The Taste of Freedom

Recently I made a goal to try a new recipe every now and then. I like to keep my goals vague so that when I fail I don't go on a depression-induced Berry Burst Oreo cookie bender. Anyway, one of this week's new recipes was for Yellow Curry a la Benja Thai Garden.

The recipe called for two teaspoons of fish sauce. Behold, the only size bottle of fish sauce available at the Asian grocery store:

It's in the door of my fridge now, where it will remain until one of my children discovers my hidden bottle of Thai "root beer." That will be fun.

I was hesitant to make yellow curry at home. I've only ever eaten it on dates with DJ or on girls-night-out with my sisters-in-law, sans children. I've said before that yellow curry "tastes like freedom" because I've never once been interrupted from eating it by someone who wants me to cut their food, change their diaper, or wipe food off of their face. It's like, every time I take my first bite of yellow curry I hear faint ukulele music, feel the trade winds blowing, and I'm sitting on a beach somewhere TOTALLY ALONE. Just me and my curry. And someone mysteriously scratching my back, even though I'm TOTALLY ALONE.

It's that good.

You can see why I finally gave in and made it. Here's Macey checking out my big double batch:

Here's the recipe, for those who are interested in complete and utter happiness:

1/4 cup yellow curry paste
2-14 oz. cans coconut milk
2 large chicken breasts, chopped
4 potatoes, sliced
1 large onion, chopped
2 cups frozen stir fry vegetables (this is absolutely not an authentic Thai ingredient; I went with Great Value brand)
2 teaspoons fish sauce
1-2 teaspoons sugar

In a big pot, saute curry paste in a little vegetable oil until your kitchen smells exactly like the Asian grocery store. Stir in chicken and cook until done. Add remaining ingredients, cover, and simmer until the potatoes are tender. Serve over steamed jasmine rice.

Chock-dee-na!

(That's how you say "good luck" in Thai phonetically. Thanks, Google. And in case you find yourself in a bind: "Where is the toilet?"--"hxngna pi thaang hin?" For real.)

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Happy Canadian Thanksgiving, eh?

Happy belated Canadian Thanksgiving, everyone! And you thought I forgot! I wouldn't forget. We celebrated Thanksgiving with our northern neighbours this year, but between Pinterest, my selection of silly LDS fiction, and thinking about folding my laundry I haven't had a minute to report about it until today.

The mass text I sent to my in-laws said this: "We are BBQing Monday at 6:00 to celebrate Canadian Thanksgiving. Everyone's invited. Practice your accent and dress like a Canadian." I forgot to dress like a Canadian. Or to be more accurate, I don't own any beanies. And the only accent I can pull off includes me saying "eh?" after everything. But, oh...how we partied.

I'm unsure what constitutes a traditional Canadian Thanksgiving, but I figured it would involve these things:

...and family:

...and a selection of barbecued meats:

...because nothing says "Canadian harvest celebration" like a bunch of Americans barbecuing hot dogs and wearing shorts when it's eighty-five degrees in October. Good times, eh?

I have this calendar that reminds me of the national holidays of nearly every foreign country, so I have an excuse to party on almost a daily basis. Today: Día de la Raza (Mexico). I don't know WHY we're celebrating, but mark my words: there will be cookies. And possibly a $2 meal deal from Taco Bell.

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slow news week? um, yeah.

This has been the week of making stuff. I have this insatiable appetite for painting and sewing and baking, on the condition that whatever project I start must be completed within three hours and require minimal craftiness skills. Anyway...here are a few of my creations:

Pillow covers made from mismatched fabric remnants and a little frame that I repainted and turned into a chalkboard. I gotta get rid of that chalkboard paint. I'm up to my ears in homemade chalkboards.

Next, I experimented with microwaving bacon:

Who knew that microwaving bacon carried with it the risk/excitement of exploding dishes? Not I. I should mention that that was not my plate. Do you guys have dishes like this? Foreign dinnerware that mysteriously appears amongst your other dishes? I apologize if that was your plate. I actually quite liked it. It was my go-to microwaving plate because it didn't get scorching hot. I guess the bacon pushed it over the edge. Rest in peace, plate. You were a good dish.

[Speaking of bacon, a few nights ago I decided to play a little game to see how well I know my offspring. I asked them a random list of their favorites--color, food, movie, animal, book, et cetera. I tried to predict their responses in my mind before they answered. Ugh, FALL. Anyway, I asked Olivia her favorite animal (which is a two-way tie between sheep and kitties, for the record) and after thinking for a second she asked, "Mom, which animal is bacon?" Heh heh. That apple didn't fall too far from the DJ tree...]

I also made this face:

I pulled that face just for my friend Marie. You're welcome, Marie. Voluntary public humiliation is a mark of true friendship. Unlike INVOLUNTARY public humiliation:

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