Cumin chicken bones

In which I attempt to explain a strange-sounding but revelatory dish.

First experience: Yesterday
Location: Shenyang Restaurant in San Gabriel
Cost: $4.98

During one of my family's early visits to this Dongbei* restaurant, we were halfway through our meal when we noticed that one particular dish was on everyone else's table, but not on ours. It looked like a pile of dark brown meat and bones, and the other diners seemed to relish picking through it. We felt left out and resolved to try it the next time.

Yesterday, back at Shenyang, we ordered the dish -- translated as Cumin Chicken Bones -- along with some sesame-and-salt flatbread. It was even better than I could have anticipated. Two chicken "frames," the skinny portions of the chicken left over after the "best" parts -- breasts, wings, legs and thighs -- are removed. The frames are chopped into hunks small enough to be handled with chopsticks, then simmered in a sauce of sugar, soy, and perhaps fermented bean, all flavored with a generous amount of cumin seeds. On the plate, the simmering liquid has become a sticky reduction that clings to tender bits of meat, skin, and cartilage. Had it been served on a more fleshy cut of meat, the sauce would have been pushed to the sidelines. Here, nibbling on the bony pieces, you revel in the sauce itself.

The dish does not look attractive, and neither will you as you are eating it. The only way to eat it is to lift a hunk of bone with your chopsticks and attack with your teeth, tongue and lips. How much of the fragrant meat you get depends somewhat on skill, and somewhat on patience, much like picking through a steamed Maryland blue crab.

One more reason this dish seemed so delicious: It was another example of how Chinese cooking, like other old cuisines around the world, has found ways for people to enjoy every last part of each animal we use for our nourishment.

*Dongbei literally means "East-North" and refers to the three northeasternmost provinces in China, bordered by Russia to the north and Korea to the east.

Full-priced adult furniture, not for me

Rejoice, for I am finally beyond the IKEA furniture phase of my life (except for the occasional, irresistibly fun kitchenware). The two IKEA items that I still own -- a couple of small white-and-beech colored pieces -- I find myself staring at these days with almost-loathing.


My new predilection: Second-hand furniture. Stylistically a step up, but not yet quite arrived. I'm sorry to anyone who thinks I should have been farther along in life by now, but I just can't bring myself to pay $1600 for one sofa from Pottery Barn. Not now, and perhaps not ever.


Below is an antique writing desk and chair I bought yesterday for $100 from a guy in Glendale I found via Craigslist. Before it really feels like it's mine, I'll need to sand down and refinish the top and stretch some new fabric over the chair pad. But how cool is it? If you're curious, scroll past to see what the same amount of money would have gotten me in real stores.

$100 at Pottery Barn would have gotten me... the keyboard tray in this attractive home office setup:

$100 at IKEA would have gotten me this perfectly functional desk. But the cost to my soul: Another $100. Resale value: $10.

Flush with coupons*

I currently have, in my possession -- and a good thing too since I am setting up a new household in Palms and needing things like a new toilet seat, bath rug, under-cabinet light strip, bedskirt, small pieces of furniture and other exciting items -- no less than the following 7 very useful coupons:

Two 20%-off-one-item for Linens-N-Things
One $5-off-$15-purchase for Bed, Bath & Beyond
One 20%-off-one-item for Bed, Bath & Beyond
One 15%-off-purchase for Home Depot
One $25-off-$250-purchase for IKEA
One 25%-off Friends-&-Family pass for Cost Plus/World Market

That last one I just received from Randi via e-mail, and it pushed me over the edge: I had to let the world know about my ridiculously great stash of coupons. (I do this not to brag, but to appease the gods of good fortune, so they know I appreciate what they do for me.)

I am collecting these kinds of coupons like a hungry squirrel storing up nuts for the winter. I have looked through my neighbors' discarded junk mail. Don't pity me; these things are as good as cash! I pity you if you are one of those chumps who wanders into Bed, Bath & Beyond without a big blue 20%-off coupon in your hot little hands.

*On a side note, I considered the alternate title "Awash in coupons" for this blog entry. I ended up liking the sound of "flush with" better than "awash in," plus it's less pretentious-sounding. But I confess I had to google the phrase to make sure I had it right, and that it wasn't actually "flush in" or something. Google, thank you for helping me keep my idioms straight.