Coconut Candy

Almond Joy is by far my most “favoritest” candy and it’s all because of the coconut. After Paz tagged me for the Childhood Food Meme, I started dreaming about Guamanian Coconut Candy. I have a Guamanian cookbook and did a bit of research on the internet, just to see what variations there might be in recipes. Basically if you Goggle “coconut candy, Guam” you will find this recipe.

Coconut Candy

3 C. sugar
1 C. milk
3 C. grated coconut

1. Boil the sugar and the milk over medium heat until it forms a thin syrup (232-240 F).
2. Add grated coconut, stir frequently to prevent burning.
3. When the mixture thickens, drop by spoonfuls onto wax paper and allow to cool. This should make 24 pieces.

This can’t be all that constitutes one of the best candies I’ve ever tasted! After an hour of searching for variations, I set out to try the recipe.

I made quarter test batches to test the recipe 3 ways:

Batch #1
I boiled the milk and the sugar together until the candy thermometer read 238F and then finished the recipe. This batch failed as the sugar mixture was overheated and when I added the coconut, everything hardened to a solid mass.
Batch #2
This time I toasted the coconut until it was golden and then mixed it with the syrup at 235F, another hard mass formed.
Batch #3
I did not toast the coconut and boiled the syrup until 220F, added the coconut and then poured the resulting candy onto a baking sheet in three intervals, after 1 minute of stirring in coconut, after 2 minutes and after 3 minutes. After the candy cooled a bit, I cut equal sized pieces into squares but they were really gooey so I decided to roll them into balls and coat the with toasted coconut. They tasted good but not great so I tweaked the recipe and came up with the following:

Coconut Candy
For a dozen or so small candies

1 ½ C. sugar
½ C. coconut milk
1 ½ C. grated coconut, I think the flakey stuff would have worked too
Pinch of salt
½ t. vanilla
Toasted coconut for rolling candies in

1. Boil the sugar and coconut milk until it reaches 220F, this happens fast, in about 5-10 minutes. Add the coconut, stir for an additional 2-3 minutes and pour on a non stick baking sheet or waxed paper to cool. Before they are 100% cool, roll them into balls and dip them in the toasted coconut. They should be chewy, serve warmish or totally cooled.

Note* The candies I used to eat on Guam were brown. I think next time I will toast the coconut before I add it to the syrup, today I ran out. The caramel part used to be brown too, most likely from caramel coloring. Now I have an idea to make the caramel with butter and coconut milk and sugar so the whole batch comes out brownish. Stay tuned!

Coconut candy

LASIK

Tomorrow I have to wear my glasses all day since I am going in for my LASIK consultation. There is hope that someday I might not be as handicapped as I am now without my contact lenses on. Deme had this procedure done, so did 2 of his sisters, and so did a few friends of mine in Seattle. I'm not getting prematurely hopeful, just letting y'all know that if there are no posts for a few days, it's because I'm recovering.

Childhood Food Memories

I actually like Meme's they force me to think and share part of my food history. A big thanks to Paz for tagging me.

Here goes:

1. Homemade Noodles and Won Ton Wrappers

My dad and mom’s homemade won ton wrappers and Chinese noodles are incredible. There was a time my parents with the help of all the kids made noodles that we ate (all 7 of us) and sold to a few small restaurants. I think we used 2-3 dozen eggs and a giant bag of flour along with some salt. We had a huge industrial noodle maker set up in the living room; on weekends the production would begins. The end result would be the most deliciously chewy, tasty and lip smacking noodles I have ever tasted. The simplest way to prepare them was boiled, drained and with a bit of chili, soy sauce, sesame oil and red wine vinegar. They were also great in soups with thin slices of BBQ pork, scallions, cilantro, and other goodies. My parents’ won ton wrappers were thin and tender, the filling was dynamite, not many times in my life had I had won ton as good as this, I better head back for a visit soon.

2. Pickled Eggs, Pickled Daikon, Pickled Green Mangos and Pickled Green Papayas

As a kid we had lots of papaya trees growing all over our property, we were not blessed with a mango tree but mangos were not hard to find. Remember those old hot dog stands that were silver with large white umbrellas? On Guam these snack stands were filled with local treats, my favorites were the pickled items. Mom and pop stores also carried these goodies. I think Guamanians like to pickle just about anything, they use vinegar, salt, sugar and the most important hot chilies. Most of the time these pickled treats were eaten as condiments with meals but as kids we ate them as snacks. You could buy 25 cents worth up to about a dollar worth of pickled treasures, since that was all that fit in the tiny plastic sacks they came in.

3. Sweet and Sour Dried Plums with Tabasco

This is a strange memory but a strong one because if I get a whiff of these now, my mouth starts watering out of control. Basically you take a bagful of dried plums, place them in a little Ziploc baggies, sprinkle them with Tabasco and wait until they are softened but the hot sauce and eat!!! Watch out not to rub your eyes afterwards. Tabasco also goes well on popcorn.

4. My mom’s Pho = Vietnamese Noodle Soup

Since my parents grew up on Vietnam they make the best Vietnamese food not to mention Chinese food ever. There are too many fabulous dishes to mention but this is my favorite. Oxtails are slowly simmered in a broth seasoned with charred onions, charred ginger, toasted cinnamon sticks, and toasted star anise until the oxtails are soft and falling off the bone. Then the soup in ladled into a bowl of rice noodles with a following additions, hot chili, thin onion slices, raw beef slices, cilantro, Thai basil, lime wedges and for me a tablespoon of fish sauce and hoisin sauce. This is the most satisfying soup I have ever eaten, great for rainy days and colds.

5. Tortillas-Guamanian style

I think to me this flat bread is the equivalent to French baguette and good rustic Italian bread in being a true comfort food. Guamanian tortillas are different than the Mexicans ones. They are thicker because of the addition of baking powder, they are sweeter, sugar is added (tiny bits) and they aroma of the coconut milk are unmistakable. Many mom and pop stores sell these and they are stored in a steam drawer to keep them warm and soft. Back home, I had to force myself not to eat up the whole batch before I get home.

6. SPAM

Yes, it’s hard to get away from SPAM when you are from Guam. They even have a Guam Slam at Wendy’s that features, 2 slices of Spam, chorizo, red rice or fried rice, eggs and of course Hawaiian punch. I don’t eat it much now, in fact it is hard to find here in Italy but in Seattle, once in a rare while, I would crave SPAM, eggs and rice.

7. Red Rice

Red rice is made with achote seeds, a seed that is a bit like a poor man or islander version of saffron. The seeds are soaked and the red water is used to color and flavor the rice. Generally onions are sautéed in a bit of lard or oil and then the rice is added. After a few minutes the achote water is added and after 20 minutes or so it is ready. There is not one decent fiesta or BBQ that lacks a good amount of red rice, it’s a delicious tradition.

For a my tag I have chosen Alan.

Sluggish

Back before I was married to Deme, I dated an unknown track star. During the two and a half years that we dated, I ran three miles a day, 3-4 days a week and was in the best shape of my life. At 12% body fat, I felt great and had tons of energy. I was eating low-fat and studying my brains out in college, the running helped with the stress, not to mention the “freshman 15”. After we broke up the running stopped until last summer when Deme started training for the NY Marathon. He had run a ½ marathon the month after we met, done a Beat-the-Bridge diabetes run in Seattle and made up his mind to go for the Full Monty in NYC. Needless to say I began to train too, with him and for myself; it had been a long time since I ran. He was up to 23, 24 miles a run and I was up to 10, which was my max. I had no plans to run in NY but reached my goal of 10 miles non-stop. We were doing great and I fit into my old jeans again. Long story short, we did not go to NY for medical reasons and we both stopped dead in our tracks.

Fast forward 1 year and 2 months later, last week, he started up again. Now he’s up to 6 miles already. I on the other hand have not put on running shoes yet. We had a great time running together, it was fun, I was proud of myself and felt great afterwards, and so why am I procrastination. Even my dad has a treadmill and he says he’s been using it too. Even the dog goes on Deme’s runs. Me I choose to stay at home and think about starting up again. My motivation is nil and I feel sluggish. I’ve never liked running, I just knew it was a way to get in shape fast. I’ve been making a list of Pros and Cons to help motivate me.

Pros
1. Good for my blood pressure
2. Cheap
3. Eases stress
4. I can get out of the house
5. I get to keep my husband company
6. Good for my figure
7. Good for general health
8. I can eat more
9. Dog gets out too
10. I can use my I-Pod

Cons
1. I might get hit by a car
2. No running culture in Torino
3. Hard to get started
4. I sweat a lot
5. I get really red
6. Sore feet
7. My heart beats so fast I feel like I’m having a heart attack.
8. Muscle aches
9. Stinky work out laundry to do
10. Lungs feel like they are on fire at first

P.S. I’ve been supportive of my husband and not tried to sabotage his running. He’s asked me to cook low carb meals and to stock up on carrots, fennel and yogurt. I even gone so far as to make sure there are always freshly cut carrots sticks in the fridge. This is a stretch for s guy who used to get foie gras, FED-EX’d to him from Lobel’s in NY.
P.S.S. Even the dog has been supportive, he eats carrots sticks after running.

Like daddy like doggie

He vacuums up carrot bits

Healthy and fit @ 7 years old, that's 49 doggie years.

Grilled Lamb Chops with Perfumed Rice

The meat in Italy tastes very different than the meat in the U.S. Our lamb chops this evening were a perfect example. In the U.S. the lamb I have eaten is either too gamey tasting and tough or it has no flavor at all. Tonight’s chops were well marbled, tender and had the perfect amount of "lamb-y" goodness. Most of our dinners are simple, I would like to perfect a few more complicated dishes but I find the simple ones are more manageable on a daily basis and just as delicious.
Here’s the simple recipe:

Lamb Chops with Perfumed Rice
Serves 2 as a main course

For the sauce:
1 T each of celery, onion, carrot and leeks
2 small sprigs of rosemary
1 clove garlic, minced
Olive oil
½ C. stock, water or wine (I used stock)
S+P

1. Add a bit of olive oil to the pan and let heat up a bit, sauté all the veggies until translucent but not browned.
2. Add rosemary and liquid and cook until everything is softened, up to 30 mins.
3. Pass the sauce through a fine mesh sieve and set aside in another small sauce pan. If the sauce is too thick, add a tiny bit of water, if to thin reduce a bit more. Taste for seasonings and keep warm until the lamb is ready.

For the Lamb:
6-8 lamb chops, dried at room temp. and seasoned with salt and pepper

1. Grill the lamb, until your liking. We like it medium to medium rare and let rest for 5 mins.

For the Rice:
1 C. Basmati rice to 1-1 1/4 C. water
Zest of 1 lemon
2-3 T. chopped parsley

1. Wash the rice a few times to get rid of excess starch or until the water runs clear.
2. Cook rice on the drier side but still al dente, then set aside to cool a bit. (So you don’t cook the parsley.)
3. When ready to serve the lamb chops, add the parsley, zest and a bit of olive oil to the rice and fluff with a fork before serving. Buon appetito!

My lambchop on perfumed rice

My First Gyno Visit

I'll keep this short and sweet; the hubby already warned me not to reveal too much and to be "careful" so here goes. There were similarities and differences as was expected. For the sake of my parents, I will leave out many details.


In the Good Ole U.S.A (Seattle)
-They have cheap plastic chairs in the clinic
-They have pretty good magazines in the waiting room
-My doctor writes with plastic pen
-My gyno was a man, he had a moustache
-He wore Birkentocks and jeans
-Rubber gloves were used
-The stir-ups were metal
-The scale was a typical 2 ton, metal sliders on top and bottom rungs, doctor's scale.
-My blood pressure is taken
-They give you a paper gown, no paper slippers
-The doctor leaves the room when you undress
-I don't need a translator aka my husband
-I always ask questions and am given answers
-I usually pay with a credit card



In Italy
-The office had nice plush leather chairs
-They had trashy/gossip magazine and good magazines in the waiting room
-My doctor wrote with a Mont Blanc pen
-My gyno was also a man, clean shaven
-He wore a white coat
-Rubber gloves were used
-Stir-ups were plastic
-The scale was digital
-My blood pressure was taken
-I was given paper slippers, no gown
-I was behind a blind when I was asked to undress, he did not leave the area.
-I needed a translator
-I was allowed to ask questions and was given answers
-My hubby paid with a check

All in all a very good visit and I am 100% healthy. A big "thank-you" to my friend Laurie in Torino, who recommended him to me. He was exactly what she described, smart, friendly, very educated, reasonably priced and best of all he understood a bit of English. Although he spoken only in Italian. I might bring my own robe next time though.

Linguini con Fasolari aka Giant Clams

Dinner is barely over and I’m running to the computer as fast as I can to blog our meal. This post is dedicated to Rowena who wrote about fasolari on her blog earlier this week. I thought they were vongole veraci but I was wrong. This is a clam of a whole different color. When I saw them at the supermarket today I had to pick up a bundle. (To the credit of Super GS, my local supermarket, every single clam opened.) I don’t usually buy seafood at the supermarket but this time, I was rewarded. The clams were very tasty. As I am a bit under the emotional weather and not feeling very creative my hubby pulled the meal together and I was the soux chef tonight.

Fasolari con Linguini
Serves 2 and 5 chili (5 kilograms) dog

1 kilo of large clams or fasolari
4 smashed garlic cloves
2 T. chopped parsley
1 T cognac
½ C. dry white wine
Pepper
200-300 grams of pasta about ½ a pound *always cook in salted water*
Olive oil

Note: Fasolari open much slower than normal clams, to have the pasta and clams ready at the same time, (dried linguini takes 8-10 minutes to cook,) start the clams right before the pasta water boils.

1. Clean the clams, scrub them and soak them in cool water a few hours before dinner. These clams have large siphons and there can be a lot of grit and sand in them. I found a little “pearl” in one of mine.

2. Heat a generous amount of olive oil in a large sauté pan, brown garlic pieces on both sides and add clams. Watch out for splatter, have a cover ready. When the clams have coated with oil, turn the heat up, add wine and let cook for 5 minutes. Add the cognac and flambé with care.

3. Now it a waiting game. As they open remove the clams immediately from the broth and place in a large bowl. When all the clams have opened, add the 75% cooked pasta to the sauce and finish cooking the pasta in the sauce. Add the parsley, a few grinds of pepper and return the clams to the pan. Toss to coat and combine. When the pasta is done 1-2 minutes, plate up the pasta and clams. If there is much additional sauce in the pan, fire up the burners and reduce for 30-60 seconds more. Pour the sauce on to the pasta and serve. No cheese with seafood and garnish with more chopped parsley if you wish. I had veal tenderloin as a second course but it was not needed.



The Fasolari are enormous, a large one can fill your palm.

I never do flambe's; I'm too chicken, Demetrio is much better at it.


The finished dish, shiny, savory and slippery pasta. Heaven plated up!

Cold Blooded

When I was a child, my mom would often tell me I had a cold heart. My hands and feet were often cold, even on tropical Guam. She has always been superstitious; in the attempt to cure me of my “cold heart” I was given many chicken hearts to eat. Whenever we killed a chicken, she cooked it up and told everyone the heart was reserved for me. I grew to like the taste but not the stigma of being a dead person walking on the face of the earth. My interests and hobbies as a budding scientist of sorts probably exacerbated her beliefs. I spent many hours catching grasshoppers, geckos, spiders, land crabs and other critters, dissecting them and trying to figure them out. I did go on the study biology in college and never told her of all the other things I had to cut up.

I mention this bit of history because her words have been akin to a mild curse. I’ve always been told I’m as tough as nails; I’m efficient to the point of robotic (esp. at work) and downright unfeeling. I admit I am not one to show much physical affection to friends and to family but I believe I am a very loyal friend, sister, daughter, cousin, aunt and wife. My parents never hugged my sisters or I very much, they never told us they loved us, but they were dedicated to us, they were hard workers and good parents. Should I assume they did not love us? I have never thought that. I never thought they did not have feelings. With all this background I guess I am attempting to prove to myself and to those around me that I can feel, I do feel and today I am sad.

A tragic thing happened to my family on August 11th. After a long battle with cancer the resilient, loyal, very intelligent, strong, husband of my mother passed away. He was buried with military honors in a small ceremony on Guam this past weekend. Now that the funeral is over, I wanted to take a few moments to remember him. (The last time I experienced the loss of someone I knew and loved, it took me a year to face it.) He was an honorable man, he showed my mom the world (from China to Scotland), he was patient with her, he showed her a few new tricks and adored her truly. I will miss our talks and his sweet tooth.

The Non-Hostile Darkroom Takeover

I can’t believe I am saying this aloud but one of the reasons I kept dating my husband was to have access to his darkroom. (Bad, Bad Wife!)

Since I got my first camera (an old Vivitar), at age 13 or so I have been taking photos. Mainly they’re shots of my family, boyfriends, pets, flora and fauna and after moving to the U.S., architecture and landmarks. I’m a bit of the family photo historian along with my mom. She saved valuable albums when she and my dad ran away from Vietnam. They came away with no money but a wealth of photos. Maybe this is how I grew to love photos as well as realizing their value.

I digress, back to the darkroom, the one we have set up in the guest room is a temporary one. There is no water supply and no exhaust fan but the room is large; I don’t think I’ll suffocate. I have all the essentials, an enlarger, safe light, timer, trays, chemicals, paper and of course my negatives. There are still a few items I need to buy but I’m in no hurry. I’ve got all the time in the world to collect darkroom accessories. All the photography books say “just get out there and shoot”; this is one thing I have not been doing as much as I should.

Just to get my feet wet and to test the waters a bit, I submitted 11 photos to a photography website, only to have 10 rejected. They accepted an “okay” photo, so I was a bit surprised and defeated. My “okay” photo was immediately ranked by the other members of the site; so far it is doing well. The photo editors, in their disclaimer, stated that the photos were being edited and chosen by a panel and not to send them angry e-mails if your photos were not accepted. An angry e-mail I did not send. I sent an inquiry as to the possibility of some constructive feedback as to why my photos were not accepted. No answer yet. I did however log onto the discussion forum linked to this site to see what other members were experiencing. Another photographer, with many nice photos on this site, wrote back to me and gave me a few pointers. He also told me which photos he liked and thought I should submit. His “likes” were rejected by the site; he then encouraged me to submit them again.

Part of me takes photos for the purely creative of capturing an image on film. Most of the time I give them away as gifts to people who I think will enjoy them. Or I show them to others so they can share in the sad, happy, outrageous, happenstance moment with me. To possibly work part-time as a photographer and sell my work is an avenue I am beginning to pursue.

The stolen enlarger

Val D'Isere Part I

Deme and I were invited by our friends to spend some time with them at their ski cabin in Val D'Ise're, in Savoie, France. Incidentally the Royal family of Italy, "The Savoia Family" also hails from this region. The mountain road we took which closes in winter time was winding and steep but with breathtaking views of the Alps. During the ski season the village is transformed into a literal winter wonderland where skis are a basic mode of transportation.



This female cinghiale also known as a wild boar is a local pet. Her name in French means "Pansy". She was scratching herself on these cars right before I took this photo. Basically she has the run of the town and locals often stop their cars to say a few words to her as they go about their day.


Here young veal graze in their pasture and freely on the mountain side. All four of them happened to be staring at the dog. Cows, horses and donkeys all freely roam the mountainside.


When Pansy is not trotting around town, she guards the veal and keeps them company.

On our hike into a natural park, we saw a marmot. It was my first sighting.



This hike was almost too much for an out of shape housewife from Torino. We started down past the winding path and near town. The total elevation gain was about 1500 feet in 1 1/2 hours. Deme had to encourage me the whole way.

At the end of the hike, there were three small shacks that offered lunch and refreshments. Even with fairly new hiking boots and 2 blisters I made it. I am sitting on the bench a taking a breather. In the background you'll notice a large glacier, many hikers were headed towards that, some 4+ hours away.



Here I am making my way back down the mountain.

Val D'Isere Part II

After 5 months of being absent from the kitchen Deme pulls out all the stops with tarajin with porcini and tiny ravioli, called agnolotti with fresh tomato sauce. He still has his pasta touch. Enzo provided the wonderful steaks for dinner, grilled to perfection in the fireplace and the next night Claire provided the beef fondu. Food with family, and/or friends always taste better, this old Chinese saying hold true every time. Thank you Enzo and Claire for a tiny peek into your alpine refuge.



Deme makes us fresh tarajin and porcini pasta.



Here's my serving. The rich egg-yolk only noodles go well with the meaty and earthy flavors of the porcini, which we picked up at a market in Torino before heading off.


Boeuf Fondu=Beef Fondu Very lean chunks of beef are skewered and dipped into the fondu pot, which contains hot oil. The beef is cooked to you specifications then eaten with a variety of sauces such as bernaise, tartar, dijon mustard, curry sauce and my favorite a sauce made from spicy Malaysian pepper. I've had many other kinds of fondu in the past. The Chinese Hot Pot is a kind of fondu with the liquid being a concentrated broth. We cook shellfish, tofu, veggies, chicken anything actually in the broth and fish out the goodies little with copper baskets. This was my first time eating an "oil fondu?"



In the little town of Val D'Isere there is a fantastic bakery that sells baguettes, eclairs and croissants of the highest quality. The master baker of "Chevallot" has won acclaim as a master artisan baker aka Meilleur Ouvrier de France . His baguettes are so good that even in Paris, no better baguette can be found. Now I have never been to Paris but Deme, Claire and Claire's sister Valerie, both women are French, swear by these breads and pastries. After baguettes at breakfast, lunch and dinner, I am now a convert. The baguettes are airy, light, lightly tangy, very crisp on the outside and downright fantastic.

Monforte D'Alba

In the dry, September hills of Langhe; magenta and plum colored grape clusters hang from perfectly manicured vines. They look poised and ready for an autumn harvest. The heart of Barolo country boasts gorgeous hillsides full of local vineyards. Between the espallierd vines, the yellow clay earth cracks and rifts. In Monforte D’Alba reputed to produce the best Barolo; we were invited to have lunch with our friends Enzo and Claire. Read more about Piemonte here.



The beautiful hills of Langhe. This view is breathtaking and in Langhe, it a common sight.



A cool and shady spot or lunch. The weather was perfect and the dog got to sit right under the table as he was fed bits of absolutely everything.



The chef of Trattoria della Posta.




A miniature "Bagna Cauda". This is a typical Piemontese dish. In the yellow pepper "bowl" is a sauce that is made from anchovies, garlic, Barolo and olive oil. Fresh vegetables as well as roasted vegetables are dipped into the sauce and eaten as an appetizer.


A speciality of Piemonte: Tarajin. Tarajin are handmade pasta that contain egg yolks instead of whole eggs. They are a rich yellow color, in many places the pasta is orange as the eggs here in Italy have very rich yolks. Here the sauce is a ragu made from rabbit and porcini mushrooms.


A tiny roasted quail stuffed with summer vegetables and sausage. The little quail was almost too cute to eat.


Our final course, formaggio. The first time a cheese cart was wheeled out to me, I was a bit taken aback. Now I relish the chance to taste cheeses I can't even pronounce. Slowly I am developing favorites.

The Opportunist

This morning I got up early (9:30 a.m.) to turn the coffee machine on. Before I even got a chance to make a cup, I discovered that I had been replaced. This dog is so "furbo" my hubby tells my he jumps on the bed the minute I leave the room.


He's a daddy's boy.

The Cat I Left Behind

Guilt is a strange thing, most of the time I have no complaints about it at all. When I feel guilty about doing something wrong and it’s a small thing, like sneaking my dog into a museum in his little bag, I feel twinges of guilt, they pass and I get on with my day. But when I say something hurtful, am inconsiderate or just plain wrong; I usually have the sense to realize it or I wait until it is brought to my attention. The initial angst the guilty produces is so disruptive to my existence that I will go to almost any length to be rid of it. In these cases where my ego is one the line, when it feels uncomfortable to admit I wrong, I try very earnestly to bite the bullet, apologize, do the right thing and make amends. I am now however, dealing with guilt of the highest degree. When I left Seattle, five and a half months ago, my sister and I planned to have her move into the house I was living in. She was kind enough to keep my elderly cat in his environment in addition to her 2 kittens and her little dog. That plan fell through and she is still in her considerably smaller apartment with three cats and a dog. My old cat was thrust into living in much smaller quarters while her animals had to deal with a really grouchy older cat.

For the past 13 years I have loved Bak-Gai (his name means “white son” in Cantonese). I love him still and really think about him daily. He is at least 15 years old, possible 16 or 17, as I was living in a hotel for two months I did not bring him along like I did the dog.

This lovely creature is the apple of my eye. 30% of all my photographs over the past 13 years have been of this cat. He is the most gentle, the most loving animal I have ever met. Never did he bear a grudge against me for going on vacation, for bringing home 2 puppies that annoyed him and ate his food, and never has he bitten or scratched me even whilst I brushed his teeth, trimmed his nails, or gave him a bath. When my sister told me he was attacking her kittens and not eating well, I knew he was in emotional trouble. My stomach tied itself in a knot. I have tried in vain to find someone in Seattle who is willing to care for him until the end of his life, since sending him to Italy on a plane might be too detrimental. No luck.

Last week my sister told me once again he was going downhill, not eating as well and this time pulling the hair from his front paws. I can’t imagine the pain he must be going thorough. I appreciate immensely the help my sister has provided in taking care of him these past months. Now I am struggling with what to do? Should I send for him and risk his health? Should my sister just keep him, even though he is stressed out and so are her animals? He has a bit of a periodontal problem and he getting a bit worse every month. Other than that he’s just old. I can’t fathom putting him down yet? I am at a loss as to what to do and the guilt is devastating me. I promised to take care of him for the rest of his life. I feel so guilty for not keeping my promise. He was supposed to live out his last years in the house he spent the past 7 years in; looking out our big picture window and sleeping on the couch. I feel like such a bad person.

Contemplating a Hair Cut

A small warning:This post contains old photos which was cause stomach discomfort to those pictured in the photos; followed by bits of groaning and delusional thoughts of certain people wanting to “kill” a certain oldest sister.

I have been contemplating a hair cut for several months now. In July I almost whacked it all off because of the heat. When my sisters and I were children our mom did not allow us to have long hair. She had 5 kids to look after on a humid and tropical isle. She did not want to deal with braids, ponytails or rat’s nests; to save money she gave us all personalized bowl haircuts. One year she cut my hair so short, she claimed I kept wiggling and so it just kept getting shorter and shorter; I refused to go to school the next day. After a twenty dollar bribe I stopped crying and went off to buy come candy.


A fine example of 5 "homemade" haircuts.
Keeping a head full of long hair may have just been rebellious acts by all my sisters and I. Living on and island also contributes to the practice. It’s not practical at all, especially with the heat and often 100% humidity of Guam. It’s a hassle to dry in the winter and after a while many people develop headaches, neck pains and split ends. When I was in high school I had a classmate who had the longest head of hair in the entire school; boys had long hair too. The long, black tresses wisped against the back of her knees as she walked down the school’s hallways. She was not allowed to cut her hair; he father insisted she keep it long. We as a family followed that trend, see below. Read disclaimer above, old photos about to be revealed.



The twins in high school.


My baby sister Tia at 4 years old.


My 5th sister Sara. Here we're driving from Seattle to Vancouver.


Gia at Highland Park in Seattle, during the big reunion of 2002.


I'm in college here and vacationing in Hawaii.

Now I think only Gia and I have long hair. Sad to see a family tradition fade away. I know Tia got a hair cut recently but I'm not sure how short. It may seem like s trivial issue to some but I'm really having a hard time with it. To cut or not to cut, that is the question.

What to Call me, Gia or Gina?

Lately I’ve been getting a few inquiries about my name. Is it Gia or Gina? Just when you thought there were only two choices. Ha! I actually have three names:

1. My birth name consists of three Chinese characters; phonetically they sound like Sum Ga Ying. Since my parents are both Chinese, I was called by this name from the time I was born until I entered middle school. The characters are lovely when written, their significance is also very precious to me. The first child of a Chinese family is very important, even better if it’s a boy, nevertheless, my parents were happy to have me. They chose a name that bestowed upon me all their loving intentions. Although my dad describes it more elegantly, Sum Ga Ying means, “the bowl that is always overflowing”. They hoped my bowl, symbolic of my life, would always overflow with good things and I would never be wanting. Only my Chinese relatives, the ones who don’t speak English fluently, call me Ga Ying.





This my my dad in a cafe in 1969.



This is my mom in 1966.

2. My second name Gina Parsons, Gina an American/Italian? name was given to me by my American godfather and his Thai wife. I spent some time living with them in Thailand when I was between 2 and 3 years old, as my parents were getting acquainted with their new life on Guam. Parsons is the surname I borrowed from my godparents while I was living with them and it stuck., My parents call me Gina; my sisters, some of my extended family and my friends call me Gina. Sometimes Deme calls me Gina too but he switches back and forth between Gia and Gina. Deme tries Ga Ying, but since he is a bit tone deaf, messes it up everytime.

3. Gia Dinh Parsons is my official U.S. government and now my official Italian government name. This name is a bastardization and botched up translation of my Chinese name, Ga Ying. If you’re an immigrant or refugee from any country then you might have had an experience with a botched translated name. This was my name in college and so all my college friends call me Gia. If I have to fill out an official form/resume then Gia is the name I have to use. I think I am called Gia by about 30-35% of the people who know me.

Because my name is Gina and Parsons, I have been mistakenly accused of being of mixed race, Caucasian and Chinese. Look at the photo below, I’m almost 2 here and in Vietnam, I don’t think I looked mixed at all.

Reggia di Veneria Reale

Reggia basically means royal residence and Veneria Reale is the name of the location. This royal complex (built in the mid 1600’s) was expansive and currently under restoration. During it’s time, this was the largest and grandest palace in Europe. Today there was scaffolding, paint buckets, bags of plaster and other construction material strewn about. Many of the windows have not been replaced and so birds have flown in and made themselves comfortable. Statues were missing, frescos were ruined and the whole place looked like it was vandalized, in fact it had. After the French Revolution, Napoleon pillaged some of the statues and moved them. The restoration project has been going on for 7 years; they hope to be finished in 2006. From the looks of things today, they still have a long way to go

After all the sighseeing, Deme gets hungry for a gelato. He's the most serious gelato eater I've ever seen.

The Great Hall of Diana, with scaffolding in the background.

The grand scale of an ongoing 7 year restoration project.

The altar of the church at Veneria Reale.

The false dome in the private church at Veneria Reale, you don't notice it as you look up. But if you walk while glancing skywards, you may figure it out.

Vietnamese Fresh Spring Rolls

What do you get when you mix rice paper, rice vermicelli, hoisin sauce, and shrimp? I’ll give you a hint; you get the most delicious spring rolls you’ve ever tasted. My mom is a spring roll making machine and although they are meant to be eaten as an appetizer, as kids we could gobble up 3, 4 or even 5 if she let us. The traditional ingredients are shrimp, thinly sliced pork, garlic chives, rice vermicelli, lettuce, mint, Thai basil, all wrapped up in rice paper. After the rice paper is softened with water, it’s translucent. Underneath the supple paper, you get little peeks of what the roll holds.

Fresh Spring Rolls
(About 6 rolls)

Rice paper
1 bunch of rice vermicelli, soaked in hot water for 3-5 minutes then drained and set aside
1/2 lb. cooked shrimp, cook in salted water for 30-60 seconds, depending on the size of the shrimp
1/2 lb. pork tenderloin or another cut of lean pork, poached in salted water then thinly sliced, do not overcook.
Garlic chives
Spearmint and Thai basil
Lettuce, ribs removed, to avoid puncturing the rice paper

For the sauce:

Hoisin sauce
Peanut butter
Roasted ground peanuts

The trickiest part of making these rolls is handling the rice paper. There are two ways of soften the paper: The first way is to fill a mister bottle with warm water and mist the paper while holding it upright so all the excess water drips off. Spray the edges first so that he middle does not get too soft too fast and tear.

The second way is to fill a large bowl with warm water and dip the paper in the water, edges first then the entire sheet, shake excess off or let drip off. I often run the paper between my forefinger and middle finger in an attempt to “squeegee” the paper.

Once the paper begins to soften put on a work surface and you can begin the assembly. After the paper begins to soften it sticks to itself much worse than Saran Wrap or cling film. Try not to handle it at this point, let it lay flat until after you have piled the ingredients on. I usually layer the rice vermicelli, the lettuce, pork, shrimp, mint and basil. Place all the ingredients on the lower third of the rice paper, fold the ends (left and right sides) over and begin to roll like a burrito. After one complete turn lay the chives across the paper and complete the roll.










For the sauce, mix and equal amount of Hoisin sauce and peanut butter in a small sauce pan, thin with water slowly and let heat and come to a simmer. My dad thins his sauce with 7-Up so he does not dilute the flavor. Taste and adjust peanut butter to your liking, spoon sauce into a little dish and top with ground, roasted peanuts.

Torino in August=Ghost Town

Did I win the lottery? Has Christmas come early? Why are they available parking spaces in front of our building? No I’m not in the Twilight Zone; I’m in Torino in August. Everyone is gone, 60-70% of the shops in my neighborhood have closed for vacation. Just as I wrote before about the sales that only happen two times a year, the vacation here in Italy must be taken in August. Offices shut down, stores close, people migrate away from the city and to the seaside. It’s just the way it is here, accept it since you can do nothing about it.

Why on earth would I want to travel at the same time as 60% percent of all the people in the country? Two holidays ago, Liberation Day in Italy we made the awful mistake of leaving the day of the long weekend to Rome. It took us 4.5 hours to get to Geneva, a 1.5 hour drive. One and all were out in full force on the roadways. Deme wanted to leave the night before at 9:30 pm which puts us in Rome at 4:30 am, I said “no” it was too late and I’m still kicking myself. I would have rather sleep a few hours at a rest stop that endure the 10 hours, instead of 6-7 hours with an irate husband behind the wheel. He says that driving helps to calm him down but by the way he was white knuckling the steering wheel and cursing at the other drivers, I tend not to believe him.

We were hoping to take a vacation to sunny Guam this winter but if we do then it won’t be a real vacation but leave from work, maybe unpaid. I feel cloistered by this “rule”. What do you do when you know there is nothing you can do? I guess write about it, complain a bit then sit back, let go and accept it? I’m still not there yet. Now that we're in town we've just been seeing the sights and he's been working on his on-line poker hand, things we don't get to do much when Deme is working during the week.

Don't look at me that way, we're on vacation and we WILL take photos

We walk to the museum and I goof off along the way

I think someone better tell this guy were in Torino and not in Kauai