Soy Milk, Organic Milk, and Organic Soy Milk

December 26, 2009 at 2:42 PM | Food | 2 Comments

I must report that I have recently switched over to drinking soy milk. It wasn’t for health reasons. I did it purely because I found it difficult to finish a half gallon of milk before it went bad. I figure the cost difference would be somewhat offset by reducing the amount of milk product thrown out. I don’t know exactly much longer soy milk is good for, but it is sure longer than regular milk. I assume it’s because it’s not really a dairy product.

And then I heard this revelation last night at a family Christmas function: organic milk lasts even longer? It sounds counter-intuitive! I regularly depend on preservatives to keep my food from spoiling, and one would imagine that products labeled as “organic” would contain less preservatives? How is this even possible? I was going to put off my curiosity until I got back to Kansas City to investigate, until I had a bowl of cereal at my parent’s house this morning. Lo and behold, they had a half gallon carton of organic 2% milk. Expiration: about a month from now! And I’m pretty sure that milk has been hanging out in their fridge for a while now.

Have I been mistaken about organic foods? Do they all last longer? I’ve seen organic soy milk. Does that last even longer? 3, maybe 4 months? Gah, I really need to get myself to a grocery store to find out what’s up.

A Nod To My Imaginary Parents

December 27, 2008 at 2:00 PM | Food | No Comments

Easy Chicken Parmesan

My parents used to tease me about the fact that I loved Italian food so much by making outlandish claims that my real birth parents were Italian and that they had “picked me up” from the hospital… the details of their elaborate kidnapping was never revealed to me, but they assured me that this must be the reason why I loved pastas and pizzas so much. This claim sounds so much crueler when I put it down into words than it actually did when I was living it…

My taste for food has (thankfully) expanded since then and I now enjoy eating just about anything, from any type of cuisine… as long as it tastes good to me, I’m game. Though not to the extent of Andrew Zimmerman, but I’ll always have a special place in my heart (read: stomach) for Italian.

Flash forward to today, when I am to today, when I am supposed to attend an “International Potluck” dinner at my boss’s house. My boss and his wife both being Malaysian are going to be preparing traditional Malay dishes, which I will be very excited to try. There will (hopefully) be Indian cuisine and Chinese cuisine present as well… the Chinese cuisine being prepared probably by no less than 2 of my teammates. 2! This is why I decided to back out of the Chinese game and go my Italian route, trying my hand at a dish which may or may not be considered traditional Italian cuisine: Chicken Parmesan. I have never been one to order this dish too much when I am out at restaurants because I don’t find it terribly complex, but on the other hand, I have never tried my hand at it either. Wish me luck!

Here is a link to the recipe that I am trying: http://southernfood.about.com/od/chickenbreastrecipes/r/bl80517l.htm. Any 5-star recipe with “Easy” in the title gets a go from me.

You Laugh Now…

January 2, 2008 at 1:37 PM | Food | No Comments

This is from a fortune cookie that we got from the Pine & Bamboo Garden yesterday. What a way to start off the new year!
You laugh now, wait till you get home.

The Tendercrisp Bacon Cheddar Ranch

November 29, 2007 at 11:13 PM | Food, TV | No Comments

People seem to have forgotten about this catchy commercial. This commercial got me to buy one of these sandwiches, solely on the commercial. And I don’t even like bacon! I find myself bringing it up in conversation from time to time and the confused looks on people’s faces leads me to believe that a reminder is in order:

An Eating Disorder

February 12, 2007 at 12:39 AM | Food, Site/Personal | No Comments

The first step is admitting there is a problem: I have… an eating disorder.

It’s where I eat, but primarily chew with the left side of my mouth. Maybe this is all in my head, but I noticed it the other day when I was brushing my teeth and it seemed as if I had teeth to brush on the left side of my mouth, compared to the right. I’d never really thought of it, but I think I’m left-jawed. I got myself a fistful of raisins and popped them in my mouth, forced myself to chew with my right jaw and the whole thing seemed very unnatural, very foreign. So what is my problem? Is it a documented condition in the dental community? Is there a name for it? I really would like to know.

The whole thing reminds me of how cars need their tires rotated every so often. The wear on the tires are uneven, front to back, even left to right. But the thing is, with my teeth, I can’t just pop them out and switch them around. I’d love to, but I can’t. Something must be done to correct this and what I envision to be the solution is this: I will be conscious of my chewing, making sure to chew with my right side for a while, and then gradually phase it out to an even chew. OK go!

Chickenella

December 12, 2006 at 2:43 AM | Food, TV | 4 Comments

The other day, I was watching Saturday Night Live and there was a joke on the news segment about how some salmon had been tainted with “Chickenella.” I thought it was a lame joke, but one of those ones that are so lame, that it makes you laugh. And then just today, I was watching an episode of House (which I’ve never watched before) and somebody on the show said Chickenella, in a non-joking manner. Something about tainted meat or something. I was like “daaannng, did she just say Chickenella??” After rewinding a few times, I still couldn’t believe it. Was Chickenella real? And if so, how awesome is that? But then, the closed captions revealed that what they were saying was actually Trichinella, which I have to say, was quite disappointing. A) Because closed captions = truth. B) Chickenella sounds delicious. Or something. It’s awesome is what it is.

Thanksgiving 2006

December 6, 2006 at 1:09 AM | Food, Site/Personal, Wichita | 2 Comments

So this past Thanksgiving was a little strange for me. No Thanksgiving Pt. II. No Black Friday. And the weather… it was so warm! What’s the world coming to?

The big thing was the lack of the Black Friday madness that has now totally gotten out of control. People were lining up at Best Buy on Thanksgiving around (maybe before?) 3PM. By 6, rumor has it, that it’d reached the end of the building. I swear to god, people are so hardcore now… and they must be obsessed with waiting in lines for things. Like when the first Krispy Kreme came to town. Like when the first Matrix sequel (gag) came out. Like when the PS3′s first came out… And yet, the Black Friday sales get worse and worse every year. Maybe I think the deals just aren’t worth it anymore. Maybe I’m just too old for that shit. Maybe it’s all of the above.

Well, actually, you know what… the PS3 might have been worth it, for the resale value.

I am happy, however, to report that at least one Thanksgiving tradition has not died. And that is the tradition of a hot bowl of pho at Pho Hien. OK, maybe that’s not so much of a Thanksgiving tradition as it is a Wichita tradition, but who’s keeping track?

The Unclaimed Vitasoy

November 20, 2006 at 11:05 PM | Food, Nostalgia, Work | 3 Comments

Chocolate VitasoyI opened up the refrigerator in the break room on my floor one day, in search of my lunch. To my surprise, I saw a lone box of chocolate flavored Vitasoy sitting there. Hmmm, this is peculiar… who here drinks Vitasoy other than me? And the chocolate one, at that? And then it occurred to me to no one did. No one except for me. And maybe Albert. You see, he had recently purchased 2 packs (12 drinks total) of Vitasoy from me. They were of various flavors… honeydew (probably my favorite), malt, and of course, chocolate.

I called him up, asked him about it. He said that it wasn’t his. He assured me that it couldn’t be his. He didn’t even use the same break room.

Of course he didn’t. I knew this, but I needed answers. Could this package of Vitasoy be mine? I traced through my steps that Friday, so long ago, before my trip to Alaska. How could I have possibly brought that Vitasoy with the intent of drinking it during lunch, and then failing to do so? Because I know for a fact that I ate my lunch that day, and it was something from the same refrigerator. I really couldn’t think of how this could have happened, except for people rearranging things in the refrigerator, as they often do, causing me to somehow miss it that day. I looked at the expiration date on the top, as if I could even remember what it should have been. It did nothing for me except confirm that the product had not expired.

I put that Vitasoy back in the fridge and had it with my lunch the following day. I sure hope it was mine. Otherwise, I would have committed a “Chandrak,” but that’s a story for another time. Or maybe I’ve already written about that before, I don’t even know.

You see, I’ve been drinking this stuff my whole life, this wonderful soy milk packaged in a juice box-like container. Not the chocolate flavored or honeydew ones–those I believe are more recent, but the original and malt ones anyways. My family had it in Hong Kong and there are various places that you can get it in the US. I’ve even had it in bottle form in Hong Kong. My brother and I used to get a bottle (or 2) after swimming like every day of the week.

Sea-Tac

November 16, 2006 at 1:36 AM | Art, Food, Site/Personal | No Comments

I had about an hour or so to kill during my layover in Seattle on my way back from Alaska. I’d been to the Seattle-Tacoma International airport (known as “Sea-Tac”) before, but the last time that I was there (just a little over a week prior), I only had enough time to get to my departure gate. And plus it was late and all of the shops were closed/closing down. All that I got to see were gates, the same old newsstands, and empty eateries. My return trip, however, gave me an opportunity to see a little more.

The chance to explore an airport is something that I have mixed feelings about. On the one hand, if its an airport that you’ve never been to, with lots to see, and you’ve got some time to kill, sure, it’s a fantastic time to check things out. On the other hand, if there’s too much time between flights or the airport has little/nothing to see, it can be sheer torture (ie. Manila International Airport). Plus, things in airports tend to be on the expensive side. Like when I was at Chicago O’Hare, I looked over a McDonald’s menu (there were McDonald’s everywhere), thinking that prices for fast food chains would be standardized. Not the case. Everything on there was a multitude more expensive than any McDonald’s on the outside. The Dollar Menu was nowhere to be found.

So back to Seattle. Apart from California, I’ve never really spent a lot of time on the west coast. As a matter of fact, I’m not even sure if Seattle is considered west coast because its kind of northwest… I dunno. Anyways, Seattle certainly looks like a fascinating city from above the night skies. It wasn’t a big perfect grid of orange lights like Chicago; and it most certainly wasn’t a big black abyss like Kansas City. No, it was filled with different colored lights in an array of different shapes, curving along contours. It looked alive. But since this was the summation of all my interaction with the city of Seattle outside of the airport–that is, through airplane windows, I won’t even attempt to write about the city. But I will say that it has piqued my curiosity.

No, instead, I will say what I can about the hour or so that I spent in the airport, waiting for my flight to Denver. Wait, I lied. I really need to start from the departure gate in Alaska, which is where I was flying into Seattle from. There was about half an hour before the plane boarded and I was sitting at the packed gate, just waiting. Seats were scarce and I found myself sitting next to this woman who was sleeping, kind of sprawled over across 2 seats. I mean there were plenty of open seats, but they were seats right next to people or between people. Or they were handicap seats. You can’t sit next to a stranger and be comfortable. You have got to have a buffer seat or two, like at a movie theater. The seat that I had settled for was not great, because I was sitting directly next to some stranger, but at least that stranger was asleep, so it made it easier to bear. On the other side of me was an empty handicap seat. Waiting, just waiting. They say you should get to the airport at least an hour before your flight (even more for international flights), and I always try to do just that. But waiting for a plane to start boarding is so excruciating. I put my hands in my pockets, stared at my shoes.

This was when this girl with a backpack and a pillow (a full-size pillow, not one of those inflatable U-shaped flight pillows) came up to where I was sitting and eyed the open seat to my left. There was a moment of hesitation as she realized that it was marked handicap and looked around the room for a different seat with buffers, but with no such luck. Silly girl, if there had been one, I would have gotten it. She turned around, sat down, looked at me and smiled.

“Hey… you’re not handicapped.”

We talked right up until we got on the plane. Her name was Amanda and it sounded to me like this was the first time that she had ever flown before, because she had all these questions, but she insisted that she had once flown to California. It almost seemed like she was running away, but I didn’t want to pry. Before I knew it, it was time to start boarding. I sat like 20 rows back from her so I didn’t get to talk to her after we got on the plane.

When the plane arrived in Seattle, I thought that I might run into her during my layover, but she was going to a completely different gate, different airline. I didn’t see her again.

I found my departure gate on the flight board and proceeded to the gate, taking note of anything interesting along the way. I checked the time and determined that I had approximately one hour to wander. That’s how I always roll. Go to the gate and branch out from there… because I don’t want to have to find my gate after wandering about the airport, and then realizing that the flight is about to leave.

I found myself in this sort of junction where shopping and dining came together. It was super busy for being something like 6 in the morning. I came across this place called Ivan’s Fish Bar. I remember my brother personally recommending that I try the fish taco at the Seattle airport. But was it at Ivan’s? It sounded familiar. But there was no fish taco on the menu. I looked across the way and saw Anthony’s Fish Bar. That also sounded familiar. I thought that it was funny that there were these two competing fish bar establishments all within the general vicinity. But then again, there were a lot of other things there, too. There’s “Explore Puget Sound” which appears to be some kind of a flight/marine life gift store. The Discovery Channel Store. 2 coffee places (Starbuck’s is there, not surprisingly). Book stores. All kinds of food. Clothing stores… And this fantastic shop called “Fireworks” (their slogan was “Celebrating Art In Life”) that sold the neatest design/art items–creative salt and pepper shakers, piggy banks (I love pigs), children’s books, useless little trinkets that just strike up your imagination and fancy. You totally just want to buy everything up. And they played the coolest music! I loved the atmosphere in there. It is literally my new favorite store. In Seattle.

I looked at the time, I had time to stop by Anthony’s fish bar, grab a fish taco. Prior to my trip to Alaska, I had never ever had a fish taco. It’s not that I don’t like fish. And it’s not because I don’t like tacos. It’s because its name, unfortunately, is slang for something… else. Something quite revolting. But my brother went and got some fresh rockfish, grilled it up, and made fish tacos for dinner one night. They were good and I feel silly for never giving them a try. Anyways, it turns out that my brother’s inspiration for the fish tacos came from the fish tacos served at Anthony’s Fish Bar, in Seattle airport. And thus the reason for the recommendation.

So it was like 6:45AM and I ordered a fish taco, despite not knowing what meal it would be for me. It was way too early for breakfast, but way too late for a midnight snack… and the truth is, I had eaten a pretty large dinner in Alaska. I wasn’t the slightest bit hungry, but I ordered the Alaskan rockfish taco anyway… who knows when I would find myself in Seattle next? It seemed ironic that I was ordering this Alaskan fish, after having come from there, but yeah… that taco was amazing. It had this mango salsa all up in it that was just so fucking delicious. It came with chips and salsa, but I didn’t care much for the chips. They were too hard. I think my brother warned me about that, actually.

I finished my taco, took another short walk around the area shops, and then returned to my gate for departure.

What’s The Deal With Milk?

November 4, 2006 at 5:47 AM | Food, Random | No Comments

Why do people drink it?  Adult humans drinking the milk of cow.  Why?  Is it a scam put on by the milk industry?  And who started that industry… I mean the first person to sit down and go “I’m thirsty, hey let’s go get that cow’s milk!”??


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