Maggi Mee, Fresh Figs and Basil

I was excited the other day when I stumbled upon packets of Maggi Mee at Auchan, another chain of hypermarket in France, just like Carrefour. I'd like to consider myself as the 'adaptable' woman, y'know, not always hung up over things I grew up with - things like maid service, teh tarik, and of course, the infamous Maggi Mee. We all know that it's not really good for you - after all its fast food. But who can fight the power of desire? And above all quick, light ready-in-2-minutes meal. Once in a while I would get my parents to send me a box of these bright yellow packets of flavoured noodles. And to my surprise, I discovered that you can even get Maggi Mee in Chateauroux, the city with that one Malaysian, yours truly here. I decided to sample one to check whether they taste as mind-boggling hot as the one I get delivered by post from Malaysia.

Verdict: it's the same recipe! (too hot for what I was used to before)



Before I discovered the practice of eating food during it's season, I never knew figs to be other than the ugly-looking dried version. Fresh figs are funny to eat and marvelous to look at. Last night, we had figue au miel for dessert.



I love Basil. I love the plant. I love it's taste. And I love pesto. I thought that it deserves an inclusion in my blog entry today as I had purchased a pot to keep indoors this winter (if it survives). That's all.

The Right Kind of Awkward

I don't know what to title my post today, so I decided to use my favourite phrase of the day which I heard from Lily Allen in the car, while driving to Carrefour after dropping of the kids at their schools.

The Chilli Con Carne of last night was surprisingly delicious but unfortunately it was a total failure with the kids (sigh). It went straight into the tupperware last night and into the fridge. That will make our dinner for tonight. I am back to square one. Still bewildered about what to cook for the kids (sigh again).

On a happier note, my cousin's daughter (what would she be? My second niece?) who is married to a Norwegian and lives in Oslo, emailed me good news by telling me that they may have found my long lost Norwegian friend, Monica Ehly Lovald. There is a street address and a phone number which I will try and call when I have some clear time.

Monica was my best friend when we were in secondary school in Brussels. The quirky and the shy, that was us, I guess. Although we were friends for a number of years until I lost touch with her when our families moved away from Belgium, I never knew much about her family, except that she had a younger brother named Lars and a mother who was Canadian. When I googled her recently, to my surprise, I discovered that her father was an important person. He was an Ambassador to the UN and a Special Envoy for Financing for Development for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Wow. Well, I hope that it was her father, because when I image-googled him, he resembled so much my friend.

I was quite a glutton today for lunch. Perhaps because I was alone, which means no-holds-barred! I had a crispy Tandoori Chicken sandwich, a couple of Financier and a Choux Chantilly! Just for the record ;) ...

Crepes, Christmas & Raclette

Oh, winter is here. Strangely, I don't feel as cold as the past years (perhaps its because we have upgraded our heaters) but l'hiver est la. This weekend was winter style eating weekend. We had, raclette for dinner yesterday and this evening we had crepes. Both a typical cold season food to normally enjoy amongst friends and family. Raclette is basically melted cheese eaten usually with boiled potatoes and some charcuteries (cooked, dried or smoked meats, usually thinly sliced). Although, usually it is only the special kinds of raclette cheeses that are used to be melted on a raclette machine. Basically, a device with about 6 individual heating plates placed at the centre of the table for the cheese melting. While you peel the skin off your boiled potatoes, the cheeses (which comes in a variety of flavours) are placed under the heating device. When it has melted, and just a little gratinee at the top but not burnt, you would scrape the lovely delect of yellow goo with a wooden scraper or bread (so as to not hurt the non-stick lining) and pour it on your potatoes. Mmm...at just the thought of that! The trick is to NOT drink any liquid when you are devouring these delicious mouthfuls as it may cause some stomach upset. But because they tend to be on the salty side, and too much salt equals thirst, you tend to take your chance and gallop down your drinks anyhow.

Mami Mimi's crepes this evening was just awesome (she's my mom-in-law, Grandma Mimi as how I like to refer her as). Mami Mimi, according to her son, can't really cook, as in, she's not much of a cook, but she ace at making crepes! Now, we all know what crepes are... pancakes! But not pancakes as we know it eaten by the Americans. The real French crepes are delicate, thin and light. And are wonderful eaten sucree (sweet) or sale (salty). Tonight we had it with cheese, mushroom and bechamel sauce, ingredients that were layed out on the table for the fun assembling process. For the sweet-toothed, and normaly left to the final few crepes to be eaten at the end after the savoury fillings, there were rhubarb-strawberry jam, fleur d'orangier (orange flower) honey and sugar.

We went to Botanic in the afternoon, about the only shop that is occasionally open on Sundays in France. Botanic is a popular chain store that is a jardenirie and animalerie. Basically, they are a shop that sells botanicals and pet animals. My husband LOVES this shop. It used to be his desired outing in weekends (less these days because of his increasing load of work). We have not been for ages but decided to go for our son's sake because their Chrismas decorations are out for sale. (My husband did not find the Xmas decos for sale at Ikea very impressive, in contrary to me who likes the modern and new, as opposed to him, liking the unique and artisanal). Christmas is after all, a month around the corner so it's time to bring out the sapin (Chrismas tree) and start hanging up those blinking Xmas lights and decos. Being brought up by parents who regard celebrating this or even mere acknowleging Christmas as blasphemous, I am of course, a little on the slow side to warm up to the idea of Christmas. After all, the French don't give a hoot about the religious association of this fete and merely celebrate it for celebration sake, as remnants of their religious days.

Rudolph, the red-nosed reindeer, la la la la la la laaa....

The countdown begins!