I am sooo bad about keeping secrets. It’s just way too stressful to remember what I can say and can’t, to whom and in what situation, you know? I don’t want the responsibility of keeping a secret, as I’d much rather use that energy for doing more useful things, like this.

Cuz here’s the deal. Secrets take up brian space. The thousands upon thousands of secrets that I’ve kept since I was 4 years old are still in my head. Seriously, I’m running out of room in my brain for any more secrets to add to my repertoire. My brain is dangerously close to running out of virtual memory and either I need to reallocate brain cells (just delete my stupid superhuman skills) or get a brain transplant, preferably from someone with an IQ greater than 73 and with social skills higher than an ovulating hyena.

But dear friends and family, DO NOT ask me if I want to hear about a secret. Because my other quirk, called INSANELY CURIOUS, trumps all.

Recently, with all the non-disclosure contracts that I’ve had to sign for possible Steamy Kitchen business deals, my brain has gone into virtual brain dump mode and have been using the blog as my outlet. I’ve had to come online at 3am, write a post, dishing out all the dirty details and publish. Then I quickly delete it.

Urge, fixed.

Until I forget that the rest of the world doesn’t live in my time zone. The ungodly hour of 3am Monday morning is 10am Monday morning somewhere in the world, the ideal time for cyberslacking at work, which, by the way is done by 75% of the American workforce, costing us something like $170 billion annually. I’d be curious what percentage makes up blog-whoring. WOOHOO! Go bloggers!

So, in this coming year, I’m going to play a bit more on this blog, expanding my posts outside of just recipes. Because with this (AHEM) new cookbook deal in the works, I won’t be able to post as many Modern Asian recipes as I’ve had in the past.

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Before we tie a big, fat bow on this year’s box of ups, down and go-arounds, I‘d like to give props to Spam, the wondrous food that started my relationship with Creative Loafing (the newspaper that I write a weekly food column for) earlier this year when I dared editor Max to lose his spam virginity to me. And yes, I was gentle. I fed him luscious morsels of Spam nestled in mounds of snowy, fluffy, white rice.

It’s not an easy task, convincing people to willingly eat meat that comes in its own coffin, especially after hearing the “STHLURP” as it slithers out and the “STHLUNK” as it lands on the counter top in a quivering, solid, gelatinous mass.

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I had my first tomato harvest, on Christmas Eve. Of course, I don’t consider the green tomatoes that fell off from the branch of my bigger tomato plant that broke as “harvest.” But then again, the term “harvest” is really relative, isn’t it?

Can 2 little 1-inch golden grape tomatoes be called a harvest?

Sliced each teeny tiny grape tomato with an exacto-knife. Thai basil from my garden, Maldon sea salt, fresh ground pepper and Bariani Olive Oil

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I scootched over to my friend, Sue Ann’s blog, noticed that she had a badge on her site, proudly proclaiming that her blog’s reading level is College Post-Grad level. Curious, I went to see what reading level Steamy Kitchen is, because I am a supporter of education and higher learning.

Crap. Must be because I used the words “HAIRY TWAT” once in a post.

Note: Up until about 4 minutes ago, my blog was at ELEMENTARY SCHOOL level. I added the words, “BUTT-HEAD” to this post and was immediately raised to JUNIOR HIGH level! WOOHOO!!!

I want to hear what your blog’s reading level is!

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Andrew and I arrived home safely late Monday night. Our trip to Los Angeles was full of Mom’s home cooking - we had Chinese hot pot, fried garlic chili crab, chicken noodle soup with rice noodles, homemade XO chili sauce, and Hainan steamed chicken. Oh it was heavenly and I ate like a madwoman. These trips back to Mom are essential to restoring my inner Asian balance.

Our flight to Los Angeles left super early from the Tampa airport, which is about an hour away. Since we rushed out of the house at 5am, I left dishes unwashed in the dishwasher from the night before. All my energy was focused on getting to the airport on time and making sure that I didn’t pack my normal purse contents of hand lotion, hair spray, bottled water, weed killer, self-inflating rafts, bacterial cultures, bleach and rodent poison.You know, anything that could potentially be used as a weapon.

Back off, bucko, I can hurt you with my hand lotion. It’s LAVENDER SCENTED WITH EXTRA ALOE.
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