Archive for the ‘ Picture stories ’ Category

Anyone can cook

IDN recipe (name unknown till I'll be told)

IDN recipe (name unknown till I’ll be told)

In many ways, the nutritional life of a bachelor is far from easy. Our food ranging from noodles to bread and bean balls, which in modesty is decent enough. Life is hard when you have to cook, but it gets harder when you do not know how to cook. When simple tasks like boiling rice and turning Eba seem like the culinary version of servicing a V6 car engine, then it gets worse. They risk very little, yet are often the most critical of those that present them food, as if it is up for judgement.

Fortunately for me, I know a thing or two about mixing this and that to become an element edible enough for me to consume. Whatever feeding is or is not about, I believe, it’s not to be explored in the plastic seats of KFC exclusively, not on the wings of Mama Monday, but is to be discovered by oneself from washing to preparation to consumption; a total experience. But that is my opinion.

Yesterday night I sought to delve into a new unknown cuisine; potentially an awe-inspiring dish, whole possessing the capability of being a irreparable disaster. I prepared a meal from a recipe given by my dear niece; awesome young lady well trained by us and now doing us proud by raising our grandchild. She gave me the recipe on BBM and it wasn’t the hardest thing in the world. Sometimes, the most complex looking outcomes are birthed from the simplest of tasks.

They say cooking is unsexy for a guy, that the best a man should do is cast shadows on the kitchen and leave it solely to the ladies. I really would have loved to nod in agreement, but I see that as a pile of cat piss and pig poop. I do not have a problem with those that cannot cook to save the dying, as we all cannot poses every skill, but I think it’s a tad prejudicial to say a man shouldn’t cook and label those that are kitchenophillic.

I really do not know/care what name Idunnusubulayo would call this happy meal. With the ingredients being ginger, garlic, chicken meat, green pepper, spring onions, carrot, round pepper, salt, seasoning and Irish Potatoes, nomenclature is the last thing on this man’s mind

I’m not challenging anyone to change their prior knowledge and disposition about cooking, but merely putting my new found recipe out there with gusto. To say I enjoyed the meal would be a gross understatement; it rocked me and my jolly worms. I’ll continue, to look, learn and cook. It gives me pleasure and it is one of the few fine arts left that have not been ruined by contemporariness.

Not anyone can cook, but a good cook can come from anywhere

 

Plantain somn somn

Plantain somn somn 

Eba and Egusi

Eba and Egusi 

Marinated chicken and rice

Marinated chicken and rice 

Advertisements

Her Rusty Elegance

The lonely lady standing at the intersection

The lonely lady squating at the intersection

On Saturday 22nd June, I did the heavily herculean task of not attending a friend’s wedding ceremony just to take a time out and relax. Not like a party junkie, but I seem to have a lot of weddings going on around me these days that turning them could be deemed as inappropriate; I had to do the inappropriate.

Living in Lagos has robbed me of a lot of sanity and creativity, that it became imperative for me to cool off. What better place to cool off than the intersection of the elements, earth and water. I’m a beach enthusiast and I desperately wish I could have my wedding at the beach for some reasons I can’t explain. It makes for great photography too. I went with a niece and a nutmeg, metaphorically speaking. It started as a borefest until we decided to make the best out of the situation. Oniru beach right now is a situation, a pathetic seemingly victimless shady condition almost devoid of any visual appeal. The high tides have eaten deep into the shoreline that what used to be a fancy beach now looked a distressing specimen of what it was. But out of the nothingness came one of the most awesome moments I’ve ever had in my modern day mobile phone photography endeavour.

I revel moments and not substances; not necessarily. Walking down the encroached shoreline towards the extreme left, wading through coastal deposits of poop and slippers within packets of twigs, I stumbled on something really stunning, an abandoned ship. The beauty in the dead beast would be oblivious to the naked untrained eye, but the consistent hitting of the tides on her over and over again made it suicidal to climb on it and enjoy. I didn’t plan to die on Saturday; I didn’t. But leaving the abandoned ship behind, she looked lonely and deserted, as the words “Celtic navigator” spread across her rusty face.

I turned around and took a random picture, and my word! The best picture these hands have ever taken; at least to me. I was moved at the loneliness of the Celtic ship; so rusty, unkept and deserted, yet would delight the disappointed lot who would venture to Oniru beach. In its solitude, it provided a moment of pure joy: A gift given to me by the situation of the ship, as she sat at the intersection between land and water. A bridge between the elements it seem. I missed the wedding, but not the Celtic Navigator, in her rusty elegance.

Present in almost the most inappropriate beach dressing you would ever see.

Present in almost the most inappropriate beach dressing you would ever see.

The Lion, the witch and the wardrobe. In no particular order.

The Lion, the witch and the wardrobe. In no particular order.

More than a Bentley

image

On my way to a very beautiful wedding ceremony of a brother and a sister (don’t ask questions), I noticed this extraordinary piece of art. Annoying at first, but a closer look to the sheer determination of the maker to go against the system and build a car that will make the upper and middle class fume with unrighteous anger. This piece of car and the 2008 model passat I was in were both stuck in traffic. Both of ’em.

More than a car is the mind behind it. The driving force and the need for a new, albeit ugly, creature to be birthed. The vehicle matters, but the destination matters more.

Advertisements