Making Leftovers Delicious

I'm an incredibly thrifty person (no, really, you have no idea) and always stretch my ingredients to the very nth. Last week I got a delicious big tuna steak (about 200g) from a fish stall in Christianshavn. After getting a delicious meal out of it, we carefully wrapped the remains in tinfoil and stored them in the fridge. The steak cost 105kr (ouch, hi Denmark) but by the time we got all we could out of it, it had cost only a couple of kr per portion, much better.

The next day I didn't feel like cooking very much, so I got a bag of spinach and cooked noodles and pan-friend garlic and onions. I also wilted some spinach and made a stock quickly using a stock cube (no freezer means no stock stashing opportunities), added the tuna and garlic/onion to the pot and used a lot of seasonings, including liberal amounts of salt, pepper, a mixed seasoning from Leo's mom (cayenne pepper, oregano, and other things, sesame oil (the taste is delicious) and chilli and paprika. We also added a lot of seaweed flakes (I had wanted a miso soup originally, but settled for this addition instead to add some umami taste). It also looks like there is carrot in there, but I honestly have no memory of having carrots in my house that week, so I've no idea what it is! Mystery ingredient.

I actually ended up making so much of this broth that I had to throw out one portion, because, after not eating at home for a few days, I was afraid the tuna hadn't kept. But we got 5 portions out of it! For the 5th portion I just watered it down and boiled it up again, adding more sesame oil for tasting. Just as good for lunch the next day.

It took less than half an hour to make, and most of that was just boiling and waiting time. Delicious and filling.

the view from here

Looking Back | London

 

Before leaving London we lived in the East End, Wapping to be exact. Cobbled streets and wrought iron fences, this cosy little village is a well kept secret minute away from the towering monsters of Canary Wharf, London Bridge and Liverpool Street.

Our apartment overlooked the Thames, and we could see Tower Bridge from our window. It was really something special. The Overground or Tube was our transport of choice, with bikes for getting around the local area (cycling in London means putting your life in the hands of crazed lunatics).

Moving Forward | Copenhagen

 

Two accommodation moves later and we're finally in an apartment of our own in Copenhagen. Cosy, and well lit, I think this is as good as it gets. We cycle absolutely everywhere now, even in the rain (which is constant). The skyline is a lot lower, a lot more yellow-washed walls and brown roofs. I think it is perfect.

april is here

It's time for planning, writing applications, searching for jobs, learning Danish, rearranging the furniture, impromptu trips, and life-changing decisions.

Come one, come all!

I wish there were more hours in the day.

Since We Moved

We've been in the apartment for quite a long time now, and there's been a lot of hyggelig stuff happening, naturally. Today it went as far as lavender lemonade.

I haven't posted in so long, I know. Honestly, I've been very busy. Danish classes every day of the week, painting, and last week I went to Aarhus, North Sealand AND England.

An update is coming, I assure you.

weekend breakfasting | decorating (later came numerous paper cranes!) | planting | homemade burgers | my first glass of sweet martini | a salad of organic leaves from the window | coriander which is coming alive | spring on the windowledge

if the winds have turned today

it's because it's inevitable

everyone knows the winds have to blow

twenty five

This year basically everyone I went to school with is turning 25. This means a lot of cake and catching up. I've been so lucky to have a few months back at home to reconnect with a lot of my friends. I've been absent from their lives for 2+ years, and it begins to take its toll.

I went back to Ireland last weekend to tie up some loose ends, and because it was one of my closest friend's birthdays! I used my newly acquired skills to drive some of us to The Station House in Meath for a birthday dinner.

We had three courses, and afterwards the most spectacluar pina colada inspired birthday cake I have ever seen. Then, in true old lady style we retired to the birthday girl's house where we sat by the Aga, ate cake, drank (tea for me, wine for the others), and reminisced.

For me, there's nothing better than good food, friendship, a roaring fire, for which your friend took axe to wood to keep lit mere minutes before, and cups of tea. Nightclubs fill me with horror, and there's nothing that can be said in a loud pub that can't be said more eloquently over cake or tea somewhere cosy. It was basically perfect.

 

 

 

Where Am I Now?

Well, after months of being in-between places,  I can now safely say that I'm definitely in Denmark again. I think. Actually, I'm going back to Ireland tomorrow, but that's merely a short sojourn.

I arrived on Friday last week, and on Saturday Leo and I packed up everything, called a moving guy (who was a very cool person, it has to be said) and moved on over to Kastrup. Kastrup is decidedly less cool than Frederiksberg. If Frederiksberg is a hip and painfully stylish 20 something sibling, Kastrup is the older brother in his 40s that is a mechanic. Honestly, though, I love it. We're close to the Metro but you can still cycle into town if you want, we're beside a nice Marina and a beach, and it's quiet and colloquial here. Just what I want.

I've spent this morning trying to register a domain name, doing laundry, and painting the hall. That's not too shabby, is it? This evening I shall go to Magasin, the big department store at Kongens Nytorv, and fantasise about all the household items I would purchase if I was a secret millionaire. Nah, really we have to exchange some plates.

First time having tacos. They were disgusting. Bonus: made delicious salsa!

This is what the living room looks like when it's messy.

Beautiful Le Creuset baby is all mine.

'Not as good as Barry's'

Having snacks downstairs in Magasin makes me feel fancy/affluent.

Some market research for my Dad. Don't ask. He works in Eggs.

A plethora of milks

So there you have it, a collection of arbitrary images tenuously linked to my first full week back in Denmark. Next week I'll be back in Ireland for most of it, while I tie up loose ends. Then it's back for painting and maybe setting up a business or two. Oh, and attempting to learn to speak this blasted language.

Vi ses!

January Stuff

What have I even been up to for the last few weeks?

Well, since I got my drivers license, the truth is that I've been driving absolutely everywhere. Parking is terrifying, country lanes at night are not as difficult as I expected, and driving on motorways is exhilerating but a little scary, particularly the on/off ramps.

I've been soaking up the freedom that comes with having access to a car, after this month I won't be able to drive much again, and it'll be back to my bike and the occasional train ride for me. I'm not complaining, I love exercise and free transport, but being behind the wheel of a car makes me feel oddly powerful.

I got myself a new phone, and I've been beyond excited taking pictures of absolutely everything. And I mean everything, every condensated window, ever piece of food, every bunch of flowers.

The weather has admittedly been really strange in Ireland. Daffodils are peeking their heads out, which is terrible news for them. It's been an incredibly mild winter thus far, but everyone knows we get an unexpected cold snap in February/March, usually with snow, so I think those poor daffodils will die of shock before they ever come to bloom.

These few weeks, amongst other things, I have driven about a thousand miles, gone to IKEA for meatballs and (almost) free fika, gotten celebratory flowers, Interned, jogged, worked on my core (!), looked after my ailing cat, written lots of notes for future reference (oils, herbs, metric-US conversion, next week I begin accounting/book keeping), and read 6/7 Harry Potter books. Maybe that deserves a whole post of its own.

Man, when I go back to working full time I just don't know how I'll fit in all the exercise, self-care and independent learning I've been indulging in ;)

Here's a few pictures of the last couple of weeks, courtesy of my Instagram page.

Tonight, I'm off to a 25th birthday extrordinaire featuring 2 hours of karaoke followed by endless dancing. Driving in the city on a Saturday night will be an interesting experience. Stay classy Peeps!

Drivin' Drivin' Drivin'

I have something oh so very, very exciting to share; after two failed attempts, I have passed my driving test! I celebrated by driving, a lot. IN FACT I'M DRIVING RIGHT NOW. Ok, that's a lie, but I have been driving all over the place. I drove on my very own for the first time last night. Driving in the dark is kind of scary, but I like to jump in head first, so I just went for it. This morning it was -1 and frosty, but I also just went for it. I am going to make my friends spend some time this weekend teaching me how to park skilfully, and then my arsenal of driving skills will be complete.

At long long, long last I have accomplished what I set out for Ireland to achieve, so at the end of this month (the 31st exactly, in fact), I am heading back to Copenhagen. It just so happens that the very next day Leo and I are moving into a brand new shiny apartment. I'm so excited, I just can't even tell you.Ticking things off the list feels so good. Being able to drive anywhere on your own is one of the most liberating things I've ever experienced. I can't wait to rent a car and go to the countryside some day (I cycle everywhere, no need to own a car, but it's a priceless skill to have).

Now, to make the most of the next two weeks by driving as much as is humanely possible. I hope to go far and wide in this silly little car of my mom's.

*toot toot*

Apples and Atoms

I decided to take a walk around Trinity College Dublin, my alma mater, when I had some time to kill during the week. I felt a burn of nostalgia, the certainty and deliberation of my time in college was such a comfort blanket. It's quite terrifying at times being out there on your own, with no buffer for the 'so, what are you doing with yourself?' questions.

I came across this really amazing sculpture sitting beside the cricket pitch, and had to stop for closer inspection. The sculpture celebrates the life of Ernest Walton, who was the first person to split the atom. That's quite the feather to add to your bow, don't you think?

Here's an excerpt from the Wikipedia page:

Walton and John Cockcroft were recipients of the 1951 Nobel Prize in Physics for their "work on the transmutation of the atomic nuclei by artificially accelerated atomic particles" (popularly known as splitting the atom). They are credited with being the first to disintegrate the lithium nucleus by bombardment with accelerated protons (or hydrogen nuclei) and identifying helium nuclei in the products in 1930. More generally, they had built an apparatus which showed that nuclei of various lightweight elements (such as lithium) could be split by fast-moving protons.

That is pretty incredible, and I'm so proud that, even though I studied Humanities and had nothing whatsoever to do with the science dept., this was done by someone who attended my University. Call it too much reading His Dark Materials over the last few years, but I am fairly wistful that I didn't study science at college. Some day, maybe.

Eat Well, Live Well

Happy 2013. I hope everyone had a good start to the new year.

I'm just so excited about my breakfast this morning that I had to share. An avocade, a ripe tomato, a clementine, Jersey milk and coffe, brie and real butter. These are the things that happiness and serotonin are made of.

When Your Cat Dies

My cat, Napoleon, was a part of my life for about 12 wonderful years. He slept on my pillow, stole my food right off the plate when I turned away, listened to my teenage angst and bellyaching without ever complaining. Basically, what I'm trying to say is that we had a mutual understanding, we were cool. If you're not a cat person, you might scoff at the idea that someone can love their cat, see them as a member of the family. You might wonder why a person would take the time to get to know a cat. To learn their personality, tolerate their moods and clean up after them when they make a mess, which, as you will learn, becomes unbelievably frequent the older they get.

The answer is because you love their mix of haughty persistence and cool indifference. You love how your lap is never more desirable to them than when they are completely soaking wet. And how they are basically sarcastic little humans covered with fur that get can into the most incredible mischief, and will show you that creatures you never knew live in your environs, such as bats and voles, taste best when consumed on the rug in the hall, or, shock horror, on your bed. They push your patience to the absolute limit, and they certainly aren't beyond peeing in the shower if the mood takes them.

Having a cat in your home gives you a unique joy. You can't jog on the beach like you can with a dog, and they certainly won't alert you to any intruders, but they bring their own distinctive blend of love and gratitude. This gratitude is especially evident when you give them tuna or liver, or when you scratch the special spot on their back that somehow causes them to start licking their leg. They have the best warm fur smell, and watching them having nightmares, moaning softly, it's hard to believe that they're just animals. Indeed, in that moment of furry perfection, they're so much more than 'just animals'.

Napoleon was very old, and completely deaf by the end. He would meow in long, gutteral moans, day and night. To calm him down you'd have to go right over to him and look him in the eye, or pick him up. He was obsessively determined in his pursuit of snacks, and got sick absolutely everywhere. He left our lives not with blood and organ failure and tears, the usual expectation when our pets get very old and start fading. He just walked out of the house, on the night of the 21st, and we never saw him again. Animals have that instinct to go die alone I suppose, and while I appreciate the sentiment, I'd love to have said my goodbyes, and give him a final home in the kitty graveyard at the side of my house with Tiger and Felix and Panther and Pushkin.  But, as always, he got his own way.

Thanks anyway for everything Napoleon. You were beyond sound.

Napoleon in his twilight years. The last picture I took of him, looking every inch the old man.