All posts tagged: easy recipes

Me, Moi Moi and My | Making Traditional African Dishes in Asia

A golden oldie, moi moi is a West African favourite, pack full of flavour but thankfully, very simple to make. Try it for yourself

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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 …

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 …