I'm always thrilled by the thought of my mother going out of town. The air conditioning stays bloody off when she's away, and so does the TV unless there's something I really want to watch. No longer will I have to endure chilled, dry air on a cold rainy day while ridiculous melodramatic soap operas play out to an indifferent audience!

Even better, her absence allows me to experiment with all manner of culinary wildness. I can try my hand at making a mean creamy curry sauce to go with steamed white rice. Meat doesn't have to feature at any meal (vegetables are easier to cook and clean up after). Whether there is enough sauce in the chicken is a matter of no importance!

And yet… I don't. I think I feel guilty that she's not here to share it, even though it isn't even food she fancies in the first place. So, I end up eating like some half-hearted bachelor, even in the face of gracious and giving influential figures such as HRH Nigella, who cooks like the world is ending tomorrow, or after supper, even if she's the only one at home. I've a mind to take her tack, but I'm not keen on wearing a girdle. rock on, madam.

"italian" isn't just about faffing around with cream sauces and then worrying about your waistline. save yourself that trouble with a "bruschetta" that can be made with ingredients found in any grocery store nowadays. even though i've done it in reverse and sort of half-assed.

- heat your oven to 200 degrees celcius.
- rub your stale(ish) home made bread with the sliced side of one garlic clove.
- after discarding the seeds, dice enough tomatoes to top the bread you intend to use.
- mince said garlic clove and mix it with the diced tomatoes, some olive oil and a pinch of salt.
- top the bread with this mixture and bung it in the oven for 5 minutes, then switch the heat off and leave it there for another 10 minutes.
- remove and eat.
- swear you'll never pay for something so easy and satisfying ever again.

i did a massive clear out around the house (the dust has settled and family members have started talking to me again) and ( this is what i've gathered: )

usually you find wolfberries (gei zhi) in soups, but my mother heard that they can be incorporated in to white bread. this meant that i was to incorporate them in to my white bread, which is actually just fine on its own.

( next time (if ever) )

do you:
1. love your current lip balm?
2. find it unbearable to think of throwing out the stick even though there's only that little bit left that can't be extended any further? (plus it's not cool to stick fingers in to a pot of the stuff, even if they are your dirty sticky fingers.)
3. possess functioning opposable thumbs?
4. have half an hour to kill and no tv to watch?

( excellent. )

my mother, having reached compulsory government retirement age, was feeling at a loose end and experiencing the emptiness that a person can only feel when they have spent most of their adult life working.

( this entry is not for the squeamish or who've just returned from a meal. and possibly muslims, given the craze for political correctness nowadays. )

i have succumbed to cutting. because it's only the 3824093752348th time you've heard that line :D

so you're scrounging around the house for something to eat and you happen upon these, only you have no pancakes. what do you do? obviously, you look up a recipe for cookies. it's not as if you're starving as it is, and walking around and munching a pancake just doesn't work very well.



( hurray for the internet )

have you ever woken up feeling guilty yet confused for having that nasty dream about you and Kevin Sorbo. it was a dream, therefore you didn't actually cheat on your boyfriend. yet, you dreamt of someone who was not your boyfriend and who is quite ancient.

( cut to spare the squeamish )

my mother found this recipe in the newspaper. chinese newspapers have the funniest domestic "tips", like insulating a sandwich in aluminium foil and ironing it (with a clothes iron) in order to toast it.



( too much free time on your hands? )

why pay RM5 on a plasticky, faux-gilt "time piece" from the pasar malam* when you can traipse to Ikea and get something infinitely customisable that may also somehow define the future?



( you don't need to wait for Ikea to open once a week either )

* night market. quite unlike a Night Watch.