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Ginger and Turmeric Matcha Latte

Inspired by the drink a made when I was under the weather, I started making this latte. Apparently it should be great for your skin as turmeric and ginger are anti inflammatory (less puffiness and wrinkles) and matcha is full of antioxidants. I have to say, it keeps me awake if not glowing and that’s good enough.

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ginger and turmeric matcha latte

Ginger and Turmeric Matcha Latte:

1 1/2 cm fresh ginger

1 1/2 cm fresh turmeric

1 cup almond milk

1/2 tsp matcha

1 tsp honey or agave syrup

  1. Peel Ginger and tumeric, chop and put with milk in a pot. Let it simmer for 10 minutes to infuse the milk.
  2. Strain milk into a blender (I don’t like bits of ginger and tumeric in my latte). Add matcha and honey and blitz until incorporated and foamy. Pour into a glass or cup and enjoy.

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Have you noticed that sometimes bad film are so bad, they are good? Like ‘Plan 9 from Outer Space’ or ‘Psychos in Love’ (my absolute favourite and worth a little cult following).

And then on the other hand you have critically acclaimed films which I cant even force myself watching as they are boring as fart and totally overrated. Let me give ‘for instance’:

  1. ‘English Patient’. WTF?! Tried 3 times to watch it and every time after first 5 minutes wanted to scream and hit my head on the wall. It is too boring, long, self indulgent, snobbish and it seemed like the whole movie was made with one and only thought in mind – to impress the Film Academy. I think it blinded some of the critics as well, but frankly my dear, I wasn’t giving a damn.
  2. ‘Notebook’. What is it with teenage girls and older women with the nature of teenage girls (exaltation, naivety and the longing for the romance) that makes them love this film so much. To me it is a cringe worthy movie, I felt embarrassed for Nick Cassavates as clearly he wasn’t, as he put his name on such a bad film. I wander what his father (a great director with integrity) would say. Again, couldn’t watch it, lasted only 5 minutes, tried to watch the middle of the film, still found it boring.
  3. ‘Eat, Pray, Love’. I am sorry, but if you are rolling your eyes every 3 minutes, you know it is bad. The heroine is self-centred, vain and irritating. How can you understand a women who’s got everything, no big tragedy in her life, suddenly saying she’s sick of herself and going on a break to Europe and then India. News flash love, we are all sick of you. Sick of privileged people like you who don’t know what it means to go hungry for days, not having enough money to buy clothes for their children. Find me one person who wouldn’t love to go around the world to discover themselves. Then to make it even more eye rolling, the heroine hooks up with another boring guy, as she got bored of the first one. I mean, you could do that and still make it sound interesting, but the author of the book must be less intelligent, less interesting and a bad writer because she didn’t make me buy the story. She treated every native in a patronizing way, and who didn’t think of going to India for a bit of enlightenment and self- discovery? Funny though, she didn’t find herself but a Texan. Like the way of fixing yourself is to be with someone. Puhleaaaas…

I could go on and on. Sometimes I shout at TV. I also have got a pet hate for scripts where half the way something is important (like milking cows, because you own a ranch) but in the second part of the film totally forgetting about it, and never mentioning it (because the character’s family spends all days in town court as they fight for something, like piece of land or some shit, but I can’t concentrate as I am shocked no one is left home to milk the cows. WHO IS MILKING THE COWS YOUR LOUSY FARMERS?!)

Rant’s over

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About potatofaces

People who cook always go on about precious memories of childhood food one of their family members cooked, how daddy or nanny taught them the importance of cooking and eating together, and they still remember the comfort food they produced, amazing dishes whipped up by brilliant but humble cooks in their family. Well, let me tell you, it was totally different in my family. My mother’s family – totally useless as cooks, who could survive on bread and butter, cooked once a week a terrible, terrible meal, usually some kind of meat piece with lots of brown sauce. Also, they were never bothered about eating together. That’s maybe why most of them were depressed and suicidal. My mother followed that path and couldn’t really cook, and because I never wanted to eat meat, was warning me that ‘one day I will regret it’. Probably because my mother wasn’t into cooking my sister at the age of 12 took over and started producing amazing dinners and cakes. Well, luckily for me and her we weren’t that genetically doomed because apparently my father’s family were gifted in that compartment. I can only presume it was genes, as my father divorced my mother when my sis and me were little and he strongly believed that he also divorced us. So, we were growing up never having any contact with him and as a result, couldn’t learn how to cook from him. That’s why I believe the love of cooking ( and the ability) was just passed to us genetically. My father, short time before he died, unexpectedly felt an urge to contact us. First he gave my sister a mandolin (that’s another thing I know about him- he played a few instruments). My sister refused to talk to him, he then decided to contact me and wanted to spend some time with me. I didn’t want to, as he was a stranger to me (I was 11 or 12 at the time) but as I was promised I could leave whenever I wanted to, I went to the village he lived in. There I tried his mother’s cooking everyone was raving about. It was simple and amazing, I wish they were as family dedicated as they were at baking, cooking, making pastries, wine, tinctures, you name it. But I ate, drunk, and got bored of strangers who were my family and demanded to be let to go home. One of the last things my father said to me was that I should start learning English because I might need it one day, which I ignored for another 16 years… Because my sister was such a domestic goddess I wasn’t really bothered about cooking. I got hooked properly after my son was born and I wanted him to eat healthy and get everything he needed, especially that it wasn’t his choice to be a vegetarian (yet). And that is how the story begins…

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