Today, I serve you this salad recipe for your tummy, and a lovely poem for your soul. It is about how good it feels to want something and pretend you don’t and to get it anyway.

Today, I serve you this salad recipe for your tummy, and a lovely poem for your soul. It is about how good it feels to want something and pretend you don’t and to get it anyway.
Except probably for introverts with a steady job and without underlying health conditions in a comfortable lock down arrangement, this has not been an easy year.
My lock down experience has been both healing and growing. Crazy homesick for Yangon, separated from loved ones and physically alone, fending for myself here in London. With a ton of walking; so the new HAIM album is literally my quarantine summer anthem this year.
All this time in hand and a dearth of distractions make for a perfect storm for self-reflection … and overthinking of my life choices dating back to my college graduation year. Down the rabbit hole of the Quarantine Subconscious, I wake up at 5am these days when I’d rather stay asleep with questions like:
I am not going to sit around here and pretend I have always known how to make chickpea tofu. I do not. This is something I poked around and made calls back home because I got desperate and needed to satisfy my Shan / Burmese food cravings while being quarantined here in my East London flat. Not sure who even visits this old site anymore, but I am bored out of my mind right now and will just post my cooking misadventures here.
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