The Novice Cook (Part I)

[Disclaimer: I realise such entry is laughable at most, given the content is not the confessions of a scorned soul or a broody poet. These days it is a better pursuit for me to find some peace in trivial, happy and optimistic things rather than to contemplate on philosophy. On another note, where does one position the disclaimers?]

The (one and only) joy of being a recent unemployed graduate is the ample time in which to do 'stuff', learn new 'stuff' and think of every possible way to pass the time other than wallowing in self-failure and grief. Years back, free time would be spent on aG, which these days is not the option. It usually takes around 30 minutes (only) to read through every single new posts from the time I last logged on .. which I, like a loser, do. Reading posts about Musicians and their turmoil, Football fans and their utterly idiotic (to me) loyalty, Brazilian waxing, the odd 'shuta-krimi' and not to mention the rights of every minority on this planet.

So I turn to Foodie Blogs. I'm almost tempted to put up a wiki-link on the definition, but I think I'll refrain. I perhaps jumped in the wagon very late, because .. well blogs are just not cool any more, is it? (To my defence, I did join Twitter a few days ago and yet to fully milk all its worth) .. I'll post some of my favourite Foodies at the end of this post. Foodies are generally evil because I find myself constantly thinking about food like a boy who just hit puberty and all their thoughts revolve around sex. I also find myself looking at Food-Photography for hours and hours and take great pleasure in it (I believe the term is coined Food-Porn). I have started watching Hell's Kitchen every Tuesday night religiously (shameful?). Last of all, I find that my own home-food no longer satisfies my palate. Hence one day, I woke up and thought to myself, to hell with the world, I'm going to learn to cook! Currently, the way our household works is that some days, I'll bring home a bunch of ingredients NOT suitable for the curry but the likes of Italian or the odd Moroccan. It really helps when I also have a dietician (because I have been found to be officially under-weight with high cholesterol!) so as to justify (without telling the over-sensitive mother that I can't stand the home-food) the need for me to cook separately some days. Two incredibly negative things have resulted in this new way of life - increased food wastage (because I still can't get the hang and feel of what's under-cooked, cooked and over-cooked among many other reasons) and I find that the mother's kitchen itself is incredibly insufficient for my needs (we only have two knives and no knife sharpener or a casserole dish or a proper baking dish .. the list is pretty long and it would cost me an arm and leg to actually update the amount of utensils .. so for now, I compromise and compromise heavily).

My partner in crime in no other than the sibling who, surprisingly is more competent in the kitchen. So she usually judges when 'stuff' is cooked. I usually chop 'stuff' and read the instruction out aloud .. which no way is the ideal situation, if I were to actually learn the culinary art. I've attempted to cook pasta for yonks (sp?) and only managed two occasions where it was perfect (i.e. to my liking). The lamb cutlets I make, however, are almost there in terms of .. you know ..

So I lack the basics.

However, with all the time in the world at my disposal, I did browse through the library and found the perfect book! I was flipping through it today .. and yes .. it is the perfect book for beginners! That made me happy and these days I'm hardly ever happy. It's called 'The First-Time Cook' by Sophie Grigson and .. well .. maybe I will review it one day. (Speaking of which, I'm yet to review two of Murakami books and that is depressing). It tells me how to chop 'stuff', cook 'stuff', shop for 'stuff', store 'stuff' and what 'stuff' to have in a kitchen (the fact that you need at least four knives minimum and they must not be cheap).

Something else I use is the Video-Jug web-site and I love it. I learned to 'Roast the Perfect Potatoes' !

On a side note: This the way to 'Hide an Unwanted Erection' for anyone who it might apply to. You can also learn how to 'French Kiss', 'Undo your partner's Bra with one hand' and my personal favourite 'How to make your breasts look bigger'.

I'll end this long and boring entry with the link to one of my favourite Foodie-Blog.

All I need now is a motto to cook by.

Veronika Decides to Die

I must confess - I tend to like pretty much anything from trashy Mills&Boon to pretentious Salman Rushdie/Dostoevsky. Anything at all, as long as it leaves me feeling it was worth the read or if it touches a special chord somewhere within (mostly the heart, but I suppose the nether-regions for selected Mills&Boons). The point I'm trying to make is .. an author need not put a great deal of effort for me to like their books.

Enter Paulo Coelho. I absolutely hate this guy. Late last year, I had the privilege of reading 'Veronika Decides to Die' courtesy of a friend who loves him and sent me this book via air-mail (all the way from NZ) and I hated it. How this guy is a millionaire (or is Coelho a billionaire? The Internet is capped, so I'm not able to check on Google either) is beyond my comprehension. No, I take it back .. I think I know exactly why this guy is a freaking billionaire. Here starteth my review (of the book).

A Brief Synopsis:

Young girl who has everything going well for her decides to end her life but finds herself stranded in a mental hospital (or something like that) alive and kicking. Girl is told she has five days (more or less) until her heart stops beating. Girl realises value of life (and wants to live with a renewed energy) and the readers realise it was all a lie - the girl was used as an experiment whereupon she was lied to and told she only had a few days to live, so that when that anticipated death does not occur her life force will be renewed and she will continue to live her life believing it was a miracle gifted by god and it was her destiny to .. live (with another fellow depressed Prince living in the asylum .. in front of whom she masturbates thrice climaxing all three times).

[I think I would watch the movie (yes! they are making a movie out of this book starring Sarah Michelle Geller) just for the masturbating scene .. should it be allowed on screen].

What I found this book to be is nothing but a preachy-know-it-all-snobbery of a novel where the author spends all his time preaching (worse than your average organised religion folks) and preaching and preaching - how life should be, why it should be so. I might as well have picked up the Quran and read that instead. Coelho is simply more of a Pope than an author. The book felt like a pretentious crap that shoved its 'life ideal and philosophies' down my throat until I choked and spat out in disgust.

I don't pretend to understand life's blacks and whites or even the greys and neither should a literary work. I've grown accustomed to the simple fact that books are there to enlighten you and make you think .. it is not a self help guide where all the answers are churned out. So when an author comes in to establish that he knows it all, that he is the Messiah who has all the answers is nothing but an insult to .. well I don't know exactly what .. but I was furious.

Of course I understand why Coelho is popular. People are brainless morons or one in the making. The laziness takes hold and fuck all that spending time thinking about a book .. let's all read crap that already provides easy philosophies and easy answers to life .. Oh Coelho, you are the greatest, please do all the thinking for me and write more of those crap you call literary works and in turn, I shall contribute just a little bit more to your Billions.