Peanut Indahouse

I am slouched on the sofa, in front of the telly, looking a little slovenly and a tad Jabba the Hut-ish ... minus the drool and rodent snacks. I am propped up by three overstuffed (orange) cushions and a trailing (orange) fleece blanket. My arms assume their now-regular position: one over the tummy, one under the tummy, a physical reflection of my subconscious hope that this mechanical support will keep stretch marks at bay.

Ste sidles up to me and grins cheekily. It is that time of night again: a Papa-und-Peanut bonding session which I, the biologically-designated Peanut-carrier, have front row seats to. That was a free ticket, by the way.

Almost on call, Peanut heaves and displays an unnerving array of movement. Unnerving because I get squeamish (and internally bruised) by Its combination of tiger uppercuts, foot stomping and somersaults (in utero reality, probably hiccups, a stretch and a roll). Feeling this through the maternal buffer thrills Ste to no end. I offer him some popcorn.

"Hey Peany, what's going on in there?" Ste inquires laughingly, "There's plenty of activity today, huh. Are you ... having a party? Got some friends over? Digging a tunnel? Planning a great escape?"

*whistles theme song from The Great Escape*

Gosh, it's a full-on variety show tonight. My jaw drops and I roll my eyes. Then Ste clenches his fist and presses it gently against the bump.

"RESPECT!"

Yes. The man I thought was a refined intellectual of impeccable deportment -the man I married- is teaching our unborn child to 'keep it real' with moves from the West Side. Well. If Peany eventually latches on well to me 'babylons', I guess I'll be one happy 'bitch'.

Ali G image from: http://thebestsportsblog.com/images/alig.jpg

Digging in

A stressful day of peeling, grating and shredding has paid off! Last night's Singaporean-style CNY menu of yu sheng and popiah main dishes, supplemented by four trays of steamed (frozen) dim sum hasn't -as far as I know- resulted in any casualties.

The pressure was certainly on though: with two pregnant women (one of whom was heavily so, expecting twins in a month!) and a roomful of Ste's colleagues, this was a group which demanded some quality kitchenary output (after all, The Bank probably wouldn't appreciate a third of this department's staff going on sick leave because of post-lo hei runs ... and the thought of distressing the tiny tummies of three unborn children would have been far too much to bear). I had to go beyond my usual, half-past-six excuse for a hot meal (more often than not instant kim chee ramen).

Fortunately, apart from Chef, none of the others present had ever tasted authentic tossed fish salad or soft spring rolls, so expectations could be managed to a reasonable degree. It wasn't an utter crisis that key ingredients were either substituted (what is 'turnip' in German anyway?! We ended up using something that rather resembled a monster parsnip -figured these '-nip' veggies must be from the same family- and white radish for the fish salad was magically morphed into glass noodles), foregone (what the hell are 'kaffir lime leaves'?!) ... or just plain forgotten in the fridge (like the yucky SHRIMP which I had held my breath to chop). Everyone was a good sport and the cacophony of auspicious wishes during the tossing was a joyous mix of Swiss German, high German and English ... with the occasional whimsical trapping ("Swiss football team to win Euro2008!").

Ste, every bit the Tea House Towkay, served his favourite blends of Surabaya rooibus tea and green tea. He then put our China-Chinese tea set to good use (including the fragrance cups that were purchased at Vivocity in December) and talked everyone through the tea ceremony. If I closed my eyes, he could very well have been a waiter at Tea Chapter, extolling the delicate warm fragrance of some leaf or other. I felt so proud.

With tea came the sweets, the second and more presentable batches of homemade pineapple tarts and coconut cookies, and also pandan kueh lapis from Wonderful Patisserie on London Chinatown's Gerrard Street (where we'd procured the pandan cake for our wedding in Bern).

Just one more day to go till the end of the Lunar New Year season ... I think this is the longest that I've ever stretched it out, but it sure feels good. More noise, more laughter - chases the bad luck away ... shoo!

Some snaps from last weekend

I spent Friday and Saturday as an observer at the International Federation of University Women (IFUW) Committee and Board meetings in Geneva. The two sessions I attended were with the Status of Women Committee on Friday and Membership Committee the day after. It is always interesting for me to see how things work -in this case, at an international federation level- how policy gets made ... and eventually gets transformed into action.


At Bhupi's (converted) barn in Grand Saconnex, a village on the outskirts of Geneva, where I stayed from Friday night and was treated to a spicy, home-cooked meal. Unfortunately I had also over-dosed on a packet of Haldiram's right before, so couldn't have seconds. Ste arrived on Saturday evening and we had a lovely time ... and no, I did not clean out Bhupi's Moevenpick ice-cream stash.

Unfortunately I only remembered that I had my camera as we were about to leave! Bhupi, who was yanked out of bed at an unearthly hour for Sunday morning, politely declined to be photographed. But there's always a NEXT TIME!!!

Then we moved onward to the Temasek Club Chinese New Year lunch near Oron ... which is near Lausanne ... which is near Geneva. Sort of. It was really good fun catching up with the Geneva folks and meeting some new faces who'd come from all over Switzerland. We left with full stomachs ... but empty hands (no luck in the lucky draw).

Photos courtesy of whoever the official Temasek Club photographer was at that time.

Give it to me baby

Ste and I are real nutters for animal documentaries and are the proud owners of a full set of David Attenborough's Life of Mammals. Incidentally, Dave is a real hottie and has no qualms whatsoever getting down and dirty in an equatorial leaf litter to inspect its inhabitants. We've acquired a range of useful tips from that truly brilliant series ... one for instance, on baboons' meticulous grooming techniques. Indeed, one can never be overly vigilant with insects and parasites (especially when one's baboon group is comprised of fellow furry flea-traps) ... but more significant is the reinforcing effect of grooming on social ties. Our equivalent action to maintain smooth relations (and exemplary coats) is a somewhat watered-down version of the Full Monkey ... with only symbolic flea-finding (and crunching) motions.

Over summer we were tantalised by a promotional poster at the neighbourhood art house cinema. Animals in Love, a French production, kept us waiting for months till it finally hit the big screen in January. It was NOT animal porn as Alfred had scoffed, but beautifully filmed scenes of Nature at work. The kind of stuff that makes you know that there is a Master Plan. From that installment, Ste has mastered a turkey-like gobble-gobble (though he hasn't yet managed to inflate his neck pouch as stupendously as the spotted fowl's) and I am working on my suggestive mountain goat tongue flapping. It is quite a sight. Give us a couple of years and we might just oust Sideshow Bob and the Bearded Woman as the hottest loons this side of the Zurichsee.

These days, Monday nights are reserved for yet another excellent Attenborough series, Life in Cold Blood. We were unsure if the likes of reptiles and amphibians would offer us any kind of behavioral inspiration at first, but held our tongues (sssss ... sssss ...). David and his team of fauna did not let us down ... and we have a new addition to our already quacky repertoire: slow arm (or leg, if you are a gecko or frog) waves to ward off trespassers. Absolutely brilliant, though probably more practice is needed before we take our show on the road. We haven't yet been able to keep straight, reptilian-cool faces as we bask on our respective piles of rocks to increase our body temperatures. We simply crack up.

What I love about being in Switzerland

A wonderful evening with Ste's family at Hotel Sedartis ...

This is a post-dinner shot. I don't generally sport that inflated look at other times of the day. Seriously.

Happy birthday Ste! Can you believe that there's still so much stuff we need to get done together?!

More than a spoonful of sugar

Over the weekend, we continued flogging the pineapple tart recipe for everything that it was worth. Ste, always the perfectionist, had spotted a more sensibly-sized cookie cutter at the fancy household store across from our tram stop at Hottingerplatz, so there would be nothing standing between us and sweet, sweet confectionery glory.

We churned, glazed and baked two more batches, this time opting for a more minimalist look than last week's indiscreet dough crosses arched over irredeemably-sized jam mounds. The results were gratifying: perky pine-nipple tarts (seen here on the left) for the more liberal Chinese New Year visitor; and the more homely tarts-next-door (on the right) which -in their nakedness- were by far the least labour intensive.

In acknowledgment of our patience and stamina (mainly from running innumerable taste tests), we rewarded ourselves with a day trip to idyllic St. Gallen, barely an hour's train ride away from Zurich. St. Gallen was, for many centuries, a wealthy trading town whose inhabitants made their fortune from textiles. That history is preserved perfectly in the ornate architectural details and facades of the old quarter. Unfortunately we got into town a little late and just missed seeing the famous monastery library, renowned for its Baroque gilding and antique book collection. But there's always a next time.

In fact we've got more short trips planned in the coming months, to make the most of our remaining pre-Peanut weekends. All the little critter should be focusing on now -as its folks paint the Confederation red- is growing with gusto ... something which my bruised innards can probably attest to, is already in the works.

The oven's still going

Oh, right. Thanks for the reminder Erina :)

So the other thing we've got in the oven -apart from leftovers from last night's dinner- is a baby. But before I get into that, let me digress for a moment: Esther, the BBC recipe worked like a dream! It's perfect for those with short attention spans, like me. For anyone else who's interested, that was my maiden stab at a vegetarian shepherd's pie ... and just so you know how authentic it was, when Ste had his first forkful, he thought he tasted LAMB in it! Phwoar, like a REAL shepherd's LAMB! Indeed, what unfathomable magical results flow forth from the sacred combination of leek, peas and canned kidney beans.

Righty. Now having been with child for about 24 weeks makes me ... no greater an authority on anything that I wasn't already an authority on before (huh?). Except for the history of Sino-Tanzanian relations during the Cold War. But there is one value-adding comment that I can make about my first trimester. I was obsessed with 2 things: first, whether Peanut (for that is what Ste and I christianed the rather peanutty form darting around in my underbelly) was getting seasick in the wide expanse of the Amniotic Sea; and second, whether Peanut would spin in a clock-wise or anti-clockwise direction if I travelled between hemispheres. And no, it wasn't merely an academic exercise - I WAS actually due for a long haul trip.

Well. I was utterly shocked and dismayed when neither Doc Rabner (hitherto an English-speaking obstetrician of respectable Swiss quality) nor Ste (the bloke who knocked me up in the first place) entertained my urgent concerns about the health and welfare of the little legume. But I resolved to not be downtrodden by these hateful, spiteful, MEN.

Speaking of whom - where is Ste anyway ... it's nearly time for my back rub. And HAPPY LUNAR NEW YEAR, Y'ALL!!!

Dong dong chang

It was going to have happened at some point. And it has.

Ste got home from work last Friday and I told him to get out of his work clothes, pronto. I'd already prepared everything we needed ahead of time (butter, sugar, loads of butter) and a range of implements for creaming and whipping. It was now just up to us to do the deed: get down on it and get our hands dirty.

It turned out to be a fairly straightforward procedure and the mess didn't get too out of control, thank goodness. As a matter of fact, I was rather pleased with the outcome of our first attempt: a batch of delectable (looking) coconut cookies! They're the ones with the suggestive red cherries on top ... in containers plastered with unabashedly auspicious, in-your-face gaudy, stickers that were purchased (excitedly, I should add) from Chinatown in Singapore.


On Saturday, we persevered with our little project and completed the pastry for what eventually became the world's largest pineapple tarts. Yes indeed --- please make room for the one-time only, one-gulp only, palm-sized pineapple PIES ...


... which in all fairness taste pretty good. Once you get over the initial shock at their massive proportions (think sandwich).

But there you go: a home truth acquired from a light brush with home economics. Same kitchen, same pairs of hands, same utensils ... but it's anybody's guess as to what will emerge from the oven.