How did someone come up with having turkey for Christmas feasts? Why on earth would you cook something so large, you have to eat it for the next 2 years?

Since we all have to OD on turkey, might as well do it in different ways. I made the pie crust a night in advance and just had to cook the fillings before baking the pie. The pie crust recipe can be found here.

Ingredients (pie fillings enough for 1 large and 6 small pies)
leftover turkey meat, shredded (about 4 cups )
1.5 large carrots. diced
3 large white onions, diced
1 can of button mushrooms, sliced
butter for frying (approx 4 tbsp)
1 cup stock (I used chicken but veg stock works just as well)
1 tbsp cornflour or plain flour mixed with 1/2 cup water for starch
pepper and salt for seasoning (optional, as the turkey, butter and stock is already tasty on its own)
1 egg yolk for brushing onto pie pastry to get that golden brown tinge

In a large pan, melt butter and fry the onions and carrots till soft. Add mushrooms, turkey and fry till fragrant. Add stock, mix well and add starch while constantly stirring the stock to prevent lumps. Quickly remove from heat. Let the divine mixture cool, and get to work with the pie crust.

I have to say it looks good considering its molded by pie virgins A-gal and Tommy.

Few days before this, my online conversation with Tommy went like this:
me: We’re having Death by Turkey session 2, starring Turkey Pie at A-gal’s. Wanna come?
T: Huh?
me: Sunday lunch. Turkey. You. Come?
T: Ok. What do I bring?
me: We’re having pie. A salad would be nice..
T: Sure! How do you cook a salad?
me: *sound of crickets*
T: Hallo?
me: Nevermind. Just bring drinks.

Never one to let people down, Tommy brought not only drinks but this as well.

Don’t ask. Just..don’t.

for a special friend. Hope she likes it. It’s suppose to be her Christmas gift but we met up 3 weeks too late. And then I met her last week I forgot to bring it along.


I hope she’ll use it soon cause she’s gonna be skiing in some exotic eastern European city which name I can’t even pronounce. Well, actually more like I can’t remember. Pregnesia does such things to you.

Who are you again? What am I typing? What’s this blog thing?

*I think she looks really cute in it. Don’t ya?

Do you remember what you were doing during the last few days leading to the millennium? Can you believe its been 10 years since Y2K (I just felt a white hair emerging from my balding scalp)? And if the 1990′s was the 20th century, what is 2011? The 21st century doesn’t quite cut it anymore, does it?

Ok grumbles aside, I’ll like to thank all my friends for sticking around for so long, and for all your unwaivering support amidst the tornadic weather. May all your dreams and fantasies come alive, and 2011 bringing you boundless happiness, health and prosperity.

A couple of you asked me why I started sewing and like I mentioned, I was inspired an antique patchwork baby blanket made for my by my paternal great grandmother. I still keep the blanket till today but because its so old, it’s disintegrated into shreds and I’m so afraid to use it least it turns into dust. Bear in mind that when virtuous housewives of ancient times make patchwork, the fabrics were remnants of old clothings, unlike now where we often buy new materials for a desired pattern. The older folks know a thing or two about recycling.

So I decided to start this restoration project. I cut adequate fabric, hem them, and hand sew the pieces over torn patches. Some say it’s not sustainable because the other fabric would start to tear as well but let’s worry about that later. At least for now, I can hand down a true piece of antique to our beanie who’s about to meet the world.

This was the condition of many of those pieces before.

and after the cover-up is sewn over.

The finished product (sans the ironing sorry)

It’s the name of the place but I also mean it literally. Or shall I shall OUR favourite cafe of the fellow sweatshop slaves. Honestly I had wanted to write about this wicked eatery for the longest time, but you see, we are very protective about our Yong Tau Foo, with special possessiveness towards The Meatballs. We were worried if we told the whole world about The Meatballs, they would run out and we would rot in hell forever. I mean FOREVER!

But luckily only 3 persons read my blog and they all know about this special place already. Oh and let me tell you a legend of this Yong Tau Foo place…

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Once upon a time, not so far away in the craziest shopping district of Singapore lies this magical fortress. On the 6th floor of the fortress there is this mythical cauldron that produces the most spellbinding, wonderfully delicious little crispy meatballs. Anyone that had eaten these meatballs becomes instantly contented, balanced and happy with life again.

Once, a knight and his chariot came upon the cauldron and set a record for eating more than anyone could possible stomach. He was crowned God of the YTF and challenged everyone to eat as much as he did. Many kingsmen (and ladies) came and tried to top his record but were all terribly defeated. It was simply beyond any normal human’s capabilities to eat that much.

True story.

The End.

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I have sworn to protect the secrecy and whereabouts of this wonderful place but if keeps you awake at night, you can email me.

*photos courtesy of AhJune’s Weblog

at the Marina Barrage with team was loads of fun despite the neck craning and slight exhaustion. Would love to do it again sometime soon!

All our kites in action…

This person looks vaguely familiar. I think I remember her when she was not yet whale-sized…

The initial plan was to make a baby sized blanket with a ladybird theme because ladybirds are deemed to bring good luck. But of course the I let my over-zealousness take over and I ended up with a teen sized blanket.

Who is excessive? Not me! Nek!

Pop up hand-sewn appliques are a nightmare to make but extremely gratifying when completed.

A big part of the project was made with recycled fabric remnants…

pieced together in harmony. Her first baby steps to being green! :)

That’s the back of the blanket…

flaunted by these lovely international dollies.

Well at least her birthday presents for 12 years has been sorted out!

I know I haven’t been the most diligent in updating this blog, and I thank you for even coming back here to see what’s happening. You see, I’ve been busy baking something really, really special. Something D-man and I have both looked forward to for ages.

I’ll give you a clue. I made these in preparation.

We are naturally very, very excited and am grateful to all the hand-me-downs received so far. Some of these stuff are so cute I want to keep them for myself.

Thank you, mucho Gracias, Vielen Dank!

A-gal has this uncanny ability to make it look like she prepared this whole table of yummy, Sichuan dishes, while looking perfectly composed and nicely groomed like the ever fabulous party host.

Actually I don’t believe Tommy could have concocted all these by himself either, if I had not been the witnessing, suffocating victim of spicy, tear-inducing cooking fumes.

Well-done Tommy. We’re looking forward to your new restaurant soon! :)

I love birthdays. It’s always a happy occasions and its a great excuse to eat obscenely copious amounts of junk food.

The only exception is my own birthday. Like some incurable disease I dread it every year and wish it’ll never come. I’m sure i’m not the only one though, someone actually made up a name for it. Here’s a funny example of Fragapane Phobia.

But these gals I’ll gladly celebrate birthday for…

and especially so for this little peanut..

I just can’t bring myself to believe she has turned 11. That’s 77 doggie years. That’s ancient. Who would believe she’s 77?

Not me for sure.