I don’t like the term “pot stickers.” It sounds like a parasitic little Chinese bug. But I don’t think you can legally call them dumplings once they’re fried, unfortunately. Steamed = Dumpling, Fried = Pot Sticker. (THESE are dumplings. Soup dumplings people. Dumpling, full of soup. Yes. I advise that you
NEVER eat them, because you will get addicted and be very, very depressed when you realize you live hundreds upon hundreds of miles from a proper dumpling house. Unless of course, you’re lucky enough to not live in the backwoods, then by all means, gorge on them. In a dark dark time of intense craving I considered making them, but just looking at a recipe for soup dumplings will make you cry.) Anyway. I made the fried variety. Momma made some really good pulled pork (in our new lake crock pot!) this weekend, but we were out of rolls last night, so pot stickers seemed the best course of action. I’ve seen the little dumpling wrappers at the store and I’ve been desperate to use them, so I was overjoyed to have finally found an opportunity. I was torn as to whether to try and go Asian with the filling, or just let it be its very American self. Unable to come up with anything that could possibly turn salty, sweet, barbeque-y pork into something vaguely oriental, I just let it be its porky self. A little dab of dijon mustard, a mini mound of pork, and a few tiny radish slices. (Side note: I love me some radishes man! They’re so strange and so good. I like the snappy texture and feisty flavor–they way they have that spicy sharp little after-bite. Mmm.) It was a little trickier than I thought to get the little guys to stick together, they kept popping open. Key is only wetting one side of the wrapper, and not using too much filling. Then a quick fry on a hot pan. Dipped in more mustard, crispy, hot, sweet, good. Eaten whilst watching season 3 of Mad Men. Good all round.
Pulled pork pot stickers, why wouldn’t cha?
You know how sometimes your camera goes haywire and it turns out strange and kind of nice? Or maybe that’s because my poor camera has gotten buffeted around in backpacks and been in the ocean a few too many times. Either way. (Pop’s boats stacked up in the breezeway.)
Muffins rock. Not the mammoth ones encrusted with strudel at coffee stands though, those are just an affront to the real muffin community. The fat-laden Costco ones aren’t legit either, though they are so horrifically, diabetes-inducingly good. Real muffins are sweet but not very. Just sweet enough to be satisfy the morning sugar need. Don’t act like you don’t want at least a little sugar hit in the AM, you dedicated muesli eaters out there (You know who you are.) So this perfect muffin is just sweet enough, and a dense little baked good. Far denser than say, cake. Closer to banana bread, but not quite there in terms of densitometry (HA, wow, that is a real word. Probably not often used in terms of muffins.) And a little bit of fruit to justify it as a balanced breakfast is always a big plus. And today’s batch was just hitting it out of the park on all these fronts. Kinda followed these dudes 
anna cotta 