smokingboot (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
smokingboot) wrote2004-02-28 07:05 pm
smokingboot) wrote2004-02-28 07:05 pm
Crouching Curry, Hidden Lamp Post
Yesterday was a very odd day. I'm taking a moment to write, secure in the knowledge that my settling down to LJ is a surefire way of invoking our dinner guest, November Girl, currently lost in the wilds of Cheshire.
So, while my love prepares mussels in white wine followed by Roman pan fried lamb, followed by chocolate zabaglione, I shall recount yesterday's two great bizarrities.
The first and foremost was my attempt at using a vindaloo paste in a stir fry. Do not do this. Most especially, do not empty a jar containing enough for four into a teeny en-noodled meal for two. It was absolutely disgusting, the worst thing I have cooked in years, and it has made the house smell most evil. I have washed everything, opened windows, lit candles, burnt incense. Nothing seems to quite do the trick. Maybe we should just move.
The other thing was news of an honest to goodness job, applied for by Splendid Sekhmet's partner. It's a six month contract for Islington council, counting all the lamp posts in the borough and checking for ones which have disappeared; gone feral presumably, lurking in packs in Highgate woods.
This is a strange job, but what's even more strange is that I can think of at least three friends who would be suited to it. Four if I count myself.
Time to go light candles, put on music and chill. Good evening Saturday. You're looking rather yum...
So, while my love prepares mussels in white wine followed by Roman pan fried lamb, followed by chocolate zabaglione, I shall recount yesterday's two great bizarrities.
The first and foremost was my attempt at using a vindaloo paste in a stir fry. Do not do this. Most especially, do not empty a jar containing enough for four into a teeny en-noodled meal for two. It was absolutely disgusting, the worst thing I have cooked in years, and it has made the house smell most evil. I have washed everything, opened windows, lit candles, burnt incense. Nothing seems to quite do the trick. Maybe we should just move.
The other thing was news of an honest to goodness job, applied for by Splendid Sekhmet's partner. It's a six month contract for Islington council, counting all the lamp posts in the borough and checking for ones which have disappeared; gone feral presumably, lurking in packs in Highgate woods.
This is a strange job, but what's even more strange is that I can think of at least three friends who would be suited to it. Four if I count myself.
Time to go light candles, put on music and chill. Good evening Saturday. You're looking rather yum...