January 31, 2011

Confessions of a Pastaholic II

Chapter 1 - The true beginning…disputed.

In my family run two slightly conflicting story on how my obsession with Pasta began. My Dad’s story (and he is sticking to it) is quick and simple: My parents went on a trip to Venice shortly after they were married. That is were I was conceived.

Venice + Honeymoon = Pasta obsessed child to follow nine months later. Get it?

My Mum’s story is slightly less romantic, but somewhat more plausible (I mean if Venice had such an impact on my eating habits shouldn’t pigeons also be my favorite animals?). According to her, my parents went on a trip for three weeks when I was a toddler and left me with my aunt in France. The ‘problem’ apparently started when we all returned home and from this time onwards I would request Pasta every night for supper. It turned out that my French aunt had seen nothing wrong with feeding me Pasta every dinner while my parents were. I suppose it was the time of the day were I was most upset and missing my parents. Quick at hand was her solution: feed the child some Pasta. Warm. Comforting. Just like having Mami around. And I loved it. And probably realized (in an unconscious toddler mind kind of way) that the only thing better than Pasta, was Pasta made for me by my Mum.
I was a very willful child, so I would usually get my Pasta. My Mum was very quick to teach me basics in the kitchen, so she would get some quiet time.

January 29, 2011

Things that made me happy today.

After the little rant in my last post I now solemnly swear I am up to no good and won’t rant here again. Things that make me happy are in order. Here a tiny glimpse on the list from today:

I finally and very excitedly bought a mallet. Or meat tenderizer as the professionals (in this case the snotty sales person who corrected me) call it. My wonderful cousin Thekla had recently changed my life with a chicken recipe, which calls for the chicken to be almost beaten to a pulp. Trying to attempt that with various kitchen appliances that usually hold other functions, it has been a bit of a task. The result nevertheless has converted me already. I will never eat any chicken has it not been beaten for a solid 10 minutes before. I have spent days and days searching the aisles with no luck - all mallet/ meat tenderizer free. Today was the day though. I discovered a tiny Banks at the Cape Quarter. Now meet  me: proud owner of a mallet. Hurrah.
(And yes, I was considering to write ‘meat me’)

At the same shop I convinced myself that I should buy, no absolutely had to buy a red knife. I had been eyeing this serious of knives before. They come in all different styles and all different colors and they are just beautiful as far as knives go. I don’t know if it any good and I actually don’t care. I was a bit bumped at first, because the girl in me wanted a pink knife. They do have pink ones, but only in a really scary large size. I already have two good large scary knives so there was no point of getting another one. But who would have guessed - my new little red knife matches my nail polish. Life is in order again.

And last but not least - the bag. Involuntarily I had caught a new trend of carrying a ‘Jute statt Plastik’ bag with me for the last couple of weeks. It started as a bit of a mistake. I went to the CPT book fair a while ago and bought a Lawrence Anthony book. The sales girl ask me if I wanted a Priddy bag with it. I replied ‘Of course I want a pretty bag.’ Clear case of misunderstanding. The bag did actually have written ‘priddy bag’ on it underneath a big pink piglet face.
For some reason the bag still grew on me and I have been carrying it around ever since, only sometimes a little shamefaced and more due to its’ whole musli feel than the piggy on the priddy.
I started to feel a bit better when my friend Julia arrived from Berlin and she was also sporting a ‘Jute statt Plastik’ bag. Mind you hers was branded with a cool magazine logo, but still. Apparently the bags were trendy and I was a trendsetter.
Today I though it time to put the good old priddy bag away and introduce a more me version. As you may guess the ‘A’ was sold out, so my last initial had to do. Oh well. The things that make me happy…

January 27, 2011

a little piece of wisdom.

this blog is not about men. men are a somewhat important part of my life, but i really try my utter best to make not everything about them. but i just came back from a lovely dinner at pizza auntie, so i am having trouble writing about my love story with pasta here, because right now i think that pizza is the best freaking thing on earth.
therefore...here we go with drumrolls...a little piece of wisdom about men: do not ever under any circumstances feel the need to celebrate your new found liberty of installing wireless in your home, celebrate it by setting up skype and searching for your ex - THE one who got away - and then ask him 'how is life?'. you may not like the answer. one little bit. because he may actually answer. and the answer may just be 'it could not be better. married. children. farmhouse.'
as if you didn't know all along that marriage, children and farmhouses are the best.
what did we learn today? someone must finally invent this device that tests your alcohol level before texting, skyping, calling...anyone. please someone - i would pay a lot money for this invention. it may not save me from a hangover, but it would surely save me from the even worst feeling of waking up and going like 'ahh, grrrr, oh no, wait, did i really write/say this last night?'.
please someone, just do it. help!

January 26, 2011

Confessions of a Pastaholic - A love story in six chapters


Since I can remember eating solid foods, I have liked, no, I have absolutely and unconditionally loved pasta.
Pasta is the food I will always eat: when I am sick, when I first come off a diet, when no other food will appeal to me. Pasta is the food my Mami makes me when I first come home, Pasta is the food my Dad makes me when I first come home, Pasta is the food I make for myself most evenings when I come home.
For other girls it may be chocolate - for a breakup, for PMS, for comfort, as brain food - for me it is Pasta. In any shape, with any sauce, even bad Pasta is good Pasta.
My family and friends call me as the Pasta queen. When coming over for dinner, they expect pasta. They tease me when I serve Pasta (what else?) and are secretly upset (and surprised) if I make something else.

Finally revealed: how it all began…

P.S. Yes, I spell it Pasta on purpose. It deserves to be capitalized.
P.P.S. Yes, I did put the Pasta I used in the picture back in the box. In fact it ended on my dinner plate later that night.

online at last.

hello world, can you hear me? finally online. online! after refusing for years and years to go online at home - after all, I live across from work and I do still somewhat firmly believe that people should take a break from technology once in a while - I am caving in. here I sit. in my beautiful little flat, the wind howling outside and me - online at last.
sorry K., I know it came about 3 weeks too late for you. but as you have agreed - had I had wireless while you were here, you would not have enough time to sleep.
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