The Perfect Fried Shallots

Aunt Yanti, my mom's direct two-years younger sister, is a very good cook, considering the amount of time she has spent in the kitchen for more than twenty-five years, without another full-time job as my mom did. She is known to be the best cook in the family, as far as I remember, especially with variety of sambal she made for all of us when we went to a family vacation several years ago. Other than our fun six cousins, she was also one of the reasons why my siblings and I loved to spend summer vacation in her house when we were younger.

The last time I was home, she made me this very crips deep fried shallots as rice topping for every meal, for me to take all the way here. It was the closest taste that reminds me of home, a seducing taste of sweet with a dip of bitter, brown and crips and fragile. I finished them all in a week.

"What's this," the only comment David made when he doesn't have a clue of a thing. Similar comment he made when I made sambal tempe, crushed fried tempeh (fermented soy bean) with thai-basil and fresno chillies, he looked at the food as if it was some alien's food, with the same look that sort of questioning why in the world we eat those food.

"Deep fried shallots, put it on top of your rice,"

"Is it spicy,"

"I thought you're the spicy king; no, it's not hot at all,"

That's when David fell in love with my fried shallots, later he demands shallots with everything I cook. Not as many other American friend's I have, David craves for hot food, his favorite is sambal potato I created, although I rarely cook the food any longer, since freshno developed a sparky smells, I only made it in summer when I can leave the windows wide open.

Making fried shallots are not easy. It requires certain distance to slice it since it made my eyes watered after slicing a bunch of them. It also requires a slow heat but I have to make sure it is hot enough for the shallots. Never leave the stove when frying shallots even though it takes time to brown, because even when they lightly burned, they have to go to the garbage can. That's why I appreciate Tante (aunt) Yanti's patience in the kitchen. Fried shallots is just a sample of many good dishes she cooks.

There is a BockFest parade today, Cincinnati's tradition to celebrate the coming of Spring with a breaking of beer drum. Beer is a big deal in Cincinnati years ago, where the City hosted several brewing companies, and when there's a salon in every corner that even open on Sundays! Ironically, the City is also a home for conservatives religious German/Lutheran and Catholic citizens. The nature of drinking beer and going to church at the same time is common, with "drinking in moderation" as the key. Although some of the church goers I've known totally object drinking habit, not beer, not even wine.

"I think that's just an excuse to drink beer," I mentioned to David, a one-hundred percent Cincinnatian, "It's not even close to Spring, we still have twenty one days to go, right. I like to think St. Patrick's Day is the day to celebrate Spring," David did not agree with me. He insisted to celebrate BockFest on our own before we go to Final Friday, another excuse to celebrate weekend at the last friday of the month, where most likely I would have to choose where to go since I wouldn't have that many times to walk around. And David's excuse to celebrate BockFest is to have a party at my new apartment, and made me cook! Which is okay since I love to cook, and I won't forget his fried shallots.

Every BockFest, there's a parade that started at Arnold's, a restaurant and bar right in front of David's house, through Main Street where I would have the best spot to take pictures. The parade consists of the Bag Pipe band, Christian Morlein's bockfest band, several people who dress like Scottish priests in brown ropes, and many other people who would dress as they wanted to. Last year when I stood near the street, I could see a "monster" dressed like Japanese cartoon's monster right in front of me. I thought it was funny but the five-year old Gorgy, my boss' son who stood next to me did not think so, he held my hand tight and grinned as if the creature was an ugly leprechaun.

I didn't have a chance to look closer this year, since we're on the third floor, my best view is from my view-finder of my camera. David agreed to take pictures with the crappy digital camera, while I took it with my Nikon F2.

Trying not to fall in love is like walking on ice

We have been sitting on the roof for quite sometimes. It was the first night of summer, I think, when we decided to climb up the roof and light the fire and smoke some cigars and bring several bottle of beers with us.

It was the first night I saw David again after he told his dad that he is different, that we are not dating, and that he is not interested in girls, and that he is more attracted to his species in particular. I was worried about him and sent him a letter that put on his apartment door one morning. That night, he called, and we talked on the roof.

The roof was at the place where David used to live, where we spent nights and nights of just talking about nothing, counting the stars or just looking at air planes that passed by, counting my past relationship, and David's decision to tell the truth.

It was absolutely one of our best time together. Again I wish he is not gay, but he is.

I talked to him about my decision also, to be single and remain in solitude. I had the best time with myself since I left Noel. There's freedom on doing things I want to do and more time to study and to learn and to write and absolutely no one else to consider when I want to hang a picture on the wall. There is no one controling me of what to do and there is a freedom to focus on my passion to write. There is no one to call me in the middle of the night telling me I have to sleep instead of finishing my book all night. I am responsible for myself and I absolutely love it.

And if someday I want to travel the world there is no one to say no no no.

David laugh.

He doesn't think that is possible in my case. He said I would be lonely and cannot cope of being alone. He said I would crave for companion and that what I was always looking for. He said I don't need anyone else because he is beside me.

If the lights of that clay fire place could reach my face he probably seen me turned red. I was mad that he is so sure about himself but I hate to day that that was right. David is always with me. There is never me alone when Noel ran away, but there's always him.

David said he wants to be single too. It is absolutely non-sense he thinks, to get married. His family is too important for him and when his dad suffers just to think of him, then it's probably right just to stay alone. The pain would be less.

So, here we are two singles and heinekens and fire-clay and the skies and the top of trees and the haze. Waiting and embracing the night to turn bright when we can go back to our lifes and do as we please with it.

It was almost a year ago and I began to split David from my life, trying to prove that I can be single in the couple's world. The mean couple's world. When you are single and no one to date, people would ask "what's wrong" when I could ask the same question "why are you married, what's wrong with you". Being single is not easy and it take preserverance but it has other advantages that married couple won't have. One of my passion is to work where I can express my faith and continue to write. This is actually one of the best time I've ever had in my life. I am not as naive as a ten year old anymore since David, and Noel, and Nick, and who ever crossed my path. Life is beautiful when you asked the lesson to be learned.

But today, I felt something different. It was the same butterfly in my stomach that drives me crazy and cannot think and cannot concentrate and cannot sleep. It has been four nights in a row when I always wake up at two a.m. and stay up until morning. I want someone. Companion. Relationship. Hope. Etcetera, et cetera. I pick up the phone and call David again.

"What is your biggest mistake in your life, Wulan?" David said, laughing,"Not listening to David." He was right, again."When someone is falling in love, they just can't deny, it, can they?" I regret telling David THE news, but I let him talks. It's nice to see David again, and to visit our favorite coffee house. I only come here with David, it's like a sacred place for us, and both of us won't take our dates here, except Noel. I violated the "law" one time. "So, who is this lucky guy?"

So, I decided that Wulan is falling in love. But I am still looking for this someone for her (help me, if you would). No more j*rk, please. Just a nice guy with a good heart that will share some of his path with her. Side by side. But it is not easy to figure out this character and what he would be like. He would be perfect for Wulan but he can't be perfect, no one is perfect unless he is Superman (even Superman is not perfect, he cannot figure out even how to wear underwear. Insert *smile* here. )So, this might be the end of the story, for a while, until I have an idea of - who is this lucky guy -.

Turnaround: How America's Top Cop Reversed the Crime Epidemic

I always wonder how New York did it. The City had a reputation of the most dangerous cities in America in the 1970s and also early 1990s. Part of it was the "impact" of what Robert Moses done for the last decades: destroying neighborhoods, promoting highways and suburbanization, and locked poverty in the center city.

This book is a story of William Bratton, a police commissioner in New York City since 1994 and now retired. He was hired by Mayor Giuliani, one of the best mayor (in my opinion) New York ever had (don't count the publicity he craves, no one is perfect).

William Bratton facilitated, and lead NYPD into an effective force that dramatically reduced crime. His first case, even before he was sworn, was a fight in a mosque between the police and the muslims, a tough and sensitive case. During his time, New York had reduce the number of crime down to 43%! Here are several strategies that he changed when he was in charged of NYPD:

• Change priorities. The first priorities of NYPD was not to reduce crime, but to reduce critisism from media, community, and politician. They were more concern with what would people think than getting someone to jail (and keep them there). His new strategy was to change priorities into reducing crime, whatever it takes.
• Police officers sometimes did not feel that the department backed him up. No one holds them accountable, when they were faced into a situation that requires quick decision. When something's gone wrong, someone was shot accidentally in an arrest, for example, Bratton will back them up, in front of the media and the public.

Junky Stove

I am not sure if it is my junky stove or my new boat-kitchen that made my life revolve around cooking lately. When I am at home, I would stay there most of the time, cooking, cooking, and cooking. It has been a month I live here, and I am still trying to find reasons to invite my friends over for something, that I just moved, that we need to celebrate Sunday, that I "invented" a new dessert, that they have to try to eat sushi, whatever. And today I found out that I am looking for a reason for a big party.

That's kind of scary...a big party? what?

Big party means money. Big party means more dishes. Big party means more and more stuff, which is not a good idea at all. So, I keep the idea in the back burner for now...I have a reason for the party, but without it, it would be just fine...

This new dessert that I made is called Plaintain Chocolate Cinnamon Roll,with spring roll wrapped. I brought them to church last Sunday and people loved it. I shared "the recipe" with my mom and she said she would try it...

Another odd thing that I made was pineapple chicken, and vegetarian sushi, turkey-cranberry wonton, kethoprak immitation (shrimp nooddle, peanut sauce,bean sprout, tofu, and green onion).Now, I am getting sleepy, good night...

ThisIsCincinnati

• Sitwells Coffee House
• The Blind Lemon Cafe
• The Blue Wisp Jazz Club