#83: A Heatwave Special
Summer-proof makeup and scallion oil noodles worth sweating for.
Yesterday, poor judgement and a speck of hubris had me running errands at noon on one of the hottest days of the year. Five minutes from home, with a twelve-pack of toilet paper, parcel, and fan in one arm and my sunglasses sliding off my nose, I spilt my can of coke down my front and it was so refreshing I wasn’t even annoyed.
With sweat, I think we move towards an invisible threshold, whether you’re in a hot yoga class or holidaying; once passed, you embrace being dishevelled and are freed from the social norm of dryness. As a person who leans more sweaty than not (my mum always framed this as an sign of good health, but I think she was trying to protect me from my embarrassment), there is something especially glorious about high summer, when almost everyone wears a proud gleam on their brow and our pores are seemingly, collectively, wide open.
That being said, I—like everyone else—have found it hard to do more than the menial ping pong of emails this week. No better time to send you a list of miscellaneous high summer recommendations.
Feel time passing
I’ve been a fan of Jia Zhangke’s films (specifically the 5/30+ I’ve seen) for a while, and I’m thankful Ivan barred me from watching his latest, Caught by the Tides, on the plane to Hong Kong, as it deserved a proper screening.
We went in relatively clueless, so it was only mid-watch that we realised Jia spliced shots from his 20 years in film with new footage, allowing us to see his wife and long-term collaborator Zhao Tao as she and her on-screen lover age and traverse a violently changing China.
It may have more than a few plot holes, but in an age of AI de-aged Robert De Niros and Robin Wrights, it felt human; there’s a lack of actual physical affection shown between its two central characters, but the emotion feels subterranean. Also, any movie where we get to see Zhao Tao dancing at a disco, or walking with a makeshift parasol at a roadside pageant, is a win in my books. Plus, if you too have no AC in your abode, consider the cool dark cinema.
it may have more than a few plot holes, but in an age of […], it felt deeply human—and emotional...
Time machine food
Another thing about high summer is that it is heavy in mundane nostalgia. The smell of gloopy sunscreen; the feeling of sitting on a sandy towel in a baking car. Ivan and I were doing our grocery shopping recently when I spotted it: Viennetta, the Unilever-peddled dessert best described as supermarket vanilla ice cream in a vaguely piped loaf ‘cake’ form, with zig-zags of chocolate that you break as you eat (only upon venturing to the Viennetta Wiki page, for the photo below, did I learn the chocolate is in fact sprayed on).
I loved this passage from said Wiki page, which felt deserving of a pull quote.
The layers of ice cream were extruded, one after another, onto trays sitting on a moving belt. The rate of extrusion was greater than the speed of the belt which causes festooning or bunching of the ice cream; each layer was extruded at a different speed from the previous layer. The final effect was akin to a series of waves rippling through the product, giving a concertina effect to the resultant confection.
Viennetta is flavour-wise no different to having a pint of vanilla with chocolate shards, but it’s the act of pulling the wannabe-Rococo (v on trend) cuboid out of the cardboard box and importantly, slicing it to serve, that felt, and still feels, special. We of course had to buy it (I insisted), and I’ve decided (just now, while writing the last sentence) that I will be slicing and having some tonight, even though the Redditors say it’s not as good as it used to be.
Writing this and searching for photos online has also surfaced some spin-off flavours like choco-nut, which I might make it my mission to hunt down. If you’re a baker/confectionerily gifted,
has also done a DIY tutorial.Humour me: what does nostalgia taste like to you? My other time machine foods include: my mum’s linguine bolognese (yes, especially with linguine); fish siu mai served on a stick; malkist crackers (Garden brand).
Hairspray for the face
In these climes nothing sounds worse than a full beat, but for R&D purposes I’ve been wearing more makeup, probably more than I have for all my 29 summers combined. We’re almost exactly a month out from the wedding, and in a bid to heatwave-proof my makeup (see my most recent bridal beauty write up, here), I’ve been putting my products to the test in the London heat.
I’m pleased to say I’ve found a reliable combination for my needs; you won’t be shine or sweat free, as I’m not sure that’s possible with oily skin on a hot day without hermetically sealing yourself from the neck up. But you can dab away the shine and your hard work will remain intact.
Very light moisturiser: I layer the Curel water essence.
A non-greasy sunscreen, though I will probably opt out on the actual day: I use the Ultraviolette lean screen.
A primer: the Benefit Porefessional does an okay job; it’s more for blurring and smoothing than shine control. I like the Danessa Myricks balm, and am keen to try her water powder serum too.
A matte foundation and/or concealer combo: Estée Lauder Double Wear and Nars Soft Matte have served me well as medium-full coverage options.
A setting spray (the crucial step): I have a mini of the beloved One Size spray, which people compare to hair spray for good reason.
Powder: I also got a mini of the One Size setting powder, though I use a less drying one under the eyes.
Setting spray again!
To be clear, as much as I like makeup, I wouldn’t put myself through this on a hot day without the threat of a wedding day heatwave looming; now at least this whole DIY beauty ordeal has taught me something I can recycle for future nuptials as global warming threatens to turn every summer gathering into an overdressed communal sauna session.
Noodle nirvana
A second recipe, but instead of a July-proof face it’s for a trusty meal. I’ve had scallion oil noodles two days in a row now, and could easily keep going; you can make a good amount for the week and dodge boredom by swapping out toppings. Plus it’s a dish that still stirs the appetite but isn’t too taxing to make on a hot drowsy day.
The length of this section makes the recipe seem way more complicated than it is, I promise.
Boil a big pot of water for the noodles: these are our favourites, but spaghetti is a perfectly good substitute.
Chop the roots off a bunch of scallions (I’ve used anywhere from a big bunch to four shrivelled up, soon-to-go stalks), and cut them into pinky finger-long sections.
Heat them over medium in a good glug of oil (depending on how much you’re making, but don’t be stingy) until you see them bubble; turn the heat down to the low.
Ensure the scallions are cooking evenly—they shouldn’t burn and smell bitter, but they will go dark eventually. The lower and slower you can bear to do this, the better. When they’re around 5 minutes out, boil your noodles along with any veg, or boiled eggs, you’re serving alongside.
When the scallions are nice and dark (but again, not bitter), remove them with a slotted spoon.
Drain the noodles and run them through cold water so they don’t carry on cooking in residual heat.
If you’ve made more oil for later, pour some out into a jar now. Then, season it: I usually eyeball the sauce measurements, but to share quantities with you, I consulted The Woks of Life: 3 tablespoons dark soy sauce, 3 tablespoons light soy sauce, 4 teaspoons sugar.
Add the seasonings to the oil and heat it on low, until the sauce becomes more cohesive and bubbles. Take care not to burn it!
Toss the noodles in the sauce.
Taste a strand for seasoning: here I like to add some black rice vinegar (you can also do this by personal preference at the table; I like quite a lot of it), and a tiny drizzle of sesame oil.
Thanks for reading,
Zoe
Haw flakes are the number one nostalgia-invoking food item for me 🔴