Saturday, June 1, 2013

Winning Recipes

After reading and writing, my next big love is cooking.  I enjoy spending up in the kitchen concocting all kinds of tasty dishes but I seldom work from recipes as I experiment with what I find in my grocery cupboard.  Nothing is carefully measured but somehow it all works.  So when people ask me for my recipes I really have to give it a lot of thought and consciously try and remember what I've put in,  Recently, I've been asked for my sweet and sour pork and butternut soup recipes, so here we go!
Sweet and Sour Pork (have used this with peeled prawns/shrimps and chicken)
Sauce
3 tablespoons soy sauce
1 and 1/3 cup stock (water with a stock cube in)
2 tablespoons sesame oil
3 tablespoons vinegar
3 tablespoons sugar
4 tablespoons tomato sauce/ketchup
1 finely chopped onion
1 carrot sliced into julienne strips
a half a green or red capsicum or mixture of both, chopped into small blocks
ginger and garlic to taste
a dash of chilli
4 teaspoons cornstarch mixed to a thin paste with a little water
Put everything in a pot except the cornstarch paste, and bring to the boil stirring constantly.  Reduce heat to a simmer and add the cornstarch paste.  Keep stirring until it has the desired thickness.
Batter
4 eggs
1 cup apple cider
2 cups flour
salt and pepper to taste
Mix all the ingredients together, as easy as that.  I put some cornstarch in a container with a lid, drop the meat pieces in that first and shake it so they meat is coated with cornstarch, before I dip the meat in the batter.  I use chopsticks to hold the meat when dipping into the batter.
Preparing the meat
If using shrimps keep them whole.  Chicken or pork dice into bite-sized cubes.  I marinate them for a little bit in a mixture of 2 tablespoons apple cider, 2 tablespoons soy sauce, 1 tablespoon sesame oil and a pinch of ginger, garlic and chilli.
Fry the batter dipped meat cubes, cover with some sweet and sour sauce and serve on a bed of rice.
Butternut Soup
Ingredients
1 finely chopped onion
4 cloves of garlic finely chopped
2 teaspons finely grated ginger or ginger powder
1 finely chopped chilli
Oil to coat bottom of pot
4 medium-sized butternut squash, peeled de-pipped and cubed
1 tablespoon sugar
2 cups stock (vegetable or chicken)
1/2 cup orange juice
1 cup plain yoghurt
Salt and coarse black pepper to taste
1 tablespoon curry powder
1/2 teaspoon nutmeg
1 teaspoon thyme
Method
Coat bottom of pot with oil and saute onion, garlic, ginger, chilli and butternut.  Sprinkle on the sugar and caramelise.  Add the stock and simmer for about half an hour until the butternut is soft.  Puree the butternut/stock mixture in a blender.  Put the puree back into the pot and add the orange juice, yoghurt, curry powder, nutmeg, thyme, salt and pepper.  Bring back to the boil.  Reduce heat and serve.  Enjoy!
Cindy Vine is the author of Defective, C U @ 8 and the children's picture book The Midnight Mouse.  All books are available as paperbacks or on Kindle.


Saturday, May 18, 2013

Procrastinating Packer

After four years at the foot of Kilimanjaro I am moving on.  The time has come and now once again I have to pack up my life.  Easier said than done.  For I am the ultimate procrastinator, the person who says "I'll do it next weekend."  Unfortunately I am starting to run out of weekends.  The movers have dropped off the boxes which are stacked against the lounge wall staring at me, willing me to assemble them.
But as I am about to start I decide it's very necessary for me to check my email first, see what friends are doing on Facebook, maybe have a shower and wash my hair.  Procrastination.  It's my worst enemy.
It's not like I don't want to leave, I do.  I am over power cuts, slow internet, ants, geckos, barking dogs and all the other things that wear me down.  But it's the people who are hard to leave behind, friends and co-workers and the mountain which looked so beautiful yesterday evening as the sun's last rays turned the snowy top pink.  Four years is quite a long time, you make connections and leaving them behind is never easy.  This however, is the lot of the international school teacher.  It's a transient world with people coming and going all the time.  Something you never get used to.  Some connections you'll keep for a lifetime and others you'll make empty promises about keeping in touch.  But of course this has nothing really to do with the packing and sorting I should be doing now.  Best to get started I guess.

Sunday, May 5, 2013

My new children's book

The idea for The Midnight Mouse came up about two years ago.  I had just had my second mastectomy and was staying with my parents while I was recovering from the surgery.  My stepdad came into the kitchen and asked who'd been eating all the cheese as there was none left.  That night when I went to the bathroom in the middle of the night, there was my stepdad in the kitchen having a midnight feast.  He was unaware of my presence and seemed to be sleep-eating as opposed to sleep-walking.  It seemed he was the culprit who was eating all the food!  My eldest daughter Kerri and I began calling him the midnight mouse.
As I have young nephews and a niece, I thought there had to be some way that I could incorporate them in the story.
My idea was to use actual photos for the illustrations, but change them into watercolors using Photoshop.  This proved to be more difficult than I could have imagined.  I google-searched many tutorials on how to do it.  I followed the instructions step-by-step.  I never liked the results and the steps were so complicated.  I figured there had to be an easier way.  Fiddling around with Photoshop wasted about a year of my time.  I shelved the idea and focused on my medical problems.
Last Wednesday was a public holiday and I decided if I did nothing else, I was going to get the illustrations for The Midnight Mouse sorted.  Once again I started worked my way through Photoshop watercolor tutorials.  And once again I got completely frustrated.  At some point bad words probably even flowed liberally past my lips.  Another search on Google and then I discovered BeFunky.com.  This is a great website that takes your photos and turns them into cartoon-type illustrations.  Just what I needed!
Here is an example of a photo turned into a cartoon with BeFunky.com.  So easy and user-friendly, I highly recommend Be.Funky.com.  It makes me want to write more children's books!
Modern technology is really amazing.  You can illustrate your own books, upload them onto Createspace and get them published all within a day!
The Midnight Mouse is available for purchase as a paperback or kindle book on Amazon.com.  It is a free giveaway from Sunday 5th May through to Tuesday 7th May.  http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00CMVT6VO


Thursday, April 25, 2013

Don't let life pass you by!

You never know when your life might change.  It can be all good and in one instant everything bad that can happen happens.  There are many things that we plan on doing in the future when we have time and finally get around to it.  They are sometimes things we shouldn't put off but sometimes our priorities are out of whack.  I'm not suggesting live for today and forget about tomorrow, but what I am suggesting is that we need to achieve a balance.  Prioritize your life and do some of the things you have put off for the future.  You don't want life to pass you by and regret not having done some of the things on the bucket list.
This was brought home to me when my Mom took sick last week.
Mom, here's to you recovering and getting to do all the things on your bucket list! 
Love you, Mom!
 

Friday, March 22, 2013

Medical woes

At the moment I have so many different meds in me I rattle when I walk.  I'm almost at the stage of opening up my own pharmacy.
Wrongdiagnosis,com should pay me.  I could be rich my now.
On the 7th January I had lipofilling injected into my left breast.  That should be where the story ends.  One week back in Tanzania I had a large abscess and very swollen lymph nodes in my left armpit.  I dutifully went to see the GP down the road.  This was his last chance after cocking up so badly the previous year, that I ended up going into septic shock and lost my breast implant.  He said it wasn't an abscess but folliculitis and that I should squeeze it morning and night to get the gunk out.  He also said I didn't need antibiotics for folliculitis.  I asked him if he was sure as my lipofilling surgery had just been three weeks previously.  He said definitely no antibiotics needed.  He's the doctor, what do I know?
My left breast began to feel hot and had a faint red rash on it.  It seemed to be getting harder, but I was so busy at work I had no time to take notice of what was happening with my breast.
Then one night acute pain in my breast made me think I'd pulled a muscle or something while trying to swim a couple of lengths of breaststroke.  Frantically swallowing painkillers turned me into a zombie for a day and a half.  I blamed it on over-exercising while trying to strengthen my right shoulder.
How wrong I was.
The breast grew slowly, sneakily, trying to avoid being noticed.  Then I got large boils on the side of the breast.
Typical, by the time I realised how big, hot and hard it was, was when I was camping in the middle of the bush with 27 children.  The pain was intense.  I was uncomfortable, could hardly move.  The campsite managers took pity on me and let me sleep in a new luxury tent overlooking the lake.
A friend phoned my surgeon in Cape Town, he prescribed a seriously strong antibiotic, I managed to get the school driver to pick it up from a pharmacy and bring it to the campsite.
Nausea.
This was not good.
I decided to go back to the local GP when I got back from the camp.  He took one look at my breast and said, "Classic case of chronic mastitis."
Seriously?  Are you kidding me?  I had a mastectomy 2 years ago.  I have no breast tissue, I can't get mastitis.  Even my healthy right breast doesn't have breast tissue.  Two bouts with breast cancer, two mastectomies.
"Then it must be a large breast abscess," he continued undeterred.  "I'm going to send you to a radiology friend of mine.  If there's fluid I'm going to get a local surgeon to cut open the breast and drain the fluid."
"Do you think this is related to the abscess I had a month ago?"
"Definitely not," he said trying to convince himself.  "It's just a coincidence."
The radiologist had a small office down a dark alley.  He felt my breast without washing his hands or wearing gloves.  This did not sit well with my soul.
He was amazed at the amount of fluid.  My heart sank.  That meant a local surgeon would have to cut my breast open like a can of baked beans.  "Oh my God!" he shouted nearly falling over with excitement.  I strained my neck to try and get a closer look at the computer monitor to see if there was a large tumor or something.  "I have no more paper!  I can't print the pictures!"
Seriously?  You have to be kidding me.
But at least he was a creative thinker.  He got his receptionist to dig through the waste bins to find a small piece of paper that could take three pictures.
There was no way I was going to let a local surgeon touch my breast.  That was settled when the local radiologist printed the pictures on paper from the waste bin.
My friend managed to stalk my surgeon in Cape Town and get his mobile number.  He called me at 11pm last Friday night and told me to get on the next flight to Cape Town.
I did.
They aspirated 300ml of fluid and gave me more antibiotics.  The breast is still not right, more doctors' visits next week.  Apparently, both surgeons who saw me stated that they were 110% sure my breast went bad because I wasn't put on antibiotics for the abscess.
What can you do?  You trust medical professionals, but they are human just like us.  They make mistakes.  Nobody is perfect.
Cindy Vine, a breast cancer survivor, is the author of Not Telling, Defective and C U @ 8.

Thursday, March 7, 2013

Coping with an Empty Nest

It suddenly dawned on me the other day, that when Siobhan graduates in May I'll be all alone for the very first time in my life. 
This was mind-blowing.
I've been alone obviously for the odd weekend and short trip, but generally since the day I was born I've always lived with somebody.  As a child growing up it was my grandmother and my parents, my college years I was in a residence until I fell pregnant and had Kerri.  Since then it has been my children and a husband who survived 10 years of being with me before he got booted.  Life has always been full of people, I've never been on my own.  What a daunting prospect?
Who do you talk to when you watch a movie and want to discuss what's happening?
How do you cook for only one person?
Who do you ask about their day and tell about yours?
How silent will the apartment be?
Who do you share your travel experiences with?
How fun can it be chasing after the 7 wonders by yourself?
It's enough to make a person depressed, being all alone in solitary confinement.  Maybe I'll take to singing that song "All by myself..."
But then again...
I can watch what I want on TV without fighting anybody for the TV remote.  I can watch my crime channels and sports games.  I might never have to watch Disney or Nickelodeon again.  What a pleasure!
I can eat beans on toast for dinner if I wish, oh yes and seafood.  I can eat fish, make Tom Yum Goong and not feel guilty as I am the only one in the house that eats seafood.
I can cry during Extreme Makeover or other movies or shows without being laughed at.
I can go out with friends and not feel guilty about leaving a teenager at home.
I can feel quite liberated.  There are some benefits after all.
But the thought of being all by myself, of no interactions when I walk through my front door, nobody telling me they love me and wishing me good night, no tantrums to contend with, nobody to tell me how delicious the meal I made was.  I'm not sure if I am going to be ready for it but how does one prepare oneself?
I guess there's always Skype.
Cindy Vine is the author of Not Telling, Defective and CU@8, all available on Amazon.com as a Kindle ebook or paperback.

Thursday, February 21, 2013

Encounter with elephants

One minute they were driving amongst sand dunes, then the next as they crested a sand dune, Fenella saw a large area of green in front of them, with a small waterhole to one side. In the distance, Fenella could make out sand dunes again. The green floodplain was ringed by large sand dunes.
“You’re lucky, no tourists are allowed to come here,” said Katerina, carefully driving down the sand dune to get onto the grass below.
“Wow,” was all Fenella could say, momentarily at a loss for words.
“If you do see elephants, don’t panic, just try and blend into the surroundings. They don’t know people, and they are very dangerous,” Katerina warned. “It’s just us woman and children out here, no men to protect us.”
After a meal of boiled rice with weevils in it, which Katerina had called the protein part of the meal, the exhausted children were put into their tent which faced out onto the tall swaying grass of the flood plain. “Mommy-time,” said Katerina with a smile as she made two mugs of coffee and liberally added brandy into the hot brown liquid. “No milk, so we’ll use the brandy as milk.”
“Fine by me,” said Fenella as she opened up the scrabble board by candlelight.

Fenella was leading Katerina by about 50 points in the scrabble game, when both women started when they heard a loud, “Humpf,” noise.
Katerina’s eyes were big with fear, “Elephants,” she hissed, looking ghostlike with the light from the candle giving her face an eerie glow.
Fenella wasn’t sure what she should feel. They were in the cooking tent, so she didn’t know what a big deal having elephants nearby might be.
“Don’t panic on me,” hissed Katerina, blowing out the candle.
Shit, thought Fenella, it was so dark they couldn’t see a thing. Katerina peeped out the cooking tent’s open doorway. “I can see about five, six big ones, in the long grass. Don’t move, otherwise they’ll hear us and charge.”
Katerina’s stage whisper was creeping out Fenella more than the thought of wild elephants a couple of metres away. Then she had a thought, a very frightening thought. “Katerina,” Fenella whispered back, “The kids’ tent opens up into the grassy area. Samantha wakes up at 9pm to go for a wee. What’s the time now?”
“Holy fuck,” muttered Katerina, “What are we going to do?”
So, much for Katerina telling Fenella not to panic. Fenella thought that Katerina was going to burst into tears.
“We have to save the children,” said Fenella calmly.
“How?” Katerina was starting to tremble, she was so scared.
“Here’s the plan,” said Fenella, making it up as she went along, “We’ll get down and leopard-crawl to their

tent, and wake them up quietly, and get them to crawl to our tent.” Fenella bit her tongue as she felt an urgent need to pee. Why did her bladder have to come alive at such a time?
Katerina led the way, with Fenella behind also on her stomach, using her elbows to pull herself forward. They could hear the elephants moving in the long grass on their left. The elephants were so close, they could even hear their tummies rumble. Silently, but surely, the two mothers inched their way forward, not noticing the thorns that pierced their flesh, or the stones that scratched and bruised them.
Suddenly, there was silence. Katerina lifted her head and looked out onto the long grass, “They’re going over the dune; they’re leaving the flood plain!” Katerina’s voice sounded loud in the still of the night.
Fenella was just about to speak, when she heard the ugly sound of Katerina vomiting up her boiled-rice-with-weevil dinner. “Might as well have a quick pee myself,” muttered Fenella now that the immediate danger had passed.
After waking the children and virtually sleep-walking them to their tent, Fenella and Katerina went back to the cooking tent to resume their game of scrabble. “Shit, coffee’s cold,” said Fenella taking a sip from her mug.
“Throw it out,” said Katerina putting on more water to boil on the gas burner. “Think we need something stronger anyway,” she said, pouring the mug three-quarters full of brandy and topping it up with a spoon of coffee and boiling water.

The next day, Fenella was lying on her sleeping bag in the tent, writing a letter to Brendan, listening to Katerina sing, ‘I’m a little Noddy man,” with the children in the cooking tent, when she suddenly became aware of an unnatural silence that made her feel uneasy. Fenella looked up from her writing, to see a huge elephant standing about 5 metres away from the front of her tent. Too scared to move in case she alerted the elephant to her presence in the tent, Fenella held her breath, watching the elephant all the time. The elephant was obviously alarmed by Fenella’s tent flap which was blowing in the breeze, as it started to shake its head and then sway it from side to side, before kicking up dirt with its front foot and expanding its ears until they were perpendicular to its head. Fenella felt herself start to go dizzy from lack of oxygen as she continued to hold her breath. Then, flapping its ears, the elephant started to take a step back, then another, then another, until it turned around and walked away. With the elephant out of her sight, Fenella started to hyperventilate, taking a good few minutes to calm down again. When she was breathing normally again, Fenella peered out of the tent to make sure that the elephant was no longer in charging distance, before hurrying out to see what had happened to Katerina and the kids.
Fenella reached the cooking tent, still a little light–headed from her frightening experience, only to find that Katerina and the kids had vanished into thin air. Something caught the corner of Fenella’s eye, and she looked at the parked Landrover, to see Katerina sitting behind the driver’s wheel.

“What are you doing?” asked Fenella, as she saw Katerina sitting frozen in shock, with one hand on the steering wheel, and the other hand clutching a .38 Special hand gun.
Katerina turned around to stare at Fenella, with eyes huge with fear, “I was coming to save you,” said Katerina in a low voice, “If the elephant attacked, I was going to charge the elephant with the Landy and then fire shots in the air.”
“That’s a wonderful rescue plan,” lied Fenella, wondering if both Katerina and her would have been killed if the elephant had charged. “Where’re the kids?”
“I sent them behind the dune for safety,” said Katerina, “They’re hiding in a ditch.”

Excerpt from Stop the world, I need to pee! Available on Amazon as Kindle and Paperback