Dinner, easy and semi quick.

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Butter Chicken Comfort Dinner!

This is the way-about for making a delicious Indian comfort food in an electric pressure cooker.  This machine is amazing.  You plug it in, set a time, push a button, and walk away.  That is it. In an hour you have a delicious dinner that was so easy it leaves you guessing at why so many people eat out all the time.

A Marigold style recipe, which is basically a list of ingredients and steps.  How much of everything to add?  Use your intuition, your brain, and most importantly your tongue.  Don’t follow a list of items blinding, taste everything as you go along, and fit the recipe to your desire.

1.5 pounds of chicken thighs, marinated in 1 cup/ two large spoonful of tangy yogurt, a couple squirts of lemon juice, a dash of garam Masala, cumin, turmeric salt, and pepper. Like 2 teaspoons of each. Two cloves of grated garlic and a knob of ginger.

Mix together and marinate at room temperature or overnight.  How long you ask, up to a couple of days, or as quickly as two drinks can allow.  Cooking is about looking forward to the end product, so marinate yourself and get distracted by something inspirational while the chicken does its resting.

We are going to cook the chicken in an electric pressure cooker, which diminishes cooking time so dramatically, that you can take the time for your chicken thighs to tenderize.  You can always opt to braise on the stove, but you are going to added two hours to the process.  If you marinate ahead, or have the whole evening at your leisure, this is definitely an equally viable option.  But if you are like me, and it is already 8 by the time you get back from the store, modern pressure cooking is the way to go for the day.

Two drinks later, or an hour:  Put the chicken and the marinate into the magical machine.  Add a can of crushed tomatoes, a can of coconut milk or cream, 1-2 sweet potatoes, an onion, a large spoonful of nut butter (I prefer cashew, use what you will), and a stick of butter.  Set that timer button for 10 minutes and let the machine do its thing.

Finish with cilantro, and a slash of lime, enjoy thoroughly.

Backwards and Late

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I should be sleeping but I am beyond wide awake right now.

Tomorrow I will once again feel the dreary and the drudge of the day, but that is still a very long few hours away.

It take me until bedtime to wake up, to get the gist of the day, to get in the swing of the hang.

I spend the day in a haze, steering through the fog of the motions, until it is finally time to call it quits.  When I can give my mind peace and solitude, it start the race it pumps the gas, it competes against the unseen assailants of the nights, like a ninja in the darkness the brain races to a start line, the end nowhere in sight.

Some day I will catch on to the rhythm of the living. For now, I follow the drums of the night.

Marigold’s New Silent Voice

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I got a smart phone, like a normal well-adjusted modern adult.  Which, because of the magnets in my fingertips and the inherent evil that my hands automatically spew upon the electrified world,  did take some hassle to unravel at the neighborhood radio- shack- type store.  It’s like the more advanced in technology something is, the more of an effect I have upon the ease of ushering it into my daily stream.  Ask the lady at the electronics store today when she was trying to activate my phone.  No no no there is no way I could activate it myself, I am not that advanced in wired communication.  Seriously the strangest combinations of problems arose for such a simple routine. Yet, after determination, positive attitude, and closed fists, I am an owner of a smart and small device that you can also use to call people.

Because of this handy new tool, Marigold is experiencing a new way to express herself, in a quieter way.

Instagram @MarigoldShutters

Say it like it is

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All this hype around cell phones and people don’t even use them to talk.  When was the last time you had a conversation on the phone?  These pocket computers are so expensive and advanced and supportive of your career, personal and expressional life, why don’t we call it what it really is?   Honestly, it’s hardly a phone.  I mean the reception sucks consistently, plus nobody wants to hear your conversation, (please kept your eyes glued to the tiny pocket screen at all times) why are we still insistent on calling that pager a cell phone?

Beep beep, now who is making fun of the girl walking around with a pager on her belt.

The Pessimistic Pen

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111 posts and still my spelling is showing no signs of improvement.  In fact, it has gotten worse. I still have to struggle through every word, I still get letters mixed up and misaligned.  I thought that all this practice in the exact order of written communication would help my memory, would help jump start the motor to phonetics, but no.  It has made me more confident to make errors, to triple check every word less of a frightful panic.

I never thought I would say this, but thank god for voice typing, I can’t wait until I get enough confidence in technology or under go the demagnetification process for my fingers to tackle this new feat.

I love the written word, but lord does it scare me.

Back to the Future Post

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10/21/2015

I had a post for this day, but apparently the post had gotten deleted by my future self.  I cannot recollect what the contents were, but certainly it was of too extreme importance or too profound to exist in 2015.  It had to be deleted before it saw the light of day, it had to be erased before it was unleashed upon the world at large.  I am sure that the mission to return to this present day was complicated, expensive, and highly secretive.  “Back to the Future,” that awesome movie made in the hey day of my childhood, picked this auspicious day for special reason, but that true explanation I don’t think we will ever know.  There is something mysterious about the 21st of October, 2015.

Apparently Marigold can predict the future, let’s hope she does something spectacular with her vision.  At the very least, we have definite proof of time travel.

The World At Large

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Within this wide world of wondrous possibilities, I get stressed out by all the options.  The limits are not very limiting, the boundaries are arbitrary and the walls are not well guarded.  The lines are not black and white, it is instead a grey representation, perhaps a shadow.  I want to do it all,  beautifully and precisely.  I want to be striking and bold, yet represent a collection of ideas.  I struggle with simplicity, I over complicate everything.  I have high standards, and when they are met I feel average.  Does this desire to be overwhelmingly complete leave me in solitude?

The Stillness of Excitement

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Candles dancing in a rosy room, the fleeting flicker of forming thoughts, electric with a vocal connection, magnetized with the imagination in your eyes.

A dim feeling is deceiving of the powerful moment.  The tough bricks hold soft hearts, the cold beer leads to warm thoughts.  A spicy tongue can cool the hot mind, your gentle voice creates a tropical storm in my mind.

My Ironic Soul

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Dreaming of destruction and pondering chaos

I wrestle with keeping it calm.

Desiring the heat of flame and pursuing the dark fumes

I am a diamond cut snow flake.

There is no peace in the heart,

There is no soft to the touch.

Without you, I am everything.

In the barren winter I find inspiration,

In the vast white ordinary I find my color

In the silent night I hear jazz.

In confusion I draw straight lines

In serenity I create a kingdom of noise.

My comfort is not in the sun, my song is not with the wind.

I dance in the stillness.

My beauty is dark like a moonless night.

My charm is in the blizzard.

My complexity is the simplicity of words.

The Most Ambitious Escape

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Running away from the sunset is not enough.

A simple road that gives a pathway to freedom is not ambitious enough.

To escape the gravity of the oncoming night, we need steel and iron, we need machine might and centrifugal force.

To escape the gravity of the oncoming night, we need structure and dominance, we need concrete weight for the uneven fight.

The modern tools of human’s imagination puts up a bold challenge to nature’s subtle routine.

The modern motif is more firm than the delicate palate of the sunset,

The clamor of the train drowns out the symphonic chorus of the daylight’s departure.

Yet all this might, all this effort to escape,

All this collective determination

 Will never be enough to soften the song of the wind,

To quiet the goodbye of that last spark of daylight,

To diminish the determined circle of the sun.