December 2006

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alex's life book

  • In early 2006, I began creating a life book for my daughter, Alex. Click here for links to articles describing my experience.
  • And for those of you who are more digitally inclined, in late 2006, I recreated key pages of Alex's lifebook for an article I wrote for AlphaMom, using Scrapblog.

    You can see the final digital result (and leave comments, if you'd like!) here.

what's been on my nikon lately

  • And you can view my favourites here.

if i'm not here, i'm here

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not even an avocado can ease the sting of being corrected by my own daughter

Zaboca

This morning Alex and I went to visit Granny the Great, and as we were leaving, she gave us about 10 avocadoes (called "zabocas" here in Trinidad) from the tree in her backyard. These beauties are as big as Alex's head, and the urge to make roast bake and buljol to go with them is overwhelming.


Alexzaboca


In other news, when I picked Alex up from school yesterday, her teachers said lovely, glow-y things about her, which has officially put my mind at ease.

And in other, other news, Marcus just came in from a 4-hour bike ride, reeking of sweat and funk and smelling to high heaven. "Oh my GOD!" I exclaimed, sincerely horrified, and directed him immediately to the hose outside.

Alex looked at me seriously.

"Mummy, not 'oh my GOD,'" she said, frowning. "Oh my GOSH."

Full of life, indeed.

__________

text link at the top of my gmail account this morning

Nasty_1

Words cannot describe how positively nasty this sounds to me. I was too afraid to click on it; however, I admit to being slightly curious as to how many cups of VI*aG$r*a this recipe calls for.

________

measurements for week #4, or thank god i haven't blown up like a balloon

Total cumulative inches lost: 4-1/2 inches (inches lost in the past week: 0 inches)

Now normally, I would seriously be moaning about the fact that after 6 days of running my tookus off, I seem to have not run ANY of my tookus off. Normally, that is, if I hadn't eaten enough food this past week to support a small starving country.

What IS it about having guests that makes it okay to eat like you're craving to be supersized? I mean, forget for a while that I made more rum punch than should be legal, or that we spent the last two days in a hotel known for its good food, or that for some reason I've felt the need to cook as much Trini food as I can force down poor Unka Dan -- nothing says I have to eat it. I mean, let's face it -- none of this food is new to me.

Ah, but apparently something does say so, because I've been eating like I'm representing Trinidad & Tobago in the Olympics, eating is a new event, and I'm going for gold. I've drank gallons of rum punch, and eaten unseemly amounts of food. And get this -- for superstitious reasons that are too odd and obscure to go into here, I felt the need to force a beer down my throat while watching the World Cup match, because I truly believed that if I didn't, the team would lose. And I despise beer.

Hey, but it worked, didn't it?

So, anyway, I'm grateful that after all this overindulgence, I don't look like the side of a barn. And actually, I'm starting to notice the shape of my body changing (and in a way I don't find offensive), so that's good too. No complaints here.

Tomorrow, however, we fly to Tobago, and stay at an all-inclusive resort for the next 4 days. For the uninitiated, "all-inclusive" means that all the food we can eat and all the alcohol we can drink is included in the nightly rate.

I. AM. DOOMED.

(How are you doing?)

genuinely afraid to read the ingredients list

Pimpjuice

And, most unfortunately, it tastes exactly like you would expect.

to my former coworkers: if the image of me in feathers was too much, you might want to lie down after reading this post

Knitting
What will, in theory, become a pullover for Alex

So, yeah, I knit.

Stop laughing.

Yes, I realize that I live in a tropical country (although, you'd be amazed at what some people wear around here. I've seen more parkas here than I did in Houston. And actually, I've already knit two skull caps for Celeste, who works with us. So it's not as weird as you might think). I've actually had an interest in knitting for some time, now -- my sister-in-law, Kate, is a stupendous knitter (she gave me hand-knit socks for a wedding present, knowing how cold I always was in England!), and she inspired me. However, I never had the time to learn until I moved to Trinidad, and so now, I knit. And actually? I love it. It's very meditative this knitting. And so, as my public service announcement to any of you who might be in a soul-sucking legal career who don't knit, permit me to say: knit. It will make you a nicer person.

But I digress.

I'm actually knitting at quite the prolific rate. I've become a whiz at rectangular-shaped things. Seriously, man, you need a scarf? Or, perhaps ... a wider scarf? I'm your man, baby.

(A note: since there's very little use for scarves here in the Caribbean, most of my work product got mailed as Christmas gifts to friends and family in England and San Francisco. Unfortunately for them, I haven't gotten over my little knitting phase -- so guys! Guess what you're getting for Christmas again this year!)

Anyway, this weekend, I decided to go for something a little more challenging. This summer, we'll be spending a couple of weeks in Vancouver in the mountains -- which, if memory serves, is decidedly cooler than Trinidad. For this reason, instead of going for my standard skull-cap-and-scarf combo I've become so well known for, I've decided to knit this little short-sleeved pullover for Alex.

Cute, isn't it?

Yeah, well, not the way I'm doing it.

The good news is that Alex is only 2. Which means she has to wear what I make her wear. So, by God, she'll be wearing this pullover in Vancouver if it kills me. So for her sake, pray to the knitting gods for me, okay?

That is all.*

* Except to say that lest you think I'm the biggest dork in this house, I'd like to point out that as I typed this post, Marcus was sitting at the other end of the table playing computer games with the Biggest Joystick Ever. Seriously. And it makes the entire table shake every time he squeezes the trigger. For the past half hour, it's felt like the Alliance has been attacking the Rebel Forces. THAT, my friends, is sheer dorkitude. **

** You're seriously worried about the two of us now, aren't you? ***

*** If the above didn't worry you, how about this: remember that little hypothetical bet I told you about? Well, I lost. I apparently will be singing "Copacobana" in its entirety in public in or around the San Jose, California area sometime around BlogHer. Pity me. ****

**** If you truly pity me, go over to Mir's site, and tell her that she still should do her rendition of the theme song for Fame. That, my friends, will show your undying devotion to me. *****

***** Okay, that's really all.

trinidadian rum punch

Limes
One of sour

Well, it's beginning to look a lot like Carnival: our good friend Twyla arrived last night, and our good friend Andie arrives on Saturday, so the party is officially beginning. God help us.

One of the things I was famous for when I lived in Houston was my Trinidadian rum punch. I don't mean to brag, but I make a MEAN rum punch. It's absolutely delicious, and it doesn't taste like it has alcohol -- which, of course, can be dangerous (I actually had a friend stand up and walk into a wall after a couple of glasses of my rum punch). My rum punch has celebrated, consoled, cajoled, convinced and comforted. A lot of friends in the States begged me for my rum punch recipe, but it was a rare person with whom I would share it -- it was my special "thing."

Well, luckily for you, after having made a batch for Twyla and Andie's arrival, today I'm in the Carnival spirit (no pun intended). So I thought I'd share the recipe for you to try it (especially those of you who've recently been snowed under in the northeastern parts of the United States. Poor saps, from the images I've seen, you guys look like you could use a tropical drink). Understand that this is TRINIDADIAN rum punch -- this is not the fruit-punch-and-rum-with-a-paper-umbrella mixture you probably got during your last vacation to a tropical resort. This is the Real Deal.

Here's the catch, however: because I learned this by watching my father make it, there are some parts where I don't exactly measure -- I know that I've gotten it right just by looking. I'll try to describe it to the best of my ability, but it may take some trial-and-error on your part to get it just right.

Okay, so to the recipe:

The cool thing is that recipe itself is surprisingly easy, and can be remembered by memorizing a little poem:

One of Sour,
Two of Sweet.
Three of Strong,
Four of Weak.

Translated, this means:

One part "sour," which means freshly squeezed lime juice (do NOT use bottled lime juice -- only fresh lime juice will do!);
Two parts "sweet," which refers to a simple syrup (sugar + water);
Three parts "strong" -- rum (only golden rum, NOT white rum);
Four parts "weak" -- served over ice.

Get it?

Okay, to break it down into recipe form: the following would be how you'd make a gallon of Trinidadian rum punch:

1. Squeeze enough limes to make 2 cups fresh lime juice. Pour into a gallon container.

2. Pour 4 cups of water into a large pot, and heat to boiling. Once boiling, reduce to simmer, and START POURING SUGAR INTO THE POT LIKE A MADPERSON. Seriously, just keep pouring and stirring until the sugar dissolves, and keep doing this until the sugar-water mixture is the consistency of, say, cooking oil. You're going to go through almost an entire pound of sugar, and worry about your dental health. Trust me, you haven't made a mistake.

Once the sugar-water mixture is cool, add to the gallon container.

3. Pour 6 cups of golden rum into the gallon container. When in Trinidad, I use Fernandes Black Label rum; however, since it's difficult to get Trini rum in the States, Bacardi Gold will do. Do NOT use white rum -- it just doesn't taste right. It has to be gold.

Stir, and pour over ice. Add a dash of Angostura Bitters (available at most liquor stores), and a dash of grated nutmeg to your glass.

Enjoy!

and then ... we could get GOLDEN TICKETS!

Traceypenny
Uncle Tracy & Auntie Penny, on the beach in Moruga

The picture above shows my Auntie Penny (my mom's sister), and her husband, my Uncle Tracy. My uncle, who was once a high-powered executive at Another Very Large Corporation, decided in his retirement to purchase some land back home in Trinidad, and now he and my aunt own a beautiful little farm in Moruga, a small village on the south coast of Trinidad.

This weekend, Marcus, Alex and I decided to do a bit of roadtrippin'. The three of us met Auntie Penny, Uncle Tracy, my parents, my Uncle Jack (my mom's brother), and we all convoyed south to the farm. The drive down was positively breathtaking, and we passed through of the most beautiful villages I've ever seen in Trinidad. Because we were in a convoy, we couldn't stop to take pictures, but next time, I'm SO stopping.

After about 2-1/2 hours, we arrived at our destination. The farm, which is less than 100 acres, is called "Penellie Estate" -- I haven't a clue why. Nonetheless, it was gorgeous. We spent the entire day there. We hung out on the beach. We had a wonderful home-cooked meal. Alex tried to befriend a nasty dog. And then, we took a tour of the farmland.

My uncle grows the usual stuff you'd find on a farm, albeit with a tropical flair. There were peppers, bananas, coconuts, papaya (called "pawpaw" here in Trinidad)...but DUDE! There was THIS!

Cocoatree

Do you know what that is?

It's COCOA.

Cocopod


This thing is wild. It grows right out of the trunk of the saddest, scraggliest tree you've ever seen. And then, when it's ripe, if you open it up, it looks like this:

Cocoaseeds


And then -- get this -- you can take one of those little sections, which are the seeds, and you can suck the white fleshy party of it off.

I know. I didn't believe it either. So my dad demonstrated:

Cocoadad


And then I tried it.

It's surprisingly sweet, and doesn't taste anything like chocolate. In fact, it tastes like passionfruit. Or for those of you who've never had passionfruit, then it tastes sort of like a plum. Or a grape.

Anyway, once the white fleshy stuff is removed, the seeds are dried, and then ground into a fine powder, and THAT, my friends, is cocoa. Who knew?

I was so excited about this new knowledge, I became a woman possessed. "Uncle Tracy," I said. "You should open a CHOCOLATE FACTORY!!"

"Oh, you think so?" he said, in his usual dry, phlegmatic way.

"ABSOLUTELY!" I insisted. "'Penellie Chocolates.' You could make fabulous, exclusive chocolates -- the kind that are only laid on the finest pillows encased in the finest linen in the finest hotels."

"Sounds good," he said, amused.

"I've got it all thought out," I went on. "Oh! And here's the tagline." I lowered my voice to as sexy a register as I could, and raised one eyebrow alluringly (trust me, it was alluring. Shut up):

"Make it special. Make it Penellie."

I looked at him eagerly. He looked back at me like I'd just crawled out of one of the cocoa pods.

"Oh COME ON!!! That's MONEY!!!"

He laughed.

"And your picture could be on the box! Here," I grabbed the empty cocoa pod from my dad, and shoved it in Uncle Tracy's hand. "Now, POSE." I raised my camera, and this was the shot I got:

Penelliepatriarch


Admit it: you would SO buy that chocolate.

happy thanksgiving to all

Feast
A feast prepared a few weeks ago by our good friend Joanna, for which we were truly thankful.

To my readers in America: Hopefully by now you've made it safely to your holiday destinations, and are stuffing your faces as fast as your hands will let you. Here's hoping your day is full of turkey and touchdowns.

And to all my readers, wherever you are: I am truly thankful you spend a small part of your day here at Chookooloonks. Here's hoping your day today is equally filled with happiness.

As for us, we'll likely be having curry chicken and dumplings for dinner tonight.

And, as ever, we remain very grateful.

The Story Behind the Photograph Currently Taped to My Refrigerator

Me101805_1
Self-portrait, October 18, 2005

Since landing in Trinidad, I lost 18 pounds. (Of course, since travelling to England and Houston, I found 4 of them again. I suspect they were never lost at all, but merely hiding behind me, slowly sliding down the back of my legs.)

I lost the weight entirely by working out an hour a day, 5 days a week. I didn't diet at all. Repeat: at no time did I alter my eating habits to lose the weight. So apparently, if I continued to live my previous lifestyle, consisting primarily of sitting on my increasingly soft behind in front of a computer for 10 hours a day and then going home to a cocktail to relieve my stress, I would likely gain weight. Who knew.

The reason I didn't diet is twofold: (1) I don't eat poorly. I don't have a sweet tooth, I don't snack often, and when I do, it's generally on pretty benign stuff like fruit and unbuttered popcorn; and (2) I don't believe in diets, because to my thinking, I'd eventually go back to eating as I've always eaten, and therefore regain the weight. All very logical, don't you think?

Problem is, right before we left for England, I hit a plateau. For weeks I could not shake the additional pounds that I needed to shed in order to get to my goal (my wedding day weight). And for some reason, a steady diet of scones and clotted cream and Yorkshire pudding (further intensified in Houston with Mexican food and margaritas) made my weight go the other direction (the mind boggles, I know). Worse, Carnival is only 4 months away.* Desperate times call for desperate measures.

So this week, I was speaking to Reema, one of the regulars at my gym. Reema is about my age, my height and within 2 pounds of my weight, and we were lamenting the fact that we didn't seem to be losing, regardless of how much time we spent at the gym (an aside: Reema is the mother of 2 children, both of whom actually came out of her body. I therefore conclude children make you fat, regardless of how they come to live in your home. I'm just sayin'.) One of the trainers overheard us, and asked about our diets. Reema and I glanced at each other, and immediately stared at our feet, mumbling something unintelligible.

"Oh HO," smiled Rocky (who, incidentally, is the most un-Rocky-looking man I have ever met. Dude's about 6'2", and I must outweigh him by 50 pounds). "All yuh eh eatin' right -- dah's why yuh eh losin' weight. I go fix yuh up," and he sprinted to his office.

Within seconds he'd returned, and handed each of us a piece of paper. "Follow this diet for a month," he said. "I guarantee you'll lose between 8 - 12 pounds, as long as you keep coming in an' work out for at least an hour a day. Guar-ran-tee."

So, I've started this diet, which, thankfully, isn't too restrictive (at least for someone who doesn't have a sweet tooth and rarely snacks). In theory, if Rocky's correct, I'll be well in the neighbourhood of my goal weight in a month. However, you know you're in Trinidad when the diet your trainer gives you allows the following foods:

Hey man, it beats rice cakes and cottage cheese.

I'm just sayin'.

_________

* So yes, Carnival is in four months, and Marcus and I have already purchased our costumes:

Firecoralgroup
From the section "Fire Coral," in the band Tribe: What Lies Beneath (Calvin French, photographer). This photograph is currently taped at eye level on my fridge.

That's right, my little kumquats, Marcus and I are going to be parading around in these little numbers in public, for two days in February. If this doesn't inspire you to pray to the Weight Loss Gods on my behalf, then you officially devoid of the Milk of Human Kindness, and you are dead to me. 'Cause seriously, folks: I need all the help I can get.

Trinidad Stew Chicken

Well, after all that build up, as I’m putting this recipe together, I’m afraid that it’s going to be a bit of let-down. Trinidadian Stew Chicken, you see, is basically the same recipe as Pelau, but without the rice.

Do you feel a bit ripped off, now?

Anyway, it’s a really delicious recipe, and goes beautifully with Macaroni Pie -- serve the two together, and you’ll have a true Trini meal on your hands. End it all with a serving of coconut ice cream, and you might even start talking with an accent.

So without further ado:

KAREN'S TRINIDADIAN STEW CHICKEN

What you’ll need:

- About 10 pieces of chicken
- 3 - 4 cloves of garlic
- Fresh ginger (I use one about the size of a large clove of garlic)
- 1 large onion, chopped coarsely

Oniongarlicginger

- “seasoning” (Much like the Curry Chicken & Dumplings, if you’re in Trinidad, use “green seasoning” – if not, use any creole seasoning, such as Tony Chachare’s Creole Seasoning.

- Soy sauce
- Worcestershire sauce
- Vegetable oil
- Brown sugar
- 1 cup water
- 1 chicken-flavoured bouillon cube
- Coconut Milk
(Again, this recipe assumes powdered coconut milk. If, however, you’re only able to obtain canned coconut milk in liquid form, for the purposes of this recipe, I’d use about 1/2 a can.)
- Salt to taste


For the marinade:

1. Clean chicken, removing any excess fat.

2. Grate garlic and ginger into the chicken.

3. Add onions.

4. Add seasoning to taste.

5. Add enough soy sauce and Worcestershire sauce to fully coat chicken pieces.

Mix well, and let stand for 10 minutes.


To prepare:

1. Place about 2 “potspoonfuls” of oil (the amount of oil it takes to fill up a cooking spoon) in a large pot, and place on high heat.

2. Add 2 potspoonfuls of brown sugar to the oil, spreading it evenly in the oil without mixing

3. Leave on high heat until the sugar starts to turn dark brown, almost black, and starts to bubble, like in the Pelau recipe. Recently, I read an article describing the burning sugar looking like the head of a Guinness – probably a good description, and your signal that you’re ready to add the chicken. Depending on your stove, it will only take a couple of minutes for this to occur.

4. SLOWLY add the chicken pieces to the oil, one by one. WARNING: THE OIL WILL SPATTER, so be careful, so now would be the time to get your little ones away from the stove!

5. Once you’ve got all the pieces in, let the sugar “brown” your chicken, stirring occasionally, to ensure that the pieces don’t stick.

6. After the chicken is browned, add the remaining seasoning (shown below) to the pot, turn the heat to medium.

Addedchicken

7. Add one cup of water to the mixture, and stir.

8. Add coconut milk to the mixture, as shown below, and stir.

Pimiento

You’ll notice little flecks of colour in the above picture – this is the addition of peppers called “pimientos,” although I don’t think it’s the same type of pepper that comes in an olive. This Trini pepper SMELLS hot like a chili, but it actually isn’t – it’s completely mild. If you can find a mild pepper, then by all means, add it to taste – however, I don’t think bell peppers would work, as they’re a bit too sweet.

9. Crumble bouillon cube over the entire mixture, and stir, and add salt to taste. Cover the pot, and let simmer until the chicken is cooked, about 30 minutes You’ll want to stir the pot occasionally, and if it looks like your liquid is disappearing (though it shouldn’t), feel free to add a bit more water.

Once the chicken is cooked, your stew is ready. It’ll look something like this:

Stewchicken

Again, this recipe is delicious with Macaroni Pie, but it goes well with any other starch – rice, roasted potatoes, etc. Marcus really loves this with couscous – not particularly Trini, but delicious, nonetheless.

So, again, thanks for all your travel tips – enjoy!