I couldn't get into the groove of baking this morning, staring at the recipes and missing Linda N's smooth, marbled kitchen counters. Sure, I have three springform pans and muffin tins big and small... but my stupid kitchen light buzzes like a mosquito when I turn it on. It wasn't until I started chopping up apples that I started to feel better, even dared to imagine the apple galette as pretty as the picture. It's still in the oven, I'm once again struggling over the fine line between gooey rawness and burnt crust. Thus the resetting of the timer for every 3 minutes... thus the cursing of the oven for lack of an oven light! Aiii... I do what I can.

I go home tomorrow, in time for New Year's eve. It's only been a couple of weeks since I saw my parents, so I dare say that I don't miss them yet. I do miss the people I more recently left behind, the old friends who snap into my present no matter how loosely we keep in touch... and I wonder, how did I ever get by without talking to them everyday. I resist the urge to text and call over random little things, just to keep them present a little longer. I don't count on the next time we meet (with xiao ming!)... life can be unpredictable in the worst ways... I have pictures to bring back the great friends I have, here and now.

I'm picking and choosing what I want to talk about... skipping over topics too complicated and convoluted to spill over my keyboard. I don't want to talk about the residency interview process, the false sense of security programs douse on their applicants and the uncertain aftertaste in my mouth after each trip. Before I rank programs, I need to rank my priorities... and that has been very difficult. It involves a balance of personal happiness and professional success... perhaps the two are mostly counteractive for all but the lucky few.

Something else I don't want to talk about is the dark cloud hanging over me for the past months. It comes and goes, more out of sight when I was reading "Eat, Pray, Love", but comes back at the most inconvenient times. It makes me sad when I should be happy, forces me to smile insincerely, and pushes me to participate in conversations I know nothing about ... so no one notices that I feel out of place...

Let's talk about how difficult it is to bake a cake or tart or pie for the very first time and not know what it tastes like before giving it to people. That first bit (mine and theirs) is pure torment, that moment of silent chewing before the verdict. Of course, I have taste buds of my own, I know perfectly well when something is good, amazing, or horrid... So is it appropriate to criticize my own baking in front of other people, or is that bad baker etiquette. I need to know.

Yet another new recipe from my new cookbook (Williams-Sonoma's Savoring Desserts). This almond sponge cake only takes a little flour, the rest are finely ground almonds (almond flour?). I love that. The texture is more substantial and satisfying, a nice contrast because it's very moist. One complaint is how sweet it is, and I skipped the last step that asked me to poke holes all over the cake and pour simple syrup all over it!

This Apple and Goat Cheese Galette is worth repeating! I know this because my friend picked his second slice with bare hands and ate it like a pizza! Such gusto is a great compliment. Of course, you have to like goat cheese... The puff pastry make this very easy, no kneading or rolling needed. I've been making a lot of layered apple desserts (all different, mind you), because that is the one staple I always have around...

It has been a good month in Houston. So good that I don't want to leave, so good I'm making plans to come back, so good that I wonder wouldn't it be cool if my friend and I both end up here for residency. Yes, it has been a good month.

On my last morning in Houston, Linda N took me to our favorite crepery one last time... CoCo Crepes and Coffee. She was in the mood for anything Nutella and I wanted the old favorite - raspberry white chocolate mousse (no, it's not too early for this much sugar).

Thinking back, we realized that we have come here every weekend for breakfast
and that one time for lunch with the girls.

I miss it already.

I got my first pedicure in the village with Linda and Linda (and Linda's Richard) and confirmed what I suspected to be true -- I have sensitive toes and very thin toe nails. I was trying hard not to say "ouch" or make any tortured faces... When I glanced over at the girls they seemed comfortable as can be with their magazines in hand and the nail ladies painting/filing/scrubbing away. This is all rather worrisome because I loved my pedicure and look forward to more in the future.

I'm having packing anxieties. Apparently so, since I'm sitting on the floor surrounded by open suitcaes, unconfirmed iteneraries, short sleeve dresses, a scarf, a mitten, and this laptop I'm about to leave behind... blogging. Let me explain. It was 70 degrees in Houston this morning. Now it is 45 F. I'm about to leave for the Sunshine State tomorrow where it's almost80 degrees... but only after waiting thirty minutes in the freezing cold at the crack of dawn for the super shuttle to take me to the airport. What's a girl to wear? What's a girl to pack? My tiny suitcae will be filled up to the max with my suit and shoes alone.

Thus the anxiety. Thus the blogging.

2008 is almost over, so suddenly. I'm back where I started, long ago. I find myself forgetting old grudges, giving the city another chance. There are so much to miss, after all. The hardest part was driving in, seeing the Fannin St exit for the first time in four years. I have exited here hundreds of times before, but never in the driver's seat. I changed lanes and missed my exit... by choice.

I burned toast yesterday. Reflexively I panicked, seeing the thick, dark smoke leaking out of Linda N's little white toaster oven. I turned on the fan, opened door, cracked on the AC, lit the candle… Suddenly I'm back in that cramped dorm room, where nothing belonged to me except the lavender cup filled with colorful pens. Suddenly my blond roommate is accusing me of stealing her ID, so early on Saturday morning. Suddenly I'm trapped within the hedges, with nowhere to go except the gym.

The smoke clings to the apartment, my current apartment so close to the med school, the one Linda N invited me to share with her for my month in Houston. I scrub the toaster clean, throw out the dark brick of a toast, and chase a fly out of the balcony door. The smell stays. Linda comes home. I tell the story. She laughs. I'm all flushed. She laughs some more.

I still wait for the shuttle every morning, which comes around only once a hour but drops me off so close to work. I drive all around the city, sometimes purposely muting the GPS to get off track, just a little. I haven't changed that much. There are still isles of stores in the Galleria I only peek into. I see my old self in all the old places, in every person running around the outer loop. I smile at her, and smile at myself because there are still so much of her inside me.

How appropriate, I'm reading The Time Traveler's Wife. It gets me thinking of the time traveling I do these days.