#mandarin jarritos here i come

[parfumieren]

Ruby red.

It came to me recently why fragrances containing grapefruit notes pose such difficulties for me: without fail, they remind me of dieting.

Armed with a horror of plumpness left over from their own girdle-bound maidenhoods, our mothers ruthlessly surveyed us for signs of unruly growth. As we blossomed, they pinched us back. Impatient sighs issued forth whenever we ate ice cream (or licked our fingers); frazzled copies of the Pritikin and Scarsdale Diets magically appeared in our paths. Finally the offer came: wouldn't we like to share Mom's "special" meals? We gamely ate soft-boiled eggs (no butter!), dry squares of wheat toast (no jam!), carefully-measured half-cups of low-fat cottage cheese cradled by leaves of lettuce (iceberg only-- fewer calories than romaine). And if we still wanted dessert after all that… enter the grapefruit.

Halved and served without sugar or garnish, the grapefruit proclaimed the proverbial 'strait gate' traveled by the would-be slender girl. Who else would eat something so acerbic, so biting, so reluctant to give up its contents? The fact that it had its own custom tools of extraction declared its challenging nature-- we had to really work to eat it, and for our pains, we'd more often than not receive a mouthful of bitter pips or a painful squirt-in-the-eye. To prevent the exercise from seeming overly punitive, we could choose a "fancy" pink or red grapefruit over the everyday "white" variety… but a maraschino cherry for decoration?! Are you crazy? Those things are seven calories apiece!

Today I am a grownup, in charge of my dinner plate along with my destiny. While I've come to enjoy grapefruit, I rarely buy them at the store or order them in restaurants. I simply can't shake the opinion that they're the housewife's "austerity measure"-- an edible form of self-punishment for secretly wanting a sloppy ice-cream sundae. Their very scent is a guilt-provoking jolt-- and that's why I've largely avoided that note in perfume.

Why spoil one of life's most wonderful indulgences with the bitter smell of penance?

Tastes change, as do opinions. Little by little I've talked myself into sampling without shuddering. For the most part, the compositions which work best for me cast grapefruit as a supporting player rather than the center of attention. I'm not fond of it swizzled with caramel, but I will take it paired with sea breezes and fresh flowers. And if I'm in the mood for a confection to make up for all those skipped desserts years ago, I sniff Guerlain Aqua Allegoria Pamplelune (grapefruit sorbet) followed by Lavanila Vanilla Grapefruit (grapefruit panna cotta).

The point is, I've gradually come to terms with the persnickety pamplemousse. If I feel any guilt now, it's because I didn't give this note the chance it deserved.

Here are a couple of Citrus x paradisi fragrances that I credit for talking me around:

Citron de Vigne (Fresh) A bright, true pink grapefruit essence whose astringent character is encouraged by tannic tea and red wine notes, this comes closest of all to the scent of a fresh grapefruit in hand. Imagine laboriously working a thumbnail under the pliant peel… the stickiness of the peel essence on your palm, followed by the sting of juice… the cottony texture of the bitter pith… the pink inner flesh veiled but visible… Now pour yourself a garnet glass of Pinot Noir and get ready for a refreshing, mouth-puckering treat.

Scent Elements: Neroli, bigarade, pink grapefruit, red wine accord, jasmine tea leaves, lemongrass, patchouli, sandalwood, amber

Oyédo (Diptyque) For this grapefruit maceration, substitute a half-and-half mix of kiddie grape juice and Jarritos Tamarindo for the red wine, and throw in a bunch of fresh thyme. It sounds like it could be a mess, but somehow it achieves a crazy balance. I prefer the savory drydown to the supersweet opening, but patience being a virtue, the wait is well-justified.

Scent Elements: Lemon, lime, yuzu, grapefruit, mandarin, orange, mint, caraway, thyme, tamarind, cedar

[dailyabx]

Day 8

Hello! Today was a busy day, even though I started pretty late. Even though I had plenty of sleep this morning, even now, I feel extremely tired. Once again, Japanese class consumes one hour of my day and another 15 minutes for the vocabulary quiz today.

After class I was hungry, so I wandered out my room looking for food and find my brother making scrambled eggs. Thinking that it had been awhile since I ate scrambled eggs, I decided to make myself omurice, which is basically an omelet on fried rice. This was a dish I found myself pretty proud of making since it was one of the first dish that I made from my own research. However, it isn’t particularly a hard dish to make, actually it’s quite easy, but I still feel like it is an achievement. So, I made a quick and simple fried rice with oyster sauce and put it in a bowl so that it could keep its shape. Then I cracked two eggs, mixed it, and poured it in the non-stick pan. And as soon as it was cooked enough, I put the rice in and folded the eggs on the rice, letting it cook awhile. After a few minutes, I prayed that it wouldn’t stick to the pan, and then flipped it on a plate. I was pretty satisfied with how it came out! Smooth, yellow, and cute. However, the rice ended up tasting pretty bland, so I was a bit disappointed. Oh well, food is food!

This is the omurice! An egg omelet on top of fried rice. I topped it with red hot sauce. 

Here this is opened up! Inside it simple fried rice, not much added to it really.

And also, the egg count! Since my brother and I used eggs today, there is only 5 left in the carton.

Also, it’s almost my sister’s birthday! So we decided to come over to her house to surprise her! However, to our disappointment and surprise, our sister’s partner’s family were also thinking of the same thing. So instead, we decided to still go to her place and chill with our uncle at her place (since they went over to her partner’s family’s place). Our reason for that was because we already bought the food, so we felt that it would’ve been a waste if we didn’t go. 

Here is what we bought:

2 $6 Jarritos (Pineapple and Mandarin)

$32.99 24 pieces mix chicken [5 dollar pizza]

$9.49 per Combo platter (5x) [New York Gyro]

Here is a pic of the food that we bought. It was delicious!

[sandwichbully]

Vellee Deli, 7 May 2018

  Story time!   First, a heads up:   I was born in 1981, meaning that I’m a bigot of a particular vintage. It’s not that I’m adverse to progressive ideologies, I just have a hard time remembering to incorporate them into my speech. Take the time I said “transsexual” and my partner had to tell me that’s wrong, the preferred term is “transgender” and so I started saying “transgender” but every once in a while “transsexual” comes out. I’m insensitive like that.   So it is that I don’t know what the current word for deaf/mute is. Back in the nineties and early aughts, when that word was relevant in my life on a somewhat consistent basis, we just said deaf/mute. So bear with me, and if you know the contemporary term for deaf/mute, leave a comment. Not like anybody ever does though and I’m OK with that.   OK, so, story time!   My Uncle Steve married a Korean deaf/mute woman named Kyong. They lived in Hawaii and Missouri a lot so I didn’t really get to know either of them.   Then, my Uncle Steve and Aunt Kyong got divorced. Not a big deal. A lot of couples get divorced.   Then, my Uncle Steve married another Korean deaf/mute woman named Mi Sook. To this day, I still wonder if Uncle Steve’s game was based on his ability to work the Korean sign language.   Anyway anyway anyway, Uncle Steve and Aunt Mi Sook moved back to Ohio and lived with my grandfather while Uncle Steve was… I don’t know what he was doing. But he died.   Yeah, sorry about dropping that bomb but he died. You have to read about it, we had to live it. Uncle Steve died the same summer that Grandma Betty and Grandma Maggie died. It was a fucker of a summer.   Anyway, Aunt Mi Sook, now a widow with nowhere to go, lived with my grandfather, a Korean War veteran who spoke no sign language at all. While she lived with him, she made kimchi the old fashioned way: Put all the cabbage and chilis and seasonings in a jar and bury the fucker in the backyard. At a later date, Aunt Mi Sook would go out to the backyard, dig up this fucking jar of fermented cabbage and chilis, take it into the house, open her up, and chow down. Well, I think she ate it like a normal person. Not like a jar at a time. Grandpa Charlie would complain to my mom all the time about how the stuff stank up the whole house.   Strangely, well, probably the right word is “expectedly”, I was not exposed to kimchi at the time. I think Aunt Mi Sook moved down south or something. I don’t think she went back to Korea, she said it sucks there if you’re a disabled woman. Easy now, this was two thousand two. The United States still looked good then.   Fast forward about a decade and you find me moved in with Kafe Nasty, who is half Korean. Kafe Nasty would eat kimchi I wouldn’t say all the time but he ate it often enough. He would just buy a jar and eat it like it was a pudding cup. It didn’t stink up the apartment, I didn’t even notice a change in the quality of his flatulence. He was just chowing down on some kimchi.   I would take a look at it and it didn’t look bad but I’m not trying to eat fermented fucking cabbage and chilis at ten thirty at night and you can tell me how probiotic it is for my colon or whatever, no. Any time after ten o’clock at night is reserved for alcohol. Adults, it is noted, have very limited hours in which they can ingest nothing but alcohol, and that’s ten at night to three in the morning. We can drink before ten but it must be accompanied by a meal or we look pathetic and we can’t drink after three in the morning because we’ll look like Tara Reid. We can start eating again at five in the morning. The rules are weird.   ANYway, a year I live with Kafe Nasty and I never try kimchi.   I see it on the menu at a restaurant and I want to try it but I don’t know if it’ll be any good. I panic a little because I just don’t know. “Does this place do a ‘good’ kimchi?” “What am I ranking this against?” “How come I didn’t eat Kafe Nasty’s kimchi at eleven o-goddamned-clock that night??”   Cut to today:   I don’t know what I want for lunch so I go out cruising, pretty sure I’m going to wind up at Chipotle and I pass Vellee Deli, the Mexi-Asian deli I have noted make an inconsistent as fuck banh mi but I say fuck it, let’s go to… Let’s try that kimchi burrito.   YES, MOTHERFUCKERS, I AM ABOUT TO TRY KIMCHI FOR THE FIRST TIME FROM AN INCONSISTENT SANDWICH SHOP.   LOOK AT ME. LOOK IN MY EYES.   I AM DANGER MANIFEST.   So, I go in and look at the menu board. Korean BBQ Pork Burrito has kimchi on it. There’s the Chicken Currito, which I don’t know why they don’t just call it chicken curry burrito but, OK, they’re cheeky. I ask the guy at the counter which he’d recommend. He tells me the currito is spicy but the BBQ burrito is his pick. I get that and a Mandarin Jarritos.   I get back to the office, unwrap my burrito, and chow down. Here’s what we’re working with: I like their BBQ pork. I think I may have detected a hint of pineapple in their salsa roja or maybe I was having another goddamned stroke, that’s entirely possible, too. I watched their rice, that shit was not seasoned, they just stirred the salsa into it. The romaine lettuce is there for ruffage because I can’t remember the last time somebody told me romaine lettuce tasted fucking great.   And then there’s the kimchi, the nine inch-cocked stud of this little twink blowbang Pornhub exclusive. You know something? At first I thought I didn’t like it. Then I wasn’t even sure I’d had a bite of it, then I kept eating so I know I must have eaten it but it just didn’t leave an impression on me. I fail to be wowed or soured by the introduction of kimchi into life.   So I have to try it again sometime, preferably not accompanied by a salsa roja that may or may not have had pineapple in it which itself may have just been a stroke-based hallucination.   The burrito over all tasted like just a real good sweet ‘n’ sour pork dish, but in a burrito. When Vellee gets it right, they’re on point.   But kimchi?    ¯\_(ツ)_/¯