earl grey shortbread

It's safe to say that I don't like drinking Earl Grey tea as much as I love baking with it. There's something about the flavor of Earl Grey in a cookie that just works. I'm not sure I can pinpoint it. In fact, I'm not sure I can even pinpoint what Earl Grey tastes like: 

It's citrusy. It's spicy. It's smokey.
It's fragrant and flowery.
It's perfume-like.

A sip of the tea leaves a unique tartness tingling on the palate; it's aromatic and rich, brisk and relaxing. Believe it or not, I didn't really like Earl Grey tea the first time I tried it. Granted there's that tad sophistication merely from its name (I mean, come on, Earl Grey), so considering that and its rising popularity, I could only expect it to taste amazingly soothing, right?

But my first cup left me disappointed and unimpressed, with a bitter aftertaste of oranges in my mouth and a strange, sharp sensation that shot up my nose with each sip. It was far from soothing, but I chugged it anyways.

So I stayed away from Earl Grey for a while and kept to my Matcha. It wasn't until a spontaneous tea-hunting expedition at the supermarket that I decided to give Earl Grey another shot. And I'm glad I did! I'm pretty sure it's just the difference in brands, and therefore the difference in flavors, but I like this subtle, light flavor more. Less bitter but with the familiar citrusy bergamot.

So my second (and third, fourth, fifth, and so on) cup of Earl Grey left me rather smitten.

tackling writer's block with bananas

June just began and Taipei has already morphed into some sort of convection oven. A step outside our building meant risking my fresh clothes and clean hair to be drenched in perspiration within the matter of seconds. The sun isn't as blistering as it had been in the South (when I went on tour the previous two summers), but the humidity! It wraps itself around you like a heavy, damp blanket, and any hopes you have for the slightest breeze are crushed by the thick mugginess. June just began, and I can only imagine the humid weather come mid-July or August. To think I actually refused to install an air conditioner in my room...

I've been having consecutive unproductive weeks. I haven't been baking, I haven't been cooking, I haven't been reading as much as I used to. Once I'm hooked to a novel, I can read for hours, lying on my bed with my feet propped up against the rounded white headboard. But these days I feel distracted. Maybe it's the same old stress--the same family issues, the same lingering self-doubts that rattle both nerves and confidence despite perpetual reassurance.

I haven't been writing, I haven't been blogging. What I did do was attempt the dreaded personal statements. But despite having a story to tell, despite the emotions, the epiphanies, and the inspiration that came with it, writer's block still got the best of me. Every approach I took, every good idea that formed in my head trickled out bland and lifeless once my fingertips tapped the keys.

So I'm writing this post to tackle my writer's block--hence the title--and to hopefully draw out the motivation to get back on my feet again!

With the lack of posts all month, I haven't updated about my summer classes have I? Last Wednesday I took a placement exam at the university where I'll be taking Mandarin classes. Except for a few empty blanks and a horrendous elementary-level essay, the exam wasn't as complicated as I'd imagined. At orientation yesterday I received my schedule, bought my textbook, and found the tiny classroom I'll be going to and from for the next three months.

And so I baked mini treats ahead of time to bring as afternoon snacks. Since we had two overly ripe and disgustingly browned bananas abandoned and untouched in our fruit bowl, I used them and my new silicone baking cups to make mini banana bread cupcakes :)

panda cookies over etudes

Monday night I attended my friend's (my older sister's godmother's daughter...what a mouthful) senior recital where she and five other graduating seniors of the music department put together a seamless performance of solos, duets and other collabs, and in the end, even parodied a Taiwanese talk show. 

My high school didn't have the tradition of holding senior recitals. There were end of the year performances where a few groups recognized the seniors in front of the audience and others that rewarded plastic plaques during the class period, but seniors didn't get the spotlight chance to perform as my friend did that Monday night. It made me a bit nostalgic. The only solos I've performed since beginning high school were for auditions or CM exams. My private teacher didn't gather all her students for a recital of any sort either.

I'm not an avid violinist anymore. Though I do pick up the wooden instrument and run through my twelve major scales from time to time, I always set it back down after about fifteen minutes or so with no willpower to even finger through an etude. But as I watched my friend perform her solo that night, watched her bow articulating vigorously into the strings, her fingers quivering amidst a vibrato, chords reverberating in the auditorium...my hands itched to play.