Painting the kitchen red

So was all prepared to attempt my first Thai Red Curry for a certain someone. But plans fell through, much to my flatmate's delight! 

Flatmate: "So, er, what are you gonna do with all those ingredients then? I mean they can't go to waste… All that money. And the freshness of the produce... I think it's best if you use them and just cook anyway... I mean I'm sure someone will eat it… … … … …"

Talk about currying favour! ....

Olive: "Alright, fine! I'll cook for you. But your job is wine. Now fill me up!"

Olive's Thai Red Curry

 Fry Thai Red Curry paste (homemade, obvs!) in a little oil, then add tin of Coconut Milk.

 Add chicken and prawns.

 Add 10 000 veges, because we all need our greenery. 

I added beans and broccoli. Flatmate smirked. 

 Let it boil and bubble and conjure up trouble.

 Meanwhile, chop some cori's. Love me some cori's.

Get flatmate to pour you a large glass of wine. And tell him to make himself useful and cook the rice.

Lame-ass Woolies thought it would be funny to only sell peanuts-and-raisins mix. (They had peanuts but only in a bag big enough to sit in, and 3 times the cost. Are they nuts?) 

Next task for flatmate: separate peanuts, eat the raisins, crush the peanuts.

 Simmer... Throw in some coriander. Chilli if you want. Totes up to you. Add some fish sauce (for that authentic Thai twist) and some sugar.

 Put in bowl over jasmine rice.

 Sprinkle with cori's and peanuts. Lots. Coz more is better!

Just because it looks cool.

 

Re-fill wine glass; dig in!

Mother calls – as I'm picking up my fork – for a chat. Told her I was a little Thai-ed up. 

x

Her Anus

Excuse the title. It really is foul. And I'm not a particularly foul-mouthed girl. But it did make me laugh out loud when I saw the sign in Hermanus and the 'm' had dropped off. Not even a halo-clad Pastor in his holy-water Jacuzzi could ignore the humour in that.

Butt anyway...

;)

Moving on.

This naweek am going to stay here:

... at 183 Marine Beachfront Guesthouse.

HOW PRETTY!!

Mental note: MUST PIN ALL THESE PICTURES TO 'BEACH HOUSE' BOARD!

Was supposed to be a surprise weekend. Naturally I let slip weeks ago. Am about as good as keeping secrets as I am at folding fitted sheets.

Plans for weekend:

Whale watching
Weight watching  Drinking and eating
Tanning (yes, I know it's 15 degrees, and raining, but I will sit on that beach)
Reading
Walking
Sleeping
Shopping (for future beach house ornaments)

And that just about does it.

I won't use the cliche 'we're going to have a whale of a time'. But it may be a whale (said in questionable Welsh accent) before I blog again.

Friday morning chat

Mother is actually concerned as to why I am not going to this 'huge festival' with all my friends. I asked her how she'd like to sleep in a tent marinading in mud, while listening to locals bands and watching people get high. She quickly changed the subject:

Mother: So what are you doing this weekend then, Darling?
Olive: Am going to Franschhoek. Lunch on a wine farm, staying on a wine estate. Free massages, free wine tasting, free meals, then off to a wine festival on Sunday.
Mother: All I heard was wine.
Olive: Isn't it great?!

I hear Mother take a deep breath, then again quickly change the subject.

Mother: How is the new flat?
Olive: So lovely.
Mother: How is that little kitten, is he settling in?
Olive: If you define 'settling in' as eating my bedroom door, eating the cupboard door, eating my shoes, knocking over all my bathroom products and knocking a bedside table lamp on to my head while I sleep... then yes, he is settled.
Mother: Does New Flatmate like him?
Olive: I think he did. Until it ate his shoe laces and meowed outside his bedroom door for a good two hours at 4am.
Mother: Have you cooked for him, I think you should? Ask what he would like?
Olive: I did. He asked me to cook the cat… Told him I'd make him a CATserole. (Ba-dum-dum-TSSHSHHH)