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  When I traveled through Indonesia, I didn’t start my mornings looking for croissants or pastries. I followed steam. I followed banana leaves folded with care. I followed the quiet rhythm of markets waking up before sunrise.   Indonesian traditional cakes— jajanan pasar —aren’t flashy. They sit humbly behind glass cases or on woven trays. But every bite tells you where you are. Rice, coconut, palm sugar. Soft textures. Gentle sweetness. Food made to be shared, not rushed. Here are ten Indonesian traditional cakes I tasted, loved, and later learned to make—each one carrying a piece of the journey. 1. Klepon (Palm Sugar Rice Balls) Ingredients 1 cup glutinous rice flour ¾ cup warm water ½ tsp pandan extract Palm sugar (gula aren), chopped ½ cup grated coconut Pinch of salt Instructions Mix rice flour, pandan, and water into a soft dough. Take small portions, flatten, and add palm sugar. Seal and roll into balls. Boil until they float. Roll in salted...

  I didn’t grow up thinking of cake as something soft and frosted. In my memory, cake was steamed. It was wrapped in leaves. It was sticky, chewy, and sometimes barely sweet. Asian traditional cakes didn’t announce themselves. They waited quietly on tables during festivals, family gatherings, and ordinary afternoons that later became memories.   These cakes taught me patience long before I knew the word for it. Mochi: The Art of Touch The first time I made Japanese mochi, I learned something important: you can’t rush dough that clings to you. Mochi asks for calm hands and a steady breath. The rice flour transforms slowly, turning glossy and elastic, reminding me that texture is just as important as flavor. When I fill it with red bean paste and fold it closed, it feels intimate—like sealing a small secret inside. Mochi doesn’t impress with sweetness. It impresses with feel. Soft, stretchy, and comforting, it’s the kind of cake that makes you pause mid-bite. Klepon: Sweet...

  How to Grow a Blushing Bromeliad: There are some plants that bloom, beguile, and then fade into obscurity. And then there’s the Blushing Bromeliad ( Neoregelia carolinae )—the drama queen of houseplants. One minute it’s all green and subtle, and the next it’s blushing a furious red like it just heard an embarrassing secret. This striking plant, native to the lush forests of South America, is as eye-catching as it is enigmatic.   A Short History of the Blushing Bromeliad Originally found in Brazil, the Neoregelia carolinae hails from the vibrant tropical rainforests where it lives a pretty laid-back lifestyle as an epiphyte. That means it spends its days chilling on trees, collecting rainwater in its central cup, and gossiping with other rainforest plants. European explorers discovered it in the early 19th century, likely dazzled by its bright central coloring. From that moment on, it’s been a must-have for indoor plant enthusiasts who want to bring a touch ...

  Behind the “73% leave” statistic is a quieter truth about mindset, preparation, and what it really means to build a life abroad. The claim that 73% of Americans leave Spain within two years has been making the rounds in expat circles, sparking equal parts anxiety, validation, and eye-rolling. The statistic comes from Globexs, a relocation firm that helps Americans move to Spain, and while it’s effective as a headline, it doesn’t tell the whole story. Numbers rarely do. When emotions are high and dreams of a new life are involved, statistics can feel more like verdicts than data.   Moving abroad is an intensely emotional decision. It’s easy to romanticize a place from afar and just as easy to feel overwhelmed once the fantasy collides with reality. According to Globexs, people leave Spain primarily due to bureaucratic exhaustion, financial strain, healthcare complications, social isolation, and professional stagnation. On paper, it sounds bleak. Read quickly, it almost sugg...

  When cooked the Asian way, duck becomes something deeper—richer, softer, layered with memory and spice. These recipes remind me that good food isn’t loud. It simmers. It fills the room with aroma long before it reaches the plate. Here are five Asian duck recipes I return to when I want food that feels intentional.   1. Chinese Soy-Braised Duck (Hong Shao Ya) Ingredients (Serves 4) 1 whole duck (2–2.5 kg), cut into pieces 4 tbsp light soy sauce 2 tbsp dark soy sauce 2 tbsp Shaoxing wine 1 tbsp sugar 3 slices fresh ginger 3 cloves garlic, smashed 2 star anise 1 cinnamon stick 2 cups water Step-by-Step Instructions Rinse duck and blanch in boiling water for 3 minutes; drain. Heat a pot, add duck pieces skin-side down to release fat. Add ginger, garlic, star anise, and cinnamon; stir until fragrant. Add soy sauces, wine, sugar, and water. Bring to a boil, then cover and simmer on low for 90 minutes . Uncover and reduce sauce until glossy. S...

I am a food lover. The kind who believes breakfast sets the emotional tone of the entire day. If my morning starts warm, slow, and full of flavor, everything else feels softer. That’s why I fell in love with slow-cooked Asian chicken breakfasts. They don’t rush me. They wait for me. I start with chicken congee , the quiet hero of mornings. Rice dissolves into silk overnight, chicken melts into it like it belongs there, and ginger whispers instead of shouting. This is the breakfast I choose when I want comfort without explanation. When the world feels loud, congee listens. Then there’s bubur ayam , and this one feels like memory. It’s savory, gentle, and layered with little surprises—crispy toppings, soft rice, tender chicken. I love how it teaches me patience. Nothing here is instant. Everything is earned through slow heat and time, and somehow it tastes like care. On days when I need depth, I reach for ginger chicken and mushroom congee . The mushrooms bring earthiness, the ginger ...