There is no respect for the sushi roll. While trying to whip up something quick and macrobiotic inspired I refound the buckwheat grains (why have i not touched these all winter!!). They were toasted and cooked into fluffy comfort (steam smelling feeling like a large easy chair in a mahogany study).
For sensory experience, last night in Qingdao was pretty golden. A swift jaunt was made to the local Carre 4 — a French company bringing China their version of Walmart. I bought some nice looking green and oolong teas sold in bulk and pitched in to get a cake for Lancelot (it was his birthday). Lancelot is not his real name, but many of the chinese students have created english names (loosely based on their true names) in order to help the westerners stop butchering their language. Similarly, I had someone translate my name into chinese characters so it could be pronounced more easily.
refamiliarizing myself with the self-healing cookbook, i decided to cook up some azuki beans. one half-hour into their simmer they should be cold shocked.
listening to the beans boil against the pot, i was enjoying the rhythm in which they scraped against the metal vessel. as if the bubbles rattling the beans were coming from a bellows. the sound of submerged, scraping beans was padded with the quiet rumble of escaping vapor.
the balance changed over time (as the beans soften, the high-tones degrade). slowly, the highs muted away until finally, the sound of bean scraping metal was gone. then i looked at the time and saw it was the half-hour point. which made me wonder if this was how the half-hour point was chosen.