Pickles n' Tickles by JJ

MY life in Doha can be summed up as a cross between Bree Vanderkamp's and Gabrielle Solis' at the moment. I find myself re-visiting an old hobby of baking like Bree and earning the right to eat the baked goods and sample new restaurants by working out like Gabby, although I do worry like Susan every now and then with the ardent hope of wanting to get back to the corporate world like Lynette. Oh, I miss the Desperate Housewives alright!  Getting back to baking has been therapeutic. I'm once again reminded of why I'd started baking during my teenage years in the first place. There's definitely something relaxing about breaking and beating and throwing things into a chamber of heat. It's a greater joy to see the beaten ingredients rise up to their best an hour later and the best est part is when I'm able to share it with others. Washing up is the only thing I absolutely dread. Right now, my Sri Lankan neighbour is enjoying the perks of living next to a baki

THERE is an old joke about my dad getting my mom todrink rose water when she was pregnant with me so she could birth a child with the coveted rosy fairness. Asians in general associate beauty and perfection with a fair skin. The fairer you are, the prettier. It's an asset. Men look for fair-skinned wives so they could produce beautiful, fair-skinned offsprings.  Upon my birth however, my dad became the butt of the joke while my grandma had the last laugh. She lived on for almost 30 years after that to tell and repeat the story of the rose water recipe. Apparently I was the darkest baby in the baby room with the deepest indentation between the lower lip and chin :)  It's funny how a notion with such frivolous flavour still continues to manipulate the present and future generations on their definition of beauty and self-worth. I can't say it bothers me much because I'm confident in my own chocolate skin. After all beauty is in the eye of the beholder, no?