parathas

We eat a lot of Indian food, which means we eat a lot of rice. And sometimes I just want a change. So we decided to have a bash at some Indian bread last night.

Mixed 250g wholemeal flour, 4 tbsp of gram (chickpea) flour, 1 tsp of salt, and a good pinch of bicarb.  Added 1 tsp of fennel seeds and 1/2 tsp cumin seeds, ground, and 2 tbsp of veg oil, then about 250ml of water to make a dough.  I also have half a bag of spinach, so I finely chopped about 100g of that and bunged it in as well.

It made a very sticky dough, which was really quite hard to work. You’re supposed to roll them out to a 10cm round, brush with oil, fold in half, brush with oil again, then fold in half twice more so you have a triangular sort of affair.  Then roll them again until they’re 15cm across.  This bit didn’t go all that well, but Pete fried them in our cast iron flat pan and they were very tasty. I think I’d add a chopped chili next time.

We had them with an aubergine and potato stew; the mix made enough dough for 12 parathas, so we ate 3 last night, put enough for 6 in the freezer, and will eat the other three for lunch tomorrow, with the rest of the stew (boosted with some chickpeas, which are soaking now, and the last of the spinach).

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Mirrored from Reactive Cooking.

shrinkage

Regular readers will know that, after a threat, then a diagnosis, of type 2 diabetes, I’ve been trying to lose weight. In fact, I’ve been shrinking steadily for some months, but it has been accelerating of late, and I’ve dropped two full sizes.

This morning, I had a rummage through the trouser drawer, and put six pairs into a box under the bed, as they are all so loose that an Embarassing Incident might occur should I wear them.

Then I decided to look at the skirts; I don’t often wear skirts, and not at all this winter after the unpleasant interaction with the wheelie bin, which rendered my left big toe nailless for a while, and exceeding painful. It transpires that I have precisely 1 skirt now that fits me; even my lovely East brown velvet one has gone from being too tight to too loose without me even getting one more wear out of it …

The one that remains is sage green corduroy, and not even slightly suitable for summer wear, so I suppose I’ll have to go shopping. Most women would go “yippee!”, but I hate shopping. eBay, I think don’t you?

Mirrored from kestrel.org.

cats on a hot flat roof

Warm weather has arrived in Kingston-upon-Hull at last, and we have spent some time in clearing up the back yard, which was a tad overgrown and weedy.

It’s hard for the Tribe – they’ve come from a rural environment, with a stream and trees, and have had to settle into an urban one, where we have no proper garden, and many other cats have established territory. It’s taken them a while, but they’re OK now, I think – Iggy has had a few confrontations, and come home with a fat tail, but he seems settled now, and goes about his area, beating up any cat who gets in his way, as is only right and proper. Lilith and Mustrum now seem fine too, and EnRon – well, they’re bombproof, nothing phases them as long as they have full bowls!

So for the last couple of days it’s been sunny, and the house and the yard have warmed up; and of course, now we’ve cleared the weeds, put down some slabs, etc., it’s nicer for all of us to be in. We have a little bit of flat roof – not much, about 5-6 feet, I guess, which is the kitchen extension, and we always thought the spotty boys would like it up there, as they were very fond of snoozing on the garage roof in Long Ashton. Today, at last, they were up there, enjoying the sunshine – one at each end, studiously ignoring each other, and both rowling and squeaking for attention; sadly, we can’t reach them up there so they had to go without. A bit later, I saw Henry up there, duffing up Mustrum.

Normal service appears to have been resumed.

Mirrored from the Tribe.