Shrimp wonton noodle soup with kamaboko. I know, I know. Comfort food much? I could’ve added some bok choy to make it a lot prettier, but it was late, and I wasn’t in the mood to go hunting down fresh veggies. The wonton took forever to finish, so the sooner they could get in my tummy, the better.
Shrimp wonton
1 c. (about 1/2 pound) ground chicken
8 medium shrimp, peeled, deveined, finely chopped
1 green onion, finely chopped
1 t. soy sauce
1 t. dry sherry
1/4 t. white pepper
20 wonton skins
1 small dish of water
While filling your wonton, bring a large pot of water to boil.
Mix the chicken, green onion, soy sauce, sherry and pepper together to form a smooth paste. Add shrimp.
Scoop about 1 t. of filling onto the center of each wonton skin.
Dab your finger in water dish, then run it around 2 adjoining edges of each wonton skin to dampen.
Fold the wonton skins over to form triangles. Press the edges firmly all the way around to seal. Set filled wontons aside (don’t let them touch or they’ll stick together). Repeat with remaining wonton skins until all are made.
Gently lower the wonton with a slotted spoon into the boiling water, dropping them in successively one by one, so they don’t stick together. Boil until the meat is cooked and the wontons float; about 4 to 5 minutes. Wonton you don’t use can be frozen (don’t let them touch when you wrap them) to be used later.
Remove with a slotted spoon and drain.
Soup stock
4 c. chicken broth
fresh kai lan or bok choy
1 T. soy sauce
1/2 t. sesame oil
1 green onion, chopped
1 small garlic clove, finely minced
While the wonton are cooking, heat the chicken broth until boiling.
Stir in your chosen veggie, soy sauce, garlic and sesame oil. Cook for 1 minute, until the veggie softens.
Ladle the soup into a large bowl. Add lamian and wonton. Garnish with green onion, sesame seeds, or kamaboko.
So, I didn’t exactly pick the most complicated recipe to offer as penance for being absent for so long. But while grocery-shopping I did pick up ingredients for a curry dish or two as well as everything I need to make a batch of malasadas, so I will hopefully be posting those soon.
The other night, a friend and I spent some time wandering around the Loop. We ended up settling at Meshuggah’s to caffeinate ourselves and sit around and talk about things like art and religion and whether or not collecting Hello Kitty paraphernalia is cooler than collecting fairies. (Anyone who has seen my apartment knows my vote.)
At some point, a very nice and normal looking guy in his late 20’s joined our conversation. He had glasses, a pipe, a beard, a wedding ring, and a Blackberry filled with dozens of photos of maybe the most adorable baby in the world. He told us about coming to St. Louis to get his Masters in philosophy, about how much he loves The Office, about how he was 4 hours away from his wife and child, about how he felt about education, art, religion, cable television, and what the idea of the “cougar” means for girls my age trying to get dates.
I didn’t really think the conversation could be more entertaining, or more random.
Suddenly, he gets serious. Sort of. He asks if he can be perfectly frank and get our honest opinion on a situation he’s in. He says, “So, I have a date next weekend.”
Ohhh-kaayyyy.
Fast-forward through our puzzled looks, and our polite questions that could easily be translated as “What the hell?” and we’ve learned that this date is with a girl that he has no feelings for and has not informed of his non-single status.
My friend was very clear to him how she felt. What he wanted – which he described as “having his cake and eating it too” – was utterly despicable. While I felt similarly, I tried to ask questions to point his brain in the right direction.
Q: “Would sex with this new person be worth losing your wife and child when she found out?”
A: “No, my wife wouldn’t leave me. She’s too nuts about me.”
Q: “How would you feel if you had discovered that your wife had done same thing?”
A: “I wouldn’t really mind that much.”
Ohhh-kaayyyy.
He argued that it was harder for a man to remain monogamous. He said women didn’t need sex the same way men did. Every reason we gave for him to simply go home for the weekend instead of seeing this new girl was met with an excuse.
As the barista from Meshuggah gave a last call and we started to get up to leave, all we could do was ask this man to go talk to his wife so that – at the very least – she could make an informed decision as to whether she should stray or remain faithful, the same as her husband.
He had told us his real name, where he lives, and where he goes to school. As we left, he seemed nervous, and suggested he’d prefer we not try contacting his wife. I joked about blogging about it instead.
I don’t want to marry this man. I don’t want to be sitting at home with an adorable 5-month-old while my husband discusses cheating on me with a couple of strangers.
The idea is a little bit terrifying.
