As hard as my winter tights fight it, spring is coming.
It’s not full on yet, as there is a still a slight nip in the air and who doesn’t want an excuse to delay shaving leg season? AMIRITE? With the last blows of winter, we have to must say goodbye to celeriac season. My apologizes, as I meant to post this recipe in January but my post pregnancy induced brain fog or aka baby brain took over and I was lucky to remember to brush my teeth.
It. Was. Not. Pretty.
Hello friends. Happy 2016 and Year of the Monkey.
Sorry for being out of action for a bit but I have a really good excuse ….I had a baby!
That’s right, our little bundle of trouble, B came into the world like a proper American, right in time for Thanksgiving lunch.
Here she is…
I would have warned you of my impeding absence but pregnancy quickly morphed me into a miserable, brain dead, water retaining dragon lady with absolutely zippo appetite. I became a culinary recluse that lived on fried egg sandwiches, very tiny lattes (sad face), and Pb&J, if I was feeling fancy.
Now that B is about three months, I am ready to re-enter the food blogosphere with recipes squeezed in between naps and nappy changes. In the meantime, if you haven’t already sorted out Valentine’s Day dinner, check out my Pan-fried Duck with Massaman Curry Sauce featured on diyready.com.
Glad to be back.
Romy
“The people who give you their food give you their heart.” — Cesar Chavez
It’s a quick one this month since G and I are on the go.
We are off to the South of France for some wine tasting, smelly cheese gorging, gout inducing r & r. So, what better to leave you with then a quickie cocktail?
I am not a really good wife in the traditional sense.
It’s cool, though. G recognizes that my major contributions to our marriage are: setting the robo vacuum, cooking, and giving some major cheek. G is a far more domesticated creature than I could ever be and for which I am very very grateful. I never have to whinge (complain) about dirty clothes on the floor, nag about a smelly bin (trash) or that the lawn needs mowing. Hell, the man even likes to iron.
It’s no wonder then that my friends refer to G as the G-tronic 2000, and I know I am a damn lucky girl to have the only model. Read More →
Like many foodies in the universe, what I cook depends on my mood.
Good or bad, high or low, my emotional status determines what will come out of the Thai Me Up Kitchen. Birthdays and breakups both end in cake. Bacon for Saturday lie ins. Popping champagne to celebrate getting that promotion, and cookie dough ice cream if you didn’t. Here’s real talk, friends; there is no better way to commemorate or commiserate life’s events than with food. Read More →
My first memory of eating blue cheese is fuzzy, kinda like blue cheese itself. And I can’t remember not ever liking it, but I do remember when I realized I was the only eight-year-old who did.
Hello, folks!
Happy year of the Goat and one year anniversary of Thai Me Up Kitchen.Yup, that’s right. It’s been one whole year of burnt fingers, failed recipes, photo-editing hell, and attempts to write code (and failing miserably), all in the name of bringing you food porn.
So thank you all for your support/comments, even if you are a spam robot from Russia, ruining my google stats. I love it all.
Alright now, enough with the sentiment. Let’s get this party started with my favourite party snack, the Crab Rangoon.
Can you feel the heat? Also I learned there is no graceful way to get in or out of a hammock. Truth.
The middle of London winter can be pretty bleak. Yeah it’s wet, it’s cold, your delayed train is now CANCELLED and then a stranger coughs into your hair.
Oh, the majesty of winter.
Sigh.
To top things off there is now a 4000 mile wide Siberian cold air flow hovering over the UK, which has been dubbed ‘The Beast from the East.’ The Beast from the East? Sounds like a character from the new Magic Mike Movie.
Just saying.
With the release 2015’s hottest movie some time away, I have to rely on other ways to keep warm this winter. This includes a second layer of tights, wool socks, and the distant memory of lying on a beach in India.
I once read somewhere that everyone should be able to make three dishes really well. It doesn’t have to be Michelin Three Star – floating on dry ice type of shit, but three solid plates that you’re damn confident would impress a new love, friends, colleagues, or the Queen herself if you needed to. Whether it be stir fry, pancakes, or the world’s best bloody Frito Pie, as long as it’s your best, go for it.
Imagine the Queen eating a Frito Pie.
I bet she’d give Frito pie a right go.
This Christmas, G and I have ditched cold old London, ugly jumpers and mince pies for a beach holiday in Goa. We are staying on the beautiful Agonda beach. A paradise of sand, sea and mad holy cows.
Its brilliant. Its India!
Where ever you are my friends, I hope it is just as brilliant
Have a happy & safe holiday.
See you next year!
Romy
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