Sunday, February 13, 2011
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Meeting the Parents....
So last weekend was a monumental one considering i brought a boy home with me. An actual boy reader!
I had been hiding him away for a year. Bless my parents; they saw the pictures, they laughed at the stories, they even waved and smiled like loons when a video chat with boyfriend was interrupted over Christmas. But alas, they hadn't met the man himself. It didn't help either that I was practically a part of the furniture at his place - his mother and I were swapping cooking tips the weekend before no less.
So when it turned out he had a football-free window in his calendar last weekend; I pounced. I made sure I booked my parents in for some 'pally time' and dragged the poor fella up the road for a couple of days of smiling politely and accepting endless offers of food.
In the end, I had nothing to worry about; my father was ready to offer my hand in marriage as soon as they both sat down to watch 22 men chasing a ball, shaking their fists at the screen every now and then. Mother was charmed when she was presented by a box of chocolates on arrival and promptly gave me a not-so-subtle thumbs up followed by a wink. It was actually the dog that turned out to be the one he underestimated; even chicken-flavoured bribes wouldn't suffice as she kept eyeing him up, looking for the most exposed part of his body to lynch on when the opportunity arised.
At one point in the weekend we gathered around to watch an episode of 'Hands On'. This is a TV programme for the deaf, rather like those programmes that you see when you switch on the box just as you stumble in from the pub at some unreasonable hour. I had already shamed myself on screen before Christmas with my stint on the programme but of course, they were having a 'best of' special that meant I had to relive the whole sorry thing again, with 7 extra pairs of eyes in the room with me.
Mercy!
Don't get me wrong, 'Hands On' is great, but me? I'm still learning how to sign. If you saw me talk to one of my fellow deafies you would most likely see my hands flapping about madly in every which direction; think 'directing-traffic-in-central-Mumbai-rush-hour-traffic' style and you're pretty much there. You can see for yourself at 7:38 mins below, but Lord knows the vid itself may disappear in order to help my face go back to its original colour.
Mercy!
Don't get me wrong, 'Hands On' is great, but me? I'm still learning how to sign. If you saw me talk to one of my fellow deafies you would most likely see my hands flapping about madly in every which direction; think 'directing-traffic-in-central-Mumbai-rush-hour-traffic' style and you're pretty much there. You can see for yourself at 7:38 mins below, but Lord knows the vid itself may disappear in order to help my face go back to its original colour.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Monday, January 31, 2011
Nom Nom Nom
So we had the final of 'Come Dine with Me' last night. I was limbering up for a smug new post about how I managed to get them drunk enough by the time it came to scoring my winning menu when I realised that I neglected to blog about the day I actually cooked. Tsk. The reason it fell off my blogging radar is probably due to the fact that it was one of those days that it interrupts your train of thought, you feel a wave of exhaustion come over you, and need a good sit down with a cuppa tea (and a hobnob, if you're feeling extravagant) to get your bearings again.
In a nutshell, we've taken the concept of the TV show, added a few Irish accents and got rid of the camera crew. So myself and 4 other budding masterchefs in my social circle take it it turns to cook a three course meal every other Sunday (ah, four free meals to help keep the 'end of weekend' blues away) and score each other afterwards. Add the scores up at the end and the winner is declared.
I woke up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed the morning of my 'night', skipped off to town with my Eco-Warrior Tesco Bags (EWTBs). Checkout workers always give me that 'everytime-i-hand-you-a-plastic-bag-a-baby-polar-bear-dies' look when I forget to bring EWTBs. Since the only pictures of polar bears I have stored in the cranium are akin to the below, the EWTBs are coming with me dammit.
When I arrived back at the apartment several hours later minus a months wages and an estimated 4 stone, my kitchen was fully kitted out with a new baking dish, a baking tray, a measuring jug and a 'revolutionary' pastry roller that I didn't need in the end as the pastry was already prepared and rolled out. But it is revolutionary, it will have its chance to shine when i finally purchase my '101 Ways with Pastry' book (read: when I make some homemade playdoh).
I started cooking all at once - I figured I'd just go with the flow and wrap the whole feast in a blanket of clingfilm and tinfoil if worse comes to worse and its all done 2 hrs early. I had things boiling, baking, frying, steaming, melting, simmering, roasting and relaxing all at once. Not sure what that last bit was but it was something edible sitting in the fridge...relaxing. Any questions ask Mr Ramsey yourself.
The dinner itself passed a in haze of paranoia; did i overcook the beef? Did i forget someone's allergy and they are about to drop to the floor clutching their throat and looking at me accusingly any minute now? Why is she only eating 4 spoonfuls of the soup? Is Colm drunk? The answers; No, not a rash in sight, turns out the poor sod was hungover and yes, yes he was.
I bet you're wondering what the menu was aren't you? Ah reader, I know thee too well. So here it is, drumroll please:
Starter: Broccoli and Stilton Soup
Main: Beef Wellington with a side of Potatoes Dauphinoise
Dessert: Apple Crumble with Custurd
In fairness, my fellow contestants did put up a good fight and showcased their culinary prowess with burger surprises, special edition chocolate cakes and alcoholic melons (yep, that was Colm again). Give it a go yourself readers - even if you serve up a burnt mess that would have you hauled up in front of a judge for animal cruelty if you served it to your dog, at least you will have a solid night's craic!
In a nutshell, we've taken the concept of the TV show, added a few Irish accents and got rid of the camera crew. So myself and 4 other budding masterchefs in my social circle take it it turns to cook a three course meal every other Sunday (ah, four free meals to help keep the 'end of weekend' blues away) and score each other afterwards. Add the scores up at the end and the winner is declared.
I woke up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed the morning of my 'night', skipped off to town with my Eco-Warrior Tesco Bags (EWTBs). Checkout workers always give me that 'everytime-i-hand-you-a-plastic-bag-a-baby-polar-bear-dies' look when I forget to bring EWTBs. Since the only pictures of polar bears I have stored in the cranium are akin to the below, the EWTBs are coming with me dammit.
 |
| Run along little bears, run along! |
When I arrived back at the apartment several hours later minus a months wages and an estimated 4 stone, my kitchen was fully kitted out with a new baking dish, a baking tray, a measuring jug and a 'revolutionary' pastry roller that I didn't need in the end as the pastry was already prepared and rolled out. But it is revolutionary, it will have its chance to shine when i finally purchase my '101 Ways with Pastry' book (read: when I make some homemade playdoh).
I started cooking all at once - I figured I'd just go with the flow and wrap the whole feast in a blanket of clingfilm and tinfoil if worse comes to worse and its all done 2 hrs early. I had things boiling, baking, frying, steaming, melting, simmering, roasting and relaxing all at once. Not sure what that last bit was but it was something edible sitting in the fridge...relaxing. Any questions ask Mr Ramsey yourself.
The dinner itself passed a in haze of paranoia; did i overcook the beef? Did i forget someone's allergy and they are about to drop to the floor clutching their throat and looking at me accusingly any minute now? Why is she only eating 4 spoonfuls of the soup? Is Colm drunk? The answers; No, not a rash in sight, turns out the poor sod was hungover and yes, yes he was.
I bet you're wondering what the menu was aren't you? Ah reader, I know thee too well. So here it is, drumroll please:
Starter: Broccoli and Stilton Soup
Main: Beef Wellington with a side of Potatoes Dauphinoise
Dessert: Apple Crumble with Custurd
In fairness, my fellow contestants did put up a good fight and showcased their culinary prowess with burger surprises, special edition chocolate cakes and alcoholic melons (yep, that was Colm again). Give it a go yourself readers - even if you serve up a burnt mess that would have you hauled up in front of a judge for animal cruelty if you served it to your dog, at least you will have a solid night's craic!
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Ah January...
Did you know that January 24th was the most depressing day folks? Its a mix of failed New Years resolutions (we're all back on the full-fat mayo now apparently), the painfully long wait til you get your hands on that first paycheck after Xmas and well, its January ('nuff said). Thankfully that sombre little nugget of information just passed me right by as I was too busy yelping at a sewing machine on the day itself. See below for the fruits of my labour:
Yesyes, its just a bit of fabric masquerading as some pathetic cushion cover at best (or at worse, some kind of towel to dry your springer spaniel off after a long walk in the countryside, in the rain). Nonetheless reader, this little patch is just the beginning of my furore into dressmaking. And next week we get to make a skirt! A skirt reader! I'm so excited i'm using italics!!
We spent the start of the class paired up and measuring each other. I happened to be paired with a pregnant woman (6 months gone) who helpfully decided to compare our measurements as we went along:
"I guess the bust measurement should be good for the ego, but it will all head south of the border as soon as I pop this little one out!"
"Wow, what a tiny waist you have.."
"Yeah i know, i've such such fat ankles now with all the water i'm retaining (sigh!)"
Mercifully, all was well in the end when it turns out she was a bit of a dab hand with the awl sewing machine and lamented on the little cute outfits she was going to make to kit out the new addition to the family (it was at this point in the evening where my ovaries started quivering at the thought of the little one in a matching cardie and beanie hat!)
In other news, the boyfriend did his bit for his country over the weekend and attempted to get a few in the back of the net, all in the name of futsal. The evenings were largely dominated by helpful reminders from my fellow spectator Lisa to 'breathe!!' when Joe got the ball and was dribbling in the manner of {insert famous futsal player's name here}. I managed to watch 3 games without falling into a hyperventilative state and congratulated him in the end:
In a totally unrelated note, I discovered the most luciously decorated bar in Dublin last weekend when out for a glass of Orange juice (*ahem* hi mum!!). If Urban Outfitters was a bar/restaurant, this would be it: http://www.shebeenchic.ie/. If you're in Dubbers this weekend go see, if only for the photo booth and to take style inspiration from the staff!
Yesyes, its just a bit of fabric masquerading as some pathetic cushion cover at best (or at worse, some kind of towel to dry your springer spaniel off after a long walk in the countryside, in the rain). Nonetheless reader, this little patch is just the beginning of my furore into dressmaking. And next week we get to make a skirt! A skirt reader! I'm so excited i'm using italics!!
We spent the start of the class paired up and measuring each other. I happened to be paired with a pregnant woman (6 months gone) who helpfully decided to compare our measurements as we went along:
"I guess the bust measurement should be good for the ego, but it will all head south of the border as soon as I pop this little one out!"
"Wow, what a tiny waist you have.."
"Yeah i know, i've such such fat ankles now with all the water i'm retaining (sigh!)"
Mercifully, all was well in the end when it turns out she was a bit of a dab hand with the awl sewing machine and lamented on the little cute outfits she was going to make to kit out the new addition to the family (it was at this point in the evening where my ovaries started quivering at the thought of the little one in a matching cardie and beanie hat!)
In other news, the boyfriend did his bit for his country over the weekend and attempted to get a few in the back of the net, all in the name of futsal. The evenings were largely dominated by helpful reminders from my fellow spectator Lisa to 'breathe!!' when Joe got the ball and was dribbling in the manner of {insert famous futsal player's name here}. I managed to watch 3 games without falling into a hyperventilative state and congratulated him in the end:
In a totally unrelated note, I discovered the most luciously decorated bar in Dublin last weekend when out for a glass of Orange juice (*ahem* hi mum!!). If Urban Outfitters was a bar/restaurant, this would be it: http://www.shebeenchic.ie/. If you're in Dubbers this weekend go see, if only for the photo booth and to take style inspiration from the staff!
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
In through the rabbit hole, round the big tree...
Finally nabbed a place on a dressmaking class 10 mins away from my digs for the bargainous sum of 90 yoyos! This is all in exchange for 10 weeks worth of learning how not to stab myself repeatedly with the sewing needle and produce an elegant creation so delightful that men and women alike will tilt their heads and sigh in appreciation at the sight. I'm no budding Stella McCartney but if I ended up with something akin to the below, i'll die happy:
Went to see Love & Other Drugs last night which was nice an all. Alas, the sex scenes disturbed me greatly due to the fact that Anne Hathaway looks the spit of my best friend's lil sister (uncomfortable, mostly due to the fact that she is still the lil 8 year old that followed us around looking to play, and maybe a lil bit due to the fact that she nabbed Jake, biatch)
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