I think it goes without saying that the power of uncooked cookie dough is vastly under-rated in the world of consumer behaviour. How its floury, grainy, brown sugary texture feels pressed hard up against my mouth.. {shudder} I’m getting all hot and bothered just thinking about it.
Add to that a complete over estimation of chocolate chips and the cookie dough truly becomes a source to be reckoned with.
It’s been getting colder over here in London-town. The weather teased us with tops in the high teens a few weeks ago, but these days it’s a steady 10 or maybe 12 degrees celcius on a good day, 8 on a bad.
In light of this, I’ve been happily wearing my boots every day for the past fortnight. I love the cosy feel of having thick socks around my ankles, but even for those things I love, I do grow tired (caveat: bf not included).
While it’s been cold, it hadn’t rained (til now), so last Friday I tossed my boots aside (oh who am I kidding, I’m a neat freak, I stuffed boot fillers back into them and placed them neatly back in their allocated spot in my wardrobe), put on my new Nine West flats and headed out for the day.
Being the first day in two weeks I hadn’t worn boots, it rained. It rained and rained and it was seriously like god was saying f*** you, here’s some rain to fill up your flats, hah.
Only god probably wouldn’t swear. But he would laugh at me.
One night two weeks ago, as I lay in bed trying my very hardest not to claw my eyeballs out of their sockets, I was reminded of a terrifying night I spent alone all those years ago (wow, it’s almost been a decade).
It was my first experience of a migraine, where the agony in my head is magnified by the stray light that somehow penetrates the pitch blackness that I’m lying in ~ in a dark room, under the blanket with my eyes closed and somehow, somehow, this light fires off microscopic missiles at my eyeballs, sending me into a writhing ball of pain, willing death to come much faster than it apparently wants to.
Last time, the migraine preceeded the crowning and extraction of my wisdom tooth, but we will not go into detail about the amount of pain that involves. This is a G-rated blog afterall.
I’m gonna come clean up front and admit that this is a completely blagged post. Blagged items, if you don’t know, are things that we bloggers are sent from PR folk to eat and cook and test, and provide our supposedly much sought after opinion. My opinion in particular has the influence of a peanut, so I don’t know why they send me stuff, but hey, this week I got ugg boots (!!!) so I am not complaining.
In light of the fact that dusting off my old ugg boots indicate the onset of winter, new ugg boots indicate that it’s winter now! NOW! Wear them NOW! and like seriously, the power of the mind, I have convinced myself (and everyone else) it’s winter. So much so that Abel & Cole also think it’s winter, and have sent me a delicious chicken, mushroom and leek pie to warm my little belly.
Hi. My name is catty and I’m a blagger.
Yesterday has got to be one of my all time favourite days. Somewhere between waking up yesterday morning and having dinner at Kiasu (I left the country for what, 10 days? And I totally missed Kiasu) last night, I baked some amazingly scrumptilicious green tea cupcakes. In case you didn’t know, green tea is a crazy obsession of mine, not so much the actual tea itself (but I do drink it), but green tea flavoured sweet anythangs.
Green tea ice cream*, green tea nougat, green tea crème brûlée, green tea cake, green tea fudge, green tea buns, green tea mochi ice cream balls (OMG the new-ness of this discovery still sends shivers down my spine!) and delectable green tea soufflé, which I’ve only ever had once at Toko three years ago, and have never stopped thinking about it (they’ve since removed it from their menu, biatches).
So imagine my absolute fifth-grader squeals of delight when I found a recipe for green tea cupcakes in my Hummingbird Bakery cookbook!
Gawd this book is my bible.
There’s a lot to be said about being ambitious. Ambition is an in-built hunger, a drive to achieve, to push yourself and be the best that you can. To expect and accept physical, emotional and mental pressures to break you, and then make you.
Ambitious is my mother, who gained a degree while working part time with two young children. Ambitious is my brother, who gave his every last ounce of sleep, energy and sanity to be the brilliant physician that he is today. Ambitious is my friend, who wanted to ride a bicycle from Sydney to Melbourne, and did.
Ambitious is wanting to bake two recipes, when you know you can’t even bake one…
…
Eh? Say what?!
That’s not ambitious. That’s just stupid.