Conqueror Chef

Last night I dominated my kitchen. I got all up inside it and went to town on chopping boards, hobs, vegetables and pans. The result of this saucy endeavour (that is a fantastic pun) was a vegetable bolognese, or more precisely, a Quorn bolognese. Those of you who have read into my bloggy-past may remember my blossoming love affair with Quorn being mentioned. Those of you who haven't been privy to such information should once more feel shame; vast oceans of shame that fester in the back of your mind, occasionally waking you from your slumber whereupon you clutch the pillow tighter and wish you had rectified the mistake. Fortunately I'm a gentle soul and will allow you a moment to go find the post. Go on. I'll wait here...
...
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...finished? Good. Onwards!

Yes this meat substitute, that is in actual fact a fungus, has seen me expand my sense of flavour to previously unexplored regions as well as giving a new tool to my creative forge: cooking. While I may have dabbled with dishes that required a few ounces of patience (compared to the tried-and-tested frozen food in the oven method) in the past, rarely had a I gone out of my way to make a dish using nought but my wits. Advice from my mum and recipe book not withstanding. I even put in mushrooms. I don't like mushrooms. Something about them just doesn't sit right with me. Perhaps they appear too alien or perhaps it is their texture, either way I don't like them. However, saying that, the aged old technique of chopping undesirables into small enough chunks so as not to bother you was put into a play. A technique just as effective on your enemies as it is on inanimate lumps of fungus. Yes I chopped, diced and damn near Jack the Rippered my way through mushrooms, onions and carrots.
This was an impromptu cooking session you see. I had not been given the chance to meticulously order my ingredients on the worktop, making sure every ounce, gram and spoon-measure was exactly as stated in the recipe. A character trait I blame on my youthful scientific leanings. Nervously I proceeded to create this dish, nay, beast, for surely something not precisely calculated and born of chaos and impulse would be but a vile creature indeed. The onions and carrots softened, the mushrooms browned and the chopped tomatoes (canned) added. Paprika and oregano were added on the fly, guesswork and meh-ing my shadowy companions. Then red wine! Splashes of this dark claret swirled among the already crimson mix. What's this? Tabasco sauce? Why not! Drips of liquid heat plummeted into the pan, an ingredient not even mentioned in the recipe. I had begun going mad. Free wheeling my way into the unknown.
Time passed.
The cauldron was stirred again. And again.
Slowly this mysterious substance became a sauce and not once had I tested it's dark waters. On with the Quorn. Something I understand well enough to cook without instruction. A quick pan fry and then into the cauldron to begin the last leg. More stirring. It now began to resemble the bolognese we all know so well, that wonderful Italian creation (that country knows food). Left to simmer, I turned my mind to more academic matters, "Do I want that cheese or that one? Can I be bothered chopping that mozzarella? My toes are cold." Thoughts that would turn lesser men into gibbering piles of madness.
Time once again passed and the moment of truth arrived. Time to taste what my fit of insanity had wrought. A single scoop of the brew and then into my waiting maw. Anticlimax. It was...ordinary. Neither amazing nor bad, albeit hot enough to burn my mouth. Disheartened that I had not found a delicious way to enlightenment I got some fresh tagliatelle, prepared it accordingly and mixed it together with my normal bolognese and some grated cheese, then retired to my throne (read: sofa).

BOOM!

Somehow, somewhen, with the addition of pasta and cheese my ordinary monster had become a thing of beauty. Beast turned to handsome prince. It was delicious! I devoured it, savouring every bite. Wiping every last drop of sauce from the bowl with my bread like I was prospecting for gold in a river. It was a flavour miracle. Surely somewhere in the world someone had eaten the dark twin of my meal and most likely suffered some form of disgust fuelled stroke. Their taste buds forever ruined.

So it was that a boy set out to merely quell his hunger, and using a simple template that was twisted by imagination and curiosity into something unique, smote the force of hunger with extreme prejudice. I feel there should be some kind of mural depicting my victory. Something along the lines of me standing triumphant over a dragon. Maybe with jets flying overhead. Regardless the point is this:

Do you create better dishes when you follow instructions, set by top chefs of the world whose very job it is to create delicious flavour?
Or, do you fare better when you run off the beaten path, allowing yourself to pick and choose things on the fly following pure instinct?

I ask that next time you cook something, let your mind wander into pastures new and your hand pick and choose those ingredients less used. Cheese where there was none. Spicy where it was once mild. Let yourself be one of the top chefs of the world who do create at whim. You might just slay your own beast.

Where Oh Where

Looking high, looking low
Oh inspiration, where did you go?
The urge to write is going strong
But without you it all comes out wrong
Are you hiding, oh inspiration?
Or have you run off with motivation?
Lovers dear is what you may be
But I need you now, don't you see?
Looking high, looking low
Oh inspiration, where did you go?

Book of Face

Facebook. Book of many faces and a big book it has become. Nowadays it's as commonplace in conversation and everyday life as the word hello and there's no denying either that it is now part of our collective culture. And it is still growing.
I'm a Facebook user, have been for several years now and as such I have found it a great tool for keeping in contact with old friends, co-workers and classmates alike. The curiosity (read: noseyness) I occasionally have over where someone from my past is now stationed in life is generally only a few clicks away before it is sated. Information is freely shared amongst friends and family in a great show of community. Feeling sad over something? Say so in a status update and people flock to give support, light humour or just to find out why. Have some big news to announce? Status update. Have an opinion over a current event? Status update. In the latter case this can open up a forum for debate with points and counterpoints thrown against each other in a battle of wits. The sharing doesn't stop with words either. With the advent of the compact digital camera, photographs are uploaded en masse ranging from artwork to funny sights and special occasions to just days/evenings of fun. New haircuts, new purchases and newborns can be declared to the world with a triumphant "Look at this. Look what I have done."
Of course I am barely scratching the surface of what this social network offers. Games, organisational options for social events to rallying cries for people to make a stance, clubs, sub-networks, private messaging, the list goes on and it is constantly evolving and adapting to fit society. Evident by the fact that Facebook is no longer restricted to home use with many people now using it almost exclusively through their mobile phones and other portable devices. The ability to instantly communicate a photograph or thought just a touch of a button away. It is truly a tool to be marvelled at. But that is what it is when all is said and done; a tool. A fact that is hastily becoming forgotten.

Now some honesty, for I would lay rest the grace in my tongue and speak plainly (bonus points for guessing the movie quote), I am absolutely rubbish at remembering dates for birthdays, anniversaries and special events. Truly awful and it has caused no end of grief. But lo an behold Facebook swoops in to my rescue with a wonderful little use; birthday reminders. When it is the birthday of someone you are connected to on the network, it is displayed on the homepage to spark failing memories such as mine. Brilliant. Better yet you can look ahead into the mists of time and find out what birthdays are coming up. More brilliant. Herein lies a problem though; you can alter your date of birth whenever you want and with that alter when your birthday is (that part's tricky so stay with me). Now you'll think to yourself why in the nine hells would their be any point in that and the answer is simply: for funsies. The lulz. Cheap laughs. Whatever you want to call it. Alter your birthday and see which of your friends/family wish you merriment and good health thus making fools of themselves and showing that they don't really know when your birthday is. This is where all that writing up there is leading to okay so you haven't wasted your time...not completely wasted it anyway.

People are beginning to take the information on Facebook as gospel. The unquestionable truth.

It is so heavily relied upon by some that it is ceasing to be a tool and has begun dictating to some what to think. Just the other day a friend of mine turned 16 years old. Not bad for a man who had 3 birthdays within 3 days last month and has been around for about three decades in the real world. Sure that may be a case for abuse of a tool, but it is the abuse that leads to problems down the road. Don't get me wrong here, I find watching people blindly send good wishes to others quite amusing much in the same way I read excerpts from this website because they are highly amusing. But if we start believing everything that Facebook throws at us then we'd have to believe that some people have over a thousand friends in reality, that someone has ten siblings all of whom have different surnames and are about as related as Angelina Jolie's kids are (zing!) and that people are capable of having several birthdays a year and changing their names and gender every other week.
So next time you read something on the famous social network, try not to take it at face(book?) value, or you might just end up with egg on your face.

(And if you do feel like you've wasted your time then tough. That time is mine now. But you can moan about it in a status update)

Giggles and Yoga

Don't scowl just laugh
With a tee-hee-hee
Why frown? just giggle
Can't you see-see-see

Guffaw, don't snap
With a pah-hah-hah
Don't sit around and mope
With wah-wah-wah

Hah ha ha hah hah
Ha ha

That last bit is done in the 7-note couplet of "Shave and a Haircut Two Bits", which if you're not familiar with then you obviously haven't seen enough cartoons or Who Framed Roger Rabbit?. In either case you should feel shame. Deep wells of shame that should haunt you until rectified or you stop caring. You know, either/or.

Anyway!

Laughing is without a doubt quite good and one could even go so far as to say bloody brilliant or super smashing great. We all do it, we all love it and most don't get enough of it.
Recently I was talking to friend and she was going on to say how overwhelmed she was getting with work, education, friends and family, something else we all know of all too well. She then apologised for complaining to me to which I replied, "Hey, everyone needs to vent". But what to do when there isn't an ear readily available to vent to? When there isn't a shoulder to prop your head up as you give in for a moment? What do you do to feel better? An answer struck me.

You laugh.

Years ago I had stumbled upon an article detailing something called Laughter Therapy and I devoured it. The phrase "laughter is the best medicine" gets thrown around but few seem to realise just how effective laughing is on the body or how quickly the effects kick in. Now I'm not about pretend I know the ins and outs of it and delve into any medical science since there is plenty floating about on the interweb. But what I can tell you is this: it works.
Simply put, Laughter Therapy is laughing for the sake of laughing. Don't try to think of something funny or amusing, just laugh. Snicker to yourself quietly, let out a mighty bellow or anything in between, the point being that you must laugh. As it turns out the body can't really distinguish between fake laughter and natural laughter and because of this, it will react in the way it always reacts to laughter; it will make you feel good. Blood vessels open, endorphins are released (that's chemical happiness to you and me) and you relax. The beauty of it is two-fold:

• Making yourself laugh generally leads to natural laughter which is easier to sustain and hence prolong that feel good...well, feeling. Fake it 'til you make it.
• It's free (suck it recession!) and can be done any time, anywhere, any when (though don't hold me responsible for you choosing inappropriate times and places i.e. funerals, public places, airports).

You may find it hard at first to just laugh on cue and some will outright refuse to out of fear that someone will judge them. That's fine, I was hesitant at first to even when I knew no one was in earshot. Taking the first step is entirely down to you.
As time went on (as time tends to do) I discovered Laughter Yoga was more apt a name. This is generally the same idea only involving yogic breathing exercises and done in groups as it's easier to chuckle with other people. As of yet I have not tried it with the breathing exercises but I'm of the belief that it would open up a whole other relaxed world.
I finally convinced my friend to try it and she was surprised to find it working as much as I was, even when she was so hesitant at first. But being hesitant to laugh to yourself is a little daft in the end, isn't it?

So there you have it. Next time you're feeling fed up, overwhelmed or just plain blue I ask that you simply laugh for a while. Not that hard really.