Foodie's Weekend
It was a foodie's weekend again. We cooked a lot this weekend. And watched our ever-expanding waistlines increase somemore horizontally. This is what happens when two foodies get together. It is a dangerous relationship, in which we have to remember to be checks and counter balances for each other. We eat too well, like our food too much. Otherwise we will end up as replicas of the Goodyear Blimp.
We made a quatro-funghi pizza for dinner on Saturday. The recipe has stood us in good stead. Constantly meeting our exacting standards. I think it's not unhealthy nor excessive and I don't understand why our waistlines are seeking new territories.
Saturday night saw me baking curry puffs. It was my first time and I know my handiwork is not delicate nor pretty like mum's. I did not inherit that from her - all I inherited were the wavy hair and the innumeracy. My scallop edges of the puffs were unwieldy and ugly. The next time I make curry puffs I must remember to make the filling spicier and saltier such that when it's wrapped in the pastry, the taste gets offset and becomes blander than the original. But overall it was still passable (or so I would like to believe, and to all my friends who ate them and gave me the thumbs up, I believe you with all my heart).
The curry puffs were my contribution to the Christmas High Tea on Sunday. G protested the chicken in the puffs and made pikelets instead, with a recipe he had googled up. They were of varying sizes but tasted quite nice, especially slathered with King Island cream and strawberry jam. I really liked the roast beef and caramelised onion finger sandwiches and the sticky date pudding is probably the biggest culprit of the sprawl of our waistlines. The apricot eggnog was refreshing, even though I skipped the brandy. Everything was beautiful and delicious and it was yet another successful attempt at our own high tea catering efforts.
So was it a wonder why we have to control our intake when we are all blessed with culinary skills and friends who can cook?
We made a quatro-funghi pizza for dinner on Saturday. The recipe has stood us in good stead. Constantly meeting our exacting standards. I think it's not unhealthy nor excessive and I don't understand why our waistlines are seeking new territories.
Saturday night saw me baking curry puffs. It was my first time and I know my handiwork is not delicate nor pretty like mum's. I did not inherit that from her - all I inherited were the wavy hair and the innumeracy. My scallop edges of the puffs were unwieldy and ugly. The next time I make curry puffs I must remember to make the filling spicier and saltier such that when it's wrapped in the pastry, the taste gets offset and becomes blander than the original. But overall it was still passable (or so I would like to believe, and to all my friends who ate them and gave me the thumbs up, I believe you with all my heart).
The curry puffs were my contribution to the Christmas High Tea on Sunday. G protested the chicken in the puffs and made pikelets instead, with a recipe he had googled up. They were of varying sizes but tasted quite nice, especially slathered with King Island cream and strawberry jam. I really liked the roast beef and caramelised onion finger sandwiches and the sticky date pudding is probably the biggest culprit of the sprawl of our waistlines. The apricot eggnog was refreshing, even though I skipped the brandy. Everything was beautiful and delicious and it was yet another successful attempt at our own high tea catering efforts.
So was it a wonder why we have to control our intake when we are all blessed with culinary skills and friends who can cook?
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