Tag Archives: Pizza

A Balancing Act

23 Apr

I have not talked about my Endometriosis problems lately because there haven’t been any, thank goodness. You could say it is under control. But any pain experienced is purely diet-related and self-induced. Meaning, if I eat things that I am not supposed to, I will feel the pain.

Recently, I went back to drinking coffee with sugar added. If there’s milk, it’s just courting trouble. So far, I must say it’s manageable because I don’t gulp the whole mug in one go. I take my time sipping, and it works out okay. I’m glad because I do have an urge for a nice cuppa once in a while. But with the added sugar, it’s a setback as far as weight is concerned. Perhaps I should drink my coffee black. Hmm.

Coffee aside, cheese is still one food I cannot handle, although I love cheese. It’s too heavy and creamy for me, and I will be all bloated and upset in the tummy. You can guess by now pizza is off my menu. Eggs, especially hard-boiled eggs, are off my menu too. Besides these, onions and beef are also food that I try to avoid.

The current coffee grounds for the French press

It’s a balancing act to manage the intake and not push my luck. Sometimes it’s hard, so discipline is essential to a happy lifestyle and healthy tummy.

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Comfort Food

3 Jun

I don’t profess to be a good chef but sometimes when the mood hits, I can proudly say I can cook up a storm. It was exam week last week and M2 was stressing and studying like a possessed being. So I try to play my part and help her by making comfort food over the weekend before exams started.

Initially I thought I would try the bacon cheese sandwich recipe that was shared on Facebook but she said bacon is bad and one would die from eating it. She couldn’t be more direct on this matter. So rather than insisting and stressing her out even more, I asked what would she like and she requested for the potato pizza that I had made before.

But this time, I used baby spinach with ham. The first time being prosciutto garnishing the usual cheeses, fresh mushrooms and baby tomatoes, while the second was with tuna and romaine lettuce. The outcome? Just as good as the previous attempts!

You can check out the original recipe at www.tastemade.com/videos/bismarck-potato-pizza

  

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Am I Italian?

19 May

It was during Chinese New Year/Lunar New Year that we discovered some very enlightening facts about hubby’s side of the family. Hubby’s uncle and cousin had painstakingly researched the family roots, tracing back to his great-grandfather, who was born in 1881 and emigrated here from China.

This means his grandfather is the first generation of the clan, hubby the third generation and my girls the fourth generation. I was awed because on my side, my only sibling and I are first generation; my Dad came from Singapore.

During the PowerPoint presentation, the whole clan learnt of the beginnings of the ancestors: how they met, when, where and all. There were even mug shots of the great-grandparents and it was one of the mugs that I commented, “Gosh! He looks European! Almost like an Italian!” to which M2 overheard and perked her up.

“Am I Italian?” she said.

Tickled by her question, I merely raised my eyebrow. She persisted.

“Am I Italian?”

I rolled my eyes and ignored her.

“Hmm. I must be because I like pizzas!” she decided and beamed.

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Saving the Best for Last

13 Sep

There’s something about the last bite or should I say the last morsel of delicious food. When the girls were younger, both of them just loved to pick their food apart and saved the so-called best for last. This practice was much more evident with Western food, especially pizza, than Asian or Chinese food.

It came to a point where it was very annoying for me as I felt table manners were neglected and eating sequence was not in order or by the rule. A pizza would be ripped apart with the pepperoni first, picked out from its place with the rest to sit aside like a prized possession for the last savoury bite. Then the sauce scraped off with the fingers and licked off, followed by the side crust given a chomp, and finally the pizza base nibbled upon. Why? Why do children do that? I never did that when I was young. If I had a slice of pizza in my hand, I’d eat it whole, as is, not ingredient by ingredient!

Whenever they did this, stacking their prized grub, the hubby would usually ask, “Are you full already?”

“Just about,” would be the standard answer from either one of them.

“I guess you don’t want those then if you’re just about full,” he would eye their pepperoni stack menacingly.

“Noooo” they’d defend their prized grub in between bites. “No you don’t want?” he’d try his luck.

“No, not full yet!” you could hear the alarm in the voice.

I guess his technique worked better than my annoyance because they stopped saving the best for last. Having said that, I should say that the practice has ceased temporarily until we do pizza night again, which is a rarity these days.

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