The Queen of Kitchen Disasters

As much as I love to cook and bake, I'm lazy and I'm horrid at following recipes. Together with my natural capability of clumsiness and inability of handling anything sharp, it's the perfect recipe for ... disasters.

Friday, March 03, 2006

Chinchalok and expiry dates

Ok, Cold Storage didn’t sell me a expired bottle of Chinchalok … and how did I know?

 

I went down to Carrefour last night and bought the same brand again (only one brand of it anyway) and I noted the numbers on the bottle. Same numbers but this time round, on the label, they have a HUGE expiry date marked there. So fine with me, I can only hope this bottle don’t explode on me too.

 

There were a few bottles so I thought I’ll pick a bottle without any of the shrimps pushed to the top. Yes! It didn’t explode on me this time when I was grappling with the bottle.

 

I will reveal tonight what secret project I’ve been working on that required the Chinchalok … keep your eyes peeled!

2 Comments:

At 9:06 AM, May 18, 2006, Blogger ??.A.D. said...

And those, ladies and gentlemen (and dear children, hide your eyes) were the famous last words of our Queen of Kitchen Disasters. The lady with the fateful name's famous last words were, "Yes! It didn't explode on me this time when I was grappling with the bottle. I will reveal tonight what secret project I've been working on that required the Chinchalok...keep your eyes peeled!"

Where is Mr. Popohead? Did he try the Chinchalokiller? Did he just find Mr. Popohead on the kitchen floor, Sinchalok oozing wildly all over the blogging laptop.

I, too, have seen the Chinchalok form its new life outside of the bottle. That's how I found this blog. Perhaps Mr. Popohead saved me before the touch of the tongue. Just now, I had to run to the trash chute in the middle of this call for the fate of the Queen, because the Chinchalomonster was wheezing from the trash can. The rats of the basement have met their maker.

 
At 9:09 AM, May 18, 2006, Blogger ??.A.D. said...

Oh, the shrimps were at the top, alright, Mrs. Popohead; the shrimps were at the top. And they kept rising and rising and rising to the top, didn't they Mrs. Popohead?

 

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