catty goes organic with an Abel & Cole box: honey spiced chicken with beetroot chips

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honey spiced chicken with beetroot chips

I really do think that I am the worst ever foodie in the world. Not only do I have a completely unsophisticated palate (although I don’t really think this makes me a bad foodie, just a very easily pleased one), I also never shop organic, well, unless it’s convenient anyway. It’s not that I don’t want to eat organic, but then I gotta travel to get it. On most weekends, you’ll find me not at the farmer’s market, but wandering the aisles of Marks & Sparks Simply Food, picking up my pre-cut, pre-washed, pre-packaged, pre-chemical injected vegetables. But if it says it’s organic, then I’ll pick that up, only cos it’s there.

Ok, so I’m a lazy foodie.

So when Abel & Cole offered to provide me with a FREE organic veg box and a FREE organic chicken, just so I could try their products by my own FREE will for FREE, I jumped at the opportunity. Not cos it’s FREE, mind you. But because it’s organic, and it’s home delivered. Oh and did I mention it was for free*?

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it don’t matter if you’re black or white: choc mint cheesecake

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individual choc mint cheesecake

It’s officially been three full weeks since the passing of arguably the greatest legend of our time. Michael Jackson bid this earth adieu to continue his jammin’ existence with The Hound Dawg, The Princess, and his thugz Tupac and Biggie… and now that all his songs have been blasted in every permutation possible in the realm of MTV and mathematics, I’ve finally found some peace away from the crotch grabbing and moon walking to sort through my thoughts on the matter.  

(Oh and don’t worry, this post is about cheesecake)

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Lucy Liu’s rock hard muffins: get ’em right here

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maple & walnut muffins fail

Y’all remember in Charlie’s Angels? When Lucy Liu baked those little muffins and Drew Barrymore hurled it at the door and it was so rock hard it left a dent gaping hole? Well. After my second foray into baking last week, I can safely announce to the whole wide world that yes, my muffins are just like Lucy Liu’s.

Truth be told, I would rather have a toosh like Cameron Diaz (how does that girl shake it baby shake it like that?) but I’m about one fifth her height so I’ll quit while I’m ahead. Lucy Liu’s muffins it is. Let’s continue.

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i miss my momma: steamed fish with ginger, chilli and shallots

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steamed fish with ginger, chilli and shallots

During dinner at Kai Mayfair last Friday night, somewhere between indulging in the perfectly cooked Chilean Sea Bass and me licking my plate (for reals), the question of ‘how does one cook fish at home?’ was posed. I’m surprised at how often this question pops up in conversation, I know a million people who refuse to cook fish at home. But it’s a completely odd question to me, because I’ve always cooked fish (I’ve even dabbled with fish curry), and I don’t find it particularly difficult.

So this question was specifically about steaming fish, and ok, my steamed fish is a bit of a fraud, it’s actually kind of baked, but if it tastes the same and looks the same, who cares how it got there, right? It’s called innovation, people.

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the evolution of man: honey lemon glazed chicken drumsticks

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honey lemon glazed chicken drumsticks

I always pictured that back in the day of the caveman, men ~ rugged, muscly, grunty… dirty, hairy, smelly (hmm, time seems to have changed not very much at all) ~ would wield their giant (chicken drumstick) clubs and trudge off with fellow grunty cavemen to hide behind some thorny scrubs and stake out their prey. And here they would sit patiently, occasionally scratching their derrière (an acitivity which seems to have thrived over the millennia), waiting for the perfect prey. 

Eventually, they’ll hear a rustle of movement as a gaggle (gaggle? I don’t actually know the correct term for a group of women, except for god-fearing-stampeding-horde during the Christmas sales) of cavewomen return from their daily mudbath, cleansed and all up to date with the most current cave gossip. At the sight of the soft curvaceousness of this fairer gender, the cavemen leap from their hiding place, brandishing their (honey glazed chicken drumstick) clubs in the air and charge, clubbing their chosen prey over the head.

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