Spoonfuls of Soufflé

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Once during a masterchef competition,  Gordon Ramsey commented to the contestants that there is one dish that  strikes fear in the hearts of professional chefs everywhere....soufflé.  It was in that episode that I learned that in the gastronomic world, making soufflé is no piece of cake (pun intended). Soufflé is not impossible but it is one of the most technical and a successful soufflé requires exact timing and execution. It is the type of thing where you are either gonna "kill it" and create something brilliant. Or you're gonna "murder it" and find yourself walking back to your kitchen with your tail in   between your legs. There is no real in between....your souffle will be delicious or it will be a disaster.

In the writing world we have something very similar. Before I go on, I wanna say that this is only an opinion and other writers and authors are open to debate me on this. But after reading lots of articles, talking with other writers and most of all having written a novel myself, there seems to be a common consensus that writing in 1st person would be equal to making a soufflé.

Spitting Out the Silver Spoon

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During my recent hiatus in Canada, I paid a visit to Starbucks. But unlike most people who entered the store, I wasn't there to purchase a drink.  Instead, I was there to whip up a venti sized cup of gratitude along with 2 pumps of appreciation and a side of extra foamy thankfulness to my very first boss who was the manager there.

This Little Piggie Ended Up at the Supermarket

Last week I talked about trying to save money while living as an expat abroad. To prove to you that I'm not a hypocrite and I practice what I preach, I've decided to show you a pic of what I had for dinner one nite last season in my effort (maybe desperation is a better word) to save money

 Expat life is anything BUT fancy feasts at ritzy restaurants in the Palermo district.  With the Argentine economy experiencing a 20% inflation rate, every peso had become precious. I found what remained of poor old porky with a a 20 peso ($5 CDN) price tag attached to him while strolling through the aisles of Coto.  It was a match made in heaven because I needed to save money and he needed a decent burial. Lucky for him, I had found the perfect place for him to have his last rites and final resting place....at the bottom of my belly.

The answer is NO....it did not taste like chicken.  For those 20 pesos that I coughed up to bring him home, I got two meals out of him, two meals that pretty much consisted of muscles and ligaments. The skin was quite tough and chewy and gave me a great source of gum for the next day or so.

This little piggie ended up at the supermarket.....



@tango2themoon

Dollars and Sense

Image by Manic Street Preacher via Flickr

Sitting in my financial advisors office in Canada, I felt a deep sigh come from within as a put my signature on the dotted line authorizing a withdrawal from my RRSP savings. Great accomplishments don't come without some form of sacrifice.  And sacrifice would be part of what would be needed to make season 3 of my adventures in Argentina happen.