Hot Cinnamon Drumsticks

Now that I'm working with a regular schedule like most people (which I haven't done in 7 years), it is not a matter of choice anymore that I make food days ahead to snack on during work hours. At first I tried to do the apple/banana & nut butter thing. I ate raw almonds in bulk. I drank and drank and drank herbal tea. But all day? No, thank you. There's only so much you can take before you hear your insides wail, telling tales of personal tragedy, aching for grease. 

For a few days, I ordered what I would call nothing else but crap with the 21 year olds at the office but in reality, my body at 30 does not feel like it's 21. 

Maybe it should. Maybe I'm not doing enough. Maybe I should. 

So I started trying. I had already managed to go for 2 months without refined sugar, honey & yeast (which is a story I should tell in the next post). This had to be the next level - maintaining what I had already started with a few exceptions here and there. 

At this stage, I'm doing okay. No more crap. Clean eating. Happy body. Sort of self-satisfied me. Oh & here's a recipe that I like a lot: 

Hot Cinnamon Drumsticks
You'll need:

1 kg of chicken drumsticks
3 garlic cloves, minced
1/2 cup of vegetable oil + 3 tablespoons for cooking
1/4 cup of honey
1 tablespoon of mustard
2 tablespoons of fresh lemon juice
2 tablespoons of soy sauce
1 teaspoon of ground ginger
1.5 teaspoon of chili powder
2.5 teaspoons of ground cinnamon
250 ml of chicken stock
1/2 teaspoon of black pepper
Salt to taste

Excluding the chicken drumsticks, beat the rest of the ingredients in a bowl. Add the chicken and marinate for at least 8-12 hours.

Place a large frying pan on the stove and heat until medium hot and separate the chicken drumsticks into three batches.

For the first batch, brown on all sides then add approximately 80 ml of chicken stock and lower the heat. Cook for around 10-12 minutes until the chicken stock dries up entirely & the chicken is tender & nicely glazed.

Continue to turn the drumsticks to gain even color for another 1-2 minutes on medium heat.

Repeat with the next two batches. Allow the chicken to rest before serving.

The Story of Chicken Liver

As featured in The Egypt Monocle

I like chicken liver. It is a recent attraction. For the first 20 or so years of my life, liver had not been deemed welcome in my vicinity. At the times I encountered it, I could only smell rust and decided early on that it was not the kind of smell I’d like to have in my mouth.

Growing up in the Arab world, liver was a dish that was bound to come up, at a dinner, as a mezze, at a family gathering, on many a street cart; it was too everywhere for my liking. “What does it taste like?” I’d ask over and over, too displeased by the way it looked to try it. My mom looked over as she neatly dipped her bread into the drippings visibly bored with my question, “the only way to know is to taste it, Sarah.”

My narrow mind was scornful. I didn't want someone to tell me it was good or to just put the grey meat into my body. I wanted to know, in a very matter of fact way, what it would feel like on my tongue. Would it stick to the roof of my mouth? Is it chewy? Why are we eating the chicken’s filter that clears its small plump body of evil toxins?

Later, I would start to notice things about the liver experts in my life. If the liver was grey and clumpy, they would pick at it and its watery jus. If it was brown and buttery, they’d take it in, wiping the plate down with a french fry, warm bread, anything that would sop up that extra grease. Especially interesting to me were those drippings that pooled at the bottom of the pan, hot and waiting to be soaked up by my appetite and my arteries. So I devised a way to understand the flavor and took the jump — a simple step to only dunk into the surrounding grease without having to eat the actual liver. Liking it, I realized that it was a little ludicrous to keep mopping up the fat and not the iron it could be supplying me with, the mild anemic that I was.

Taking a deep breath and saying a little prayer that I would not be compelled to spit it out in the middle of company, I carefully chose my first ever piece of chicken liver. Crumbly and creamy in texture, seared to give uniform color — brown and glossy, it had no trace of the distinct metallic smell I abhorred and didn’t have me grinding my teeth involuntarily to the taste of metal like I felt it would.

Of course, my luck didn’t stay and I have had some terrible livers since (one from my own kitchen), but my mind remains focused on the first one and in this way I can approach it over and over again with confidence, especially after having countless surreal chicken liver experiences in Lebanon.

This recipe is aromatic, warm and sweet. If you’re puzzled about the milk, it’s there to dull the edge of the liver flavor. This way, some, children included, might be more accepting of this slice out of a large array of offal. If you’re a liver lover, this step might not be necessary. In either case, make sure your pan is hot or you’ll end up with a plate of grey.

Garlic & Pomegranate Chicken Livers

You’ll need:
500 grams of chicken liver
1 cup of milk (optional)
1 tablespoon of ghee (you can also use olive oil)
Juice of ½ a large lime
2 dried chili peppers, sliced (eliminate the seeds if you can’t handle the heat)
3 large cloves of garlic, finely minced
½ teaspoon of smoked paprika
1 teaspoon of ground coriander
¼ teaspoon of allspice
1½ teaspoons of coarsely ground black pepper
1½  tablespoons of pomegranate molasses
2 tablespoons of water
Salt to taste

Soak the chicken liver in a cup of milk for up to an hour. Before cooking, drain from the milk. Place a large heavy-based pan on high heat. Make sure your pan gets very hot before cooking the chicken livers. Pour in the olive oil once your pan is hot and carefully add the chicken livers. Cook on high heat until seared on all sides. Remove from the pan and set aside. In the same pan on medium heat, add the garlic, ground coriander and dried chili into the leftover olive oil and liver drippings. Cook until the garlic is soft then add the paprika, allspice and coarsely ground black pepper. Season with salt then pour in the pomegranate molasses and water. Leave to cook on for a minute then pop in your seared chicken livers. Toss to coat the livers and cook off for another minute or two.

Fusilli & Fuss

As featured in The Egypt Monocle

Educated Cairenes are a funny bunch, often blurring the lines when it suits them, merging reality with a glorious fantasy world where they are “better” for speaking English, where they are proficient based on a skill learned, in no detail, online.

​Among the new things that have recently astounded me in Cairo is the ability of some to flounce around the city introducing themselves as chefs without toiling in the grease of a hot kitchen — day in, day out. Some could argue that a chef in essence is the mastermind behind the menu, the director of the show — but how can we take control of the laborious task of coordinating a kitchen if we have received neither the education nor the training to apply commands correctly, let alone delegate them?

​It is unfortunate that Egyptian chefs who deserve to be called chefs aren’t the ones gaining that recognition. They are not the ones asked to be stars of an article praising both their skill and knowledge. They are not busy celebrity “cheffing” but are caught up in cooking and management, often not being the ones to get the likes on Facebook. These people are behind the scenes, cooks waiting to take the next order, invisible; and there are thousands of them in Egypt.

​So what is the difference between a cook and a chef?

​According to the three-starred New York restaurant Le Bernadin’s co-owner, Chef Eric Ripert, “A chef is a title. So, as a chef, you’re manager, basically, of your team — with many duties including the creativity and the leading role of the kitchen. Being a cook, it’s understanding the ingredients; it’s being good at the act of cooking, which is craftsmanship.” He goes on to say, “Now, I don’t think you can be a good chef if you are not a good cook.”

​This is not what I’m seeing, Cairo. Far from it. Instead, I’m seeing Egyptians and inefficient foreigners hired by Egyptians who believe they’ve been reincarnated as prettily boxed gifts bestowed upon Cairo’s food scene, doling out their PR routine at one event after another, popping open one unfinished restaurant after the next, with minimal focus on the food.

​This is not how awarded restaurants are made and it is far from what the food service industry truly represents — skills, humility and patience. Instead, we are rushing to wear our made-for-us branded toques, filling them with ambition, desires and dreams of reality TV.

​Creativity in food is no easy feat, especially once you’ve taken a long hard look at the international food world, old and new, and what people have been bringing to the table for years.

​By all means, become a chef in Cairo and call yourself one but if I’m speaking to you about outdated classics, it would be beneficial to have an idea about those I’m referencing as well as how to cook for a party of a hundred or more. If I criticize the way you cook your eggs, address my concern instead of unfollowing me on Twitter.

​It is exactly this behavior that is putting us nowhere on the global food map — all fluff and no substance.

​If you’re toying with the idea of finding a career in Cairo’s strange food world as a chef, begin as an apprentice and not the featured chef of a one-night-only event. Work your way up through the ranks of the iron-fisted restaurant kitchen hierarchy to learn the trade. Accept the advice you’re handed graciously. Don’t drink on the job. Study and hide your ego.

Creamy Cinnamon Fusilli with Broccoli & Chicken

You’ll need
350 grams of fusilli
1 small onion, diced
3 cloves of garlic, thinly sliced
7 grams of butter
1½ cups of cream
½ cup of chicken stock
A pinch of cinnamon
50 grams of Edam cheese
½ teaspoon of white pepper
½ a head of broccoli in florets
3 chicken breasts
1 tablespoons of vegetable oil
5 grams of butter

Salt and pepper to season

For the pasta, bring a large pot of water to a boil and cook for 5 minutes. It should be a little underdone when removed from the water. Set aside. In a large pan on medium heat, add the butter. Once it has foamed, add the garlic and onion. Cook for a few minutes until softened. They should not change color.

Add the cream and stir into the onions and garlic then add the chicken stock and bring to a high simmer. Lower the heat then add the cinnamon, pepper and salt. Leave on a low simmer for 5 minutes to thicken. Add the cheese and stir to combine. Add the pasta to the sauce and allow to cook for another 2-3 minutes until al dente.

In a separate pot, boil a pot full of salted water and add your broccoli florets. Cook for around 3-4 minutes then remove. Drain then add to the pasta.

While the sauce is left to thicken, heat a pan with a lid to medium-high heat then add the butter and oil. Swirl the pan to coat. Season the raw chicken breast then add to the pan. Leave to cook for approximately 7 minutes on each side, depending on how large the chicken breast is. Once done, allow the chicken breast to rest for a few minutes before slicing.

Slice the chicken. After plating up the fusilli with broccoli, rest the chicken on top. Feel free to add the chicken into the pasta pot to coat it with sauce before serving.

Monday's Rough Recipe: Sticky Chicken

As featured in The Egypt Monocle

I can forgive a chef for a mediocre day in the kitchen. I may not have enjoyed the meal but if I’m comfortable in my space, haven’t gotten ill and am greeted with pleasant efficient service, I will readily come back to give the place another try and order something different on the menu.

Eating out at any of the new hip places littering Zamalek and Maadi doesn’t come cheap and so it would be assumed that service must be procedure and detail oriented. After several visits to those that call themselves gourmet and to those boastful of their interiors and branding but not their food, I was curious to know: are the wait staff receiving any training or are they told to dive, each with his own style, into the unknown? Why is a seamless dining experience elusive to many of our restaurateurs? Have they never had one themselves? These days in Cairo, I’d get better service at a fast food chain.

It doesn’t matter if you have a kids’ corner, library or an ingredient made or grown especially for you, people will eventually tire of bad restaurant service, the face of dining out, and move on to the next new and trendy restaurant.

As a customer, your waiter should be able to lay your table cutlery correctly without the need for you to shift your weight. Self-awareness of personal hygiene is crucial and so is an eye for detail. If the diner before me used the salt shaker on their sandwich eaten by hand, I don’t want to be the one to feel the grease on my fingertips later. If the flowers in the vase are dying, who knows what else is decomposing in the kitchen?

A good waiter will have been trained to be appropriately attentive. Staff that hover around the table incessantly are just as inexperienced and nerve grating as those who wait fifteen minutes to slip a menu into your hands in an empty restaurant while they stand around picking at a groove in their gum with a toothpick.

Instead of not tipping, complain first. Usually action is taken to improve service if only for that occasion. The more you reward bad service, the more likely you will be faced with it again. Remember that polite and courteous service is not a gift that waiters have to lavishly hand out as they please; these are your restaurant rights, use them.

Of course, you too as a customer must play your part — say please and thank you, act civilized, be nice and honor your reservations. Remember that these people are working a job that is not highly regarded by many in their country and they know it. To them, it is a way to make ends meet and few consider it a serious career choice. If you’re treating them like slave children, everybody loses. We might have a lot to learn but it won’t happen with the swish of a wand. If all else fails, stay home and make chicken.

Sticky Orange Mustard Chicken
You’ll need:
2 chickens, quartered
3 tablespoons of olive oil
2 tablespoons of whole grain mustard
2½ teaspoons of fresh thyme leaves
1 long sprig of fresh rosemary
2 tablespoon of honey
Zest of 1 orange
1 large orange, sliced
3 cloves of garlic
1/2 cup of unsweetened orange juice
4 teaspoons of Worcestershire sauce
1 tablespoon of hot sauce

Sea salt and freshly ground pepper

With the back of your knife crush the garlic cloves and toss them with the rosemary into a baking dish large enough to fit the chicken. Place the chicken into the baking dish. They should not overlap. You can use two separate dishes, which is what I did to prepare this but make sure to spread the marinade equally on both.

In a bowl, add the whole grain mustard, fresh thyme leaves, orange zest and honey then pour in the olive oil, orange juice, Worcestershire sauce and hot sauce. Whisk together then pour half of it onto the chicken reserving the other half for later.

Heat your oven to 200 degrees Celsius. Use your hands to massage the marinade into the chicken making sure not to tear the skin. Arrange the slices of orange above and below the chicken then season with freshly ground pepper and coarse sea salt. Pop the loaded baking dish into the heated oven and roast, basting with the reserved marinade and the hot chicken fat at the bottom of your pan every 15 minutes. The chicken will be done when the juices run clear if pierced with a knife. This should take around 45 minutes for each chicken.

Orzo Chicken Salad & Letters to Friends

As featured in the Foodbuzz Top 9 (May 8th, 2012)

In early January 2011, Heba El Kayal, Lifestyle Editor of what recently was The Daily News Egypt, reached out to me, spinning my head with her subdued charm. Setting a date on email to Skype, I wondered what it was that she would ask me and why she had chosen me to interview, an unemployed Egyptian food blogger living in Kuala Lumpur.  All I had ever done was milk out every bit of silliness I had in me for my blog, that coupled with a recipe to go along with said dose of triviality.

Meeting her for the first time through a screen allowed me a glimpse of cold Cairo on a winter morning. Having had to suffer through many a female more concerned with proving through her dress sense that she had what it required to pull off her job, Heba caught me off-guard. A connection was formed at once. 

Bundled up on her bed in a robe and glasses, she greeted me as an old friend as I was quickly taken through the history of The Daily News Egypt. She was interviewing me because she was always on the look out for new talent. She was interviewing me because she thought I deserve some recognition. I did not see myself as talent; just effort and a little luck. 

Today, I have been the weekly food columnist for a year and a good quarter. The Daily News Egypt interview about my blog resulted in an opportunity to write regularly, to sharpen my skills, and most rewarding of all, to find sisterhood in a passerby. 

Heba, I cannot express my appreciation enough - for the days you pushed me to get out of my funk and fly, for the days you embraced my weaknesses and often, sadness. Thank you for being my editor, my keeper, my friend.  

Orzo Chicken Salad
You'll need:
1/2 cup of orzo
1.5 cups of chicken stock
1.5 cups of water
150 grams of grilled chicken, shredded
1 large red bell pepper, diced (I used 1 small red & 1 small yellow)
7 large kalamata olives, seeded and chopped
1 clove of garlic, minced
1 big handful of chives, snipped
3 tablespoons of olive oil 
Juice of 1 lime
1 teaspoon of whole grain mustard
1/4 teaspoon of chili powder
Salt and pepper to taste

Bring the water and chicken stock to a boil. Add the orzo to the pot and stir for a moment to ensure that it doesn't stick to the bottom. Cook uncovered until the orzo is al dente. While the pasta is cooking, combine the chicken, bell peppers and olives in a large bowl. Mix half of the chives into the salad. When the orzo is ready, strain and toss through the other ingredients. In a small bowl, mix together the olive oil, lime juice, mustard, chili powder, garlic, salt and pepper to make a light dressing and pour over the orzo salad mixing gently as you go along to ensure it coats the salad ingredients. Garnish with the second half of snipped chives and serve chilled.  

Predatory Instincts & a Spinach Chicken Roulade

I put my new clothes on, tugged on my pretty jacket and straightened my back with my head held high, trying to preen in front of the mirror. Watching my mother from the sidelines applying a sleek stroke of liquid eyeliner, I wondered when I too would be able to watch my own face transform from the clean-faced little girl to a mascara-laden wide-eyed spectacle.

Minutes later, I received a sealed envelope with my name written in a personal hurried cursive - "Sarah." Peaking inside was my annually dependable stroke of luck, my "edeyya" or Eid money, that which was handed out to children to buy whatever it was their little hearts desired on Eid Al-Adha, a special occasion in most Muslim households. Of course, kids weren't allowed to buy the item of their choosing because it was never suitable for their age.

Driving over to my aunt's house, we'd watch children, unlike us who sat politely in the car, clapping to a beat that pounded from a small truck spilling droplets of blood along the road. They'd dip their hands into the freshly slaughtered sheep's blood, teasing each other in between giggles, finally wiping their hands down on the sheep's shorn woolen fleece hung along the side of the puttering truck. I had never seen anything dead before. The only blood I had ever touched was mine. This remained until I was much older.

On the cold morning of this Eid Al-Adha, I, now 27, hurriedly piled layers of clothes on without a second look in the mirror; dragged, with a trained hand, my eyeliner onto my eyelids and slipped into my comfortable old sneakers. There was nothing new except for the house we were now living in and that I would watch a sheep's last moments only moments later; the same sheep we bought the night before and carried home in our car – the one I talked to, fed and marked with green paint.

Driving over to the designated area, I hopped out of the car, straightened my back, hung my head low and walked toward the sheep already being dragged out by the burly men, their white shirts drenched in red. Pinned down, the sheep surprisingly remained calm, despite his fellow companions laying motionless beside him. In retrospect, if my voice hadn't chosen to disappear deep within me at the time, I would have tried to pleasantly ask the butcher to shield the sheep's eyes from the its unpleasant surroundings.

In moments, it was all over. Children clamored to hold the carcass as the man blew it up to prepare it for skinning while others waited to receive their annual share. A woman was busy at work, cleaning out the contents of exposed stomachs while I stood and watched. I had never felt more useless in my entire life.

When it came time to share the meat, a middle-aged man carried the bright hot liver triumphantly and presented it to my husband; the blood dripping down the side of his arm as he grinned on. “Come! Take the liver!” he urged, but something told us that he was urging us to let it go, to let it belong to him, to allow him to enjoy the rarity that is fresh liver.

Many Egyptians today shy away from slaughtering animals and prefer to give money to those that will slaughter for them, preferring to play the innocent predator who will eat from the kill but will participate in none of the butchery. We have killed insects at the very most.

It is easier to consume mass quantities of meat when you forget the tiresome process that gets meat to your table. It is easier to forget and avoid the knife because you are not a killer. I cannot see myself running away anymore.

In our home, we have decided to learn how to slaughter and butcher. I know that we will not be able to sustain it but if we are to use our teeth on cooked chicken, we should be able to place a knife against it and learn the most efficient way for the animal to die humanely. Until I gather the courage, I'll watch the butchers do their job and await hate mail from vegetarians around the world asking me to save the chicken.

Spinach Chicken Roulade

You'll need:
6 skinless boneless chicken breast halves
7 button mushrooms, thinly sliced
1 cup of chopped spinach
4 scallions, finely sliced
2 cloves of garlic, minced
1 full tablespoon of black sesame seeds
2 tablespoons of Worcestershire sauce
Salt and pepper to taste
2 cups of ground breadcrumbs
2 eggs, beaten
3 tablespoons of butter
3 tablespoon of vegetable oil
Toothpicks

Place a pan on medium heat. Gently heat 1.5 tablespoons of oil. Add the scallions, garlic and black sesame. Let it cook for 2 minutes before adding the mushrooms to sauté. Cook for 5 minutes. Add the spinach. Once it has wilted, add the Worcestershire sauce. Toss the mixture. Remove from the heat and allow it to cool. Place each chicken breast between 2 sheets of plastic wrap. With a rolling pin or a meat pounder pound each breast to 1/8-inch thickness. Discard plastic from the topside of each breast. Salt and pepper the chicken. Spread your cooked mixture along the middle of the breast. Using the bottom layer of plastic wrap, roll each breast lengthwise. Tuck in the ends. Hold the seams together with toothpicks. Repeat with each breast. Refrigerate for at least 2 hours or overnight. After chilling, remove the plastic wrap. Dip each rolled breast into the beaten egg then roll in the breadcrumbs. Heat a pan on medium heat. Melt the butter in the remaining oil. Place each breast in the pan, sealed side down. Cook for 18 minutes or until golden brown and cooked through. Remove the toothpicks and serve.

Chicken Quesadillas, because leftovers are boring.

In our house, we have a problem with leftovers. That problem is as simple as this: we don't like them. Having spent many years in our parents' homes being taught not to waste by coming home from school and barging into the kitchen to be greeted by reheated leftovers, we rejoiced at the idea of not having to deal with lifeless leftovers in our future grown up homes. Never again, our pre-married selves screamed. How naïve and mistaken we turned out to be.

It starts with what many experts have stated time and time again but falls on mostly deaf ears. We eat with our eyes first. This is evident in the pretty plates presented to voracious customers at restaurants, it is displayed in the homes of those hosting dinner parties and it is especially present during the holy month of Ramadan.

You enter the kitchen and gradually begin increasing the quantities you will be serving. A few extra grams won't hurt and neither will one more cup. Everyone will need to eat more than that, or so you think. After creating a lavish spread of complementary colors and watching everyone eat to their heart's content, you push them to push a little more into themselves and say a little prayer for no leftovers. It almost never works.

After one too many a time of leftovers going bad, the pangs of guilt consumed my thoughts. I would open the fridge and sigh in despair at the foods that I didn't want to eat for days in a row.

What a sad mess it all was.

Wilting salads clung to the edges of the bowl to avoid drowning in their dressing, pastas drank up all their beautiful sauces to become gluey, unfriendly specimens and chicken would just become cold, unappetizing and boring enough not to have any appetizing way to describe it.

As easy as it is for some people to go through life inconsiderately, with no thought of another's suffering, it was not about that I could not do it anymore - I would not.

Leftover bread would be toasted and made into finely ground bread crumbs, to be used later on breaded chicken or sprinkled onto a simple linguine dish. Apples would be saved from their fateful death and cooked into apple sauce and best of all, rotisserie chickens would be reinvented to fit into everything - creamy chicken soups, cold sandwiches and crisp salads.

Forcing myself to conjure up my previous self, that which worked at an advertising agency, reinvention was key.

Sohour, your past-midnight Ramadan meal, is an ideal occasion for leftovers and one of the most filling things to choose to eat is the Mexican quesadilla; and for me, the chicken quesadilla. Load it up with onions, mushrooms, peppers and olives or keep it plain, it always turns out to be better than the thought of eating reheated chicken.

Overcoming my leftovers dilemma, while liberating, also reminds me on a daily basis of the hungry and the weak and of what I can do to stretch what we have a little further so that our home doesn't end up one that is wasteful and weak-spirited. Before you groan about the day-old dry chicken lounging in your fridge, think again. You could end up making something you would order at a restaurant, except this time you would know where that cooked chicken is coming from and how old it actually is. That's a better deal in my book. I'm taking it.

Chicken Quesadillas

You'll need:
1 large flour tortilla
½ a grilled chicken breast
½ a medium onion, sliced
¼ cup of grated mozzarella and mild white cheddar
salt and pepper to taste

Moderately heat a lightly oiled pan and add the onions. Add some salt and pepper and stir occassionally until they begin to soften. This should take around 3 to 5 minutes. Sprinkle the chicken with some salt and pepper and add it to the pan to toss with the onions. Remove from the heat.

On a stable surface, place one flour tortilla at a time and spread the onion-chicken mixture over half of the tortilla. Sprinkle liberally with grated cheese and fold the other half over to form a semi-circle and press firmly on the seam to seal it. Assemble as many quesadillas as needed in the same manner.

Heat a lightly oiled pan over high heat until it begins to smoke. Once it begins smoking, reduce the heat to moderate and grill your quesadillas on one side until nicely colored. Turn over the quesadillas and continue to cook until the cheese has melted completely. This whole process should take about 4 minutes per quesadillas. Transfer with a spatula to a cutting board and cut in half. Serve hot.

Skewered Sentiments

Two little monkeys jumping on the bed, 

one fell down and bumped his head.

Papa called the doctor and the doctor said, 
"No more monkeys jumping on the bed!"

One little monkey jumping on the bed. 
He fell off and bumped his head. 

Mama called the doctor and the doctor said, 
"Put those monkeys straight to bed!"

Dear Disney Channel, 

Do you know how sneaky you are? You've always been sneaky, yes, making us little Muslim girls on the other side of the globe think we can Americanize ourselves and marry Cory Matthews and Ben Savage way back in the 90s to the complete Jonas trio, the current Disney "it" boys. See, Disney, I was fine with that. I didn't have a problem when you made our hormones race over boys we wouldn't ever consider marrying when we grew up. But now, you're just cheap. Now you want our little girls wearing Jimmy Choos and Prada but pray tell, Disney, are you going to buy them too at the marked up prices that are even higher than that of your "developed world"? Do you really believe that a child watching the evil blonde bimbo sing lyrics that go like this: "Iced tea imported from England, lifeguards imported from Spain" and "Fetch me my Jimmy Choo flip flops, where is my pink Prada tote? I need my Tiffany hair band" will actually believe that the evil bimbo brat is evil, horrid and a bad role model? Or do you think they're going to wish they were 16 so that Daddy can buy them Jimmy Choos with his spare money? Disney, you're an evil cow. Eff you very much for forcing me to explain things that are a little too early to explain. I will now have to try to convince the kids we're Arabs AGAIN through fake Shish Tawooks. You suck.

Stabs & wounds,

Betrayed & Bullshitted 

Raw chicken! Fun! Salmonella! Not fun!

Wash your hands video (with local accent).

"Don't be dirty fellow."

(You'll get it if you click the link. Don't look at me like that.)

Mini Chicken Skewers
You'll need:
4 chicken breasts
3 tablespoons of olive oil 
1 red pepper, cubed
3/4 of a medium-sized onion, cubed
1 teaspoon of rosemary
1.5 teaspoon of thyme
1/2 teaspoon of dried parsley
1/2 teaspoon of black pepper
1.5 teaspoon of salt
1.5 tablespoon of lemon juice
Mini wooden skewers


I marinated the chicken for an hour but you're welcome to marinate it for longer.  

Browning up a bit.

Put your thyme, rosemary, parsley, salt and pepper in a bowl and combine. Add the oil and lemon juice to your mixture and whisk lightly with a fork. Pour it all over your chicken, which should be cubed into small cubes. Isn't it awkward when you use the same word often in a sentence? Toss the chicken in the marinade until it's all coated. Slippery stuff. 

Get your skewers and start threading, alternating the pepper, onion and chicken. Pour some olive oil into a large pan, or a small pan, but you'll take so much longer, which just gets boring and then you end up smelling of chicken a little too much. Place it over medium heat. Cook on each side for 5-7 minutes. Take it off the stove and get excited. Whee! Eat! Double whee! 

Happiness.