Pictures

China is composed of a fair number of rural areas. It’s not all smog and pollution. If you travel to the right places, you’ll be rewarded with the clear countryside air, and a sense of serenity about the environment. I went to Anning (安宁市) a while ago with my family. It’s located in the Yunnan province (云南) which is far southwest in China. Past the busy city of Kunming, with its roads that stretch out as far as you can see, and nondescript, grim buildings, you’ll get to the main roads flanked by trees and fences. And you’ll see unusual things there. I saw a truck full of pigs. And another full of sheep.

Anning is known for its hot springs. The resort-esque hotel we stayed in had quite the selection of amenities, including a large spa, with natural hot springs. It was a beautiful place. Large and sprawling, made to resemble an area of nature, with the rooms arranged in small buildings scattered about. All interconnected with winding paths and bridges. It gave off a Thai vibe and an air of romance.

I went to walk around. It was wonderful.

Since they provided massage services there, we went to enjoy them, which means foot massages and facials.

I was awed when I walked into the room.

The facial felt okay. I can see how some people find it relaxing, since you’d be lying down with your eyes shut, while someone massages your face and spreads creams over it. Okay, maybe that doesn’t sound great. It wasn’t relaxing for me. Did you know that they don’t avoid your eyes? At least there they didn’t. They went over my eyelids with all the products, and when I opened them later, it burned a little. And why is it that your body randomly itches in some places when you can’t move? How inconvenient.

On the other hand, the foot massage was bliss. They also served some food after it. A small set of snacks.

They served a porridge of grains, but I couldn’t identify what sort of grains. Rice, for sure. It was mildly salty. Although the flavour was mild, comprised of only grains and water, it was delicious. It was clean tasting and balanced. The saltiness made you want to eat more. We’ve been there a couple of times, so I’ve tried their other porridge variation, which was nearly the same but with beans. It was sweet instead of savoury. I preferred the sweet one. Inside the pot was some warm milk. On the small green plate, there’s a meat dumpling and a little purple sweet potato cake. The dumpling was okay. Nothing too special about it. But the cake… dense, velvety, sweet, but not too much. With notes of sweet potato.

We visited Kunming for a day. To be specific, a tea shop and a bakery. The bakery had some of the best baked goods I’ve ever eaten. The egg tarts they sold were phenomenal. Unfortunately, I don’t have a photo of the tarts.

Chinese is a very literal language.

It’s actually a Korean style beef toast. Close enough. I didn’t try it, though.

What an adorable name. It’s pretty accurate, since it’s a large loaf thing composed of little buns stuffed with cheese. So huge cheese. It’s soft, fluffy, savoury, and delicious.

We might be returning soon.

It’s currently 3 something AM as I type this. Outside, the rain’s pouring, the thunder’s roaring, and the lightning’s illuminating the darkness in sporadic intervals. The atmosphere is wonderful. There’s a sense of isolation, as well as one of comfort. The temperamental weather recalls certain memories of being curled up under your duvet, of warm drinks, and of spooky stories told in the dark. There’s something so special about it. Of how the bad weather seems to give you permission to sulk. To wallow. To feel bad. And how’s that, me starting off a post about the weather again. But, you know, there’s no feeling quite like the one you get while shovelling down four freshly baked cookies during a thunderstorm. Ahh, that rush of unnecessary carbs and sugar. Who can resist chocolate chip cookies?

I digress. This post isn’t about cookies at all. That’s another post for another time, since I have all these photos that need posting and all this writing to do. Don’t worry. I’ll spend that time perfecting the cookie recipe. Speaking of perfecting recipes, perfection doesn’t come without attempts and failure. I spend a good portion of my time coming up with recipes. Which is quite the shocker, because that requires some calculation, which equates to maths, which I really do not like. Emphasis on really. Yet there’s something oddly enjoyable about working with fractions and percentages when it comes to baking. Numbers are fiddly things. Confusing, too. You know when you ask your brain something and it has the answer? But you’re not sure how you knew that or whether to trust it? That happens to me a lot. Like with a calculation error regarding this recipe. Not quite a calculation error, if we’re being exact. More like a conversion error. An error of ratio.

Numbers are fiddly things. Confusing, too. You know when you ask your brain something and it has the answer? But you’re not sure how you knew that or whether to trust it? That happens to me a lot. Like with a calculation error regarding this recipe. Not quite a calculation error, if we’re being exact. More like a conversion error. An error of ratio. Since then, I’ve learned to question anything that my brain comes up with. I’ll tell you a little story. I got locked in a park three days ago. At approximately midnight. For two hours. It was not pleasant, as I’m sure you can conclude on your own. As for how I ended up in that situation, it’s quite simple. I did not read the sign. Why? Before then, I’d puzzle over the opening and closing hours of that park area, and somehow came up with the opening time of 5:30 AM to 11:00 PM. So I looked around the park the next time I went, but couldn’t find where I read that, or from where I gleaned that from. Of course, the only logical thing to do was to conclude that there weren’t any opening or closing hours. Because I’m a very logical person. As I’m sure you can tell. (Not.) And that’s how they locked up the gates at midnight as I was running 5K. My sister had a fair point, though. She asked (rhetorically, I’m assuming) “who goes out running at midnight?” The answer is simple, dear sister. Me.

Back to the main topic of this post. The recipe. The partially successful loaf. Let me say that it wasn’t a major fail. It was edible, it wasn’t burnt, nor was it horribly misshapen. But the flavour was off. That’s what I got for using reconstituted milk. I’m not blaming the milk powder. No, it’s wonderful, for being an alternative to easily spoilt fresh milk. For baking. I’m not sure if reconstituted lukewarm milk is appetizing. I’m guessing not. Anyways, because I’m me, with my malfunctioning brain, I turned to the internet for the ratio of powder to water. Instead of checking the actual cannister. Moral of the story? Don’t be like me. The ‘locked in a park at midnight’ story should back that up. That’s a bit misleading, actually, since the internet wasn’t wrong. I muddled it up again. I remembered the ratio incorrectly, and so I put way too much powder. Or maybe I wanted a milkier bread. It’s blurry to present me. All I know is that past me screwed some things up, but did it for the greater good. Learn from my mistakes, people.

It’s safe to say I won’t be posting the recipe in this post. I’ll never post that exact recipe. But once I edit it and fix it, I just might. I do, however, have a lot of photos to post. Prepare yourself.

Bread doughs are cuter than babies. Argue all you want, I’ll stand by my opinion. Also, what’s up with the whole comparison of kneaded dough to a baby’s butt? Are baby butts really that smooth? What about diaper rash? I really don’t want to feel a baby’s butt just to quench my curiosity. For (hopefully) obvious reasons. I also don’t know why I decided to bring that up.

It kneads a good punch.

Parchment paper is so useful. Even that’s an understatement.

Here’s an issue I have with breads made with milk. The milk seems to interfere with the gluten somehow. Or impedes with gluten development. I’ve heard of an enzyme in milk which breaks down gluten, but that’s supposedly killed off at a certain temperature, which UHT milk is heated to. But it still happened when I used UHT milk. I’m wondering if it’s something to do with the fat content, or maybe even the proteins. The problem is not dough strength. I do think there’s plenty of gluten. The problem is the extensibility of the dough. It’s evident in the tears you can see on the surface. The thing that baffles me even further is that when I use an egg, I don’t have that problem. Even if all the liquid I’m using is milk. Perhaps it’s a hydration issue.