All posts filed under: Food

Because… stressed spelled backwards is desserts

All the packing, planning and pondering is finally coming to a head. I’m off to Japan. Yay. I think. I doubt anyone will understand how much this means to me. This trip has been my bucket list for close to 15 years. Whilst all my friends were dreaming of owning a car, or even going off to Ibiza, I wanted to see China and Japan. This rocky week has been full of sleepless nights, tearful outbursts and a resurgence of my teenage acne. Great! The anticipation is killing me. For the last four days, I’ve been fighting the urge to chomp down on all manner of evils. Its actually come to the point where I’ve placed a ban on certain items.  Suddenly things I clearly would never normally eat look tantalizingly appealing to me. I’m practically there now. Yay! So as a compromise, I’ve decided to make myself a treat. A sweet treat. Its called Chin Chin and its a West African snack. When I was a kid, my aunt would always give us chin chin to take home with us. …

C is for… Chili

Some days I want to pack in all in, and get on the first flight back to London. I’m loath to admit it, but I am still that very same petulant teenager that used to sew buttons and badges onto her blazer, in protest of the over-strict (and to this day foolish) uniforms policy. I am chaos at its best. Now, however, the grown up, more mature version of me, has more sway and is finally able to calm me down. Let’s just say that I had an incident two days ago, that stung my already fragile sense of self. It reminded me of how much I stuck out here, that I may never assimilate, but more importantly, that I may never fit in; the way I want. My first reaction, and one we are all familiar with, was to flee or at least plan my escape. There are very few times when I think my stubbornness is a good trait, but this is one of them, because my next reaction was along the lines of: So …

…avec de Chocolade…. Part 2

I was thwarted once…  My first attempt at a ‘Flourless Gluten Free Chocolate Cake’ was a disaster. And how could I have been victorious, with a drawn out name like that? What can I say? I expected too much from this recipe. In hindsight, I admit that I had put too much pressure on myself. I just wanted to have some more material for my channel. Lesson learned. Here’s take two. Tada! Its floppy. Its a little beat up. All the best things in life are. But I bet you a whole £5 (that’s all I’ve got to spare for now, I’m afraid), that this is the bestest chocolatiest cake you will ever try in your life. Big words for a little bird, you say? Well sir….The top is crispy, the inside is moist. It melts all that gooey chocolately loveliness into your mouth. And if you put it in the fridge, it magically transforms into a brownie. The fun never ends. Sure it takes a little more effort than its floured counterpart, but I promise …

The Perks of Being a West African Wall Flower…. [Akara vs Acaraje]

I love watching travel shows. Soon after they’re done, I close my eyes, and imagine that I’m magically transported there. Right in the center of it all. To date, my two favorite travel show hosts, in this wonderful mix of TV and my zany imagination, are: the straight shooting Anthony Bourdain, and the irresistible Errol Barnett (what a smile). Its my adult version of make believe; but its something that has always gotten me through tough times. I have no complaints. Except for…. Whenever I read or hear people discuss “African cuisine”, they only mention Morocco. Why only Morocco? This happens often, and when it does, a weird feeling comes seeping out of me. I’ve been told I make a fart face, then, as soon as it appears, I suppress it. Its a hard feeling to describe, but its an unhealthy mixture of pity, shame, annoyance, and the sting of frustration. And there was again yesterday. I still feel a bit overwhelmed by it all. How can people out there still fail to understand that: Africa is a continent, not a country. …

Make mine a … Thai Omelette

Ever since I started my youtube blog, I must admit that I’ve somewhat neglected my writing. I’m not any good at vlogging. Its a frustrating but nonetheless inspiring conclusion. Will I give up? Hecks no. How can I? I’m learning so much. There are tons of things, that I’m just learning how to control. Lighting, sound and even the simplest things like controlling the camera, have all left me stumped so far. But Boy is it fun. Its a world entirely on its own. I got back late yesterday night from visiting my German, in the South of Thailand. My fridge is empty and I’m feeling quite down. I need food. This is my go to ‘lazy day’ recipe (I am aware that it is a Monday). Its tasty, quick and is perfect when you’re down to the bare bones, both physically and emotionally. Thai Omelette Ingredients 2 tablespoons oil 1 onion, sliced 1½ teapoons light soy sauce 1½ teaspoons fish sauce 1 Bunch coriander 3 eggs 1 Spring Onion Lime wedge, to garnish Instructions Heat 1 tablespoon of …

Meat Bone Soup and other wild concoctions

My birthday was everything I could have wanted. Just me and the German lapping up the sun, sea and sand. Oh Singapore. If all goes right, next year, my blogs will be written somewhere from that glorious city-state. One reason (hopefully not my main one) is that Singaporeans know their soups. You’ve never had a good broth till you’ve tried one in Singapore. Singaporean cuisine has Chinese, Malay, Indian, Japanese and Western influences. It is a melting pot of cultures, and what a sweet sweet gumbo they’ve made. As soon as the warm wetness of Bak Kut Teh, or meat bone tea (if you translate it directly from the Chinese: 肉骨茶) hit my lips. I was hooked. So hooked that every night, we’d go a-searching for my next fix. Happy birthday to me and here’s to hoping that I will live a long and fulfilled life, full of more surprise tastes and more delicious smells, such as this. I’d like to share my taste of Singapore with you: Chicken Bak Kut Teh / Chik Kut Teh Ingredients 1 pack of Bah …

FudgeMeNot

Who doesn’t love fudge? Well to those non-believers, I say you just haven’t tried the true fudge. The true-true (Cloud Atlas anyone?) In fudge we trust. Can I get an ‘A-fudge’? So by now, you’re probably rolling your eyes, because clearly all I am doing is putting fudge in front of words. I’ll stop. I’ve ran out of fudge related puns anyways. Joking aside, what with all the aggro against fudge? The other day, I had a 25 minute conversation, with someone who was convinced that fudge, “… is exclusively for those old enough to know what the swinging sixties was actually like.” While a lot of you might be offended, I got what she meant. I’m not sure if it was just simply a dig at me, or if she actually felt so strongly against it. But her message was clear: Fudge is for the old folks. Well then, I must be the oldest. It’s my sweet distraction. My naughty treat in the wee hours of the morning, when hot, humid, restlessness pays me a visit; stealing my sleep …

What the oeufs wrong with you?

Get it? That’s what three years of French gets you. Its October, a blistering 34 degrees and I’m getting a little home sick. October is not only my birthday month but when I get cracking on picking my winter coat, buying tights and all my usual thermal undergarb (mostly from Uniqlo). I’m not doing any of that and its just downright strange. “But you’re in a tropical paradise! Shut up”, says the constant contradictory voice in my head. “Nobody likes a moaner”. To get me out of my tiny funk, I’ve decided to dream up places I’d be visiting insead and imagine all the tasty dishes I’d be sampling. Numero Uno. Paris, France. I won’t bore you with the usual tripe of how its enchanting and romantic. That’s what they all say. To be honest my first memories of visiting France were as a child. You really have to be into romance to get all worked up about it. And I wasn’t. No sir, not icky boys. Except for if you count my bizarre crush on the dashing Tuxedo Mask …

Thinking is a terrible crime

I have that Saturday morning feeling. But not the good kind. Is there such a things as a good kind? For me it involves restlessly replaying thoughts in your head, to the point where you feel as if you’re going to wind up on the weekend news as a shocking case of spontaneous combustion. There only one thing for it… eat. “Let food be thy medicine…” I’m not the kind of person that ‘eats her feelings’ (that’s a lie), but I do believe that tastes have magical power. Just like a little electricity can alter brain signals, why not salsa? For me, it’s the sour and salty tastes, that can kick-start my batteries. It’s an Oriental take on the simple salsa. You actually have quite a bit of left over teriyaki, which is perfecte, because you can store it for later and use it with your chips. What’s that you say? Teriyaki and chips! Eugh? Well I say nicht. You sir, haven’t lived till you’ve had fish and chip with teriyaki sauce. Yumm. Move over vinegar. I like …