Thoughts

One might ponder: "Senpai Weber, do you ever tire of potstickers?" Without hesitation, I would respond: "Do you ever tire of breathing, student? Potstickers are the breath of one's culinary being..." I suppose that can be literal, as well. No, I cannot tire of those delicately wrapped morsels of meat, steamed and crisped on their bottoms in the likes of any pan. I never will. But the sauce... With that I can experiment. Today I whipped up a sauce made of sesame oil, soy sauce, pepper flakes, honey, and lemon juice. Do not ask me for quantities, I did not write any down. Trust your stomach, pupil.

There are two dishes in this life I cannot go without: potstickers and a bean-burrito-with-green-sauce-and-no-onions from Taco Bell. The story with the pot-stickers is that my mother would go across the street from her work when she was pregnant with me to get them for lunch almost every day. Or something like that. I legitimately think my hemoglobin depends on potstickers these days; I still have them once a week and never tire of them. The problem is that my mother has gluten allergies now. The good 'ol store-bought Ling-Ling chicken potstickers from Costco just won't cut it. I can still have them, but perhaps one day I'll suffer similar food allergies as she does. Anyway, I wanted to eat potstickers with my mom last Winter Break, so I experimented and made nice-noodle potstickers. You can see the finished product below. Rice-noodle potstickers piled high on a white plate Rice-noodle potstickers with a healthy portion of broccoli and brown rice I didn'...