So here is a little culinary delight that I russled up last week [apologies for the lack of garnish or even pretty platter - but that's all my office kitchen provides].
I've been wanting to make a risotto for ages but have always been hesitant to give it a try, imagining a stodgy result.
So here's my first attempt at Tomato Chicken Risotto - a perfect end of the month meal.
Prep time: 10 minutes Cooking time: 30 minutes Serves: 2 (big portions, so I ate mine in 3)
Ingredients:
2 chicken breasts
4 Italian tomatoes, chopped (or can use tinned)
3 cups of chicken stock (using 1.5 cubes)
1.5 cups of broccoli (or any other veg you have lying around)
1 cup of brown basmati rice (obviously the pucker rice is preferred but budget constraints left me using whatever I had in the cupboard)
1 tsp crushed garlic
mixed herbs, salt and pepper
oil/butter to fry
Method:
Saute the garlic and add the tomatoes, frying slightly in a pan
Add chicken pieces and brown
Add rice to soak up tomato juices and slowly add the stock (taking care not to flood the pan by adding it all at once)
Add the broccoli and any herbs (fresh obviously better). I would not suggest adding salt as stock is quite salty already.
As the rice soaks up the stock, add more, and stir continuously
To hurry things up (tummy rumbling) I put a saucepan lid at an angle on top of the pan (to enhance the steaming process), stirring every few minutes.
I also added 2 tbs of chutney just to sweeten it up slightly but that's up to you
Once all the stock/juices has been soaked up and veggies are soft to your liking, serve in a bowl - which you can make pretty by adding some parsley on top.
Verdict:
Delicious (but slightly salty so would not add salt in future). Very easy to make and all in all, a good first attempt at risotto!
I just love those days when you can't stop smiling.
In fact I want to squeal like a piglet in excitement.
Because things are just going my way today (please let me not get jinxed for saying this)
WiW (Weigh in Wednesday) showed some decent improvement - thanks to both good exercise, healthy eating choices and new tummy muti.
Work was enjoyably productive as magazine design is FINALLY underway.
And best of all is that I have agreed to move in with 9 awesome people (so they seemed in interview) in a massive mansion (right by my gym!) in a great room (with porn mirrors on ceiling?!) where I will be catered for by a cook four days a week.
Hello digs life, new friends, new fun and happiness.
And only three sleeps til I see Curly. Yay.
That is all.
Note: This blog will occasionally be used for such diary-like entries. Because it's my blog and I can.
I was recently asked the question: "When am I going overseas to find myself?".
And I was hesitant to reply because my answer is very different to most other 20-somethings.
Because I don't want to work on the ski slopes in Vale or teach English in Korea or work on a yacht in the Med - I have actually never wanted to, and whene friends and cousins raged about their experiences, I really wasn't too jealous.
What's wrong with me you may be wondering - there must be someone or something holding me back.
Nope.
It's not that I don't want to go to Vale or Korea or Med - not at all - it's just that I want to experience the world differently. In small chunks. On holiday.
"Yes but then you don't get the true experience of the country/culture/people" you might argue.
That may be so but I think I'll be content with the tit bit that I do get to experience.
"But still, you need to find yourself" you may insist.
Since Std 9 I knew I wanted to be a journalist and I wanted to be a journalist in South Africa (and hopefully even be sent to different places for my job as an investigative reporter).
So I didn't need to go on a gap year, spending my parents' money while I decided what direction I wanted to go. Maybe I should have gone anyway (I no doubt missed out on some important life experiences) but I was too eager to get to varsity and start studying to be a journalist.
And then after that (another opportune gap year time) I was just too eager to get started in the real world as a journalist.
Maybe you think this makes me narrow-minded and that I'll regret these choices later in life.
But I don't think I will and I'm saving up to start ticking off my travel wish list - Thailand, Russia, Italy and South America to name a few - visits that I hope to share with Curly, friends and family.
But I didn't say all this to mom's cousin's wife who asked me that first question but left it short and sweet:
"I've found myself in Joburg, thank you very much"
My mom always used to say that only boring people get bored.
I realised today - as I wait for the designer to design some pages for me to edit and people to get back to me about future features - that I could be one of these people.
I have therefore set out to prove to myself that I am not in fact a boring person and think about what I do or could to to fill up my time - at least until I can get to gym and get on that treadmill for my planned 50 minute run (I can't wait).
And that actually brings me to proof *1 - I exercise.
A month ago (let alone a year ago) I would never have thought that I'd be looking forward to or even be able to run for 50 minutes on a treadmill.
Back in first year at Rhodes I hit the inevitable first year spread, caused by too much drinking, too little exercise and res food. Anyway, second year was a year for change for me - changed res, started eating breakfast (who would have thought I could survive a whole day without that extra 45 minutes of sleep) and going to gym daily. It took me a while to get used to doing things on my own because a previous gym partner wasn't too dedicated and I realised if I was serious I'd have to do this on my own.
Anyway long story short - my life had a total revamp leading to happier me (boosted greatly by the entering of a certain curly-haired male into my life).
Well three years later I think I hit real life first year spread after moving up to the big city. The combination of 2 hour commutes, sitting at a desk and eating easy meals (hello pasta) and too many take outs on the weekend (living a block from McDonalds is tough ok!) and 4 kgs later I realised this had to end.
And so begins life revamp*2
This has involved a new way of thinking - no more diet but a lifestyle change and a gym membership (which, being paid for my me meant that I had to get my money's worth).
I think the most difficult part has been the weekends - which is when I'm most likely to relax on the exercise front (having gone all week to gym) and more lenient on the food choices, fueled by the worst kind of fuel - alcohol.
The other big factor is my curly-haired boy (who is not too into exercise and very much into KFC)
Having to be accountable to myself and others (have a weekly weigh-in on a Wednesday with my cousin on same journey)
So I have become a lot more vegetarian during the week (who would have known lentils could taste so good)
And my goal for every weekend is not to sabotage myself - which I'm largely succeeding in (I think) and have really got Curly used to long romantic strolls and eating healthy wholesome meals (turns out they cheaper too!)
So this post was supposed to be about why I'm not boring but all I've talked about is my weightloss journey (which is still far off target) but not bothering me much at all coz clothes are looser and its nearly time for my first 10km race :)
My trip to Cape Town last weekend was an amazingly eye-opening and interesting experience.
It started off with me getting slightly tipsy at the bar at the airport...alone. I felt empowered and invigorated being a 'young professional' (apparently that's how you define people my age who have a job and live in a city) sipping on my Savannah.
As much as I tried not to, I slept on the plane - it's just something with moving vehicles and me - and probably added to by my Savannnah lullaby.
Anyway, I revived myself with an energy drink while waiting for my luggage (had to be ready for a CT jol specially as it was Friday night!).
I got the giggles staring at a metal tool box going round and round the conveyor belt and watching everyone notice and stare at it, waiting to see who would own up to owning it.
I was met by my brother with a sign (he thought he was funny) and we then packed my bags into The Mayor. This car was passed down from me, who received it after 12 years from my mom. He 'pimped' it out with racks on top for his surf board...dude.
It wouldn't start. It was 23.45 on a Friday night and we were going to have to jam at the airport. Two kind men helped push start it and I looked hilarious running behind the car.
And so my Cape Town Adventure begins....
Long Street was a great night out. I must admit that I'd thought it was a fancy place that called for heels but turns out its like Melville, and is very chilled out. Bit freaked out by Nigerians offering weed at every street corner. And was very surprised by eclectic mix in Dubliner. I guess my Rhodes night life and limited mainstream jolling in Joburg has had me socialising in a very limited crowd of people (who are generally all like me). So it was really great being in such a multicultural atmosphere and I even started warming up to the Nigerians...until dear Remy got asked to be a drug pusher!
Saturday was probably my favourite part of my entire trip because it involved the beautiful mountain, bonding with my bro and a burger :) (Captured in above pic)
But before I leave this trip I have to make a few observations:
1. (The most important) No shop sells alcohol after 5pm on a Saturday or on a Sunday?!?!?!?! What's up with that! When I was barred from purchasing the necessary fermented grape drink from the local Pick n Pay, I asked in absolute wonder: But what if I want to drink at 6pm! [so one up to Gauteng for that one]
2. Everyone is uber chilled: Brother just didn't lock the car doors and had his window wound right down (i was freaking out big time, scanning each robot for potential highjackers)
3. Cape Town is beautiful. No question the most beautiful city in the country. But I would want to visit that beauty for holidays every now and then and stick to the 'Big Smoke' for real life. But that's just me
The rest of the weekend followed in a blur of friends, family and food and I got on the plane on Monday evening happily exhausted.
And I must admit (and this surprised me too) but I was honestly excited to see the lights of Joburg sparkling down below and really felt that I was back home.
“Burning tyres, barricaded gates and doctors crawling underneath barbed wire fences - that's how day three of the public sector strike unfolded at the Helen Joseph hospital on Friday morning.”
“The National Education, Health and Allied Workers’ Union said patients facing life and death situations must “negotiate” with strikers about crossing hospital picket lines.”
“Three pupils from Bernadino Heights High School in Kraaifontein, north of Cape Town, needed urgent medical attention after a mob of about 300 striking teachers descended on their classes.”
“A 21-year-old man, who needed emergency surgery after his hand had been chopped off, was turned away by two state hospitals due to a public service strike, says paramedics.”
“A ward assistant said that there was no kitchen staff on duty so patients could not be given porridge in the morning."There was no one to make porridge this morning so we could only give the patients bread and tea for breakfast."”
“As 53 critically ill babies were left to starve by striking nurses, and as more than 10 adults died at an abandoned Gauteng hospital, private clinics and military medics yesterday came to the rescue of the country's crippled health system.”
This public strike is making me absolutely furious!
Yes, it is your right to strike but as President Zuma noted yesterday, you have absolutely no right to do it violently – putting others in danger.
One amazing brightspark said on the news last night that “they must find the money, even if they have to borrow from Zimbabwe”. Seriously?! If the government gives in to the demands, there will be serious repercussions in this country, and if they don’t, the consequences are scary.
Do they not realise that to pay these salaries, they are going to have to take funds from the actual public sector.
And just wait, the next strike will be about lack of equipment.
And those ‘others’ are the most vulnerable in our society – patients in hospitals (if they weren’t turned away), who can’t even get porridge in the morning, let alone medical care.
School children – the future of this country – who are literally being denied their education because their schools are closed. I fear this year’s matric results will be worse than any other year as they have already been disadvantaged by the long holiday during the World Cup and now they must do preparation on their own as their teachers toi-toi and picket.
That being said, there are brave doctors, nurses and teachers who continue to do their job despite intimidation and threats from their colleagues. My friend, Kate, a nurse at Steve Biko Hospital in Pretoria is going to work in plain clothes, and is relieved to be working night duty because at least she is missing the most of the strikers. She is paid just as badly and yet she is still going to work? What makes her different from her toi-toing colleague? They studied the same, do the same job and are both equally dependent on their paycheck to survive (no hand outs from a rich daddy for Kate). And yet she would probably climb under barbed wire to get to her patients that need her.
The difference is this: passion and dedication. From her passion, she is dedicated to do her job no matter what.
I hope that I too will have the same passion for truth to keep doing my job as a journalist no matter what. And I fear that day is sooner than we think with the Protection of Information Act and talk about a Media Tribunal.
