Tomorrow is the Mid-Autumn Festival, the fifteenth day of the eighth month in the Asian lunar calendar. The moon will be at its fullest. Delicious, if cloyingly sweet, cakes (‘the size of hockey pucks’, someone wrote) will be shared and eaten in many households in China. I prefer the ones without the salted egg yolks in the center, the ones with only lotus seed paste as filling. You bite into it, past the lacquered pastry crust, and the khaki-colored filling, about the consistency of spackle, will stick to the roof of your mouth. Wonderful stuff, but laden with calories and saturated fat.
I just read a story in the latest issue of the New Yorker about a New Orleans teenager who had just started twelfth grade in Brooklyn, and the journey that her mother and she had to make to get there, through their initiative and determination. A wonderful story and a tribute to the human spirit.
A compendium of images - most original, some not - words, and links, sometimes musical, gathered for the exclusive enjoyment of friends and relatives, some old, and some new.
