Prunus mume

August 10, 2016

Prunus mume

Pickling ume looks time consuming. I once watched my mom’s biǎo jiě (cousin)(specifically, older female cousin on the maternal side) and her husband massage and brine the sour green apricots for a long time.  We’d plucked them earlier that day at a family farm deep in the woods.

The Japanese turn ume into soft poetic balls (Pantone 702 U-ish) that pair well with rice. The Taiwanese turn ume into dark, sweet, tart, prune-y things.

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June 11, 2017

“If you die, I get your Vitamix,” Piper said.

“I get your All-Clad skillets,” Akela replied.

“Doesn’t anyone want any of my stuff?” I asked.


“I’ll take your trash cans,” Piper said after a while.

I own a bunch of attractive Japanese trash cans made from ayous wood.  One of them cost me $70.

“What about my laptop?”

“I’d prefer your trash cans.”


“Uh . . . I’ll . . . "  She couldn’t think of anything.


April 30, 2017

For Christmas, I gave Mom several presents, including a set of artisan felted wool coasters.  The set consisted of two mustard yellow coasters and two royal blue coasters, with an artsy silkscreened design on the top of each coaster.  

After a few months, I noticed that Mom consistently used the blue coasters on the correct side and the yellow coasters turned over to wrong side.

"You don’t like the yellow coasters?" I asked her one day.

"It’s fine."

[click image for more]


April 24, 2017

I feel especially Asian when I drink jasmine tea and dine on heroin-sprinkled, crispy lotus slices.