A couple weeks before Valentine's Day, I spotted a link to this recipe in my Facebook feed from Foodista _ bacon chocolate stout cheesecake. For some reason, I became fixated on this recipe and I felt this inexplicable need to make it. I decided to make it for Valentine's Day just because that was the next holiday, meaning excuse, coming up. It got me thinking...dealing with recipes really is like interacting with the opposite sex. </div>
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The way I became so intent on making this cake is comparable to lust. I actually thought about how or if I would make it while lying in bed. But there were so many steps involved in the process. First, you have to glaze and oven-cook the bacon yourself and then chop it into little pieces. Second, you incorporate some of the chopped bacon into the cake batter that includes chocolate stout. Then, you have to make the hot fudge sauce yourself that goes on top. You still have to sprinkle more bacon on top. And for the finale, whip the heavy cream and pipe that around the edge. It's like a guy you've only been on a couple dates with and he's absolutely yummy but you're not sure if he's worth the effort. Yet, you really want to know if he...er...would be pleasant on your palate. You have to ask yourself are you willing to commit and do all the steps in the recipe and find out. </div>
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In the case of this bacon-chocolate cheesecake, I found the end-product to be pleasantly decadent but it helps that I know I enjoy chocolate and bacon. For some of my friends, the experience was actually close to orgasmic. Yet, afterward, I did feel a tinge of regret because of how full one piece can make you, hehe. I suppose remorse is a comparable sentiment as well. If this recipe were a person, I think it would be a tall, dark and sexy "mimbo" that a girl wouldn't pursue as relationship material. Because as delicious as this cake was, I don't want to serial-eat it. It's something I'd eat when I feel self-pitying or indulgent. And it was so much work, another reason I will rarely be eating it. </div>
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I am a foodie at heart but I'm no gourmand. I definitely don't want to be considered a food-snob. Yet...I see foods certain ways. A chili dog would be the guy who's too into sports and doesn't care if he makes a mess in front of you. Pre-packaged ramen is like the bland nerd who stays chained to the TV or the computer so as not to miss a gaming event or an episode of "Battlestar Galactica." Chicken soup is the guy who is just a friend and you lean on him when you want something comfortable. Quiche made with fresh garden herbs, farmer's market cheese and some prosciutto with a gruyere crust, to me, represents the gay best friend _ colorful, tasty and looks great at the table at brunch or any bridal/baby shower. Sardines or liver and onions means you should fake an emergency and leave. </div>
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Sometimes, you find a recipe that you really like and it's even healthy yet has a spicy or flavorful kick. It stays with you _ becoming a part of your culinary repertoire forever. In foodie terms, I'm really not sure what that is for me (No, not a cupcake recipe). I am not the greatest in the kitchen. That's why I so enjoy perusing the cookbooks or cooking websites. There's no harm in looking, right? </div>
wootang (Terry)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05169311244716972219noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10025344.post-66758513617659526852013-01-06T21:43:00.000-08:002013-01-06T21:49:44.678-08:00My first time ... getting pulled overSo, I had my first "run-in" with the law this past weekend (if you don't count cops coming to your door because of a noise complaint.) I was driving down Roosevelt Street to the Phoenix downtown farmer's market Saturday morning when my friend Leah said "I think that police car is for you." I looked into the rear view mirror and sure enough, the police car was very close and had its siren lights flickering. Crap! I pulled over and then a male voice said to pull into an empty driveway. I pulled into a parking lot. Then for what seemed like an eternity, the policeman stayed in his car (probably looking up your plates--according to Leah). <br />
"Gawd, the weekend is already starting off sh***y," I said. <br />
I have NEVER been pulled over in my entire driving-life. The only thing I know is to never get out of your vehicle. My father did that before -- thinking he was being helpful (sigh)<sigh>. <br />I rummaged through the glove compartment and got out my registration. Then I picked it and my driver's license up and stuck my left arm out the window. </sigh><br />
"I might as well be helpful," I said, giving Leah a good chuckle.<br />
The officer finally walked up and I was immediately apologetic. Honestly, I would fold like a cheap party chair in an interrogation.<br />
"Sorry, that intersection's traffic lights are shut down so I guess I just went through."<br />
"Why do you think I pulled you over?"<br />
"Because I didn't stop at an intersection where the traffic lights have been shut off?"<br />
"No. The street before that you rolled right through a stop sign."<br />
Oops. According to him, a car in front of me stopped and I didn't. That's what I get for talking while driving. The officer then glanced down at my open wallet and he noticed I had a second Arizona driver's license.<br />
"Why do you have another license?"<br />
Oh gawd, is that against the law too? I thought.<br />
I hang onto my old driver's license so I have something to use should I ever misplace my current one. But for him, I just said "sentimental value." He seemed to find that a good reason and went back to his car again. At this point Leah's trying to soothe me and I see a second police car has showed up. A second officer decided to back up his colleague and came around to the passenger side. He had Leah row down the window so he could watch her. Two police cars for little me? Geez. Next time I pass someone on the street surrounded by two police cars, I won't assume the driver must be some no-good d-bag.<br />
The officer came back to my window and gave me back my license.<br />
"So, what do you do?"<br />
"I'm a reporter."<br />
"Really?! Do you know another word for 'manage' that also starts with M?"<br />
My first thought: WTF?! You want help with your crossword puzzle?<br />
Leah and I looked at each other and came up with "monitor."<br />
"Oh, that's a good one," the police officer said. Then he explained how he was writing a project for his bosses that's titled TEAM. But he hadn't yet found the right word to fill in the M. He said the last project he wrote was called "Project PIMP" (three guesses what crime that relates to) and had been chronicled in local media. Project TEAM is related to homeless outreach, especially along the light rail.<br />
I didn't know what to say. So I said,"Say, have you ever seen a guy dressed as Superman on the light rail?"<br />
"Yes I have. He's not homeless. He actually does it for parties and has a business card. I also think he does it for attention."<br />
Leah: "Gee, you think?"<br />
It is then the officer makes my feelings go from regret to relief.<br />
"By the way, I'm NOT going to give you a ticket. I'm just wasting your time now."<br />
Like the good girl I hopelessly am, I didn't want him to think I was happy as though I got away with something and I took our conversation seriously. So I said: "Give me your email address so if I think of a better word, I can let you know."<br />
He actually wrote down his number and his email on a police interrogation card; I guess he had no business cards that day.<br />
So, I still am not sure if my being in the media actually got me out of a ticket or this officer was just in a good mood. But it was by far the most random, odd conversation I've had so far in 2013.<br />
Next New Year's resolution: watch out for those stop signs!wootang (Terry)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05169311244716972219noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10025344.post-75707211319188033792013-01-01T09:59:00.001-08:002013-01-01T09:59:33.286-08:00!@#$% non-Asians say to me Episode 4The other night, I had dinner with my journalist friend Tim. He's probably the most worldly guy I am friends with. No offense but if you think you should be in that category, just confirm to me whether you've ever covered stories in Libya or Afghanistan. Tim, who grew up in Bath, England, told me his mother used to tell him that she always thought Chinese people were "lucky." I was like "What?"<br />
Here's a paraphrase of his explanation:<br />
"She thought Chinese people were lucky. Whenever she saw one in the store, she would try to touch them <mimics on="on" shoulder="shoulder" someone="someone" tapping="tapping" the="the">."</mimics><br />
I couldn't help but laugh at the idea of this matronly British woman trying to more or less cop an (innocent) feel from a Chinese person. I figure maybe it seemed especially lucky as I doubt there were many Chinese people in a small town such as Bath (BTW, a lovely place to visit). Anyway, I'm sure there are millions of people in China who might not feel lucky all the time. I wonder how wide-spread this notion is. It could be a great excuse for a pervy guy with an Asian-girl fetish to pick up on a woman. Sorry, my mind always drifts to the darker corner. Well if someone ever tries that on me, he will find himself very UNLUCKY. wootang (Terry)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05169311244716972219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10025344.post-27259899179886750302013-01-01T09:51:00.001-08:002013-01-01T09:51:19.641-08:00Can I buy you a drink...er...a morsel of food?Let's face it. I'm inherently a good girl. There is a "nice" quality about myself that I can't shake. I realized this because twice in a couple weeks I've had men give me or insist on buying me food. It wasn't offered to me in a way like "hey baby, can I buy you a drink?" It was offered by way older men who wanted to feed me like a dad wondering if his daughter is getting enough to eat. For example, I went to Urban Beans, a local coffeehouse, which was celebrating a grand opening of its wine bar. My friend and I struck up a great chat with a guy _ Jewish and originally from Long Island _ and his girlfriend. The guy, Andrew, could not have been nicer and was refreshingly BS-free as Long Islanders tend to be. Before we left, I said I wanted a piece of Urban Beans' prize-winning Pink Diablo pie to go. Andrew wanted to get cupcakes and added my order onto his: "I got this for you."<br />
Me: "You don't have to do that!"<br />
Andrew: "I like you guys. You're really sweet."<br />
This came a couple weeks after a random guy (older gentleman) at La Grande Orange offered me some of the extra bacon he got. (Without shame, I took some of his bacon; come on! It's the candy of meat!)<br />
I always seem to attract older men and women wanting to take care of me or have me over for dinner. I went to my friend's aunt's house for Christmas. She doesn't live that far from me and said I could come over if I needed an interim mom. <br />
I appreciate all this attention. But it amuses and perplexes me that a guy might not notice me at a part even if my hair was on fire. Yet, I have all these people doting on me in a parental way. Makes me wonder if I need to bring out my inner "vamp." Gawd do people even use that word anymore? But alas...then I remember, that is not part of my wiring. Well, at least I'll be well-fed.wootang (Terry)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05169311244716972219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10025344.post-18869065391013285912012-12-14T06:18:00.000-08:002012-12-14T06:18:16.414-08:00!@#$% non-Asians say to me Episode 3So, last night I went to our office Christmas party--which was in our building. I did NOT like the food but when you order from Safeway, can't expect much. This sounds sad but I stopped by my apartment complex Christmas party just because I was hoping they would have better food. I had to find something to cancel out the bland dinner I had (It's never good when food comes from the same color wheel) where there weren't even any vegetables. Most of the food was gone at the second party. But I at least got some salad and spinach enchiladas. Unfortunately I ended up sitting down next to some 50-something year old dude named Tony, who was leaning a little too close into my personal space.<br />
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Tony: "Are you the one who's always working out next to me in the gym room?"<br />
Me: "No. I work out outside."<br />
Tony: "Oh. Too bad."<br />
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A few sentences after that...<br />
Tony: "So, what ethnicity are you?"<br />
Me: "Chinese."<br />
Tony: "My last girlfriend was Korean."<br />
Thought going thru my head: "Who cares? What does that have to do with anything?"<br />
Tony: "She was actually half Korean and half Nebraskan. She was high maintenance."<br />
Thought in my head: "Is Nebraskan an ethnicity?"<br />
What I said: "Sorry?"<br />
Tony: "I once had a Chinese girlfriend. I met her in Kualalumpur."<br />
Thought running thru my head: "Did you have to give your credit card number?"<br />
What I said: "Oh."<br />
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Anyone who knows me, knows that if I'm giving monosyllabic answers, I am NOT having a good time. Despite all that *scintillating* conversation, when I got up with the excuse of getting a drink, Tony said "Be sure to come back and sit here. I think you're cool." Blech.wootang (Terry)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05169311244716972219noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10025344.post-82049587717194242492012-11-26T18:43:00.002-08:002012-11-26T18:43:55.320-08:00True Sis-manceI was griping to a girlfriend on the phone the other night. She's one of the best listeners I know and never makes me feel like I'm imposing on her. For a second, I was so overwhelmed with gratitude that I blurted out "Will you marry me?" Of course, I was joking and for those of you who don't know me, she's a regular girlfriend. I'm straight like someone who just got the pants scared off them. But I was thinking, if as little girls, we can sport those broken heart pendants that together, say Best Friends Forever, why can't there be something like that for when we are grown women? Especially if the hetero girlfriend is someone who's always there for you, gets your humor and helps you get back up when you fall. And why do guys get a special word like bromance? Why can't girls have one? Or is this just a gender thing? Girls are always thought of as being all BFF-ish _ wanting to talk about their issues and hug it out. And hey, there are worse people for me to combine incomes with. Can we have commitment ceremonies for best gal pals? Please? wootang (Terry)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05169311244716972219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10025344.post-92222559912145393982012-11-12T09:12:00.001-08:002012-11-13T07:10:22.591-08:00A day to be 'free'Sundays are my Saturdays. So sometimes it's hard to find stuff going on because all the festivals and special events are usually Saturdays. :\ I have easily allowed many a Sunday to go by without having anything to show for it except a butt print in my sofa. Yesterday as the clock struck one, I said "Damn it, I will not waste the afternoon by watching whatever crap TV is on." So I heaved myself off the papa san and decided to go out--but only doing stuff that was free of charge.<br />
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Stop #1: Rio Salado Audubon Center<br />
I have never been here in all my years of living in Phoenix. For some reason, I always thought it was super-far. Turns out, it's only a couple miles from the heart of downtown. It came to my attention through my friend Taz. Walking around here, you do feel removed from the city despite being able to see the high rise buildings in the distance. The center houses photos of flora and fauna native to the Southwest, a learning area for students, a gift shop and other displays. Outside, you can navigate an interpretive trail or read up on fish and plant life around a habitat. It's definitely bike-friendly and they offer a lot of free programs. <br />
For more info: http://riosalado.audubon.org/<br />
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Stop #2: Micro Dwelling (For more info: http://microdwelling.net/)<br />
At the bottom of my purse, I found a flyer I got the day before at the Arizona Local First! Festival. A man in his 80s was handing them out and my friend Jim thrust one into my hand. What stuck out in my memory is that this was free.So, from the Audubon Center, I drove over to 50th Street and Camelback. About 10 "micro dwellings" or homes smaller than 600 square feet are on display through the end of December behind the Shemer Art Center. These sustainable structures are truly impressive. They are all partially constructed of material from the scrap heap. Some have furniture so you can see that they could be liveable spaces. The most popular by far was this wooden micro dwelling that also serves as the most awesome treehouse.<br />
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There's actually a section on the lower half that contains a chalkboard for kids to draw on. This was crawling with children a short time before I took this photo.<br />
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The idea for this entire show came from Patrick McCue, a Phoenix firefighter who loves to build stuff in his spare time. He had been pitching this idea since 2000 but it's only come together for the first time this year. His brother Terry, also a firefighter who builds, helped him organize and build one (a firefighter named Terry...yay!). This is theirs:<br />
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Patrick and Terry said they plan to move this into a warehouse after the show and use it as a place to meet with clients, visitors, etc.<br />
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When I first arrived, I saw that elderly gentleman who first gave me the flyer. Turns out, he's Pat and Terry's father, LOL. Gerry and his wife Marge have been longtime advocates of historic preservation in Phoenix. They are also an entertaining pair in their own right. In fact, after talking with them, I got an idea of something to add to my next travel story. :) After speaking with them, I got to chat with Terry and Pat. Pretty soon it was time for the show to close for the day. As I got ready to go, Pat and one of the artists, Hector _ who also works part-time at Pizzeria Bianco _ invited me to join them for dinner. So, this would lead to an impromptu stop #3...<br />
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Stop #3: The Garage<br />
The Garage bar and restaurant, which is at the corner of Bethany Home Road and 16th Street, used to be an actual automotive garage before it became a place to dine. I found out Pat actually did a lot of refabrication of everything from old signs to old tires to a plane propeller for the restaurant's decor. So, everyone in a management position there knows him. Pat got there last because he was saying hi to people. As soon as he got to our table, he didn't even say hello. He said "How would you like to go to the men's room with me?" I thought he was making a weird joke but no. Pat beckoned me and Hector. He said he had something to show us. We go into the restroom and he starts pointing out all these framed metal objects he refurbished and how he did it. The best part: A poor innocent guy walks into the restroom to see all three of us gathered by the sink gazing intently at the wall. I tried to explain but five words in, the guy just said "It's no problem. I can go anyway" and shuts the stall door behind him. If I wasn't red, I should have been.<br />
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Show and tell didn't end there. Luckily, the wait for our food was hastened by Pat having us stand in the center of the restaurant so he could point out other stuff on the walls and even one of the columns. The whole thing was pretty interesting. I'll never look at The Garage the same way! LOL. Once we started eating, I got to hear all kinds of funny stories about his firefighting--one of which involved horse urine. Anyway...it was a great conversation that also yielded some future stories I'd like to pursue. I can't help but think this wouldn't have happened if I hadn't decided to go be more exploratory. Here's the lesson kids...it never hurts to get out more.<br />
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<br />wootang (Terry)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05169311244716972219noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10025344.post-35621842391800805772012-07-16T15:01:00.002-07:002012-07-17T08:21:25.889-07:00A tree as a reminder<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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You know how you have that moment when as a kid where you realize for the first time, the world can suck? It's not always a sunny place where people play nice and behave and consider whether their actions have consequences. <br />
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While I've been in Sunnyvale visiting with family, I went jogging and passed this tree outside my old elementary school, Ponderosa. This tree reminds me when that moment happened to me. I remember when this tree was planted. I was in 5th grade. My classmates and I gathered out here for a ceremony on Arbor Day 1989. The tree was planted to honor the memory of a classmate, Ricki Saxon, and her mother and her 9-month-old brother. All three were killed in November 1988 by a drunk driver. I still remember the day my 5th grade teacher broke the news to the entire class and I was completely taken aback. You get used to seeing all your classmates every day. It was hard to imagine that I wouldn't see Ricki again. I didn't know her that well but we had played together during recess now and then with other girls. Even then, you could tell with her long, wavy brown tresses and her face with just the right number of freckles, she was going to be a magnet for boys. She seemed like the perfect, all-American girl. She was also the daughter of a Girl Scout leader and, if I remember correctly, she liked to dance. It's hard for me to believe that it's been 24 years and I'm now older than her mother was when she passed. I remember as a kid, thinking about how there were these kinds of monsters out there who could take one of our schoolmates away forever. The fact that it was because a man made a stupid error in judgement made it even more senseless.<br />
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When I was in 5th grade, nobody ever told me much about the man behind the wheel, except that he had sustained a broken leg. Well, today, I still didn't know much. So, I went into journalism-mode and did a public records search on the man after finding some old newspaper briefs on the collision. Back then, he was a 23-year-old mechanic who was also an alcoholic. His friends that night tried three times unsuccessfully to stop him from driving. His parents had spent thousands of dollars in the past trying to treat his alcoholism. Nobody it seems prevented him from going on the road that morning and killing three people. In the end, he was sentenced 15 years to life in prison. But, in my records search, I turned up a man with the same name and right age currently living in a house in Sunnyvale, not too far from where my parents live _ something I can't help but be perturbed by. Part of me wants to knock on his door and ask if he thinks about what he's done every day and is he living life as someone who stops and thinks about his actions first. But I know it's not for me to ask.That would be for Ricki's family.<br />
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If I happen to be out for a run when visiting home, I do like passing by the tree. I enjoy seeing how tall it's become. As much as it reminds me of the first time I felt like our school was a sad place, I like that it makes me remember Ricki. I like to think that maybe she knows all these years later, even her classmates that didn't know her that well haven't forgotten her.wootang (Terry)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05169311244716972219noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10025344.post-755786673802546392012-06-26T22:00:00.001-07:002012-06-27T07:14:33.420-07:00A conversation with my Uncle KinI had the fun task of writing about a subject near and dear to my heart for work _ my family and their cooking. Writing about myself for work was weird. Here's what happened...I made Chinese barbecue pork using my family's method _ paper clips _ and I thought it would be funny to tweet the photo to The Associated Press food editor. He got a kick out of it and I wondered if he realized I was an AP employee, not just a follower. So I tweeted to him "if you ever reference this, I want contributing credit!" So I got an email a few days later asking me to call him. There I am in between covering news conferences on a shooting when I decided I had time to call him. He suggested I write a personal essay about this paper-clip technique but through the prism of our family traditions in the kitchen. My Uncle Kin, who is back in the San Francisco Bay Area, is the top cook in the family and the brains behind that method. With this essay coming out, there may be other Chinese families out there who will say they've been doing barbecue pork the same way, but none of them have someone in their family who likes to write so... :p<br />
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But beyond asking about his recipe, I had a chance to interview Uncle Kin like I would anyone else. <br />
(Me starting our phone interview: "Let's keep this professional, OK Mr. Woo?" That didn't last very long). I had the chance to try to see him as not just my uncle. And I learned a lot of cool stuff for the first time just from our hour-long chat.<br />
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_New fact #1: I was a terrible 11-year-old kid compared to my uncle.<br />
Uncle Kin told me he started cooking at age 11 because he saw how hard my grandparents were working. They were new immigrants living in San Francisco and putting in long hours. My grandma worked at a garment factory and my grandfather was helping out a relative's business, a gift shop. They both came home pretty late and my uncle thought it would be nice to help out and get dinner started. He would make dinner for the entire family at least a couple nights a week. Let's see...when I was 11, I remember asking my mom when she came home "what's for dinner" and "when are we eating?" I might as well have been pounding a fork and knife on the dinner table.<br />
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_New fact #2: My family once co-owned a restaurant.<br />
So, apparently sometime in the 1950s, a deceased relative left my grandfather a restaurant in what is now San Francisco's South of Market neighborhood (SOMA). It had one of those cheesy names you'd expect for a Chinese restaurant _ Golden Harbor _ yet it was American. They served burgers, grilled cheese, etc. It was very popular among retirees--mostly Caucasian. This was ironic given my grandfather, according to Kin, could barely boil water.<br />
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_New fact #3: My uncle had 10 times the responsibility I ever had at age 15.<br />
In junior high, Uncle Kin started helping out Golden Harbor. He says that's where he picked up how to cook American fare. By age 15, he was overseeing the entire dinner shift if the head cook was off. Let's see, when I was 15, I was meeting friends at Denny's or Carrows to eat semi-crappy American food or doing homework after school. I don't know if someone had offered to teach me to cook, would I have been interested. Plus, no Jamie Oliver back then to make food prep look cool. My uncle helped run that restaurant for more than seven years until my grandfather passed away.<br />
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For my cousins, here are some quotes from my interview with "Mr. Woo":<br />
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"The funny thing is after I cook a lot of food, I don’t really feel like eating.When other people invite me for dinner, I usually don’t lift a finger to help them. I just sit back and enjoy. There’s a certain satisfaction in hearing other people praise your food."</div>
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On people calling his char sieu "paper clip pork":</div>
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"That’s a good name. I should have thought of that. It sounds more interesting than char siu. It doesn’t sound as delicious but it’s a very interesting name."</div>
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On being a true foodie in Chinese culture:</div>
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"When I was working at a company, we took this Caucasian secretary out for dim sum. She said 'Can you order me some sweet and sour pork?' I said 'absolutely not, I’m Chinese.'"</div>
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When I said I find bonding time making "paper clip pork" with my mom:</div>
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"A family that bends paper clips together stays together."</div>
_This leads me to fact #4: I come from a family with really corny humor...something I continue to run away from.<br />
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All in all, I highly recommend everyone "interview" someone in their family. Try to see them as more than just their family title relative to you i.e. aunt, uncle, mother, father. It's a sure bet you will learn something that will surprise you and you will definitely be richer for it. <br />
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<br />wootang (Terry)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05169311244716972219noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10025344.post-13978807096107471202012-04-29T22:06:00.002-07:002012-04-29T22:06:49.473-07:00Crack (Pie) is not WhackEarlier this month, I decided to be ambitious and continue making non-cupcake desserts. I know, weird right? I just got a recipe book for Momofuku Milk Bar, which is based in New York City. It's owned by famed chef David Chang but run by Christina Tosi. In March, Christina taught a two-hour lesson at the Biltmore on the making of chocolate chip layer cake. But I opted for my first solo foray to make their signature Crack Pie. Supposedly it's so yummy and addictive that that is the name Milk went with.
The recipe calls for something like 8 egg yolks. Fortunately, my co-worker gave me 24 eggs recently from his urban chicken coop. Score! It also calls for this brand of European butter called Plugra because it contains 82 percent butter fat, as opposed to 80 percent in grocery store brand butter. Not to sound "political," but it's all about that 1 percent! I have to confess, I misread the amount of butter and added twice as much. Gulp...guess you could call it the "Paula Deen" technique.
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Crack Pie crust is basically an oatmeal cookie recipe _ butter, brown sugar, sugar, oats, baking powder, baking soda, kosher salt, flour. This separate crust is what makes this pie kind of labor intensive. Once your giant cookie is done, you have to crumble it and run it through a food processor. Then you knead melter butter and you have enough to line 2 pie tins.
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The filling was pretty easy, thankfully. Egg yolks, sugar, light brown sugar, milk powder, corn powder, kosher salt, butter, heavy cream, vanilla extract. The hardest part was getting the corn powder. I forgot that it's basically getting freeze-dried corn and running it through a processor. I stupidly went to AJ's Fine Foods and asked if they had corn powder and the clerk was like "Never heard of it." Once I went home and re-read the recipe and went "Aaaaah," I went to Sprouts market. The clerk there led me to the freezer section where she said "Nope, don't carry it." I wanted to say "Obviously as 'freeze-dried' doesn't mean keep frozen." Anyway, I found myself driving at 9:30 at night to Whole Foods for the elusive kernels in the name of now a true mission.
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After all this work, you divide the filling in between the two pie crusts. The filling is pretty custardy/toffee-like.
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Then you bake them for 15 minutes at 350 degrees, then another 5 minutes at 325. It took a lot longer for mine; I'm pretty sure it was from my butter error. After the pies cool, you put them in the freezer for a minimum 3 hours. Luckily, freezing is the must-do step. According to the book, freezing is the "signature technique." When you're ready to serve it, you have to let it sit in the fridge for an hour. Then you can break into what is supposed to be a dense and gooey plate of addictive pie.
In some ways, this was quite a bit of work. But with a name like Crack Pie, I couldn't pass it up.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr7ML371e1cQAbaGBX2S7-rcAU0vQMN3KHghNM2yvYpvOVnovrFO_T6FH5_4D41oDlJTwH9tjLwqI2IwXCYK6se3XY5lXOQqDHokx0mb5vq9fRfDbDtsncWKdnaPh9rDpAIXR_/s1600/IMG_6522.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr7ML371e1cQAbaGBX2S7-rcAU0vQMN3KHghNM2yvYpvOVnovrFO_T6FH5_4D41oDlJTwH9tjLwqI2IwXCYK6se3XY5lXOQqDHokx0mb5vq9fRfDbDtsncWKdnaPh9rDpAIXR_/s320/IMG_6522.JPG" /></a></div>wootang (Terry)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05169311244716972219noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10025344.post-27014309867877300822012-04-25T21:58:00.001-07:002012-04-25T22:00:04.479-07:00!@#$% non-Asians say to me Episode 2So, this past Sunday, I had to go to Tucson and spend the night to cover a breaking story on a 6-year-old girl who was possibly abducted. When I was finally allowed to sign off the first day and go look for lodging, I went to the nearest decent hotel, Embassy Suites.
<br/>As luck would have it, they have a complimentary breakfast buffet. So Monday morning, I wait outside the dining room for them to open at 6 a.m. (I had a 6:30 a.m. news conference to get to) They open the doors and I'm like the second customer. I of course say hello to the staff.
<br/>There was this old man with glasses, a hotel employee. English wasn't his first language. Not sure if he was Eastern European or something else. Anyway, he's standing by the door like a greeter. So of course I say "Good morning" pretty clearly. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I notice some movement. I'm like "What's he doing?" The guy is BOWING to me. I didn't get it at first until he said "O-hi-O." Oh boy....then he says "Aren't you visiting from Japan? Or are you from China?" I almost yell through gritted teeth "PHOENIX!"
<br/>Seriously, don't people get that it's a bad idea to assume that kind of stuff? I don't know if my press badge around my neck somehow made me look more "foreign." Must be my 'slanted' eyes.wootang (Terry)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05169311244716972219noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10025344.post-14699233119720000822012-04-09T22:58:00.003-07:002012-04-09T23:04:55.429-07:00!@#$% non-Asians say to meGrowing up in the San Francisco Bay Area, I am used to seeing a lot of diversity and being one of a throng of Asians. Not until moving to Phoenix have I encountered so many misfires/faux pas from people when it comes to ethnicity. Some of it is people honestly trying to be nice but just being clods. Some is because people are just ignorant jerks. I've decided from now on, I'm going to document these occurrences and call it the title you see above. <br /><br />The most recent encounter was earlier this month. I just started covering the Arizona Legislature. So, I had go get a badge to walk around freely in both chambers. I went to the House of Representatives security desk to fill out the paper work. As I was doing this, the white security guard said something to me that mind as well have been gibberish. Think the unseen teacher in Charlie Brown's class. I just looked at him completely puzzled. He said "You don't speak Korean?" WTF. Do these people not realize how rude they sound? I'd tell him to stick to English but he doesn't seem to be doing too well in that department.wootang (Terry)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05169311244716972219noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10025344.post-12475479938975757672012-04-09T22:24:00.004-07:002012-04-09T22:56:39.493-07:00Paper Clip Pork/Char SieuChar Sieu or bbq pork is something you can find in just about every Chinatown deli or your big box Chinese supermarket. I am not sure how they cook them. But in my family, just about everyone has been taught to cook the marinated pork in an oven, not an actual barbecue pit or oven. My uncle's method of using paper clips seems to work best. Yes, paper clips. They're not just for paper anymore. ;) To my family, there was nothing weird about that. Anything that is a vehicle to well-cooked food is fine with us. I didn't realize how foreign this sounded until I came to Phoenix and explained it to people. Then I thought, "OK, yeah, that sounds kind of weird." So, here among my Phoenix friends, it's referred to as "paper clip pork." Or in the gossip circle as "clothespin chicken." Talk about lost in translation. Anyway, it's a very easy recipe that I'm more than willing to share.<br /><br />You will need:<br />1 jar of hoisin sauce (go to any Chinese market)<br />1/3 cup of sugar<br />2 tsps. of curing salt<br />A little bit of white wine i.e. Chablis <br />pork shoulder butt roast (somewhere between 3-4 pounds)<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjkIMc_1HOZJyW0GvKvw3axPgPmfAnRiznqahRZvASIaOWY-H6AadqPH5Kesz08CepOTqaq1KvxVud5PkP4I8I5ST7R7aorx6MAPATYPpxHQNR9N_h0E7wtDMcdKtRbvvpAYRG/s1600/IMG_6507.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjkIMc_1HOZJyW0GvKvw3axPgPmfAnRiznqahRZvASIaOWY-H6AadqPH5Kesz08CepOTqaq1KvxVud5PkP4I8I5ST7R7aorx6MAPATYPpxHQNR9N_h0E7wtDMcdKtRbvvpAYRG/s320/IMG_6507.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729646206056329794" /></a><br /><br />What you do:<br />Rinse off the pork butt roast and let it drain for a bit. Cut into sizeable length-wise slabs, maybe about 1/2-1 inch thick. Depends on what you prefer. Empty the hoisin sauce jar into a large bowl. Pour in the sugar and salt. Pour a little bit of white wine into the bottom of the empty jar and shake the jar around to rinse out the hoisin remnants. Pour that into the bowl. Stir the marinade until it seems like the sugar has been distributed. Put all the pieces of pork in and mix well. Cover the bowl and refrigerate for approximately 48 hours. It doesn't have to be exactly 48 but definitely more than 24.<br /><br />Fast forward two days later...time for the paper clips. First, make sure one oven rack is at the top-most level. Then preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Take out one clip for each piece and bend both ends so that you get a hook on each end. Once the oven is ready, take some oven mitts and slide both racks out. Put a tray lined with tin foil on the bottom rack. This will help catch the drippings. Pierce one end of a paper clip into a piece of meat. Try to do it in a thick part to ensure the pork won't fall off. Use the other end to hang the meat from the top rack. You may have to bend the clip end to make it more rounded. The paper clips basically are a great way to make sure the meat cooks on all sides in a consistent fashion. The next step is very important. PUSH BOTH OVEN RACKS BACK IN AT THE SAME TIME. Otherwise, you will have a very messy oven flecked with marinade drippings. Cook in the oven for 45 minutes. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuZRu-JZqiwe5-U1DdGeGincRsoY1oZ_CyQr7DfJYksWPd3gNnlAgZjlCm1Kg5kAAc8-fXmyEBGaL8tILpYWZPWE9z15RwZme8lYZ9Uqkqogz1OOURZRfy3p_HHZZFRPOIzacg/s1600/IMG_6508.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuZRu-JZqiwe5-U1DdGeGincRsoY1oZ_CyQr7DfJYksWPd3gNnlAgZjlCm1Kg5kAAc8-fXmyEBGaL8tILpYWZPWE9z15RwZme8lYZ9Uqkqogz1OOURZRfy3p_HHZZFRPOIzacg/s320/IMG_6508.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729646459218178578" /></a><br /><br />Once it's time, they should look nice and red. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3lJlmOXaQMfi2zWgQkJYR7zsl6dY1RcxRHmeFtqIQ_LhTzSvgW-NYnH4lnNl3jNs4e_QYph_TImjSQD9sne1WvlKrOjU0KVTZRM1E25S-0hmhyphenhyphenYnpv4TPva9SwfB_1kkYcnf1/s1600/IMG_6516.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3lJlmOXaQMfi2zWgQkJYR7zsl6dY1RcxRHmeFtqIQ_LhTzSvgW-NYnH4lnNl3jNs4e_QYph_TImjSQD9sne1WvlKrOjU0KVTZRM1E25S-0hmhyphenhyphenYnpv4TPva9SwfB_1kkYcnf1/s320/IMG_6516.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729646721744096930" /></a><br /><br />If the ends aren't crispy and tinged with black already, you can try setting the oven on broil for 2 minutes. When the char sieu is ready, slide the oven racks out at the same time. Use a pair of tongs to take down the pork slabs. You can cut one open just to make sure it's cooked through. Let them cool down before you take the paper clips out. And then you're done!<br /><br />This cut of meat is more fattening. So, each piece is not meant to be consumed by one person like a pork chop or steak. Rather, you should cut up on slab into little slices. You can serve slices with rice and vegetables. You can throw them in with a slew of vegetables to make a one-dish meal. You can dice them to add some flavor to a batch of fried rice. <br /><br />If someone like myself who prefers baking can make this, then there's hope for anyone. Also, I'm happy to show anyone in person how to do it. The only thing I want in return is that you have to teach me something _ a recipe, taking pictures, learning how to tie the Windsor knot, etc Basically, teach me something new. Impart knowledge on me. There's always an appetite for that.wootang (Terry)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05169311244716972219noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10025344.post-21960150073392839122011-11-29T22:47:00.000-08:002011-11-29T23:13:46.825-08:00Cookies that are 'cut' out for action (groan I know)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaFecYVsty2fVGcDtgEBZXH5W5zH9y_rpbtuTmt26_3AhwpufzAXUIDAkNp364hwHMzjUauUaKdT7pKHhDGP8CeBQfvpBNYOa7XbbXPAepCLTGfogPRsr__tZoqJInV7BKPXWm/s1600/IMAG0358.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 192px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaFecYVsty2fVGcDtgEBZXH5W5zH9y_rpbtuTmt26_3AhwpufzAXUIDAkNp364hwHMzjUauUaKdT7pKHhDGP8CeBQfvpBNYOa7XbbXPAepCLTGfogPRsr__tZoqJInV7BKPXWm/s320/IMAG0358.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5680680981991157378" /></a><br /><br />I have Gregory Maguire, the author of "Wicked," to thank for my finding these outrageous cookie cutters. I went to watch him do a reading at Changing Hands Bookstore. The day before, I mentioned my plans to the family living down the street from me. The dad gave me this worn out $20 gift card for the store he had never used. At first, they wouldn't accept it because even the barcode had eroded. But once I convinced them it would be a waste of $20, they gave me a new card. After spending most of the money on something for one of the kids (I couldn't bring myself to spend it all on me), I had a bit extra left. That was when I spotted this set of 3 "Ninjabread Men." I decided it's not offensive in terms of Asian stereotyping because I am Asian. So it goes without saying that coming from me, it can't be seen as racist right?<br /><br />This whole cookies-racism thing had me overanalyzing for a while. I actually wondered if some people would find it offensive if I used two sprinkles for a ninja's two eyes (the whole Asians have narrow eyes). I decided that might be over-reaching. <br /><br />Anyway, I found this recipe for chocolate gingerbread men: http://allrecipes.com/Recipe/chocolate-gingerbread-men/detail.aspx<br /><br />The dough was a little too crumbly once it had been chilled. I had to douse some water on it so I could really roll it out. <br />I will probably make it one more time before Christmas. I have all this molasses now. And Ninjabread men season comes but once a year.wootang (Terry)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05169311244716972219noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10025344.post-40536982015278169562011-09-13T22:51:00.001-07:002011-09-13T22:58:58.117-07:00Goodbye evil Phoenix summerDear Phoenix summer,<br /><br />I won't miss you. I'm beyond thrilled that the weather here in Phoenix has turned a corner! I never thought temperatures like 100 and 99-degrees would make me so gleeful. There was only one good thing you taught me Phoenix summer; my car really can be an oven.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJwkAnzTAyoagJbxAan7aQplzd08a8L5RiWkRRhaLlm-WrsMBhxmEUbd-tAvs7NqYSQfblzhRC3LnvhbWytlF43SI0sdayNpdO4njGZ7l2qwsxJ4lNrqFbGhAUZNzr_xqRmo9s/s1600/IMAG0200.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 192px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJwkAnzTAyoagJbxAan7aQplzd08a8L5RiWkRRhaLlm-WrsMBhxmEUbd-tAvs7NqYSQfblzhRC3LnvhbWytlF43SI0sdayNpdO4njGZ7l2qwsxJ4lNrqFbGhAUZNzr_xqRmo9s/s320/IMAG0200.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652088985742399298" /></a><br /><br />I read on another blog how to do it: http://bakingbites.com/2007/09/car-baked-chocolate-chip-cookies-step-by-step/<br /><br />If you can wait two hours or so, it truly works. I simply did housework and then went to check on the cookies after an hour to make sure they were actually expanding. What was nice is the cookies didn't caramelize so you got a nice hue. This was the equivalent of what a "rainy day" activity would be in other states. But that's because those states don't have (say it with me) "evil Phoenix summer."<br /><br />Well, Phoenix summer, please hurry up and pack the rest of your things as you depart and don't return until June 2012. I want to stop hibernating. I want to run. I want to ride my bike. And as much fun as it was baking cookies this way, I'd rather you leave. No hard feelings.<br /><br />Your hostage for the last four months,<br />Terrywootang (Terry)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05169311244716972219noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10025344.post-82848184637440957892011-04-26T22:38:00.001-07:002011-04-26T23:12:52.837-07:00Nothing like bike-riding to feel the loveEaster this year far surpassed last year. However the bar wasn't raised particularly high. Last year, I spent Easter Sunday working. My assignment: approach people at a Easter service on Phoenix's west side to ask them how they thought the Pope was handling the priest sex abuse scandals. Yeah...a happy Easter that was!<br /><br />I was invited to spend Easter supper with my friend Tracy and her family. It was a real treat being around a family that really celebrates it. From the grilled lamb to the little chicks on chocolate birds' nests, it was a feast. Stuffed to the brim, I got home around 5 p.m. and decided to ride my bicycle. I had been sedentary long enough. I rode down the street past the home of the Stevensons, a family I've had the privilege to become friends with over the past year (See April 12, 2010 entry). The oldest child, Ella, 9, happened to be outside blowing bubbles. I ended up hanging out with all three kids _ playing freeze tag, blowing bubbles. Then the entire family invited me to join them for a walk around the neighborhood. They are white as can be. So, I probably looked like the Asian nanny. "One of these things doesn't belong here..." <br /><br />I don't know anyone else who joins other people's families for strolls. That got me thinking how a few weeks ago, I rode around my neighborhood. Every place I stopped at, someone either gave me something or assisted me in some way. Before I even started, my next door neighbor _ who installed my dishwasher for me _ gave me souvenirs from his recent trip to Guatemala. Then I rode to this fishing supply store to say hi to the owner, whose cousin I know. He insisted on giving me a bottle of water. Then I rode by the automotive shop next door to the fire station that once helped me (see Aug. 30, 2008 entry) and said hello to the guy who runs it, Hanz. I approached him months ago in a quest for a man-about-the-street interview and he still remembered me. We made small talk and he offered to check my bike's tire pressure and pumped my tires. I then went to my friend's Japanese take-out restaurant and she gave me sushi for snack because I was clearly starving. I was really surprised at how "Mayberry" and small-town-ish the whole experience was. <br /><br />I've said it before and I'll say it again. No matter what I may think about Phoenix landscape and weather, there are a lot of kind people out here. But sometimes I wonder if I get away with a lot because of my looks. And I don't mean I think I'm some sort of irresistible creature. HA! I'd be the first one to gag at that notion. What I mean is, let's face it...I don't look like a creepy person. Factor in my petite stature, my Asian looks and you have a not-intimidating person. If I were a guy, people might not be so open to me. No elderly grandma would invite me into her house. No guys might be inclined to take care of me like I was their grand-daughter or kid sister. And is it bad that I sometimes try to trade on that? If I really need someone's help, I'm not above looking the part of damsel in distress. Turns out I am very good at looking weak and vulnerable.<br /><br />On the flip side, I hate to say it, but I'm wary as well of certain people when I'm out riding my bike. I don't really ring my bell and cheerfully wave as much as before. I look straight ahead if I'm about to pass a guy who looks a little scruffy or dodgy _ in my perception. Maybe that's not fair. But anyone who has read my last entry knows I seem to come across the strangest people. In fact, the other day, I saw a guy walking ahead of me. Black, young and walking around with no shirt on. Nothing but a cap, athletic knee-length shorts, sneakers and headphones. In this case, I did get ready to ring my bell so as not to startle him. As I approached, the guy suddenly stopped right there in the middle of the sidewalk. Before I knew it, he was breaking out into a whole choreographed routine _ all with his back still to me. Judging by his arm and hand movements, he thought it was "Hammer time." I frenetically rang my bell before I cycled into him. He finally turned around when I was literally a few inches behind him. Actually it was pretty funny and no pants were shed.<br /><br />In the world we live in, we can't help but take shortcuts. When we look at people, we have to make snap judgments sometimes. Should I say hi to that person? Should I invite him to the party too? Should I stop and help him/her even though I'm by myself? Wish I didn't have to have my guard up at times. But hopefully, when I do let my guard down _ nine times out of 10 it will pay off.wootang (Terry)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05169311244716972219noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10025344.post-9433674668592258192011-03-07T15:57:00.000-08:002011-03-07T16:47:32.410-08:00The good, the bad and the creepy of bike-riding PhoenixI have not written anything in more than a month because from my perspective, nothing interesting has happened to me. But other people tell me that's not true. I don't know if this topic will be interesting but here goes. <br /><br />In October, I bought a bicycle. I think of it as one of my best companions now. Only in the last couple of months, I've really taken advantage of it and it's allowed me to see the city of Phoenix from a different perspective. Phoenix, unfortunately, is not the most bike-friendly place. In my middle-class neighborhood, only a few streets have actual bike lanes. There's a sense of relief when you come across one. At the same time, best not to get too attached. It could disappear at any moment! Aside from running simple errands i.e. dropping the mail, stopping at the bank, I sometimes like heading toward the nearby canal. It's one place I usually don't have to worry about cars.<br /><br />I've been quite surprised by what riding on a bicycle can lead to. First the creepy:<br />Last month, I rode around the residential streets on a Sunday afternoon. I rounded a corner and came to a quiet intersection. Diagonally across the street from me, I saw a Caucasian man, probably in his mid to late thirties, with his pants down around his ankles. Thankfully, he had some sort of shorts or boxers on! But he was talking to a driver behind the wheel of a pickup truck that was stopped at a red light. Now, even if this guy, who looked like he could've been a vagrant, knew the driver, the falling of the pants doesn't make sense. The truck driver then sped off and the guy pulled his pants back up and rebuckled. He then started yelling at me. I couldn't make out what he was saying. But as I rode past, I could read his lips. He was yelling quite effusively, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" I pedaled as fast as I could, asking why God or the Universe didn't give humans erase buttons for the mind.<br /><br />Almost exactly three weeks later, I was riding my bike on the President's Day holiday. It was about 10:30 a.m. I passed several people on the sidewalk. And like Opie in Mayberry, I politely rang my bell and nodded or smiled at people. After stopping at the running store, I continued northward and saw a man I had passed earlier on the street. He was Caucasian, white-haired, did not look homeless. He was also talking to someone parked in a truck. I rode further and when I was stopped at an intersection -- whoosh!--the same man was suddenly to my right. Despite having an iPod going, I could still hear him.<br />"Would you like to be my friend??"<br />"Excuse me?"<br />"I saw you riding by on your bike earlier. You were so quick! Would you like to get a cup of coffee with me?"<br />I resisted the urge to say something like "Listen Gramps, I'm clearly decades younger than you. Stay in your league." Instead I politely declined.<br />And I sped off muttering about how I can't seem to go anywhere without being disturbed by a creepy guy. I'm now considering just being rude all the time.<br /><br />Now for some of the good: <br />The first person I talked to after being hit on by Gramps was a guy who works at an automotive shop near my place. I had tried to interview Hans once while on my inaugural bike ride because I had to find people who collected Social Security. When I happened upon him after the Gramps incident, Hans amazingly still remembered my name. After we said hi, I said "my bike rides keep getting interrupted by creepy old men."<br />Hans: "THANKS A LOT!"<br />"No, not you!"<br /><br />Yesterday, my friend Bacon (it's just a nickname) and I bicycled like an old couple (he has two bells as opposed to my one) down the official Sonoran Bicycle Route toward downtown. It was perfect sunny but not hot weather for riding. We had brunch at Local Breeze, a place known for a brunch menu and giving 10 percent discounts for riders (yay!). After our meal, Bacon showed me some of his favorite buildings in downtown. One of them is called the Charles Pugh house. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxbXlnSr0GK3eD2n-n9vOYe0LjHsG1i2Kng0DoukGxmCc-vps9ntIX2vxtPILtyKWue8-c6OjTwJ4ygYkVd0XquufymPvaBw9Z-ELqiqD_3cRF-C2lJv8goXImMyXd2-eOtnIS/s1600/IMAG0019.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 192px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxbXlnSr0GK3eD2n-n9vOYe0LjHsG1i2Kng0DoukGxmCc-vps9ntIX2vxtPILtyKWue8-c6OjTwJ4ygYkVd0XquufymPvaBw9Z-ELqiqD_3cRF-C2lJv8goXImMyXd2-eOtnIS/s320/IMAG0019.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581502869695953106" /></a><br /><br />It was built in the 1890s. Pugh was the editor and proprietor of the Southwestern Stockman. In recent years, it was a Mediterranean restaurant. Bacon and I rode by as a man was cleaning up the landscape. He was telling us all this interesting background/dirt. The owner and her sister had had a falling out which led to the closing of the building. And for whatever reasons, she is hanging onto the building despite letting it sit there boarded up and various homeless people breaking in -- including one who was behind the house while we were there. The owner has had offers including one for $1.4 million but wanted to wait for something better. Good luck waiting! She doesn't want to sell to the city which I'm kind of glad she's not. They might tear it down as is the way for many defunct buildings in Phoenix. The owner already owns hundreds of acres of land in other parts of Arizona. According to the guy we spoke with (who has a day job and just comes by once a month for $100), despite being quite well-off, she is not one to show it. She still drives a pick-up truck. And she is 5'2" and a force to be reckoned with. Anyway, I just love talking to people because you never know what cool nuggets of information they may yield. A bicycle is definitely allowing me to do more of that.wootang (Terry)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05169311244716972219noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10025344.post-57067547819517755202011-02-02T07:12:00.000-08:002011-02-02T07:37:04.041-08:00'The Finder' starring meOn my first day reporting from Tucson after the shooting, I found a digital recorder on a bench outside University Medical Center. It looked pretty expensive. So, I walked around from reporter to reporter, asking people "is this yours?" Nobody claimed it. And there was only so long I was going to do that. I ended up using it a few times while I was in Tucson when I was in a jam and really wanted to make sure I quoted someone accurately i.e. the Giffords intern who helped her when she first got shot. <br /><br />The following week, I showed it back in the office to a fellow editorial assistant, Michelle. She was very intrigued and asked if she could play it sometime to try and figure out who it belonged to. Feeling guilty that I hadn't gotten around to it myself and knowing I'd have bad karma if I kept it, I said "sure." A couple days later, Michelle even brought a USB cord to hook up the recorder to the computer to listen during her evening shift. The next morning when I checked my work e-mail and there was a message from her. She had done some amazing investigative work. After hearing a British voice on the recorder conducting interviews from two completely opposite locations--Afghanistan and Tucson--she started researching international-caliber news organizations online. She deduced that the recorder had to belong to this guy:<br />http://blogs.reuters.com/tim-gaynor/<br /><br />For some reason, Reuters lists NO phone numbers on its news site. So, I wrote an e-mail guessing what his work e-mail address would be. And I got a reply back with his contact information in the e-mail signature. So I quickly called him and explained how I found his recorder. I apologized profusely for not trying earlier to see if I could figure out who the owner was. Fortunately, he was perfectly nice and appreciative, not miffed at all. Anyway, we ended up meeting for coffee last week.<br />Is that considered getting together with the enemy? Kidding. If anything, I'm giving my company a good name. A company where people are competitive but also have integrity.<br /><br />Tim and I chatted for about an hour at Giant Coffee, a new hipster coffee place. It was great as it turns out we both have an affinity for a lot of the same places. He has a studio apartment in Phoenix but is mainly based out of Bisbee, which is way down in southern Arizona. He rented a house in Bisbee for three years from another reporter who by coincidence was the one to show me around my first time visiting there. I asked him where in England was he from and he said he grew up in the town of Bath. I was like "WHAT?!" The Jane Austen nut in me came out. I think he was surprised that I've actually been to Bath. I went on about how beautiful the town was and how I had tea at the Pump Room. He said he went to school in an old Georgian building where an old man would come every day to feed coal to the stove that kept the room warm. Talk about Dickensian. Then Tim really had me when he said he owns an apartment in Madrid. If there's one thing people should know about me, it's that I have a special place in my heart for Spain. I spent more than a month there taking a Spanish course for fun and I've been wanting to get back there since. Although Tim said to tell him if I'm ever in Bisbee, I said I'm more likely to tell him if I'm ever in Madrid. We had a great chat and he said I could e-mail him any time about all things journalism or even Jane Austen, hehe.<br /><br />The people I have told about this all say the same thing: "You have got to stop picking up things that aren't yours." LOL. Actually one friend said I should have my own reality show, "The Finder." Between this and helping the family down the street return a lost camera, I'm feeling like I should look into being a private investigator. One of the reasons I do like being a reporter is that it feeds the part of me that likes hunting things down. Now when am I going to accidentally find someone's chest of money...preferably in unmarked bills.wootang (Terry)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05169311244716972219noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10025344.post-66192132165077860202011-01-18T20:35:00.001-08:002011-01-18T21:18:20.764-08:00How getting police records was almost a comedy of errorsToday was one of those pile-all-the-doo-doo-on-you days. At work, I sat through 2-1/2 hours of training for a new interoffice computer program. That session made me fall very behind on all my daily duties. As I struggled to keep from having to stay overtime, I was asked at 4:35 p.m. to go pick up a 235-page police report at Tempe Police Station. Now, for you non-Arizona people, you need to usually take the freeway to get to downtown Tempe from downtown Phoenix. It usually takes about 15 minutes but at 4:35, there's no telling how monstrous traffic can be. And of course, the public records office closes at 5 p.m. And in my building, you have to take the elevator down, walk across the lobby to the garage, etc. Basically, losing minutes right there. It never ceases to amaze me at how these requests come at the worse time. But I had to give it a try. <br /><br />So, I speed down there as fast as I can without getting a ticket. On the way there, my cell rings and it's my friend Leah. She wanted to know if I was free after work. I explained through some griping what I was up to and how there was no way I was going to get there before 5. She happened to be in Tempe too. As I got closer, I grew more anxious. I had never been to the police station in Tempe. When I got to a major cross street, Mill Avenue, I didn't know which way to turn. Here's a rough paraphrase of our conversation as Leah was still on the phone with me:<br /><br />Leah: "I'm at that intersection too. I'll turn south, you turn the other way. If I see the police station, I'll let you know to turn around."<br /><br />Next best arrangement to having a GPS. Sure enough, she saw the station first. So, I U-turned stat and pulled up in front of the police station. I bounded out of the car leaving the hazard lights going. I looked at my watch. 5:05. !@#*$<br /><br />I went into the lobby and there was nobody there to check me in. A plain-clothes police officer opened the second door between the lobby and records desk. <br />"Can I help you?"<br />"I missed the picking up the public records by five minutes. Is there any way I can still pick up? I'm with the media."<br />"Public records? Nobody's here right now. Nobody will help you. Sorry." Am disappointed at how he's kind of curmudgeonly and straight-laced. <br /><br />He went back inside. I wanted to kick something. I did not want to have to drive back here tomorrow right when they opened. Meanwhile Leah had texted me: "Watching your car so it doesn't get towed." Not willing to give up yet, I decided my best bet was to try and look my most vulnerable without turning on the waterworks. So, despite wearing a short skirt and heels, I dropped to my knees there in the lobby. I put the printout of our public records request on the floor. I pretended to stare in deep thought at it and at my cell and did my best to look utterly distraught. I mean I was distraught, just not "utterly." After a few minutes of staring at the ground, I got up, dusted off my knees and was ready to throw in the towel. I called the office and told a colleague to tell the news editor I wasn't able to get the records in time. As I hung up, I noticed the same police officer was waving vigorously. When I was sure it was me he was waving at, I walked back through the second set of glass doors. <br /><br />Officer: "I don't normally work at this desk. But I guess if all the other media already picked this up, it must be pretty important. You better have it too." <br /><br />I couldn't believe it...My pity party-of-one actually worked? He took my press credential and started gathering the 200-some pages. He said since it was after 5, he didn't have any change or credit card machine to use. I would have to pay cash. The total was $57.50. Despite having gone to the ATM yesterday and having $13 in ones in my wallet, I was still shy of exact change. I rang up Leah.<br /><br />"Leah, do you happen to have any cash?"<br />"Yeah, I have some. I have some twenties."<br />"Do you have anything smaller? I need $4!"<br />"I have some ones. I'll bring it out to you. But I don't want to try to open the doors since it's after 5."<br /><br />Two minutes later, I turn and I see Leah for the first time since we spoke on the phone. She's standing there sliding singles in a crevice in between the glass doors. Chuckling, I run over and grasp them all. I run back to the window and start shoving $17 in ones under the window to the officer.<br />"Um...guess I won't be going to the clubs tonight."<br />He actually smiled and I decide he's not so curmudgeonly after all. I tell him I want his name so I can send him a thank-you card or perhaps baked goods.<br /><br />After all this, I get my reports. Since he couldn't print me a receipt, he wrote a very detailed post-it. I'll still have to go back for a receipt but at least I can go when it's convenient. He tells me all he wants in return is for me to send an e-mail to his boss (whose address he's written down) and tell him how he helped me. Still surprised at what I transpired, I shake his hand and run back out to Leah to thank her. We decide to meet up for dinner tonight because we can't stop chuckling about the whole thing.<br /><br />I don't think Leah ever played a role in any of my work-related tasks. So, that was new for me. Now, I don't know if it was "wrong" for me to get so...um...theatrical. I've never tried to use feminine wiles to get what I wanted. However, I am not above a little emoting or looking vulnerable. I'm so happy that as one editor put it, "for the second time in two weeks, the news gods smiled on me."wootang (Terry)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05169311244716972219noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10025344.post-2191851562695424672011-01-12T21:28:00.000-08:002011-01-12T22:01:16.388-08:00Time to reflectOne of my New Year's resolutions was to get back into the blogging thing. I had planned last week to write about what I hoped 2011 would bring. I had spent New Year's and a few days after in Los Angeles. I had a wonderful time simply catching up with old college friends, going back to cool L.A. neighborhoods and eating vegan donuts at BabyCakes NYC in downtown. Boy, that all was a little over a week ago. Now it feels like another lifetime. <br /><br />I returned to work on Wednesday, Jan. 5. It would be my first week working on a Saturday schedule. Everybody kept telling me Saturdays would be suuuuper sloooow and I would have a chance to play catch-up. And it was slow. Then around lunchtime, our office started getting a couple phone calls about some kind of shooting in Tucson. Well, by luck of my being the only reporter-type around, I was suddenly dispatched to drive down to Tucson. I have NEVER been the one who got sent to a breaking news story outside of Phoenix. I felt anything but prepared, journalism-wise and travel-wise. But I left...speeding eastward on the 10 as fast as I could without a speeding ticket. No toiletries. No change of clothes. No food. No clue where to go first. Just myself, my wallet, and an office laptop that I still wasn't sure would work.<br /><br />Anyone reading this knows about the terrible shooting that happened Saturday, Jan. 8. Even standing in the parking lot the next day in front of the Safeway where the gunman opened fire, I couldn't quite believe it had really happened. On Saturday, I mostly spent the day and night stationed in front of University Medical Center, in case anything changed with Congresswoman Gabby Giffords' condition. I had to park myself on a hard cement ground until 2 a.m. with literally only a short-sleeve shirt, jeans and a new polyester-wool coat (which I'm now thinking about retiring) _ the same clothes I wore until Tuesday afternoon. <br /><br />I've never covered anything like a mass shooting, and certainly not one that has been the top headline for so many days. It's been sad to chat with people in Tucson who have, understandably, taken this incident so hard. But it's also been humble and uplifting to meet people like Daniel Hernandez, the intern who helped Giffords in those first crucial moments after she was shot. He is just as poised and articulate in person as he is on TV. He definitely has the makings of a charismatic politician/public servant. His phone is probably ringing off the hook now. When I was done interviewing him, I couldn't help but gush and tell him that I thought he was an amazing young man. <br /><br />A reporter in our Denver bureau mentioned to me today that she covered Columbine on the day it happened and for a few days after that. She said you really do need time to stop and reflect in your own way. The three-and-a-half days of Tucson were like living in some kind of weird vacuum. Running on little sleep, each day stretched into feeling like two at times. If I wasn't driving from the shooting scene to the gunman's home and back to the hospital, I was trying to get people to interview on the phone or in person. I have to say, I just don't know if there's a way to ever get better at approaching people who have barely had time to grieve the loss of a loved one. And you feel like a major asshole no matter what. <br /><br />Being in "reporter mode," I didn't have a chance to read any stories or see any photos related to the shooting until Sunday morning in my hotel room. That is when it really hit me the lives that were lost and the families affected. I started to tear up at times. Especially at the loss of the 9-year-old girl. She was the same age as the daughter of a family down the street I've become quite close to. For a moment, I wish I could have teleported my 9-year-old so I could give her a hug. <br /><br />Times like this, you wish you could give something, do something to bring these people their loved ones back. Unfortunately, no punishment, no amount of debate is going to do that. <br /><br />I'm writing about this because I don't want to sound like a reporter. I want to sound like someone who tries to balance being a reporter with being someone who has respect and compassion. If someone wants to lump me in with the "lamestream media," I can't stop them. But I know that I'm someone who aspires to be a reporter who is always trying to empathize with the people she encounters. And I carry that empathy with me at all times. Everywhere.wootang (Terry)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05169311244716972219noreply@blogger.com1