"A Photograph is Memory in the Raw": Wonder-woman

Currently listening to: Gonna Get Along Without You Now/ Thieves (She & Him)
Currently pondering: I don't want to give up home cooking for revision...

Last week I said that the diet would start, and over-consumption and mid-week drinking would be banned. But I know now that was never meant to happen, universal signs have shown me that that is not the way; 'Tis not the season to be fretting about Christmas weight. Next week, back at Uni, back to bellydance, and I'll get my butt in gear. Yus. In the spirit of not worrying about caloric castigation, I've been revelling in the freedom of a well-stocked kitchen and the shiny newness of my Christmas goodies! I got A LOT of baking-related gifts, retro measuring cup, colourful silicone cases, cook books- the works. And in a happy twist of fate, the boy also got a lot of groovy cooking related gifts! It only made sense that we spent a couple of evenings cooking and playing house (I love playing house, I loved play-pretend as a child and I still do now). I also love seemingly unnecessary kitchen gadgets, like a simultaneous apple corer AND slicer. Apples taste so much tastier when cored and cut into slices. True. Story.

The recipes we tried were SO good, that not only did they make my skirt fly up (I've been waiting to say that for ages) but I'd also recommend them to others. Do it. Find new depths of happiness with relatively little fat-laden guilt.

First things first however: excuse the shoddy photography, it's hard to cook and photograph with only one pair of hands. My second pair was preoccupied with Assassin's Creed. Men. Pssshh.

1. Chicken Mojo (Levi Roots: "Food for Friends")

Alex's recipe. He has an inclination towards spicy and slightly exotic food, so this present should encourage him to be more adventurous in the kitchen. Should. But men are men, ultimately this genetic subscript dictates that the easiest/quickest solution will be taken when the hunger pangs kick in.

First plus point: Simple store cupboard

ingredients. The ginger beer isn't
needed though, that was for my own refreshment...

Before

Gift 2: Awesome Kenwood mixer/blender/chopper/blitzer. I don't ever want to fine chop vegetables ever again. Mr. Ken Wood is now chief veggie chopper, thank you.

2 Button presses later..

Look. Look at how colourful and beautiful that looks. It
smelt even better.

Then came the difficult task of leaving it to marinade for 1-5 hours. We lasted 1hr 18mins. Pitiful, but you don't know how good this

marinade smelled! You can't judge us!

Ready for roasting. Here's a tip, maybe an obvious one, but for those who like a crispy skin on your chicken, when roasting, place the meat skin side down, so when you turn it mid-way through cooking, the skin isn't covered by cooking juices which make it go all soggy. Maybe that's obvious, maybe it isn't, either way, gives you a crispy skin.

Serve with awesomely awesome vegetables and sourcream.

Review: Knee slappingly good food, and not too unhealthy right? Minimal cooking fat, sizeable protein portion, vit C from the orange juice and lime juice, chilli pepper boosts your metabolism and fat-busting abilities while you're eating, and then urr, you know, has an aphrodisiac quality to it too, for later..you know. Ye-ah.

This chicken was such a hit, Alex didn't even add Nando's sauce. Oh no. And I went on to look through the book and found an alcoholic watermelon recipe. I LOVE WATERMELON. I LOVE ALCOHOL. I have found my summer eats. And when I hve a summer barbecue housewarming, I'm making both the wings and the watermelon thing and everyone will love me forever.

2. Winey Mushrooms.

We needed some sort of veggie goodness for a side plate, but unfortunately couldn't find a simple-ish one in the book leaving us with no other option other than to "wing it". So what do you do with a pepper, red onion, and 2 large mushrooms?

Slice 'em, fry 'em with butter, salt and pepper and then decide to throw in your glass of wine.

Realise that mushrooms are terrible alcoholics and your half glass of wine is not enough, and you should just go ahead and pour from the bottle. Classy. Wish you'd doubled the mushroom content. Forget about it. Finish the wine. Remember you're cooking. Save the pan before you burn through it.

Find sourcream. Throw it on the side of your plate and throw out your healthy eating resolutions. You won't regret it. Or at least not until you break into your second-stone weight gain.

-Break (~~We were~~ I was too full and tired to bake further)-

3. Strawberry and Polenta cupcakes.
Elisa, staunch Italian-cooking-principles defender almost kicked me for saying you could bake with polenta. She nearly disowned me for adding marmite to my spaghetti. She was disgusted with me for eating ridiculous amounts of pancetta in a given 24hour period. Here, I show her the versatility of polenta.
(What is Polenta? Polenta is a very finely ground cornmeal used for cooking in a variety of dishes. Akin to extremely fine and less disgusting form of semolina.)

This is my recipe, from my wee little cupcake cookbook (courtesy of BBC GoodFood).

From this heathen mess, came these little tasty beauties...

Damn I make a lot of mess ~~when cooking~~

Whilst K.Wood was an awesome veggie chopper, the mixing of sugar, flour and butter was less successful. Things quickly descended into a sugar-flying, butter-flinging pandemonium. Order was restored with the traditional "Metal Spoon and Elbow Grease" method.

How I love my ~~coat~~ silicone baking cups of many colours, they were red and yellow and green and blue and purple and pink and fuschia and orange...

So perfect

And then they did that. WHY do cupcakes go lopsided!? Luckily the book portrayed them a little shabby-chic, otherwise, I would not have been happy. No siree bob. Anyway, ever onwards.

I don't/can't cook without tasting. Momma usually tries to slap the back of my hand when I aim for the Sunday roast etc, but I've gotten so fast she can see but a blur when I've started picking. Cheetah's ain't got a thang on me.

Mmmmm. You're feeling hungry now aren't you? I bet you are. I even made peanut butter cups with the mini baking cups I had. But there was no chance photos were being taken while I made them/before I ate them. That and like an idiot I spilled a litre of water and it went EVERYWHAR. So instead of taking photos I was attempting to tidy, make sweeties and dry out my camera. Curse you round-bottom bowls. Curse you.

In further cursing, my blackberry now dictates when it goes on and off, regardless of battery status. 11days till I join the iPhone army.

Go, find a recipe, follow it, disregard it, come up with something highly satisfying or get a pizza. Go.

Love xx

The pilot light in the boiler went off.

The heating switched off, hot water was out of the question and a general panic ensued for a couple of hours (but mainly just between Elisa and I as noone else had noticed). After resetting the boiler umpteen times, we managed to spark some life in the ol' gal and she was back in action providing heat and comfort once again. This is just the latest episode in the ongoing "Stuff that keeps breaking in this house saga", a few days ago I fixed the hinges in my wardrobe with a pair of tweezers, weeks before that I'd scrubbed mould off the ceiling, and before that I got the joy of reattaching the toilet seat to the toilet (no tweezers there, just bare hands. Mmmm mmm.) Not even mentioning dealing with extracting a small-medium build dog's toupee from the bristles of the hoover. If I have learned one thing from this year living out of halls its that I am perfectly capable of dealing with minor domestic crises- my mother would be so proud.

Anyway this entire nightmare of a house reminded me of when my Dad foolishly left me and Mum at home while he was away on holiday, and in the course of ONE night, my mother had removed all the carpeting from the living room and hallway, set down a layer of that green insulating board, fitted new laminate flooring and varnished it. Single handedly. In one night. As in, I went to bed, entered a coma, and woke up to new flooring. I was amazed and Mum was beyond pleased with herself, smug for the rest of Dad's absence. But when he came back, he declared his hate of wooden floorings. He's a traditional soul who believes firmly that a good quality carpet is the staple of a good family home. That sort. Mum was not so pleased with this reaction.

My mum is the true definition of "Domestic Goddess", she cooks, she cleans, she plays accountant/therapist/cheer squad/ babysitter and mother day after day without much complaint (she enjoys relishing a little sympathy and gratitude from time to time, it gets her a free manicure and lemon drizzle cake if she plays it just right). Whilst keeping the household running, and making sure the family is firmly knitted together, don't go thinking my Mother is a doormat of the family or re-enacting that furiously annoying image of "Suzy homemaker", she very DEFINITELY undertakes the "-Goddess" part of the phrase. When Dad showed his ingratitude of what she considered to be an awesome renovation (it so was Dad, you fool) Mum (a.k.a Betty for those who don't know, dig that awesome name) didn't wilt and or look downtrodden, heck no. She ripped him a new one, and then educated him on why he was wrong and would be sleeping on the couch that night (easier to clean, more insulating than carpet, more fashionable etc). Afterall, what Goddess would opt to shrivel in the face of criticism and submit to a mere mortal's will rather than do a little smiting? Geez, come on.

My Mother, the awesome force. The woman who can take on a million chores in a day, lift you up when you're down in the dumps but put you back in your place when you get all knobbish, is my idol. If I had to single out one parenting technique that she pulled off well, it's how to keep people grounded. I will never be able to say how much I appreciate her keeping me in check when I'm away with the fairies, and the way she's taught me to reflect on myself when I notice the warning signs that something is on the brink of going wrong. I think that's invaluable, seeing as it's hard to really be critical of yourself without being too harsh, but also not just covering up everything with "that's not actually a problem though" and ignoring things at jeopardy. The balance between what we want to believe and what we have to realise. The battle between the Fellowship and Sauron. Good VS Evil. Aaaah reality checks. So Mum takes a "No B-S" approach to nearly everything, unless she's conning the Sky call center to give us a few free channels, and orchestrates it with such a flair that there really is no getting past her. It overlaps with this psychic ability of knowing when someone needs to hear a little cushioning "no, you're not being unreasonable" and the ever-honest "he was an ugly mug anyway, I never liked him, you just can't trust someone with {insert physical characteristic here}".

In the spirit of godesslyness, what do you do when your Adonis turns out to be nothing but a Narcissus (read: Jackass)?

Momma told me the following.

1. If you're right, educate the fool. There's no point in having a fight and making up unless you TEACH him why he's wrong, so then he has no excuse to do x/y/z again in ignorance. If he does it again despite knowing better, rip him a new one, you are not to be pushed over.

2. If he's right, be a dignified loser. This happened recently. I was crabby because I'd had a shitty day. Lover was crabby because he'd had a shitty day. Result was that we were sniping at each other and winding each other up= both in the wrong. We decided to quit while we were ahead, hung up, had the night to ourselves (I steamed a little bit, passive agressively made penguin costumes) and went to bed. The next day we started with an apology and a do-over, and it was fine. There's no point in throwing yourself at someone's feet the moment you've had a fight. Yes its nice to clear the air straight away, but you need time to reflect on a) how serious is this? b) how relevant is this? Is there anything more to it? c) you need to FEEL an emotion. Take time to feel angry/pissed off/indignant/hormonal, but at least let yourself come face to face with it. Sublimating the negative doesn't make it go away, it'll only fester in some other part of your life, or come back to bite you in the ass at some later date. "Sooner rather than later " lovers.

3. If he's being unduly demanding, make him do it himself. There's a fine yet dramatic difference between being a "Domestic Goddess" and just a slave. And saying "you're doing it because you want to do it" is a cheap line. You shouldn't do anything to validate your own existence on somebody else's terms. If I'm making you burritos, re-fried beans and nachos, I'm doing it because it satisfies my craving for the aforementioned/its a special occasion and you deserve a treat/ I have a killer new recipe. It's not me over-stretching myself just to hear a "Cheers love". Note: I don't feed my man crap just because I can't be bothered to cook, I'll always feed him well, but not because it "makes me a better woman". I'm also not a die-hard feminist.

4. If you're being unduly demanding, quit it. Review: are you standing up on account of your principles or being a bit high-maintenance. Is it reasonable to expect someone to call you more than twice a day? (I say twice, because Beau never picks up on the first call when his phone is on silent. The first set of vibrations are fobbed off as an itch/muscle spasm, the second set is the "oh shit, that was my phone" realisation). I knew someone who called their loverman upwards of 4 times a day, and when he went on holiday, I was called, to call my boyfriend, to call her boyfriend, to call her. He was still in Europe. It was the second day of a 4 day holiday. It was nuts. Turns out she just wanted to have a little chat, see how he was- he was the same he'd been that morning. Nuts.

They aren't techniques lacking compassion, there's equal chance for both sides to be right/wrong as long as you don't drag in lots of tiny "but, I....I thought he...but what if?"s that are utterly unhelpful. And usually all in your head. I pity Alex for the first year at uni I put him through, yeesh, all the fuzzcrap was exhausting- it's a wonder I didn't get the axe after that. Luckily, Mum gave me the whole "You really want a relationship like this for the rest of your life? Do you see you guys making it to the alter bickering like this? Do you see yourself at the alter with anyone like this? You want him? You want anyone?" talk and straightened me out. We now operate on a no B-S policy. I don't get away with things/ get to kick up a fuss because I'm a girly girl, but he also doesn't get to be spoiled by me just because he's my man. I cook burritos, he makes cajun pasta. He goes off and does his own thing, I go off and do my own thing. We get back to each other and he brings flowers, I bring out the nice knickers.

"Alex, that tone of voice is patronising and winds me up, stop now before I hang up."

"Sorry. Lilly, I would love to spend time with you, but if you're not talking and have only called me for the sake of having me around, I'd rather go to bed."

"Sorry. Night!"