Oh, I didn’t want to cook today. I wanted Pad Thai. Partly because I’m sick and tired and the last thing I want to do after wrassling a Beast into bed is sauté an onion. Partly because I don’t know how to cook any more. Man has been donning the apron since Beast arrived. I can’t even warm up soup properly. Anyway, I prepped some veg while I fed the Beast, all the while hoping that the ’13’ on this can of coconut milk means that it expires this year. Is there a reason that expiry dates have to be so baffling? There should be an international standard, adhered to under penalty of botulism. Or a small fine.
There is also some bourgeois hand peeled shrimp and an old rejected piece of baked potato.
And it tastes absolutely nothing like Papaya Hut.