For some people pleasure means sleeping in on Sundays, a trip to Alton Towers
with the family, fluffy yorkie puds, chocolate ganache, shopping at Westfield,
or a tall glass of something with Pimm’s at the beach. For me however, pleasure means watching old reruns of Frasier
, nibbling on baking chocolate, the only kind currently lurking in my cupboard
, and eating Jus-like-Crab
— frozen fritters that need to be deep-fried; inexplicably fake and fishy and yet addictive in a twisted sort of way. Taking a trashy-food-eating break is good for the soul. And
the tummy. Trust me. Meanwhile:
– We’re still reeling from a weekend of beef stew and pear salad.
– I have been using my lunch hours at work combing the city for 6V batts to use with my father’s old Yashica Electro 35. It’s high-time someone started experimenting with it.
– I’m planning a birthday-for-Meghna-cum-Oscar night with family friends. I think this calls for my spice-roasted chicken.
– Can’t stop thinking of this buttercream….will have to make some of this very soon before my head explodes.
– I have sneaked out a couple of over-ripe bananas from the funny-looking basket from which we hang our bunches. They’re pleasantly spotted with black and now resting in the freezer waiting for me to get started on some banana bread — something I’ve always wanted to make, and yet have always failed due to my brother’s slavish devotion to the fruit. He can effortlessly inhale a dozen bananas in two days flat, even before I can get my hands on a single one.
– I also don’t think Ghost Rider: Spirit of Whatever is worth a watch. Seriously.