beer, bag, bed

home is a really nice place to be. we have beer, a YSL downtown bag, and even a mattress that takes up half the hallway but to me has become invisible. if you see something often enough, it does sort of cease to exist. there are exceptions that prove this rule -- namely, zits that never go away and pasta-sauce stains on white garments. both are categories of stuff that i, unfortunately, know way too much about.

and here is another sentence, because while i'm willing to end a sentence on a preposition, i won't end a blog post on one.

fritter

there's no better way to desecrate the sanctimonious health of vegetables than by deep-frying them. in this case, we're talking corn and coriander, both of which barely count as vegetables -- one is an herb; the other has so little nutritional value that your body doesn't even bother to digest it. but i suppose, who cares, as long as they make for good fritters. which they do.

start with:

1 can corn (or the equivalent in fresh, if you're not lazy)
1 onion (red or yellow, depending on how sweet you want it)
1 clove of garlic, crushed
1/2 cup double cream
1 egg
3 tbsp of grated cheese
1 cup/lots of coriander leaves, roughly chopped
1 tbsp plain flour

- slice onions into strips or grate
- add corn and garlic, season with salt and pepper
- add cream, egg, grated cheese, coriander and flour
- add more coriander than you think you'd need, the stuff shrinks into nothingness
- heat a pan or wok and fill with about 1cm of oil
- spoon dollops into the hot oil like cookie dough and let them spread
- flip when golden brown, fry other side, then transfer to paper towels to soak oil
- cooking time should be a couple of minutes each side
- serve with thai chilli sauce

the whole shebang takes no longer than 20 minutes, and is near impossible to screw up.

since all i ever do is think about food, write about food, cook food and eat food, i figured i might as well share the wealth with y'all. "y'all" being my three readers. what say we?

30

i pretty much hate birthdays and all the hoopla associated with said occasions. i'm turning 30 this year, a milestone that i don't much care for either, not because i worry about wrinkles and the stress of getting older, but because the older you get, the less you can get away with. inappropriateness is the realm of the young. i refer, of course, not only to such frivolous examples as backless tops without bras, but also risk-taking in general. that's why it's nice sometimes to be just a 29-year-old jumping on a hotel-room bed. life is best in those moments you're suspended in mid-air.