Tag Archive: potato masher

Banana Smoothie & Stuff

Missed again...

Missed again…

Damn, missed again!

Oh I hate these split days.

Yesterday, I had to pay the rent and I had to go to the supermarket.


Tribe of Gremlins

The contents of my fridge had been reduced to a bottle of sparkling mineral water, lard, ketchup, capers and the remains of last weeks cheese, which had begun to grow a rather nauseous green furry habitat capable of supporting a small tribe of possibly hostile gremlins.

Even a chef would have found it difficult to produce something edible from that lot.


A whole litre of this

By the time I had done all that, there was no time for lunch, so I had to choose something quick ‘n easy. Two bread rolls with cheese (ah, fresh stuff) and a banana smoothie, a whole litre of it.

Today, is a full plate again, although I managed to get rid of the mid-afternoon class, I discovered it was with a student that I have taught and already refused to teach again in the past; a most disagreeable person.

So with the extra time lunch was a tad more nutritious, pork schnitzel, mashed potato (that new potato masher is getting a good workout) and savoury cabbage and mushrooms.

Not this messy!

Not this messy!

Despite having done the dishes during the lunch preparations, the kitchen looks as though it hasn’t been touched for days. It seems that I am doomed to have an unkempt kitchen.

That’s why chefs have staff.

There’s a pot of pork bones on the stove to make stock for tomorrow’s lunch, which will be diced pork something, refried leftover mashed potatoes and something else. Doesn’t that sound exciting? <——– Rhetorical question.

So far today, I haven’t blogged. I have been to class, napped and lunched.

So blogging right along…


How I Survived for 5 Years

There are somethings that are just indispensable in our lives. One of them I have been without for five years.

But through resilience, tenacity, ingenuity and perseverance, I survived.

Two weeks ago I bought a new one, it has been used twice, and I now wonder how on earth I managed without one for five whole years.

It was a grueling five years, five years of suffering, forcing myself to adapt, but now I am free of those fetters, I can truly enjoy life once again.

Yes, I am talking about the simplest of tools, simple, but a prerequisite in the house of any, indeed,  of the rudest humans. A fundamental necessity, because without this pivotal tool one simply cannot enjoy life. One is deprived of a basic human right and that is as close to a living Hell as anything I can imagine.

The quintessential tool for any food lover

The quintessential tool for any food lover

The paramount right to enjoy mashed potatoes!

Correctly mashed potatoes, mashed potatoes made by a real potato masher.

Yes, I bought a potato masher!

No longer do I have to make do with partly mashed potatoes made with the flat side of a steak hammer, I can really mash potatoes, lovely, lumpless mashed potatoes.

Happiness can be bought so cheaply. One does not have to be rich to be happy; indeed one just needs a potato masher.

The problem with Brazil, is that one cannot always find the simplest of things. Most Brazilians have no idea of the induced bliss of truly mashed potatoes. For  a Brazilian, mashed potatoes is a puree made in the blender and when served spreads across the plate like advancing lava.

Mashed potatoes with rich creamy butter

Mashed potatoes with rich creamy butter

The joy of mashed potatoes that when served in a great dollop of fluffy white, stays a great dollop of fluffy white, just waiting for you to press a slab of butter in the top, so that it melts and forms a pool of golden yellow.

Mashed potatoes, as any western, child knows are not only food, they are an adventure. They are more fun than sandcastles on the beach, you can play with them, you can make battlements and tunnel into them to allow the aforementioned golden pool to escape and mix with your veges.

With mashed potatoes, you become an artist, a sculptor, an engineer or an architect. Only your imagination places boundaries with mashed potatoes.

More importantly, they are an escape, a refuge from father’s wrath. While he is berating you for some misdeed heinously committed during the day, you can doodle with your potatoes, twisting your fork this way and that, boring into that wondrous mound, losing yourself in a quiet reverie, far from the dining room table, half way to Never-never Land.

Yes, the miracle of mashed potatoes, is not to be sneezed at (unless you put too much pepper on them), not to be underestimated, not to be demeaned.

Do you remember your mashed potato adventures?

I do.

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