From... to Stereo

This may seem like a normal, even a little outdated loudspeaker. For me and five house mates it's spells the horizon of a new era.

Until now, our kitchen has been if not under the reign of silence indeed devoid of ballads, battle screams and epic rock. But we will suffer no more. Whatever vinyl selected it will sound everywhere and the poor volunteer that has to check the oven for pizza's is now greeted with the sound that he left behind in the living room and not by bleak silence.

All is well.

Blonde Sympathy

I am a little too late to call my to dye- adventure a sympathy act for a house mate's recent il-fortune when trying to revert her gorgeous copper locks to the natural blonde. I hope she draws comfort nonetheless from the unfortunate outcome of my home-do.

Some advice ladies; whatever our hair needs; go the to hairdresser. You don't want straw on your head.

Rant X (oh yes, very)

I've been in an increasingly bad mood for the past week and there are only trifles and my bad character that I can blame for it.

Combined with a continuing dissatisfaction of not knowing how to interact socially at work and a close friend/ house mate having an accident (drunk on a motercycle) thus ruining my weekend; I'm abot ready to explode and turn once again in the couch gremlin.

It had better not rain tomorrow, and there had better be chocolate left in the cupboard.

Who put amphetamines in my food?

Happy Birthday to me

Happy Birthday to me

Happy Birthday Moheli

Happy Birthday to me*

27! But I don't feel in the least bit old, merely extremely excited and hoping for either the stripper that I asked for yeserday OR a sports ' enthousiast who'll take me for a quick quarter-thriathlon to pop by. My level of energy is ridiculousy high.

Anyway: thank you everyone for attending; the memory of your company and your (cute) presents will forever be cherished. Anyone who missed it is welcome for tea and leftovers this afternoon/evening.

*lyrics curtesy of Eeyore

The Receiver of Gifts

Isn't this gorgeous? I really hope I found it at my doorstep because it was intended as a gift for me and not because somebody accidentally lost it there. I should very much like to keep it.

The Giver of Gifts

It is well-know and therewith I mean: often and generally presumed that the exercising of a virtue is beneficial not only to the soul but also the humour of the virtuous. I can vouch for part of the truth in this matter.

Whilst stumbling of late I came accross an on-line vintage T-shirt dealer and thinking it too long to wait for a certain someone's birthday I decided to simply gift her a dress piece of no particular reason.

Though it cost me, the financial aspect fell into nothing compared with my joy upon observing her joy. Within minutes though I started feeling guilty for not getting my other house mates some gifts also.

Bed Linnen

All morning I had been in doubt about what to do. After waiting an entire morning for at least one channel to show 'Snooker: China Open' only to see Robertson lose :-(, I decided it was time for me to head outdoors. As I had no business in the city centre and no immediate grocery shopping to do, I prepared for a trip to IKEA, where else?

Where I bought the long anticipated, much discussed new bedlinnen of which you see a sample in the lefthand corner. If this wouldn't have made my day, three cups of free coffee, having a chat with some Russian tourists about what streetcar line to take to the inner city and new stationary would have.

Had I not come home to the understandable yet unanticipated cold shoulder of a house mate, it would have been the perfect last day of March.

The Cat Returns (aka Rant VIII)

The cat was lost. Or so I was told. As this did not spark in me inconsolable grief, in fact as this did spark in me only pure rage for everyone who has only time to come to me with troubles and problems almost accusing me to be the cause or expecting an immediate remedy of/for them. The unspoken accusation that I cared nothing for those animals that I call my children, only fuelled my anger (as you can imagine).

In the meanwhile, the cat has returned (as I assumed, where could she rather be, than home?) and if it wasn't for my unforgiving charachter we might forget all about the episode.

Jump Up Jump Up and...

... get down. But not so fast.

Another long overdue update on the view from our kitchen. Feel free to come over, put on your bouncing shoes and hop around.

Yes.

Yes, we have (all five of us) moved out succesfully with the help of many friends who can't be thanked enough.
Yes.
Yes you are all very welcome to come over and see for yourselves what a beautiful high maintenance house we've landed ourselves.
Yes.
Yes. I got two ovens for free, neither of which works as they should, or rather as I hoped.
Yes.
Yes, already all the great plans of making a better place for all of us, cleaner, healthier, cosier, lovelier have fallen to bits.
Yes.
And yes, I am in a bad, a very bad mood as I write this. Beware menfolk. The bitch may well be back.

A season for socks

Not the first Augustian sub- 25°C warm day, not the first drizzle of September, not even the rougher than appreciated wind that welcomed October had me dress in what other people might call season-appropriate attire. But I can't hold out forever so today for the first time in what the squeemish among my friends and house mates already call winter I donned socks and shoes to venture outdoors. My pink and wriggly toes are having some difficulty adjusting to the dark but I feel confident that they prefer the blackness to cold (and pebbles)

Second second-hand.

Here and here you find a definition and explanations of what me and the house mates that will move out with me within a month are trying to do today. I await the arrival of 2 strong and handsome men to move out various items of furniture and electronics for which I/ we have no longer any use.

Far from all that we will not move to our new home is ready to be taken awat though, should you have even the slightest hope of finding in our attic anything of value, you are very welcome to come browse.

Pumpkin: carriage and soup-stuff

Fairy godmother though I may want to be; I am limited by the physical laws of the reality I ended up in to be a mere kitchen princess. In the spirit of mimicking house mates I present you with another PVW classic.

Orange soup

• 5 kg firm pumpkin
• 0.5 kg carrots
• 1 red bell pepper
• 0.5 kg onions
• 0.5 kg potatoes
• generous amounts of butter
• a large dash of olive oil
• 1 cube of vegetable stock

Melt butter in a large pot on medium heat. Dice your vegetables, add the stock and olive oil. Broil for half an hour, add water whenver neccessary. Leave to a soft broil for another hour. Mix thoroughly. Add salf, pepper, powdered ginger and cumin to taste.

Goes well with roasted chili croutons

The New House

Of all my worries one has disappeared over the weekend. I finally visited my future home, claimed a room and investigated the jungle that will be my garden very very soon. I can perfectly picture how happy my chickens are going to be. And even more how happy I will be eating fresh eggs.

Need I say I am thrilled? This will be the best possible place to live, in possibly the only more fantastic neighbourhood than the one I now populate. I propose an extravagant party november 30th. Be there or never ever dare show up again.

Lapsus

It is better not to confuse a room mate with a mating room.

What I can't say face to face.

No amount of sorry may do.

I'm not even really certain any sort of sorry is in order. But for the umpthyfirst time I feel like having majorly screwed up. And I know that you know that I really didn't mean to hurt you, but ever complaining about the complete lack of respect for my disposition by others, it is all the worse for me to not show any consideration for your feelings.

If there is any apology I may offer,... ask.

Julie and Julia Munichstyle

People who do not understand the title reference: please check here.

Being an enthousiastic foodie, culinary experimentalist, gourmet and gourmand; I have often wondered how a man that I suspect of as much refinement in the kitchen as the average starved polar bear with a bad toothache still manages to be a popular cook. Let it be understood that I am not envious, merely curious. I certainly have my objections towards the exessive use of salt, fats and spices but I would not turn down the offer of a free meal prepared under aforementioned persons' supervision.

There is only one conclusions: the recipe of his succes must be the simplicity and wholesomeness of the dishes. In all my megalomania I of course assume I can manage this even better. So I have decided to recreate every recipe in the imaginary book for my personal and the standard of Munich cooking's improvement.

So far I have succeeded in making edible chips (this is what US citizens call French fries, and which, were they in fact potatoes fried Frenchstyle would be quite IN-edible) from scratch. A feat I never pulled off before, managing merely fried potatoes that were either too chunky, too soggy or too fatty. Inspired by this success I have decide to tackle another PVW favourite today: Potatoe & Carrotmash.

Ingredients:

- 5 pounds of peeled and cubed potatoes
- 2 to 3 pounds of peeled and cubed carrots
- half a pound of lentils, soaked in cold water for two or more hours
- a pinch of salt
- a pinch of thyme
- 1 cup of buttermilk
- butter and pepper to taste

Boil the carrots, potatoes and lentils until soft. Mash thoroughly. Add spices, butter and milk. Mash, mix and stir until the desired texture is reached.

Serve with black pudding, fishsticks or a variety of fried meats.

Feel free to request your favourites, should you ever feel like dropping by for supper.

The unknown phone-number

Now that I have finally learned how to live a life of my own, on my own, without being entirely miserable it seems some unknown life force is bent on making me fall in love again.

How else does one explain the apparition of a telephone number of, if I am not mistaken, a very new acquaintance off whom a majority of mutual friends claims that a-said person might possibly be more than an indifferent acquaintance, should I put my mind to it, that afore was not there and that I did not acquire myself?

Either life is dropping me serious hints or one of my housemates is messing with my cell phone.

Sweet?

I love candy.

This is hardly a shocking confession. In so far that something thus pubicly known may even count as a confession. After the discovery of several generous amounts of breathfresheing mints, I found yesterday under my pillow an obscene amount of sticky fruit gums and sour bears.

I truly love and adore these candies. And I love even more being surprised, which makes it very hard for me to be angry with the generous giver.

However if (s)he is reading this: your killing my current waist and I have some very special clothing to fit into come september. Please surprise me with vegetable treats and low-fat dipping sauce in the future.

Quiz Team Naming

Aparently one must show above all ingenuity and a sense of humor when selecting a name for an occasions only- quiz team. For no reason that was communicated to the team members, supreme team leader Yot decided that we will be participating in a neighbourhood quiz as 'Bart Kaëll Fanclub" For those unaware of the phenomenon Bart Kaëll, I have included a youtube-clip below.