conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What is a description for a book titled A Taste of Home about Kansas, Hays, State with the genre: Cookbooks, Food & Wine? End with the sentence ' She maintains a food blog titled Kitchen M.'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Heather the author lives in Hays, Kansas with her husband and three children. She is a 2002 graduate of Hays High School and 2006 graduate of Kansas State University with a Bachelors degree in Hotel and Restaurant Management. Shay Meckenstock lives in Hays, Kansas, with her husband. They have three married daughters and eight grandchildren. As well as creating culinary delights, she trains and equips lay people for home church ministry. Shay s first book, The Mystery of Christ: A Radical Truth...Lived, was published in 2007. Emiko Taki is from Japan; she studied at Kansas State University, and is currently residing in the Bay Area as a Registered Dietitian and Food Stylist/Photographer. She maintains a food blog titled Kitchen M.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What is the first two paragraphs for this book? End with the sentence ' These for me were the real summer treats of my childhood.'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A Taste of Home
  A few years later, a young man organised a group of boys and young men and taught them to sing at mass and perform operetta. They were initially known as the Boys' Club until they formally adopted the name Knights of the Sacred Heart. The man who organised the group was Onofre Pagsanjan who was fondly known to many Ateneans as "Pagsi", who developed Ateneo's famed student theater company. He was a much loved man who has served the community with so much dedication. While the Knights achieved so much under his tutelage, to my knowledge, the church-goers in our parish church have not been treated to such high quality music at mass since that fiesta when the choir was accompanied by a chamber orchestra.
  These were the experiences that shaped our relationships as we all matured together, for through them we learned life's lessons—how to value and help other people, to give love and receive love, to be trusting and be forgiving. These for me were the real summer treats of my childhood.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What is four more paragraphs?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: I was taken aback. I blinked out my tears, wiped the rest from my grubby cheeks and beamed. I quickly nuzzled against my dad and wiggled down to play with the other kids. I never had to worry about my weight again. After all, I was loved enough to be cared for even before I entered into this world. And by god, I was going to take care of that body since my parents did such a good job of it. I never overate or under-ate again.
  One day I asked my father why there was so much food around. He simply declared we were descendants of the Yu Dynasty and must uphold their famed culinary tradition. It gave us all a good laugh, and we gamely kept that joke alive over the years. Obviously he was the "Emperor", my mother was the "Empress", and my sister Eiza, my brother Orlan and myself were all "heirs-in-waiting". The grand couple spent so many years training us to become worthy of our supposedly famed culinary heritage.
  When we outgrew the crab-guarding role, we were promoted to "slicing assistants", and then eventually promoted to the Highly-aspired for role of "assistant imperial chef". My sister and brother had the natural talent, but I, apparently never did.
  Over the years, despite how hard I tried to improve, I burned down our crock-pot (yes folks, it can be done!), sliced a few fingers, and even completely messed up instant soup mixes. While my brother eventually whipped up gourmet dishes by the time he was fifteen, I declared when I was sixteen that maybe in the scheme of things my role in the Yu Dynasty kitchen was to be the official "food taster". It was either that or dish washer, so I obviously went for the sexier title. My mom kindly concurred, claiming that back in the old days, Chinese emperors had to rely on food tasters to survive. She was that type of mom—supportive until the end.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What is the last four paragraphs?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: ANGELINA LAPID VARONA is a chemist and a musician. She obtained her bachelor's degree in chemistry at St. Louis University in Baguio, her master's at the Ateneo de Manila, and her doctorate at Pennsylvania State University under a Fulbright-Hays scholarship. After spending ten years as a full-time mom to her two sons, she slowly worked her way back into the workforce in various jobs as a chemist, chemistry and biochemistry professor, and training specialist before she finally retired. She and her family lived in Pennsylvania, Delaware, and Wisconsin before settling down in Marietta, Georgia in the early 80s.
  The sliced onions and tomatoes wilted, I drop the berries into the simmering broth, along with a bunch of Japanese eggplant and yellow squash that I'd sliced, and watch them bounce around the pot in happy entropy. Steam rises and I let a familiar warm, humid air touch my face. In a country where the nippy air almost always dries your skin, where a different language makes you mouth words like you were dancing with two left feet, and where lack of familiar scents and tastes defines the familiar, this cloud of steam becomes an oasis.
  My days revolved around fancy-sounding desserts and breads: Fondant cakes, Lavender beignets, Crème Brûlées, Rosemary-Pineapple sorbet and Tonka Bean glace, Malden-salt sprinkled Foccaccia and double butter brioche. I also had the luxury to partake of this food in all of its quiet elegance on the plate, without having to pay a single cent. Yet, at the end of the day, my taste buds longed for something else. They sought the familiar.
  What is a Pinoy cook to do? Definitely not wallow in pangs of hunger and homesickness. In my apartment kitchen, I set off recreating flavor memories with whatever I have on hand. On most weekends, I cook adobo and experiment with balsamic vinegar, white vinegar, champagne vinegar, red wine vinegar, adding in a new ingredient, mushrooms of every kind—portobello, crimini and fresh button mushrooms. The nuances of flavors and degrees of sourness would vary but the result would still be as comforting as the adobo on our family table. The mushrooms, with their earthy and meaty flavor, would impart another taste dimension. With hot steamed rice, it always hit home.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Add another sentence about worked, quenelled, composed, willing.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: ANGELINA LAPID VARONA is a chemist and a musician. She obtained her bachelor's degree in chemistry at St. Louis University in Baguio, her master's at the Ateneo de Manila, and her doctorate at Pennsylvania State University under a Fulbright-Hays scholarship. After spending ten years as a full-time mom to her two sons, she slowly worked her way back into the workforce in various jobs as a chemist, chemistry and biochemistry professor, and training specialist before she finally retired. She and her family lived in Pennsylvania, Delaware, and Wisconsin before settling down in Marietta, Georgia in the early 80s. 
  The sliced onions and tomatoes wilted, I drop the berries into the simmering broth, along with a bunch of Japanese eggplant and yellow squash that I'd sliced, and watch them bounce around the pot in happy entropy. Steam rises and I let a familiar warm, humid air touch my face. In a country where the nippy air almost always dries your skin, where a different language makes you mouth words like you were dancing with two left feet, and where lack of familiar scents and tastes defines the familiar, this cloud of steam becomes an oasis. 
  My days revolved around fancy-sounding desserts and breads: Fondant cakes, Lavender beignets, Crème Brûlées, Rosemary-Pineapple sorbet and Tonka Bean glace, Malden-salt sprinkled Foccaccia and double butter brioche. I worked with foams and spheres, purees and gels, crumbles and meticulously quenelled ices and carefully composed them on immaculately clean plates for guests who were willing to pay exorbitant prices. I also had the luxury to partake of this food in all of its quiet elegance on the plate, without having to pay a single cent. Yet, at the end of the day, my taste buds longed for something else. They sought the familiar. 
  What is a Pinoy cook to do? Definitely not wallow in pangs of hunger and homesickness. In my apartment kitchen, I set off recreating flavor memories with whatever I have on hand. On most weekends, I cook adobo and experiment with balsamic vinegar, white vinegar, champagne vinegar, red wine vinegar, adding in a new ingredient, mushrooms of every kind—portobello, crimini and fresh button mushrooms. The nuances of flavors and degrees of sourness would vary but the result would still be as comforting as the adobo on our family table. The mushrooms, with their earthy and meaty flavor, would impart another taste dimension. With hot steamed rice, it always hit home.