When I want to feel special I screw Gunnar.
I was looking for a nice chicken recipe and decided to try tasteline.se, finding this, a "Caribbean curry-scented chicken stew". I have two problems with this.
One, that it's called curry-scented. Anything labeled "scented" is just another way of saying "well, we would make it a x-tasting dish, but you know, somebody might die of overexposure to this (awful) exotic ingredient." That's right. Might burn off your tongue. You might get AIDS.
My second issue with this is what - WHAT. What makes you think that tossing a piece of fruit into a dish makes it Caribbean. OH YOU'RE SO FUCKING CROSS-OVER AREN'T YOU. I ran this by my Caribbean best friend Donna who's well indoctrinated in all that is Caribbean. "Did you know that there's a Caribbean chicken dish with apricots?" I asked. She paused. I could hear her trying to digest this one, tiny seeds and all. "Apricots? No...we don't even have apricots here. They're imported. Why would we put them in a 'local' dish? AAAHAHAHAHA."
Moreover, why would one curry apricots? Vile little furry things. I'm sure that many Caribbean dishes use nasty fruits, I'm just saying that i don't toss an IKEA "Gunnar" armchair into my living room furniture group and call my home Little Stockholm. I throw it in and call in generic space filler.
I also have to mention these courses that have sprung up all around the country. African dance, belly-dancing, pretty much any "exotic" dance you can think of. Common for most of these however, is that they're usually led by some thirty-something year old lady from the darkest corner of Northern Sweden, who, after charter trip to Africa, got involved with a very handsome coconut of a man and having received well - let's just call it "essence", has suddenly developed a generous rash and a burning need to spread the jerky love-making style she experienced, now called "African dance".
Perhaps like this lovely dance instructor (from an Stockholm dance school left unmentioned), who seems to have absorbed more than the mandatory apricot-scented hip-twitch.
I mean, where you get that fro, ho?
I just don't understand anymore.
One, that it's called curry-scented. Anything labeled "scented" is just another way of saying "well, we would make it a x-tasting dish, but you know, somebody might die of overexposure to this (awful) exotic ingredient." That's right. Might burn off your tongue. You might get AIDS.
My second issue with this is what - WHAT. What makes you think that tossing a piece of fruit into a dish makes it Caribbean. OH YOU'RE SO FUCKING CROSS-OVER AREN'T YOU. I ran this by my Caribbean best friend Donna who's well indoctrinated in all that is Caribbean. "Did you know that there's a Caribbean chicken dish with apricots?" I asked. She paused. I could hear her trying to digest this one, tiny seeds and all. "Apricots? No...we don't even have apricots here. They're imported. Why would we put them in a 'local' dish? AAAHAHAHAHA."
Moreover, why would one curry apricots? Vile little furry things. I'm sure that many Caribbean dishes use nasty fruits, I'm just saying that i don't toss an IKEA "Gunnar" armchair into my living room furniture group and call my home Little Stockholm. I throw it in and call in generic space filler.
I also have to mention these courses that have sprung up all around the country. African dance, belly-dancing, pretty much any "exotic" dance you can think of. Common for most of these however, is that they're usually led by some thirty-something year old lady from the darkest corner of Northern Sweden, who, after charter trip to Africa, got involved with a very handsome coconut of a man and having received well - let's just call it "essence", has suddenly developed a generous rash and a burning need to spread the jerky love-making style she experienced, now called "African dance".
Perhaps like this lovely dance instructor (from an Stockholm dance school left unmentioned), who seems to have absorbed more than the mandatory apricot-scented hip-twitch.
I mean, where you get that fro, ho?
I just don't understand anymore.
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