Today, I saw a basket of figs at the farmer's market, so I made pizza and a fig walnut bread with the figs.
I love love love figs. (But I suppose you knew that from the title of this blog.) Their season is so fleeting, it makes me want to covet them even more when they are around.
I found the fig bread recipe in the Mercury News. I saw it last year when fig season was headed out, so filed the recipe for "later" and just came across it yesterday when I was looking for another recipe. Ah, serendipity. . .
This is the recipe. As is my usual habit, I didn't follow the recipe to a T.
*There is absolutely no reason you need 1.5 cups of sugar. I used 1/2 cup of snob brown sugar, and it is plenty.
*I cut the oil in half and used yogurt as the rest of the filler. It seemed to work fine.
*I freshly grated nutmeg and some of the cinnamon.
*I also added freshly ground ginger--but evidently, not enough, since I can barely taste it.
*Not sure if I was supposed to do this, but I folded in the sherry with the batter. It gives the figs a nice brandied flavor.
It's quite good. A bit crumbly (so no pics, alas), but yummy.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
My week of salads
1. Raw kale Caesar salad (recipe and post forthcoming):
2. Salad made with fresh butter lettuce from TL's garden:
I really wanted to make this salad with pear, but I didn't have any handy, so I made it with apples instead, which were a respectable substitute. I made it a few days later with pear and the combination was bliss. Unfortunately, I didn't take a picture (or I did, but forgot to put the memory card in the camera, and uploading these photos entails more work than I care for right now), but the perfect butter lettuce salad consists of:
-butter lettuce (preferably from TL's garden, but if you are not TL or someone who lives upstairs from TL, then regular butter lettuce will do. Baby butter lettuce tastes better.) washed and roughly torn
-shaved bits of Parmesan cheese
-a ripe pear (a quarter or however much you want, thinly sliced into wedges)
-freshly and coarsely ground black pepper that you grind yourself
-a drizzle of very good olive oil
The sharpness of the Parmesan and the bite of the ground pepper complement the butteriness of the pear and lettuce really well.
You can add more things if you want, but you really don't need anything else.
2. Salad made with fresh butter lettuce from TL's garden:
I really wanted to make this salad with pear, but I didn't have any handy, so I made it with apples instead, which were a respectable substitute. I made it a few days later with pear and the combination was bliss. Unfortunately, I didn't take a picture (or I did, but forgot to put the memory card in the camera, and uploading these photos entails more work than I care for right now), but the perfect butter lettuce salad consists of:
-butter lettuce (preferably from TL's garden, but if you are not TL or someone who lives upstairs from TL, then regular butter lettuce will do. Baby butter lettuce tastes better.) washed and roughly torn
-shaved bits of Parmesan cheese
-a ripe pear (a quarter or however much you want, thinly sliced into wedges)
-freshly and coarsely ground black pepper that you grind yourself
-a drizzle of very good olive oil
The sharpness of the Parmesan and the bite of the ground pepper complement the butteriness of the pear and lettuce really well.
You can add more things if you want, but you really don't need anything else.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
My cashew addiction
I'm in trouble. It's not as if cashews aren't already addicting enough. I try not to keep them around the house, because I can eat gobfuls in one sitting if I'm not carefully monitoring my cashew intake. There are plenty of other nuts and seeds with far more nutritive value that I can consume. (Though cashews do provide you with lots of copper.) So I keep my cashews far out of reach in my cupboard. Still, it's hard to resist the occasional cashew or two. Or three. Or twenty.
And this is with plain old boring raw cashews.
So take a plain old boring cashew and add just two flavor elements:
1. roasting it to bring out its nuttiness
2. sauteing it with a little bit of melted butter and curry leaves
Now you have cashew-turned-crack. It's really that addicting, fortunately or unfortunately, depending on whether you think this is a good thing. I made a cup of this a few weeks ago, and I ate all of it in one weekend. I mean, these are things you're only supposed to eat maybe dozens at a time or so. (I give myself a little bit more leeway with serving sizes since I mostly don't eat meat, so this is one way to up my protein intake.) And oh dear. . .the recipe says it makes enough for six.
The curry leaves give it a wonderful indescribable smoky aroma. Of course, roasting anything brings out its flavor. (Though I don't like buying already-roasted cashews, b/c for some reason, the store-roasted ones sometimes taste rancid. I'm strange like that.)
I found the recipe in the SF Chronicle. I hope this link still works. It's really a heavenly combo. If I were a beer-drinking type, I think it would go splendidly with beer.
And this is with plain old boring raw cashews.
So take a plain old boring cashew and add just two flavor elements:
1. roasting it to bring out its nuttiness
2. sauteing it with a little bit of melted butter and curry leaves
Now you have cashew-turned-crack. It's really that addicting, fortunately or unfortunately, depending on whether you think this is a good thing. I made a cup of this a few weeks ago, and I ate all of it in one weekend. I mean, these are things you're only supposed to eat maybe dozens at a time or so. (I give myself a little bit more leeway with serving sizes since I mostly don't eat meat, so this is one way to up my protein intake.) And oh dear. . .the recipe says it makes enough for six.
The curry leaves give it a wonderful indescribable smoky aroma. Of course, roasting anything brings out its flavor. (Though I don't like buying already-roasted cashews, b/c for some reason, the store-roasted ones sometimes taste rancid. I'm strange like that.)
I found the recipe in the SF Chronicle. I hope this link still works. It's really a heavenly combo. If I were a beer-drinking type, I think it would go splendidly with beer.
Saturday, March 1, 2008
Paella!
I made paella with the pan that Celadon gave me. She also gave me a book with a zillion recipes, so I had trouble deciding from all the yummy-sounding recipes, but I finally decided on a shrimp paella. I had a little trouble keeping the pan from browning, but I think it's because it's my first time using it. It is supposed to get better with use and repeated seasoning.
Since there were about 4 shrimp paella recipes, I borrowed a little bit from all 4 recipes. I also added sun-dried tomatoes, since I was out of broth and sun-dried tomatoes make everything taste better. Mmmm.
Well, when all was said and done, I had about 6 servings of paella. I still need to work on my paella-making technique, b/c while it was pretty good for a first try, the shrimp came out kindof dry, despite my adding it at the last minute possible, and some of the rice came out al dente, which is fine if it were pasta, but I don't think rice is one of these things that is supposed to be al dente. I also think it would've been much improved by using a really good fish broth, which I didn't have.
A good homemade fish broth requires me to deal with fish carcasses, and I'm not sure if I want to deal with a decapitated fish head. Thus, I used veggie broth+sun-dried tomatoes instead, which didn't quite do the trick.
I think that next time, I'm going to make this at someone's house so I can share the fruits of my labor!
Monday, February 18, 2008
A sophisticated butter cookie
Orangette. How do I love thee? Let me count thy ways.
This blog has been the source of endless food inspirations. I mean, I don't even like butter cookies all that much, and yet, I have been fantasizing about these buckwheat butter cookies for months. Part of the appeal was the novelty factor. Another part of it was the intrigue factor: buckwheat with nibs? Hmm. I wonder how that will taste? But mostly, I was drawn to this recipe b/c I really like both buckwheat and nibs. I just never had them together, and what better excuse than in a little cookie?
It took me a while to find nibs, but I found some last week at Whole Foods and then had the perfect excuse to make these this weekend.
This is a very sophisticated and understated cookie. The buckwheat gives it that perfumey earthiness and really complements the bitterness of the nibs. The bitterness, the grainy texture and the buttery-ness all round each out quite nicely. I couldn't stop eating these.
At first glance, they kind of look like they can be mistook for stiff chocolate chip cookies.
But then you bite in expecting to taste chocolate and the flavors are much more intense, yet subtle. I love the burst of not-quite-chocolate flavor from the nibs. I am in cookie bliss. . ..
This blog has been the source of endless food inspirations. I mean, I don't even like butter cookies all that much, and yet, I have been fantasizing about these buckwheat butter cookies for months. Part of the appeal was the novelty factor. Another part of it was the intrigue factor: buckwheat with nibs? Hmm. I wonder how that will taste? But mostly, I was drawn to this recipe b/c I really like both buckwheat and nibs. I just never had them together, and what better excuse than in a little cookie?
It took me a while to find nibs, but I found some last week at Whole Foods and then had the perfect excuse to make these this weekend.
This is a very sophisticated and understated cookie. The buckwheat gives it that perfumey earthiness and really complements the bitterness of the nibs. The bitterness, the grainy texture and the buttery-ness all round each out quite nicely. I couldn't stop eating these.
At first glance, they kind of look like they can be mistook for stiff chocolate chip cookies.
But then you bite in expecting to taste chocolate and the flavors are much more intense, yet subtle. I love the burst of not-quite-chocolate flavor from the nibs. I am in cookie bliss. . ..
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Barley risotto
Ah, asparagus, the harbinger of spring.
In graduate school, my then-roommate and I once kept a picture of asparagus in our living room. Its green caps symbolized the advent of spring.
Well, there hasn't been an asparagus sighting at the farmer's market quite yet, but yesterday, I saw a bunch of asparagus for $1.99 per pound at the grocery store, and while I generally don't like buying imported versions of any veggies that are otherwise available in California (e.g. buying garlic from China at a grocery store, when I live 50 miles from the garlic capital of the world? Come on.), I couldn't resist the asparagus. At $1.99 per pound, organic and buying local be damned.
I had a Mark Bittman recipe for a turkey barley risotto that I had been meaning to try, but needed a good substitute for the turkey and the asparagus delivered.
I also had green garlic (another herald of spring), so I modified Bittman's recipe and concocted a green garlic asparagus risotto with sundried tomatoes. I was a bit skeptical of the barley as rice thing, but the result turned out quite well.
Plus, unlike regular risotto, there is none of this constant monitoring of rice and adding of broth. In this risotto version, you just pour in the liquid all at once and are done with it. It's quite low-maintenance that way, but with satisfying results. The barley imparts a nice "crunchy" texture. Not "cookie" crunchy, but an earthy texture that has a pleasant mouth-feel. I think I might even prefer it to regular risotto. Next time, I need to cook the asparagus a bit longer, but otherwise, I was impressed with the results.
In graduate school, my then-roommate and I once kept a picture of asparagus in our living room. Its green caps symbolized the advent of spring.
Well, there hasn't been an asparagus sighting at the farmer's market quite yet, but yesterday, I saw a bunch of asparagus for $1.99 per pound at the grocery store, and while I generally don't like buying imported versions of any veggies that are otherwise available in California (e.g. buying garlic from China at a grocery store, when I live 50 miles from the garlic capital of the world? Come on.), I couldn't resist the asparagus. At $1.99 per pound, organic and buying local be damned.
I had a Mark Bittman recipe for a turkey barley risotto that I had been meaning to try, but needed a good substitute for the turkey and the asparagus delivered.
I also had green garlic (another herald of spring), so I modified Bittman's recipe and concocted a green garlic asparagus risotto with sundried tomatoes. I was a bit skeptical of the barley as rice thing, but the result turned out quite well.
Plus, unlike regular risotto, there is none of this constant monitoring of rice and adding of broth. In this risotto version, you just pour in the liquid all at once and are done with it. It's quite low-maintenance that way, but with satisfying results. The barley imparts a nice "crunchy" texture. Not "cookie" crunchy, but an earthy texture that has a pleasant mouth-feel. I think I might even prefer it to regular risotto. Next time, I need to cook the asparagus a bit longer, but otherwise, I was impressed with the results.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
More lentils
I have been on a lentil kick lately. I made a lentil pilaf, then a lentil soup a few weeks ago, and now this past week, I tried spiced lentils. This SF Chronicle recipe (scroll down to the very bottom till you get to "lentil and vegetable stew (Dhansaak)") piqued my interest. This recipe calls for hand-grinding a zillion spices, then making an herb paste. I cut the recipe in half, but kept the proportions of the herb paste and spices, figuring that more flavor couldn't hurt.
Since I don't have a food processor or spice grinder, I pounded and ground each of the 9 herbs (except the cinnamon stick, which I grated) with a mortar and pestle. Had I realized that I would have to grind my own herbs, perhaps I may have never tried this recipe, but then I would've missed out.
I don't think I'd make this on a weeknight, but the grinding of the herbs was well worth the effort. The melange of freshly ground spices really added oomph to an otherwise comforting but frumpy lentil dish.
(And now, thanks to fabulous photo-taking tips from my downstairs neighbor, I can actually take close-up pictures that make any dish look quite appealing. )
I lived on this dish for almost an entire week.
Since I don't have a food processor or spice grinder, I pounded and ground each of the 9 herbs (except the cinnamon stick, which I grated) with a mortar and pestle. Had I realized that I would have to grind my own herbs, perhaps I may have never tried this recipe, but then I would've missed out.
I don't think I'd make this on a weeknight, but the grinding of the herbs was well worth the effort. The melange of freshly ground spices really added oomph to an otherwise comforting but frumpy lentil dish.
(And now, thanks to fabulous photo-taking tips from my downstairs neighbor, I can actually take close-up pictures that make any dish look quite appealing. )
I lived on this dish for almost an entire week.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Gluttony at A16
I've been away for a while, but it doesn't mean I haven't been skipping out on food gluttony. I just have been remiss about updating this site.
Several weekends ago, Celadon, M and I went to the city and caught the Marie Antoinette exhibit at the Legion of Honor. The exhibit was interesting, less for the displays and more for the historical and biographical background that it presented of the queen. The weather was lovely, if a tad brisk. After taking a few pictures of the clouds as the sun set, we headed to A16. We had been wanting to try this place for its burrata cheese (and in my case, pizza) for a while.
For appetizers, we ordered the prosciutto sampler and burrata cheese.
Even I, who theoretically don't eat meat, got excited at the slabs of prosciutto. The Burrata cheese is the white stuff on the plate on the right. It is a very creamy, rich version of mozzarella cheese. There were three different kinds of prosciutto. I don't remember which kind I liked best, but it was the darkest one pictured above.
M and I ordered pizza--margherita for him;
mushroom for me. while Celadon ordered the chestnut pasta.
Everything was delish, though by the time I started on my main course, I unfortunatelyhad a bad stomach ache. My pizza had that wood oven-fired distinctive smoky charred taste that I really like. I did not like it quite as much as the pizzas they have at Pizzaiolo, but this was a pretty mean pizza. (In fact, it tasted even better the next day.)
Overall, we were very happy with this restaurant. The service was very attentive without being overbearing. The food was excellent, and the ambience was quite good.
I don't believe in silly scales, but if I were to rate it on a 1 to 10 scale, I'd give it an 8.
Several weekends ago, Celadon, M and I went to the city and caught the Marie Antoinette exhibit at the Legion of Honor. The exhibit was interesting, less for the displays and more for the historical and biographical background that it presented of the queen. The weather was lovely, if a tad brisk. After taking a few pictures of the clouds as the sun set, we headed to A16. We had been wanting to try this place for its burrata cheese (and in my case, pizza) for a while.
For appetizers, we ordered the prosciutto sampler and burrata cheese.
Even I, who theoretically don't eat meat, got excited at the slabs of prosciutto. The Burrata cheese is the white stuff on the plate on the right. It is a very creamy, rich version of mozzarella cheese. There were three different kinds of prosciutto. I don't remember which kind I liked best, but it was the darkest one pictured above.
M and I ordered pizza--margherita for him;
mushroom for me. while Celadon ordered the chestnut pasta.
Everything was delish, though by the time I started on my main course, I unfortunatelyhad a bad stomach ache. My pizza had that wood oven-fired distinctive smoky charred taste that I really like. I did not like it quite as much as the pizzas they have at Pizzaiolo, but this was a pretty mean pizza. (In fact, it tasted even better the next day.)
Overall, we were very happy with this restaurant. The service was very attentive without being overbearing. The food was excellent, and the ambience was quite good.
I don't believe in silly scales, but if I were to rate it on a 1 to 10 scale, I'd give it an 8.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Lentil soup and upma: my comfort foods during wet weather
Rain rain rain. Nonstop.
All day, all week, unrelenting.
I want it to END. Now.
During the torrential rains, I saw an intriguing recipe for a tomato-based lentil soup in the NYT that I decided to try. Nothing lifts your spirits during cold, damp weather like a nice bowl of hearty soup. I followed the recipe as written, except that I realized that I didn't have cumin, lemon or tomato paste, so used another spice and used tomato sauce instead of tomato paste. (Note to self: if you're trying an unusual version of a recipe, make sure you have all of the ingredients before starting recipe, instead of assuming that you have everything, simply because "they're staples". Duh.)
I seem to be eternally recipe-adherence-challenged. However, unlike bread, soup is much more forgiving.
The result was quite satisfying. Some of the lentils dissolved, making the soup heartier and more robust.
I liked the outcome, though as you can see from this picture, the soup--the hue, the consistency--looks nothing like the picture in the NYT.
The other comfort food I made along with the soup was upma--a savory cream of wheat with onions and peas and seasoned with various spices. I got the recipe from Patita a while back, and it has since become a regular part of my repertoire. It is soooooooooooooo easy to make and is yummy. It also gives me a good dose of iron to boot, which is a big plus, since I don't eat meat (unless it's prosciutto). I usually make a batch of upma and then eat it over the course of a week. It is good either cold or hot, which makes it a very versatile portable food item. It is the yellow thing in a bowl pictured above. Here is a closer look at it:
The brown flecks are udid dal. The dark green things are curry leaves, which I only recently have discovered (thanks to Patitia), but they have quickly risen to the status of "indispensable herb"; I keep some stored in my freezer for "emergency" uses. In addition to being useful in things like this and other Indian curries, it adds a lovely smoky flavor to toasted cashews.
So now that I have enough food to feed 10, I say let the rains come.
I'm now armed and ready for thee.
All day, all week, unrelenting.
I want it to END. Now.
During the torrential rains, I saw an intriguing recipe for a tomato-based lentil soup in the NYT that I decided to try. Nothing lifts your spirits during cold, damp weather like a nice bowl of hearty soup. I followed the recipe as written, except that I realized that I didn't have cumin, lemon or tomato paste, so used another spice and used tomato sauce instead of tomato paste. (Note to self: if you're trying an unusual version of a recipe, make sure you have all of the ingredients before starting recipe, instead of assuming that you have everything, simply because "they're staples". Duh.)
I seem to be eternally recipe-adherence-challenged. However, unlike bread, soup is much more forgiving.
The result was quite satisfying. Some of the lentils dissolved, making the soup heartier and more robust.
I liked the outcome, though as you can see from this picture, the soup--the hue, the consistency--looks nothing like the picture in the NYT.
The other comfort food I made along with the soup was upma--a savory cream of wheat with onions and peas and seasoned with various spices. I got the recipe from Patita a while back, and it has since become a regular part of my repertoire. It is soooooooooooooo easy to make and is yummy. It also gives me a good dose of iron to boot, which is a big plus, since I don't eat meat (unless it's prosciutto). I usually make a batch of upma and then eat it over the course of a week. It is good either cold or hot, which makes it a very versatile portable food item. It is the yellow thing in a bowl pictured above. Here is a closer look at it:
The brown flecks are udid dal. The dark green things are curry leaves, which I only recently have discovered (thanks to Patitia), but they have quickly risen to the status of "indispensable herb"; I keep some stored in my freezer for "emergency" uses. In addition to being useful in things like this and other Indian curries, it adds a lovely smoky flavor to toasted cashews.
So now that I have enough food to feed 10, I say let the rains come.
I'm now armed and ready for thee.
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Bread-baking, part trois
Winter is full-on here in Mountain View, and it has nothing to do with the storms that have been pounding us this past weekend. Here, the tell-tale sign that winter has arrived is that several of us at any given moment are baking bread-- or attempting to.
My bread-baking frequency is usually directly correlated to how much choir music I have to study; the 10-20 minutes of kneading time is a great time to study music. It makes me feel productive to both be able to bake bread and learn my music at the same time.
However, lately, I've been into trying no-knead bread. Version one was a 3-ingredient beer bread that was easy as pie. Version two was my attempt at combining Mark Bittman's no-knead bread recipe and another more recent version featured in the NYT. My brilliant idea to "average" the two recipes was my attempt to compensate for things like the lack of dutch oven and lack of measuring cup that measures to the one-eight of a cup (not to mention lack of apartment that stays 70 degrees for 18 hours straight). It turns out that when it comes to baking bread or things that involve exact measurements, averaging two recipes that call for totally different quantities of things doesn't really work.
Inspired by my downstairs neighbor's superior bread outcome, this time I set out to make the Cook's Illustrated version, "No-Knead Bread 2.0", vowing to follow directions. I tried the variation that called for Parmesan cheese, rosemary, and olives.
Due to my apartment's lack of proper insulation, I think it was too cold for the bread to properly rise. Here it is pre-baking:
And after it came out of the oven:
It came out a lot better than the last time. Not quite Tartine Bakery, but the crust actually came out resembling pictures in the Cook's Illustrated magazine this time.
I'm sure the addition of Parmesan cheese and rosemary and olives helped as well. As for the interior. . . taste-wise, I like it, but it is supposed to look more like this. Mine did not have nearly as many air holes: Still, this is an improvement from the last time. Then again, last time, I did not follow any directions, so perhaps this is nothing to write home about. :)
Well, air holes or not, it will be the perfect complement to the tortilla soup I have brewing on the stove as I write this.
My bread-baking frequency is usually directly correlated to how much choir music I have to study; the 10-20 minutes of kneading time is a great time to study music. It makes me feel productive to both be able to bake bread and learn my music at the same time.
However, lately, I've been into trying no-knead bread. Version one was a 3-ingredient beer bread that was easy as pie. Version two was my attempt at combining Mark Bittman's no-knead bread recipe and another more recent version featured in the NYT. My brilliant idea to "average" the two recipes was my attempt to compensate for things like the lack of dutch oven and lack of measuring cup that measures to the one-eight of a cup (not to mention lack of apartment that stays 70 degrees for 18 hours straight). It turns out that when it comes to baking bread or things that involve exact measurements, averaging two recipes that call for totally different quantities of things doesn't really work.
Inspired by my downstairs neighbor's superior bread outcome, this time I set out to make the Cook's Illustrated version, "No-Knead Bread 2.0", vowing to follow directions. I tried the variation that called for Parmesan cheese, rosemary, and olives.
Due to my apartment's lack of proper insulation, I think it was too cold for the bread to properly rise. Here it is pre-baking:
And after it came out of the oven:
It came out a lot better than the last time. Not quite Tartine Bakery, but the crust actually came out resembling pictures in the Cook's Illustrated magazine this time.
I'm sure the addition of Parmesan cheese and rosemary and olives helped as well. As for the interior. . . taste-wise, I like it, but it is supposed to look more like this. Mine did not have nearly as many air holes: Still, this is an improvement from the last time. Then again, last time, I did not follow any directions, so perhaps this is nothing to write home about. :)
Well, air holes or not, it will be the perfect complement to the tortilla soup I have brewing on the stove as I write this.
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
New Year's feast!
New Year’s is not the same without some おせち.This year, I did not go to Japan for the holidays, so unfortunately, I missed out on my family's annual cookfest and eatfest tradition.
This was our spread from Oshogatsu 2005:
And from 2006:
And 2007:
Thus, between two New Year's Eve parties, I decided to make a few dishes and then find someone help me eat it. I did not make 10 things like my parents usually do; I made 3 or 4 items: 紅白なます大根 from a cookbook recipe that looked intriguing 、たたきごぼう、春菊のおひたし、and of course, 雑煮. Here are some pictures from Oshogatsu 2008:
The green stuff is the 春菊のおひたし(I don't know the translation in English); the middle orange-ish dish is the 紅白なます大根 (daikon and carrots braised with ground sesame seeds) and the one in the green dish is my favorite: burdock root! As popular as Japanese food is around here, I wasn't sure who would be a willing guinea pig to try this stuff; these are my friends who were gracious guinea pigs. :)
So in my own way, I was able to participate in my own oshogatsu feast. I did not have 年越しそばthough.
This was our spread from Oshogatsu 2005:
And from 2006:
And 2007:
Thus, between two New Year's Eve parties, I decided to make a few dishes and then find someone help me eat it. I did not make 10 things like my parents usually do; I made 3 or 4 items: 紅白なます大根 from a cookbook recipe that looked intriguing 、たたきごぼう、春菊のおひたし、and of course, 雑煮. Here are some pictures from Oshogatsu 2008:
The green stuff is the 春菊のおひたし(I don't know the translation in English); the middle orange-ish dish is the 紅白なます大根 (daikon and carrots braised with ground sesame seeds) and the one in the green dish is my favorite: burdock root! As popular as Japanese food is around here, I wasn't sure who would be a willing guinea pig to try this stuff; these are my friends who were gracious guinea pigs. :)
So in my own way, I was able to participate in my own oshogatsu feast. I did not have 年越しそばthough.
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