Tofulicious

As I get older, I find large quantities of meat more and more difficult to digest.  Especially when seared, brown and crispy (yum but gives me a sore tum!).  In search of other protein offerings (aside from fish, eggs and dairy, the main alternatives to date) I once again cast my eye on Tofu.

Now my experiences with tofu in the past were not spectacular. Bland and jelly like, bland and slightly less jelly like, bland and done to the unappealing texture of a foam scourer. I never really got the appeal of it. I think I once had a tasty tofu burger drenched in satay sauce, but in truth, it was the satay sauce that sold me on it.

So I did a quick trip to the supermarket today, to stock up on the stuff and give it a whirl. Ummm, you can tell I am a novice.  I had no idea where to find it, but eventually spotted it in a vegetarian corner tucked behind the gluey looking ready meals. There wasn't a huge choice, but I thought I would try a basic block, cut it in 3 and experiment over the next few days.

I got it home and opened the pack.  Not an auspicious sight. It sat there pallidly in it's liquid and flobbered at me. But I had looked up a recipe on the internet and was determined to give it a try.  The recipe involved crumbling tofu into a mix of beaten egg, chopped spring onions, grated courgette and lots of ginger/chilli/garlic - thus creating a fritter mix ready to fry. Which I did, in a little coconut oil.  So far so good.  Served them up browned and crispy on the outside, tender on the inside, with an additional side of peri peri sauce (I was going to get some flavour into these suckers if it killed me).

And blow me down, they were lovely, spicy and light and more importantly, eminently digestible. Quite looking forward to the marinated tofu I'm planning for tomorrow. Am now planning further ahead, even further into the depths of veganism. Yes, next stop Quorn....

Nike Girl

I finally gave in and trekked across to Nike Town at Oxford Circus on Friday.  Yes, I admit I need proper sport shoes and shoes I can walk a decent distance in without crippling myself. Chichi flat sandals are just not helping these days.

I felt like a total fraud as I sailed up the escalators to the 3rd floor - Womens shoes.  Everyone looked very young,  fit and sporty and I felt quite dumpy and rumpled after a slog up Regent Street.

However, I asked the nice man (looked like Michael Jordan) for help - said I was an amateur at these things but needed something springy with arch support, and Hey Presto, out came the Lunarglides (who thinks up these names).

I slipped them on my feet.... they cushioned them softly.  I walked around with a spring in my step, even a bounce you might say.  A Triumph! High tailed it to the tills.....

Now I don't want to take them off.  I did a training session with Peter yesterday and did loads of hard stability and balancing on one leg stuff, and the shoes just made it all happen.  I'm in love although the pink was a bit of a shock at first. But I'm getting used to it...

Van Men

What is it about builders?  I am about to reach the end of my tether with the loft extension next door.  It has been nearly 2 months now of banging, grinding, thumping, band saws etc. And every couple of nights I wake up to the clanking and clunking of skip divers rummaging through  for treasures.

The icing on the cake is the builders van, which he has taken to parking across my driveway, perfectly placed to make entry and exit to my property difficult.  I was lenient to start with - it was OK if he was just unloading, but now it is parked there all day.  I can get out around him.....just. With one of those painstaking 13 point manoeuvres and crossing my fingers that a passing car doesn't take the back end off me. I haven't even had a thank you - they park up and scurry indoors.

I'm about to have a word with the neighbours. Their boys also need to patch up some damage they did through the wall to my bathroom and give it a repaint.  Been waiting a few weeks for that too. Sigh.... I do hate playing the heavy....

Ms Fixit

My clothes dryer has been out of action for a fortnight during our rainy summer. Cue wet laundry draped all over the house. And on and off the outdoor clothes line between showers. And piling up in hampers....

Today I got tired of this and steeled myself to ringing the service guy but, dreading the bill, sat down for one last shot at the manual instead. Not an enthralling read, and certainly the trouble shooting page was rubbish (e.g.  if not working plug it in and turn on), but I learned a little more about the inner workings of my good old workhorse friend.

As a result, armed with wet cloths, dry cloths, a torch and a soft brush I dismantled filters and condenser, poked around inside, gave everything a good clean and defluff, wiggled all the external buttons and hoorah! One working dryer! (My housemate now thinks I have a Y chromosome lurking around inside me somewhere...)

Never underestimate the initiative of a Kiwi chick.... especially one contemplating a rainy day with 2 loads of wet laundry on her hands.

Boom chikka wow wow

It all started during the collision of two random events this morning. Firstly, I was listening to a very interesting and quite funny piece about the Naturist movement in the UK.  While listening to this (and waiting for my meringues to cook), another almighty rainstorm hit.

A mid summer rainstorm is quite impressive, and actually the temperature is quite balmy. I was idly speculating about naturists and rain, and had a very vivid urge to take my morning shower on the back lawn, in a water pressure that probably leaves my shower for dead. Needless to say, I didn't give into this impulse - the overlooking neighbours and the gaggle of Polish builders working on the loft conversion next door are a definite disincentive.

I might have mentioned this fleeting thought on my Facebook page, and was inundated with the 'Boom chikka wow wow' style comments.  Maybe I'm an old hippy at heart, but I didn't think of it as titillating at all, and given a more private location, I think I might have even given it a go.... Warm rain on your skin etc etc.

Anyway, should the stars align in the near future when I'm staying with my friends in the Surrey countryside, the kids may see me grab my shampoo and hive off to the secluded orchard-come-vege garden to shower with the roving chickens. People, be warned....

In Praise of Cool Aunties

Our society is full of images of motherhood and we, as women, grow up with clear images and expectations of being a mum.  As one who has not gone down that route, I would like to sing the praises of cool auntiehood.

No, I'm not thinking about my own lovely aunties who were good sorts in a kindly, grown up/old lady kind of way (and there's nothing wrong with that). But I think more of the tribes of cool aunties in the world, the independent ones who feel like part of the family whether they are blood relatives or not.  Thinking about my own incarnation of auntiehood:

- This auntie used to be a punk rocker and dances/sings to Siouxsie and the Banshees during childrens bath time. She also has some rather racy stories from her rock chick past.

- This auntie tells rude jokes and is not apologetic when the odd swear word slips through...

- This auntie tells stories and makes up new endings (often in line with feminist ideologies - bugger the prince...)

- This auntie is a seriously good cook and often turns up with cakes, pies, puddings for the sweet toothed.

- This auntie has a cracking garden which provides both potatoes for the pot and flowers for posies and weaving into little girls hair.

- This auntie can bbq better than most men.

- This auntie is a straight talker and is impressively good at homework, projects and school fundraiser pub quizzes.

- This auntie can give you pointers on your golf swing.

- This auntie rocks a pirate hat at a childrens party (especially after a few red wines with the cool uncles).

- This auntie can listen to secrets and proffer advise without ratting you out to Mum.

- This auntie has had a career and travelled the world.

- This auntie wears push up bras and low necklines (and doesn't have a moustache or seniors bus pass).

So let's hear it for Cool Aunties!! God Bless'em every one....