How to console a confused soul: Gluten-free kumquat almond cake

When I was little, my mother used to call me “hay fire”. When you light up a hay straw, it burns so brightly but only for a few seconds, until the whole hay straw turned into powder. Apparently, I was like that – I would randomly pick up a hobby or a toy, and be completely obsessed with whatever I chose for a brief moment. On time, I asked my parents incessantly for a watercolor set – one of those with 48 different colors that every artsy-fartsy child in Yangon wanted. I played it for two days, shoved it at a room corner until the set collected dust beyond recognition. From what I can tell as a kid, that habit was less than desirable. My grades would fluctuate from very good to bad in a matter of weeks up until middle school. My teachers were confused. I was confused as well.

Burmese chickpea tofu salad (soy-free)

Yum


When I was a kid, my only wish was to become an adult so that I can buy and eat whatever and whenever I want. Kids are not allowed to touch money in my family. Naturally, the first time I felt like a grown-up was not the day I lost my virginity, but the very first day of fifth grade when I finally received my first pocket money. As soon as I arrived school, I went straight to the cafeteria with thirty kyats (3 cents) in my hand. Of course, with the prospect of food within the next 5-10 minutes, my face was beaming like a Ferrari’s headlight. Despite the cafeteria’s small size, it was mostly flooded with candy shops. I literally was a kid in a candy store; unable to decide who should get my 30 kyats. But, of course, as a child taste prodigy, I was not tempted by the lowly high-fructose corn syrup. I somehow ended up at a salad station, and finally got myself a Burmese chikpea tofu salad with a complex flavor profile. That day, I learned two very important lessons- that autonomy is priceless and unsanitary hands give you a very bad stomachache.

Fool-proof Way to Make Your Own Burmese Chickpea Tofu at Home

Yum


When I was eight in Burma, I was ridiculously, seriously, passionately into collecting fridge magnets with cartoon figures. I quietly store those magnets in metal pencil boxes in a little wooden drawer my mom gave me. Being an imaginative kid, I pretend that there is a ring of fire, an army of wizards and a big giant crab protecting my magnets. My brother tried to steal them? Oh please, he had no chance. But one day, I just woke up and decided that I didn’t like them anymore, and gave every single one away to my brother and my cousins. After I had given away, I felt no attachment whatsoever. Damn, my eight-year-old self was such a pro at letting stuffs go. There was no dilemma, no ambivalence. He knew he didn’t want them. He gave away -the end of story. He moved on to find the things he will like. He didn’t know what they are or how they will look like, but he was open-minded for possibilities. More importantly, that kid did not give a crap about what others people think.

Chickpea mini donuts (Vegan and gluten-free)

Yum


I believe that one of the greatest fears of my family is me starving alone in the United States. Even after my constant reassurance that I can actually make decent food, they are still skeptical. It is true that my family have seen my food posts on Facebook, but until recently, I realized that they thought I am googling food pictures and posting them. Well, I actually cannot blame them because I literally have never set foot in the kitchen back in Myanmar. I honestly don’t even know what the inside of my kitchen looks like back in Myanmar. But, still, I laughed so hard for a solid five minutes until my non-existent abs hurt. I just find it extremely entertaining that the idea of me googling and posting food pictures is more plausible for them than me holding a knife and actually cooking. (Way to have an absolute faith in me, mom). So, every time, a relative come visit California, my family would send loads of Burmese food that can easily feed a family of 10, in hope that I don’t starve. And, I am not even exaggerating.

Burmese turmeric lentil and bean thread noodle soup

Yum


It is now almost the end of February, also know as the time for second-year medical students start to develop paranoia and stress-induced hemorrhoid for the incoming national licensing exam in May. This year, unfortunately, I am one of them. That is the reason why I have been very MIA on blog and Instagram these days (Good excuse, right?).

Even with my notoriety for being lazy, I feel the pressure to start studying. So, last month, I started studying with a friend, mostly because I see him as someone who won’t grab my throat at after studying 10 hours a day, or vice versa. Yes, we freaking study 10 hours a day, and it is disgusting. But the good thing is I notice that I actually start to feel smart; when I am in a clinic these days, I can actually understand the words that used to sound too Martian. I feel that I am stepping into that doctor-y snobbish club, and part of me weirdly enjoys it.