Thursday, 9 October 2014

Clean Cinnamon Muffin Recipe




Ingredients:

  • 1/2 tablespoon powdered Stevia
  • 1/4 cup vegetable oil
  • 2 eggs
  • 1/2 cup milk
  • 1 teaspoon cinnamon
  • 1 teaspoon ginger
  • 1 teaspoon baking powder
  • 1 1/2 cup whole wheat flour
  • 1 teaspoon vanilla (to taste)
  • sprinkles (optional)

Directions:
  • Preheat oven to 250 degrees, line muffin tins (makes 12 muffins)
  • Stir oil, stevia, eggs, cinnamon, ginger and baking soda.
  • Stir in 1 cup flour, add the milk, then add the rest of the flour.
  • Divide evenly among muffin pans, fill each 1/2 full.
  • Bake for about 10-15 minutes until a toothpick comes out clean.
  • Store in refrigerator. Muffins can be frozen for quick breakfasts!

Eat Pretty, Eat Clean

Honestly, for the past few weeks I've been feeling ugly. Not ugly- different. I've been feeling very very unhealthy and I started to gain weight. I always used to eat whatever I wanted and get away with it. But I suppose, as you grow up it changes. I must say, I'm sick of feeling chubby and bloated after every meal. I'm sick of my hair not growing properly and having zits all around my face. That's why, with the power given to me by all clean eating blogs, I am continuing to eat clean. This summer I started reading Jolene Hart's book "Eat Pretty" and while I was in the UK, I actually did what the book offered. The main idea of the book is:

whatever you eat, you become


This means that the greasy hamburger you ate last night will be the zit on your face tomorrow morning. I'm not saying that I will never eat junk food again but I won't eat it excessively. I'm not that much of a junk food freak anyways but I'm a total foodie. I think of food day and night and I love exploring and savouring new kinds of food. So that's why, in order to do this #cleaneating thing properly, I need to fulfil my cravings.

PS: I just baked some cinnamon goodness (clean muffins) and I will post the recipe ^^


I don't know if anyone reads but if you do, thank you and take care!


MT

Tuesday, 5 August 2014

Random 2 am story: A Bad Year For Wine

A Bad Year For Wine

                  As the ordinary commotion of that very pub in London echoed in his ears, he suddenly realized that he was too tired for this. He wiped the last scotch glass and looked at all the chubby businessmen gulping their Martinis and puffing their huge cigarettes. His eyes passed on the pretty ladies sitting right next to them. They were wearing expensive clothing that lacked a proper fashion sense, which obviously was a sign that they did not actually belong there. He planned his retour in his head. Since the Covent Garden station was still closed and there wasn’t much cash left in his good ole’ Oyster, he thought he’d walk. Only a couple of hours, he told himself, I will be sitting in my sofa away from all this tacky contemporary drama. Oh only if those hours passed quicker! He could hear some footsteps accompanied by the tricky bicycle taxi drivers voice, trying to fool three girls by wanting fifty pounds for a seven pound drive outside when every thought he ever had, every sound he ever heard and every vision he’s ever seen vanished for an instant as he heard the most angelic voice say the words that at least ninety other customers had said to him earlier that night: “Hello.” He forced his body to defreeze and put his tired eyes on her. She had a bewildered smile and her eyebrows were raised, as if she was solving a tricky math question. The little black feather hat on her head she looked as if she just fled a Royal Wedding. Her eyes wandered around the chalkboard menu on the wall as he said with a hesitant voice: “H-Hello, what will it be?” She looked into his eyes and ordered a nice glass of Chardonnay 1985. As he was pouring the wine, she nervously put her fingers dressed up in a black lacey glove up and down the counter. He felt as if his heart could jump right this instant out of his body and run home. He knew, that after this incident his life would never be the same. She gave out a little “Merci.”, after he served his wine. He thought he bothered her enough and returned to wiping glasses. What if he asked? What could possibly happen from only asking? He thought. We could go to the movies or have dinner or just walk by the Thames and talk by the park! We could feed the birds and I’d make a couple of bad jokes, we could take the tube to Notting Hill together and I’d act out the movie and accidentally burn my hand! She’d laugh because she would think I’m funny and oh- what I would give for her to let me love her! I would love her with a love that would be more than love that the seraphs of heaven would get jealous, he thought. He was deeply buried in his thoughts that he couldn’t distinguish the sound of those little heals neatly getting away. When he put his head up, instead of the heavenly face and the glass of wine he was expecting, he just saw one lacey black glove. He quickly took it and rushed to the street. But even in this quite hour of the night, the street was quiescent and empty. He stayed there for what his boss defined as “a bare customers time”. When he got back in, he started to look at the glove. He suddenly noticed an address sewed to the inside of it: 24 Lancaster Road.

He quickly left, without even taking his coat. His heart was beating so fast. He started running towards the direction. After a couple of tourist-like direction demands and five rain showers he found himself in a quartier which had to be right next to Lancaster Road. He saw an old lady walking down the street and approached her. When he asked her the way to building number 24, her eyes widened: “But my dear boy, that building burnt down in 1985!” She didn’t give any details but over his now very blurry mind, he could still hear her mumbling:”Oh what a bad year was it for wine, the pre-harvest stress went on for ages!”



Wednesday, 11 June 2014

I only want what I can't have

Why do we only want what we can't have? I believe that this is my ironically important problem. If I lay my eyes on something I like, I literally can't stop thinking about it until I get it. But that exact moment I get it, I don't want it anymore. The spark, the thrill and the mystery suddenly goes away. It suddenly clicks and I get bored of that same thing that I've been craving for for weeks. What is that secret ingredient to keep the thing as interesting and as tempting as the first day? I haven't found an answer yet, but if I don't: I'll end up dead with 37 cats.