Fortune-Ate: How you look

Sometimes fortunes don't make much sense. That's one of those things about life we just have to accept. And love. Because they came out of a sweet, crunchy cookie.

Well, yes, how I look does depend on where I go. Literally and figuratively, I suppose. Since it's a hundred degrees in California, I look pretty wilted and scruffy.


I thought the intense heat would come in August. It waited until October. That's alright. I can't stop thinking about fudge pops. Maybe I'll try out this recipe.

The Asian Steamed Sticky Rice Burrito

Forgive the less-than-artful title; there just isn't a more illustrative and concise way of describing this Southeast Asian creation. It is almost like an overgrown sushi roll, but I think of it as burrito because of its size. They consist of strips of pork belly, mung bean, and glutinous rice wrapped tightly inside banana leaves and steamed. I've seen ones that are humongous and square-shaped, but most are around eight inches long and two or three inches in diameter, depending on who makes them. (That sounds... funny.)

These "nuhm nsahm" (a phonetic spelling completely of my own fabrication) are ubiquitous on special occasions such as Lunar New Year, weddings, or my aunt's whim.

I don't really like them very much. I find them a bit on the bland side and the sticky twice-cooked texture of the rice doesn't really do anything for me...

Except when the very dense item is sliced and fried on both sides, to be consumed with soy sauce and Sriracha. That, ohhh, that is a completely different animal. Er, food.

Here's how the magic happens:

The Fruit Mark Twain & I Both Love

This fruit goes by many names: cherimoya, soursop, custard apple, strangealiendeathfruit. My love for cherimoyas is perhaps more intense than my love for mangoes, though less ardent than my love for the available-in-Asia-only mangosteen. (Ah, mangosteen--distance truly makes the heart, and stomach, grow fonder.)

These are widely available in ethnic supermarkets in Southern California; I'm not sure how available they are elsewhere. The one pictured above is actually from my grandmother's backyard. In stores, they range in size from as large as a three-year-old's head to the size of an adult's fist. A ripe cherimoya will usually be dark green (though this is dependent on the variety), have a loosening stem, and give to the touch in much the same way as an avocado. They can ripen on the counter but can also develop bruised and unappetizing spots inside the flesh if left for too long.

Mark Twain claimed that the cherimoya is "deliciousness itself!" and I can't help but agree. When a perfectly ripe specimen is sliced open and the luminous white flesh glistens with its juices, it's a moment to behold, akin to that of witnessing a sunrise or getting to third-base for the first time. I usually cut it into wedges and peel back the skin using my fingers or a knife, and sink my teeth in. The flesh of a good cherimoya is, as one of its names indicates, custard-like, with just a touch of fibrousness that reminds you that it actually is, in fact, a fruit. They can be sublimely sweet but I prefer them when they are still on the firm and tangy side. I particularly love the membrane that surrounds each seed. Yes, I'm weird, and yes, this fruit does involve the dreaded spitting-out-of-seeds process-- believe me, it's worth it.

Ohhh, how it's worth it.

More cherimoya links:

• I wonder if this cherimoya nonprofit is still around: http://www.cherimoyas.org">California Cherimoya Assocation
• A very thorough article from 2003: The Strange and Divine Cherimoya