Thursday, July 22, 2010

White Horse


A Cree chief had a very beautiful daughter who was sought after by many brave warriors. There were two suitors who led the rivalry for her hand, a Cree chief from Lake Winnipegosis and a Sioux chief from Devil's Lake. The girl herself favored the Cree warrior, and when he brought a beautiful white horse from Mexico as a gift for her father, the man agreed to the marriage.

The Sioux chief was enraged by the rejection of his suit. On the day of the wedding, he gathered a war-party and came thundering across the plains toward the home of the beautiful maiden. The Cree chief tossed his lovely bride on top of the white horse and leapt upon his own gray steed. The couple fled to the west with the rejected Sioux and his war-party on their heels.

The canny Cree chief doubled back several times and the couple hid among the prairie bluffs. For a time, it seemed as if they had lost the Sioux. But once they were on the plains again, the beautiful white horse was visible for miles, and the war party soon found them. A rain of arrows fell upon the fleeing lovers, and the warrior and his bride fell dead from their mounts. At once, the Sioux captured the gray steed, but the white horse evaded them. One man claimed he saw the spirit of the young bride enter into the horse just before it fled from their clutches.

The white horse roamed the prairies for many years following the death of the Cree warrior and his lovely bride. The inhabitants feared to approach the horse, since the spirit of the maiden dwelled within it. Long after its physical body passed away, the soul of the white horse continued to gallop across the plains, and the land where it roamed became known as the White Horse Plain. They say that the soul of the white horse continues to haunt the prairie to this very day.

A statue of the white horse was erected at St. Francois Xavier on the Trans-Canada Highway west of Winnipeg, to remind all who see it of the phantom white horse and the beautiful maiden who once rode it.

The Devil's Hole



When the new priest came to the poor parish, there was no house or church for him. A farmer took him in, while the men built him a small shack in which to live. The priest, a true saint with no false pride, was happy in his new parish. But the people wanted more for their priest, so they decided to build a church. The priest was pleased with their noble idea, but troubled because the work of hauling stone was back-breaking without a horse. One night, the Virgin Mary appeared to the priest and offered him a horse to cart the stone for the church. She told him that the horse would be wearing a sanctified bridle. If anyone took it off, the horse would disappear forever. When the priest awoke from his dream, he heard the sound of a horse pawing the ground outside his door. Running to the window, the priest saw a horse tied to the post by the house. It was a magnificent animal, pitch black in color, tall, sleek and rippling with muscle. It had a wicked gleam in its black eyes. The bridle of which the Virgin Mary had spoken was quite plain. But when he studied it closely, it seemed to glitter in the sunlight, as if its sanctity were being tested at every moment. The priest realized at once that this horse was evil; perhaps even the devil himself! When the workmen arrived to begin hauling stone for the new church, the priest presented them with the horse, but warned them not to remove the bridle. "What is the name of this horse?" one man asked. "I call him Old Nick," the priest said. The men harnessed Old Nick to the cart and put in a regular load of stone. Old Nick went off with that load as if there were nothing in the cart. The priest, who was watching, told them not to worry about Old Nick. He could handle much heavier loads. So they sent someone to fetch a larger cart. This cart they filled with so much stone it resembled a load of hay. The stone was so heavy that the wheels cracked. Old Nick didn't even break a sweat. In the days that followed, the men hauled so much stone that the plans for the church were moved up. One hot day when were drawing stone from the far side of the river, a man unbuckled the horse's bridle so it could take a drink. Well, Old Nick gave one great shake, and was gone like lightning, leaving harness and cart. Old Nick was racing up the road as fast as he could go, when he saw the priest, who was on his way to visit a sick man. As soon as he saw the runaway horse, the priest drew the sign of the cross in the air. Old Nick reared up and threw himself away from the holy symbol. The horse sprang onto a rock overhanging the river. Immediately, there came a thunderous noise and the rock split in two, making a cleft that was six feet wide and that lead to a deep cavern into which Old Nick disappeared. Thereafter, the cavern by the river became known as the Devil's Hole. Any Christian who passed the Devil's Hole would find that his horse went lame or that his wheel broke or that some other misfortune befell him. Animal's avoided the Devil's Hole and any horse that went past trembled and started as if it sensed a terrible presence within. Moans and horrible screams came from the hole at night, and several times a huge black wolf was seen coming out of the cavern with flames spouting out of its mouth. Only when the priest walked passed was the Devil's Hole silent

Coyote and the Columbia


One day, Coyote was walking along. The sun was shining brightly, and Coyote felt very hot.

"I would like a cloud," Coyote said.

So a cloud came and made some shade for Coyote. Coyote was not satisfied.

"I would like more clouds," he said. More clouds came along, and the sky began to look very stormy. But Coyote was still hot.

"How about some rain," said Coyote. The clouds began to sprinkle rain on Coyote.

"More rain," Coyote demanded. The rain became a downpour.

"I would like a creek to put my feet in," said Coyote. So a creek sprang up beside him, and Coyote walked in it to cool off his feet.

"It should be deeper," said Coyote.

The creek became a huge, swirling river. Coyote was swept over and over by the water. Finally, nearly drowned, Coyote was thrown up on the bank far away. When he woke up, the buzzards were watching him, trying to decide if he was dead.

"I'm not dead," Coyote told them, and they flew away.

That is how the Columbia River began.

Ogopogo, the Lake Monster

His mind was full of dark thoughts and the demons spoke to him. His wild eyes and words frightened his people, and he became an outcast, shunned by all. One day in a fury of rage and pain, he attacked old Kan-He-Kan, a local wise man. The demon-possessed man killed the venerable sage on the shores of a beautiful lake near his home, and then ran away, afraid of what the people would do to him when they found out.

But the gods had seen the murder and were angry. They captured the demon-possessed man and transformed him into a terrible serpent as a punishment for the murder of the good Kan-He-Kan. Then the serpent was cast into the lake, condemned forever to remain at the scene of his crime. The people living near the lake called the serpent "N'ha-A-Itk" or Lake Demon. They would offer sacrifices to it before traveling upon its waters. But the offerings did not always appease the monster. Many times, a fierce storm would fall upon the lake and N'ha-a-itk would rise from the roiling waters to claim a life. Once a man who was watering his horse at the lake saw the monster rise up from the depths and pull the poor animal under. And so the curse of N'ha-a-itk continued to plague the residents of the lake.

Then the white man came, and they scorned the tale of the Lake Demon. They began taking timber from the land nearby, and floating the logs down to Lake Okanagan. One evening, as a local man worked on the raft of newly-sawn logs, he chanced to look up and saw a long serpent with a horse shaped head and a green, undulating body. It raised its head out of the water and stared deeply into the man's eyes. The man started shaking from head to toe and scrambled backwards toward shore. The demonic eyes of the giant creature gleamed with malevolence, and he scrambled up the bank and ran for his life.

Not long after, a resident set off in a canoe with his horses roped behind, leading them across the lake. Suddenly, the horses began screaming and thrashing in the water, and then disappeared underneath the waves. The canoe tipped backwards, and the man desperately pulled his knife and cut the ropes just in time to save himself from being dragged into the murky depths. The horses were never seen again.

Thus was N'ha-A-Itk first encountered by the white man at Lake Okanagan. The monster was seen many times through the years. Often, it appeared like a long tree trunk or a floating log, but it would move against the current. Swimmers vanished, boats were attacked, and sometimes the monster would rise up from the waters and grab birds from mid-air.

In 1942, the monster came and was rechristened "Ogopogo" after a line in an old song. It has been seen many times, and continues to haunt the waters of Lake Okanagan to this day.

Rainbow Crow

It was so cold. Snow fell constantly, and ice formed over all the waters. The animals had never seen snow before. At first, it was a novelty, something to play in. But the cold increased tenfold, and they began to worry. The little animals were being buried in the snow drifts and the larger animals could hardly walk because the snow was so deep. Soon, all would perish if something were not done. "We must send a messenger to Kijiamuh Ka'ong, the Creator Who Creates By Thinking What Will Be," said Wise Owl. "We must ask him to think the world warm again so that Spirit Snow will leave us in peace." The animals were pleased with this plan. They began to debate among themselves, trying to decide who to send up to the Creator. Wise Owl could not see well during the daylight, so he could not go. Coyote was easily distracted and like playing tricks, so he could not be trusted. Turtle was steady and stable, but he crawled too slowly. Finally, Rainbow Crow, the most beautiful of all the birds with shimmering feathers of rainbow hues and an enchanting singing voice, was chosen to go to Kijiamuh Ka'ong. It was an arduous journey, three days up and up into the heavens, passed the trees and clouds, beyond the sun and the moon, and even above all the stars. He was buffeted by winds and had no place to rest, but he carried bravely on until he reached Heaven. When Rainbow Crow reached the Holy Place, he called out to the Creator, but received no answer. The Creator was too busy thinking up what would be to notice even the most beautiful of birds. So Rainbow Crow began to sing his most beautiful song. The Creator was drawn from his thoughts by the lovely sound, and came to see which bird was making it. He greeted Rainbow Crow kindly and asked what gift he could give the noble bird in exchange for his song. Rainbow Crow asked the Creator to un-think the snow, so that the animals of Earth would not be buried and freeze to death. But the Creator told Rainbow Crow that the snow and the ice had spirits of their own and could not be destroyed. "What shall we do then?" asked the Rainbow Crow. "We will all freeze or smother under the snow." "You will not freeze," the Creator reassured him, "For I will think of Fire, something that will warm all creatures during the cold times." The Creator stuck a stick into the blazing hot sun. The end blazed with a bright, glowing fire which burned brightly and gave off heat. "This is Fire," he told Rainbow Crow, handing him the cool end of the stick. "You must hurry to Earth as fast as you can fly before the stick burns up." Rainbow Crow nodded his thanks to the Creator and flew as fast as he could go. It was a three-day trip to Heaven, and he was worried that the Fire would burn out before he reached the Earth. The stick was large and heavy, but the fire kept Rainbow Crow warm as he descended from Heaven down to the bright path of the stars. Then the Fire grew hot as it came closer to Rainbow Crows feathers. As he flew passed the Sun, his tail caught on fire, turning the shimmering beautiful feathers black. By the time he flew passed the Moon, his whole body was black with soot from the hot Fire. When he plunged into the Sky and flew through the clouds, the smoke got into his throat, strangling his beautiful singing voice. By the time Rainbow Crow landed among the freezing-cold animals of Earth, he was black as tar and could only Caw instead of sing. He delivered the fire to the animals, and they melted the snow and warmed themselves, rescuing the littlest animals from the snow drifts where they lay buried. It was a time of rejoicing, for Tindeh - Fire - had come to Earth. But Rainbow Crow sat apart, saddened by his dull, ugly feathers and his rasping voice. Then he felt the touch of wind on his face. He looked up and saw the Creator Who Creates By Thinking What Will Be walking toward him. "Do not be sad, Rainbow Crow," the Creator said. "All animals will honor you for the sacrifice you made for them. And when the people come, they will not hunt you, for I have made your flesh taste of smoke so that it is no good to eat and your black feathers and hoarse voice will prevent man from putting you into a cage to sing for him. You will be free." Then the Creator pointed to Rainbow Crow's black feathers. Before his eyes, Rainbow Crow saw the dull feathers become shiny and inside each one, he could see all the colors of the rainbow. "This will remind everyone who sees you of the service you have been to your people," he said, "and the sacrifice you made that saved them all." And so shall it ever be

peter's pen's

"Oh pooh," said Mrs. Polly Peters to her pet parrot Petey. "Where did I put that pen?"

"Petey's pens," said Petey Peters, bobbing his green head up and down inside his cage.

Mrs. Peters started looking for her pen. She crept under the desk, until only her pink penny-loafers were showing.

"The pen is not under here!" she said. When Mrs. Peters crawled back out, she was all dusty.

Next, Mrs. Peters crawled around the pink rug, looking for her pen. Her nose was close to the floor, because she had forgotten to put on her glasses. She looked like a pink-and-purple puppy dog.

Petey bobbed up and down excitedly in his cage. He wanted to play the new game too.

Mrs. Peters looked inside all the flowerpots on the windowsill. But she still could not find her pen.

"I have misplaced four pens this past week," Mrs. Peters said with a frown. "This is a most maddening mystery."

Mrs. Peters was a poet. She wrote poems for Petunia Press. She used her pink and purple pens every day. Mrs. Peters had no pink and purple pens left, so she put on her hat and went to Patsy's Odds 'N Ends to purchase some pens.

Mrs. Peters told Patsy her problem. Patsy sold Mrs. Peters a purple pen holder in which to put her pens.

"This will put an end to misplaced pens," said Mrs. Peters.

Mrs. Peters placed the purple pen holder on her desk and put her pink and purple pens inside it. The next morning, they were gone!

"This is perfectly preposterous!" cried Mrs. Peters.

Petey Peters peered out of his cage.

"Petey's pens," Petey remarked, blinking his brown eyes at her.

"Petey Peters," said Mrs. Peters. "Someone is stealing my pens."

"Petey's pens," agreed Petey Peters, bobbing his green head up and down.

"We must catch the thief," Mrs. Peters exclaimed.

Mrs. Peters went to Patsy's to buy more pink and purple pens. She also purchased a Polaroid camera. When Mrs. Peters got home, she placed the pink and purple pens inside the purple pen holder. Then, she covered Petey Peters' cage with a pink and purple polka-dotted cover and put herself to bed.

At midnight, Mrs. Peters snuck out of bed with her newly purchased Polaroid. She perched on a purple cushion in the doorway.

Soon, Mrs. Peters heard a plink. Then Mrs. Peter's heard a flapping sound and a thump. "I caught you red handed!" shouted Mrs. Peters, snapping a picture on her Polaroid. There came a clatter, a flapping sound, and another plink.

Mrs. Peters turned on the light. A purple pen lay on the floor! The pink and purple polka-dotted cover on Petey's cage was crooked. A pair of brown eyes peered out at her.

Mrs. Peters watched the Polaroid picture develop. Soon she saw Petey Peters, her pet parrot, pulling a purple pen out of the purple pen holder!

"Petey Peters have you been taking my pens?"demanded Mrs. Peters, pulling the pink and purple polka-dotted cover off of his cage.

Petey peered out at her.

"Petey's pens."

Mrs. Peters pulled up the papers from the bottom of Petey's cage. Underneath the papers, she found all of her pink and purple pens! Mrs. Peters was pretty peeved with Petey. She purchased a new cage with a door that Petey could not open. Then Mrs.Peters took away all of Petey's pens.

Except for one purple and pink striped pen.

Now, whenever Mrs. Polly Peters takes out her pink and purple pens to write poems for Petunia Press, Petey Peters pulls out his favorite pen so he can play too.

mother and son

After 21 years of marriage, my wife wanted me to take another woman out to dinner and a movie. She said, 'I love you, but I know this other woman loves you and would Love to spend some time with you.'

The other woman that my wife wanted me to visit was my Mother, who has been a widow for 19 years, but the demands of my work and my three children had made it possible to visit her only occasionally.

That night I called to invite her to go out for dinner and a movie. 'What's wrong, are you well,' she asked?

My mother is the type of woman who suspects that a late night call or a surprise invitation is a sign of bad news. 'I thought that it would be pleasant to spend some time with you,' I responded 'just the two of us.' She thought about it for a moment, and then said,'I would like that very much.'That Friday after work, as I drove over to pick her up I was a bit nervous. When I arrived at her house, I noticed that she, too, seemed to be nervous about our date. She waited in the door with her coat on.

She had curled her hair and was wearing the dress that she had worn to celebrate her last wedding anniversary. She smiled from a face that was as radiant as an angel's.

'I told my friends that I was going to go out with my son, and they were impressed,' she said, as she got into the car.. 'They can't wait to hear about our meeting.' We went to a restaurant that, although not elegant, was very nice and cozy. My mother took my arm as if she were the First Lady. After we sat down, I had to read the menu.

Her eyes could only read large print. Half-way through the entrees, I lifted my eyes and saw Mother sitting there staring at me. A nostalgic smile was on her lips..'

It was I who used to have to read the menu when you were small,' she said. 'Then it's time that you relax and let me return the favor,' I responded. During the dinner , we had an agreeable conversation nothing extraordinary but catching up on recent events of each other's life. We talked so much that we missed the movie. As we arrived at her house later, she said, 'I'll go out with you again, but only if you let me invite you.' I agreed.

'How was your dinner date?' asked my wife when I got home. 'Very nice, much more so than I could have imagined,' I answered.

A few days later, my mother died of a massive heart attack. It happened so suddenly that I didn't have a chance to do anything for her. Sometime later, I received an envelope with a copy of a restaurant receipt from the same place Mother and I had dined.

An attached note said: 'I paid this bill in advance. I wasn't sure that I could be there; but, nevertheless, I paid for two plates - one for you and the other for your wife. You will never know what that night meant for me.

'I love you, son'

Ants climbing a tree

Where there’s a problem, there’s an opportunity, as someone said to me recently. What a delightful little motto that is. I’m all for the power of positive thinking. I’ll spare you the gruesome tedium of reading about my struggles because everyone has enough of their own and really, it won’t do much for your no-doubt gleeful outlook on life. I will deliver all the information you need to receive in just one word: SKINT. Attractive fodder options for me right now are cheap or ideally, free. Frugal cooking skills are being tested. I’ve stopped thinking of foraging as some kind of romantic middle class pursuit and started approaching it in a more desperate, means of survival kind of way. Which is why I’ve been picking ants off trees and using them as a meat substitute.

Obviously I’m joking. For now. ‘Ants climbing a tree’ is the name of a popular Sichuan dish; no insects required. The crumbs of minced pork are said to look like ants climbing up the lengths of mung bean thread noodles; a typically brilliant Chinese moniker for a bowl of spicy chow.

Hands on hips, I stood and assessed the contents of an over-stuffed cupboard. Foraging starts at home and all that. The noodles were a gift from a mate and therefore free. The seasonings (chilli bean paste, soy, chilli oil, garlic etc.), all in house already and so just like the NHS, free at the point of usage. Chicken stock and pork mince were similarly extricated from the back of the freezer; the only ingredients bought on the day were the (essential) spring onions. Result.

Well, almost. The noodles were not mung bean but in the spirit of frugality I subbed them in; a bit of a mistake as they were super-glutinous with a tendency to clump. Not unpleasant but my ants were more gangs hiding in bushes than climbing up trees. The dish is typically Sichuan: boisterous with hot bean paste; salty and aromatic. I couldn’t resist adding a little funky Tianjin preserved vegetable too.

A soft opening then to a challenge which can only get harder as stocks dwindle. I must not cave to the obvious parsimonious choices: baked spuds or beans for example; even worse – together. I can live on very little money, just as long as I don’t get hit where it really hurts. Food is the most primitive of all comforts, as someone or other once said. There’s a big difference between choosing to eat an omelette every so often and actually having to eat one. This is the cusp of a period of culinary creativity at its most stretching; it’s one thing to dream up a dish when you’ve got any ingredient you wish at your disposal, quite another when options are limited. I won’t be shedding any tears over memories of rib-eye steaks or fine wines though. Like I said, no problem, but an opportunity.

Ants Climbing A Tree (this recipe is from Sunflower’s website, which is really reliable. I only made a couple of adjustments, which were to add some preserved vegetable as I am very fond of it and to omit the celery).

200g mung bean/dried glass noodles
2 tablespoons oil
3 cloves chopped garlic
2 tablespoons chilli bean sauce/paste
300g minced pork
1 tablespoon light soy
1-2 teaspoons sugar
1 tablespoon Tianjin preserved vegetable, rinsed and chopped
1 chilli, chopped
1-2 teaspoons chilli oil
300ml chicken stock (or vegetable)
2 spring onions, for garnish
Extra chopped chilli, for garnish

Soak the noodles in warm water for about 15 minutes, with their strings on. Then drain, remove the strings and cut into shorter lengths.

Heat the oil in a pan then add the garlic, ginger and preserved vegetable if using for about 15 seconds then the chilli bean paste until fragrant. Add the pork mince and cook until brown, breaking it up into small pieces with a spoon as you stir and cook it. Add the soy, sugar and chilli (if using), followed by the noodles and stock. Let cook until the noodles have absorbed all the stock.

Garnish with spring onions, extra chilli and chilli oil.

Recreating The Bobcat Burger (Hamburger America!)

It used to be the case that I was in the minority; my obsession with burgers and their buns has been a long time raging. Now every London blogger, their partner, pet and best mate seems to be fixated on them. My main issue was always the bun, which was what led me to arrange The Great Bun Tasting and to make several batches of these. They are pretty much the ideal bun – a slightly sweet brioche with a structure that is light yet robust enough to last without turning to mush.

The problem with burgers in London is that decent ones are so few and far between that when we do actually find one, everyone gets worked up to the extent that the hype exceeds reality. It’s like playing a favourite song to death; it becomes so familiar that you almost have to try harder to enjoy it. The Hawksmoor burger is a perfect example.

In America though, they do things differently; we are teased with stories of delicious burgers on every other block. The interesting thing though is that while they are generally regarded with appropriate respect, most seem completely unpretentious. Fast food; high quality; grabbed and gobbled. American burgers is a subject I spend quite a bit of time reading about but sadly, I’ve not yet had a chance to visit for real. My excitement at discovering The Meatwagon then, in an industrial estate on my very own home turf of Peckham, was off the scale and then some. It was there that I tasted my first Bobcat Burger; I’ve craved another ever since. My love affair with Hamburger America had begun.

Then I got my hands on this book by George Motz and, as if that wasn’t good enough, it came with a DVD which is, quite simply, brilliant. Motz basically journeyed across America in search of the best burger joints (100 made the final cut) and the result is a charming record of the daily lives of each joint, the history, the customers and of course, the burgers – some of which are simply outrageous.

The film opens for example with ‘Dyer’s Restaurant’ where, “it’s all about the grease” – deep fried burgers. Super thin patties are plunged into NINETY ONE YEAR OLD oil until cooked and then lifted out and squeezed, an oleaginous waterfall gushing forth. The grease is apparently ‘strained and processed’ every day but seriously, that fat has never been changed. Dyer’s consider this their selling point though and when they moved premises, the oil moved to the new location accompanied by a police escort and TV crew. Not joking.

Twenty minutes in and I was worried; a steamed burger with steamed cheese came next, followed by the peanut butter burger and then the plain old butter burger, which in case you are wondering is simply piled, piled with what I would estimate to be at least 5 or 6 tablespoons of butter. Amongst the extreme though there are the sublime and by the end of the film I was salivating.

The Bobcat Bite (New Mexico) is owned by John and Bonnie Eckre (above), who are very proud of their Green Chilli Cheeseburger. People actually come in coachloads to visit the place and often end up with a lengthy wait due to the limited seating capacity; Bonnie describes how customers have been known to wait for an hour outside without a grumble. The burgers are worth it.

The Bobcat is this: prime beef topped with chillies fried in butter; sinful juices seep through the meat. Cheese is then melted on top of the chillies, sealing the spicy layer. A sprinkle of their ‘famous’ tangy slaw provides crunch and contrast. When I found the recipe for Bobcat slaw in Hamburger America there was no stopping me; I made buns, the slaw and some patties from ground beef shoulder. Mild Turkish chillies were fried in butter, piled high and sealed with a cheesy vacuum. That cat was finally mine.

Some burger recommendations that will come as no surprise: if you live in London and you are not suffering from burger fatigue, I recommend you visit The Meat Wagon. It goes without saying that Hamburger America should also go on the wish list. While you are waiting for those things to happen, why not try the recipe/s below and inject a little New Mexican love into your boiger? It’s a taste sensation and no mistakin’.

Bobcat Burgers (from Bobcat Bite, New Mexico)

Ground beef shoulder, for making the patties, or ground beef of your choice. You want a good bit of fat in there basically. I wanted to experiment with a mixture of cuts but didn’t have time
Mild green chillies (or hot, up to you), sliced
Butter and a touch of oil, for frying
Cheese slice of your choice

I use this recipe for the buns – it’s the best I’ve come across

Bobcat Bite Slaw (from Hamburger America)
This is a half quantity. Double this apparently keeps the Bobcat Bite going for 1 day. It is best the day after it has been made.

1 small head white cabbage, core removed and finely shredded
1/2 large green bell pepper, grated
110g caster sugar (yep, really)
235ml white vinegar (trust me)
60ml flavourless oil, such as groundnut
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 teaspoon celery seeds
1 tablespoon mustard

Mix it all together. Keep in the fridge and give it a good stir before serving.

Assembly

Toast your buns. Gently fry your chillies in a healthy amount of butter (20g or so) and begin frying your burgers. I use a cast iron pan for this – if you have a proper hot plate then use that – I am jealous. When you flip the burger, it’s time to put those chillies on followed by the cheese. Once the cheese has melted you are good to go. Get that burger in that bun. Top with slaw (and anything else you fancy) and serve.

Thai Prawn & Pineapple Curry

July 9th, 2009 — 10:51am

Sometimes, somehow, I manage to forget to eat a whole cuisine for months on end. Then a moment of realisation and craving comes on, like today, when I saw the pineapple sat splendidly spiky and proud next to the fruit bowl and thought, I want to eat that with prawns…in a curry…and make it Thai.

I resolved to mission it down to Peckham’s Asian supermarket after work no matter what, although I wasn’t quite prepared for the apocalyptic weather conditions that I would find myself braving. At first, the rain was fairly heavy, but I just pushed on through with soaked trousers, wet and grimy London-flip-flop-feet and the hair do of a drowned rat. And then…whoa! We have the most incredible thunderstorm. It was completely exhilarating. At first. And then, well, I had to seek shelter. The thunder was spectacular, deafening, so loud it sounded like something had struck the ground – it raised screams from ladies in the street (myself included).

I scurried under the nearest shop awning and once I’d shaken myself off and got my bearings I became aware of the sick beats pumping from the shop behind me and turned to see people dancing within. Talk about a feel good moment. This is why I love Peckham – it’s so alive. The longer I live here, the more proud I am to call it my home.

When the rain eased off I dashed for the supermarket and made it, just in time. Little did I know I would be stranded again for the next half an hour, huddling into a pile of durian for shelter and cursing my Iphone camera for not capturing the awesomeness of the plummeting hail. I got soaked to the skin for this curry so I’m pleased to say it was worth it. I used this recipe (link to the curry paste is included), which is perfectly balanced – spicy, salty, sweet and sour with deep and complex flavours. It is perfumed and fragrant and Chris rather eloquently remarked he thought he might ‘drown in his own saliva’. That was a compliment. The rain eased off just long enough for me to nip outside and take these pictures and then we curled up on the sofa, windows thrown open for dramatic effect, slurping at our two big bowls of sunshine.

Char-grilled baby octopus salad

It’s probably wrong to eat baby octopus isn’t it? I haven’t looked it up because I may not like what I find. I mean, they’re all small or whatever and we all know that’s supposed to be wrong. Tasty though, perfect for BBQ’s and CHEAP: £1.99 for a bag of 25 odd (frozen) from the Asian supermarket. Billy bargain. We skewered and char-grilled them on the BBQ.

I thought they deserved a good send off, so I lay them to rest on a comfortable Thai-style bedding of shredded things: practically seedless baby cucumbers, spring onions and herbs dressed with plenty of chilli, lime and fish sauce. I wondered if the sweetness of a seriously ripe mango might be pushing things but the flavour worked even though the texture wasn’t perfect.

There is something quite challenging about eating octopus. I remember well the fear I faced when tackling my first, full-size beasty; he also arrived frozen and went from mysterious, solid and portable to formless and slippery as hell. After I’d manned up though, all I had were thoughts of bite-size chunks scattered amongst just-cooked potatoes dusted with paprika and parsley and slugged with good olive oil. Oh I want it again.

Small octopus are a good starting point if you’re squeamish about these things. Our neighbour stuck his head over the balcony to take a look while we were cooking them and he seemed quite interested; I’ve only ever seen the man grill a sausage or burger. He let himself down shortly afterwards with the admission that he uses a gas BBQ. We berated him appropriately and moved on.

You want to cook your octopus fast so get the BBQ very hot – the coals need to be white before you start grilling. It helps with tentacles (be it squid or octopus) to try and drape them across the grill to stop them falling between the rungs and burning. A few minutes each side will do it. The resulting flesh should be tender, the tentacles lightly charred.

Someone once told me that it’s wrong to eat octopus because they are intelligent, as animals go. I’m not sure how that even makes any sense but I believe I answered the argument with one word: pig. Surely swine are a case for us to favour eating beasts with more intellectual capacity? I bet a dolphin would taste amazing. Not right though is it. I’m also not a fan of brains – the equivalent of eating the whole of an animals’ intelligence in one fell swoop. The creamy texture weirds me out. This argument is going nowhere but I am clear on one point: I couldn’t give a flying cephalopod’s arse how the octopus would score on the WAIS-R, fact is they make damn good eating.

Char-grilled baby octopus salad
(The octopuses need a bit of time in the marinade (a few hours) so bear this in mind).

Approximately 25 baby octopuses. You are most likely to find these frozen in Asian supermarkets but if you can’t, just substitute with squid or full size octopus. Defrost them thoroughly before using.
4 baby cucumbers or 1 full-size large cucumber, de-seeded and cut into thin strips
1 handful mint leaves, shredded
1 handful coriander leaves, picked from the stalks and left whole
1 large mango, cut into strips. I find the easiest way to do this is to cut around the stone so you have two cheesk (or use a totally unnecessary but brilliant ‘mango stoner‘ to get the same effect. Then score the cheeks into strips before cutting underneath away from the skin.
4 large or 6 small spring onions, cut into strips. You can make them curly if you are having people over or feeling enthusiastic like I was by plunging them into iced water for 20 minutes or so.
1/2 iceberg lettuce, finely shredded

For the marinade/dressing

1 mild red chilli, finely diced
Juice of 1-2 limes
2 tablespoons fish sauce
2 cloves garlic, chopped
1 teaspoon sugar
5 limes leaves, shredded (optional)
1 smallish (3cm square) cube ginger, peeled and chopped

1 tablespoon oil, for cooking the octopus

Begin by making the marinade/dressing. (I make my dressings using a pestle and mortar but if you don’t have one then use a small blender or just crush your non-liquid ingredients then shake everything up in an empty jam jar). Pound your garlic and ginger with the merest pinch of salt (fish sauce is salty) until they resemble a paste. Add the lime juice, fish sauce, sugar, lime leaves and chilli and mix well. Taste and adjust the lime juice, fish sauce and sugar as you see fit.

Use a third of this mixture to marinade the octopus, plus the tablespoon of oil. Rub it all over them and refrigerate for about 3-4 hours.

Light the BBQ about 30 minutes before you’re ready to cook them. When you’re ready thread them onto skewers (soaked in cold water for an hour if they are wooden) and grill for a few minutes each side until tender and slightly charred.

Mix the lettuce, spring onions, mango, herbs and cucumber together in a bowl and dress them with another third of the dressing. Arrange on a plate then scatter the octopus on top and drizzle the remaining third of the dressing over the top

Grilled aubergines with yoghurt-tahini sauce

Nearing the end of The Big Lunch* cook-off, we found ourselves flagging; we’d been cooking for 10 hours straight, only pausing to open the odd beer. There were plans for an aubergine galette and I’d toyed with the idea of baba ganoush but when it came down to it, a super quick and simple recipe was needed. I’d made this a few weeks earlier; the cool, sesame-laced yoghurt lifts the meaty aubergine into salad territory – perfect for a hot summer’s day.

It disappeared quickly at the lunch, even though I had to skip the tahini, having used it all in the plateful you see above. A garlic-mint-lemon mix worked a treat though, with one guest declaring it “one of the best pieces of aubergine” he’s ever eaten. It’s the kind of dish you bust out at a BBQ; minimal effort, looks pretty and much more interesting than your average salad. You could even grill the slices on the BBQ first for extra smoky flavour.

Grilled aubergines with yoghurt-tahini sauce
Will serve four people as part of a BBQ or with other salads

2 very large aubergines, sliced into 2cm thick slices
500g full-fat Greek yoghurt
3-4 tablespoons tahini paste (or to taste)
1 large clove garlic, crushed
Juice of 1 lemon
A handful of mint leaves, finely chopped
A handful of coriander or parsley leaves (or both) finely chopped
Olive oil, for grilling

Begin my brushing the aubergine slices with oil and seasoning lightly with salt and pepper. Either grill them for 5-10 minutes each side under a hot grill or do the same on a BBQ – they should be golden brown and slightly shrivelled.

While this is happening, mix the yoghurt, tahini, garlic, lemon juice and herbs (reserving a few herbs for garnish) together in a bowl. Season with salt and pepper and adjust any of the ingredients as you see fit (you may like more tahini for example). If you feel the dressing is too sour, I find a pinch of sugar never hurts. Don’t feel guilty.

When the aubergines are ready, arrange them on a plate and drizzle over some of the yoghurt sauce. Scatter with more herbs and add an extra drizzle of olive oil if you fancy it.

Rabindranath Tagore

Rabindranath Tagore

Rabindranath Tagore

My five years' old daughter Mini cannot live without chattering. I really believe that in all her life she has not wasted a minute in silence. Her mother is often vexed at this, and would stop her prattle, but I would not. To see Mini quiet is unnatural, and I cannot bear it long. And so my own talk with her is always lively. One morning, for instance, when I was in the midst of the seventeenth chapter of my new novel, my little Mini stole into the room, and putting her hand into mine, said: "Father! Ramdayal the door-keeper calls a crow a krow! He doesn't know anything, does he?" Before I could explain to her the differences of language in this world, she was embarked on the full tide of another subject. "What do you think, Father? Bhola says there is an elephant in the clouds, blowing water out of his trunk, and that is why it rains!" And then, darting off anew, while I sat still making ready some reply to this last saying, "Father! what relation is Mother to you?"

"My dear little sister in the law!" I murmured involuntarily to myself, but with a grave face contrived to answer: "Go and play with Bhola, Mini! I am busy!"

The window of my room overlooks the road. The child had seated herself at my feet near my table, and was playing softly, drumming on her knees. I was hard at work on my seventeenth chapter, where Protrap Singh, the hero, had just caught Kanchanlata, the heroine, in his arms, and was about to escape with her by the third story window of the castle, when all of a sudden Mini left her play, and ran to the window, crying, "A Cabuliwallah! a Cabuliwallah!" Sure enough in the street below was a Cabuliwallah, passing slowly along. He wore the loose soiled clothing of his people, with a tall turban; there was a bag on his back, and he carried boxes of grapes in his hand.

I cannot tell what were my daughter's feelings at the sight of this man, but she began to call him loudly. "Ah!" I thought, "he will come in, and my seventeenth chapter will never be finished!" At which exact moment the Cabuliwallah turned, and looked up at the child. When she saw this, overcome by terror, she fled to her mother's protection, and disappeared. She had a blind belief that inside the bag, which the big man carried, there were perhaps two or three other children like herself. The pedlar meanwhile entered my doorway, and greeted me with a smiling face.

So precarious was the position of my hero and my heroine, that my first impulse was to stop and buy something, since the man had been called. I made some small purchases, and a conversation began about Abdurrahman, the Russians, she English, and the Frontier Policy.

As he was about to leave, he asked: "And where is the little girl, sir?"

And I, thinking that Mini must get rid of her false fear, had her brought out.

She stood by my chair, and looked at the Cabuliwallah and his bag. He offered her nuts and raisins, but she would not be tempted, and only clung the closer to me, with all her doubts increased.

This was their first meeting.

One morning, however, not many days later, as I was leaving the house, I
was startled to find Mini, seated on a bench near the door, laughing and talking, with the great Cabuliwallah at her feet. In all her life, it appeared; my small daughter had never found so patient a listener, save her father. And already the corner of her little sari was stuffed with almonds and raisins, the gift of her visitor, "Why did you give her those?" I said, and taking out an eight-anna bit, I handed it to him. The man accepted the money without demur, and slipped it into his pocket.

Alas, on my return an hour later, I found the unfortunate coin had made twice its own worth of trouble! For the Cabuliwallah had given it to Mini, and her mother catching sight of the bright round object, had pounced on the child with: "Where did you get that eight-anna bit? "

"The Cabuliwallah gave it me," said Mini cheerfully.

"The Cabuliwallah gave it you!" cried her mother much shocked. "Oh, Mini! how could you take it from him?"

I, entering at the moment, saved her from impending disaster, and proceeded to make my own inquiries.

It was not the first or second time, I found, that the two had met. The Cabuliwallah had overcome the child's first terror by a judicious bribery of nuts and almonds, and the two were now great friends.

They had many quaint jokes, which afforded them much amusement. Seated in front of him, looking down on his gigantic frame in all her tiny dignity, Mini would ripple her face with laughter, and begin: "O Cabuliwallah, Cabuliwallah, what have you got in your bag?"

And he would reply, in the nasal accents of the mountaineer: "An elephant!" Not much cause for merriment, perhaps; but how they both enjoyed the witticism! And for me, this child's talk with a grown-up man had always in it something strangely fascinating.

Then the Cabuliwallah, not to be behindhand, would take his turn: "Well, little one, and when are you going to the father-in-law's house?"

Now most small Bengali maidens have heard long ago about the father-in-law's house; but we, being a little new-fangled, had kept these things from our child, and Mini at this question must have been a trifle bewildered. But she would not show it, and with ready tact replied: "Are you going there?"

Amongst men of the Cabuliwallah's class, however, it is well known that the words father-in-law's house have a double meaning. It is a euphemism for jail, the place where we are well cared for, at no expense to ourselves. In this sense would the sturdy pedlar take my daughter's question. "Ah," he would say, shaking his fist at an invisible policeman, "I will thrash my father-in-law!" Hearing this, and picturing the poor discomfited relative, Mini would go off into peals of laughter, in which her formidable friend would join.

These were autumn mornings, the very time of year when kings of old went forth to conquest; and I, never stirring from my little corner in Calcutta, would let my mind wander over the whole world. At the very name of another country, my heart would go out to it, and at the sight of a foreigner in the streets, I would fall to weaving a network of dreams, --the mountains, the glens, and the forests of his distant home, with his cottage in its setting, and the free and independent life of far-away wilds. Perhaps the scenes of travel conjure themselves up before me, and pass and repass in my imagination all the more vividly, because I lead such a vegetable existence, that a call to travel would fall upon me like a thunderbolt. In the presence of this Cabuliwallah, I was immediately transported to the foot of arid mountain peaks, with narrow little defiles twisting in and out amongst their towering heights. I could see the string of camels bearing the merchandise, and the company of turbaned merchants, carrying some of their queer old firearms, and some of their spears, journeying downward towards the plains. I could see--but at some such point Mini's mother would intervene, imploring me to "beware of that man."

Mini's mother is unfortunately a very timid lady. Whenever she hears a noise in the street, or sees people coming towards the house, she alwaysjumps to the conclusion that they are either thieves, or drunkards, or snakes, or tigers, or malaria or cockroaches, or caterpillars, or an English sailor. Even after all these years of experience, she is not able to overcome her terror. So she was full of doubts about the Cabuliwallah, and used to beg me to keep a watchful eye on him.

I tried to laugh her fear gently away, but then she would turn round on me seriously, and ask me solemn questions.

Were children never kidnapped?

Was it, then, not true that there was slavery in Cabul?

Was it so very absurd that this big man should be able to carry off a tiny child?

I urged that, though not impossible, it was highly improbable. But this was not enough, and her dread persisted. As it was indefinite, however, it did not seem right to forbid the man the house, and the intimacy went on unchecked.

Once a year in the middle of January Rahmun, the Cabuliwallah, was in the habit of returning to his country, and as the time approached he would be very busy, going from house to house collecting his debts. This year, however, he could always find time to come and see Mini. It would have seemed to an outsider that there was some conspiracy between the two, for when he could not come in the morning, he would appear in the evening.

Even to me it was a little startling now and then, in the corner of a dark room, suddenly to surprise this tall, loose-garmented, much bebagged man; but when Mini would run in smiling, with her, "O! Cabuliwallah! Cabuliwallah!" and the two friends, so far apart in age, would subside into their old laughter and their old jokes, I felt reassured.

One morning, a few days before he had made up his mind to go, I was correcting my proof sheets in my study. It was chilly weather. Through the window the rays of the sun touched my feet, and the slight warmth was very welcome. It was almost eight o'clock, and the early pedestrians were returning home, with their heads covered. All at once, I heard an uproar in the street, and, looking out, saw Rahmun being led away bound between two policemen, and behind them a crowd of curious boys. There were blood-stains on the clothes of the Cabuliwallah, and one of the policemen carried a knife. Hurrying out, I stopped them, and enquired what it all meant. Partly from one, partly from another, I gathered that a certain neighbour had owed the pedlar something for a Rampuri shawl, but had falsely denied having bought it, and that in the course of the quarrel, Rahmun had struck him. Now in the heat of his excitement, the prisoner began calling his enemy all sorts of names, when suddenly in a verandah of my house appeared my little Mini, with her usual exclamation: "O Cabuliwallah! Cabuliwallah!" Rahmun's face lighted up as he turned to her. He had no bag under his arm today, so she could not discuss the elephant with him. She at once therefore proceeded to the next question: "Are you going to the father-in-law's house?" Rahmun laughed and said: "Just where I am going, little one!" Then seeing that the reply did not amuse the child, he held up his fettered hands. " Ali," he said, " I would have thrashed that old father-in-law, but my hands are bound!"

On a charge of murderous assault, Rahmun was sentenced to some years' imprisonment.

Time passed away, and he was not remembered. The accustomed work in the accustomed place was ours, and the thought of the once-free mountaineer spending his years in prison seldom or never occurred to us. Even my light-hearted Mini, I am ashamed to say, forgot her old friend. New companions filled her life. As she grew older, she spent more of her time with girls. So much time indeed did she spend with them that she came no more, as she used to do, to her father's room. I was scarcely on speaking terms with her.

Years had passed away. It was once more autumn and we had made arrangements for our Mini's marriage. It was to take place during the Puja Holidays. With Durga returning to Kailas, the light of our home also was to depart to her husband's house, and leave her father's in the shadow.

The morning was bright. After the rains, there was a sense of ablution in the air, and the sun-rays looked like pure gold. So bright were they that they gave a beautiful radiance even to the sordid brick walls of our Calcutta lanes. Since early dawn to-day the wedding-pipes had been sounding, and at each beat my own heart throbbed. The wail of the tune, Bhairavi, seemed to intensify my pain at the approaching separation. My Mini was to be married to-night.

>From early morning noise and bustle had pervaded the house. In the courtyard the canopy had to be slung on its bamboo poles; the chandeliers with their tinkling sound must be hung in each room and verandah. There was no end of hurry and excitement. I was sitting in my study, looking through the accounts, when some one entered, saluting respectfully, and stood before me. It was Rahmun the Cabuliwallah. At first I did not recognise him. He had no bag, nor the long hair, nor the same vigour that he used to have. But he smiled, and I knew him again.

"When did you come, Rahmun?" I asked him.

"Last evening," he said, "I was released from jail."

The words struck harsh upon my ears. I had never before talked with one who had wounded his fellow, and my heart shrank within itself, when I realised this, for I felt that the day would have been better-omened had he not turned up.

"There are ceremonies going on," I said, "and I am busy. Could you perhaps come another day?"

A True Friend

Socrates

In ancient Greece, Socrates was reputed to hold knowledge in high esteem. One day one fellow met the great philosopher and said, "Do you know what I just heard about your friend?". "Hold on a minute," Socrates replied. "Before telling me anything I'd like you to pass a little test. It's called the Triple Filter Test.". "Triple filter?". "That's right," Socrates continued. "Before you talk to me about my friend, it might be a good idea to take a moment and filter what you're going to say. That's why I call it the triple filter test. The first filter is Truth. Have you made absolutely sure that what you are about to tell me is true?" "No," the man said, "actually I just heard about it and...". "All right," said Socrates. "So you don't know if it's true or not. Now let's try the second filter, the filter of Goodness. Is what you are about to tell me about my friend something good?" . "No, on the contrary...". "So," Socrates continued, "you want to tell me something bad about him, but you're not certain it's true. You may still pass the test though, because there's one filter left: the filter of Usefulness. Is what you want to tell me about my friend going to be useful to me?" "No, not really." "Well," concluded Socrates, "if what you want to tell me is neither true nor good nor even useful, why tell it to me at all?"

The Hare With Many Friends

A Hare was very popular with the other animals in the jungle who all claimed to be her friends. One day she heard the hounds approaching her and hoped to escape them by the aid of her Friends. So, she went to the horse, and asked him to carry her away from the hounds on his back. But he declined, stating that he had important work to do for his master. "He felt sure," he said, "that all her other friends would come to her assistance." She then applied to the bull, and hoped that he would repel the hounds with his horns. The bull replied: "I am very sorry, but I have an appointment with a lady; but I feel sure that our friend the goat will do what you want." The goat, however, feared that his back might do her some harm if he took her upon it. The ram, he felt sure, was the proper friend to ask for help. So she went to the ram and told him the case. The ram replied: "Another time, my dear friend. I do not like to interfere on the present occasion, as hounds have been known to eat sheep as well as hares." The Hare then applied, as a last hope, to the calf, who regretted that he was unable to help her, as he did not like to take the responsibility upon himself, as so many older persons than himself had declined the task. By this time the hounds were quite near, and the Hare took to her heels and luckily escaped.

friendship forever

Two inseparable friends, Sam and Jason, met with an accident on their way to Boston City. The following morning, Jason woke up blind and Sam was still unconscious. Dr. Berkeley was standing at his bedside looking at his health chart and medications with a thoughtful expression on his face. When he saw Sam awake, he beamed at him and asked." How are you feeling today Sam?" Sam tried to put up a brave face and smiled back saying, "absolutely wonderful Doctor. I am very grateful for all that you have done for me. "Dr Berkeley was moved at Sam's deed. All that he could say was, "You are a very brave man Sam and God will make it up to you in one way or another". While he was moving on to the next patient, Sam called back at him almost pleading, "promise me you won't tell Jason anything".
"You know I won't do that. Trust me." and walked away.
"Thank you " whispered Sam. He smiled and looked up in prayer " I hope I live up to your ideas...please give me the strength to be able to go through this..Amen"

Months later when Jason had recuperated considerably, he stopped hanging around with Sam. He felt discouraged and embarrassed to spend time with a disabled person like Sam.
Sam was lonely and disheartened ,since he didn't have any body else other than Jason to count on. Things went from bad to worse. And one day Sam died in despair. When Jason was called on his burial, he found a letter waiting for him. Dr Berkeley gave it to him with an expressionless face and said" This is for you Jason. Sam had asked me to give it to you when he was gone".

In the letter he had said: " Dear Jason, I have kept my promise in the end to lend you my eyes if anything had happened to them. Now there is nothing more that I can ask from God, than the fact ,that will see the world through my eyes. You will always be my best friend........Sam".
When he had finished reading Dr. Berkeley said " I had promised Sam to keep his sacrifice he made a secret from you. But now I wish I didn't stick it Because I don't think It was worthy it" .
All that was left for Jason while he stood there was tears of regret and memories of Sam for the rest of his life .

two frogs

A group of frogs were traveling through the woods, and two of them fell into a deep pit. When the other frogs saw how deep the pit was, they told the two frogs that they were as good as dead. The two frogs ignored the comments and tried to jump up out of the pit with all their might. The other frogs kept telling them to stop, that they were as good as dead. Finally, one of the frogs took heed to what the other frogs were saying and gave up. He fell down and died.

The other frog continued to jump as hard as he could. Once again, the crowd of frogs yelled at him to stop the pain and just die. He jumped even harder and finally made it out. When he got out, the other frogs said, "Did you not hear us?" The frog explained to them that he was deaf. He thought they were encouraging him the entire time.

Lessons of the story:

There is power of life and death in the tongue. An encouraging word to someone who is down can lift them up and help them make it through the day. So be careful of what you say. Speak life to those who cross your path. The power of words... it is sometimes hard to understand
that an encouraging word can go such a long way.

It Day2.. more people attend.. but still fit all of us..


firstly.. we having singing performance.. all the way from sandakan.. SALUTE~_~

He sing very nice.. when get interview.. he said "i sing this song everytime when I bath since small"

The TDD


Cosplay Group Photo


Some Cosplayer photo
Vampire knight

Bleach

The Moe Squad ._."


Shuffle profomance by HBK* and HRC*


phew.. time to rest.. walk here walk there.. then suddenly cubex the organizer/president called me to eat KFC!! Thx to our nerdpride sponsor KFC!! Thank You!! I will wait for your pizza next year :) (that what you said in the forum lol)
sorry guys.. have to go.. not much picture for day 2.. i didn't manage to get photo with cosplayer :(
Available promotions:

A) With every purchase of RM100 above in a single receipt, you can have 1 chance to enter our lucky draw for great prizes, as well as 1 Granado Espada Original Soundtrack.

B) Bring your March/April receipt of GE product for redemption of Adelina Booty’s Searches(ABS):
a. 7-11 GE Starter Pack = 20 ABS
b. RM8 Online purchase(with receipt) = 10 ABS
c. RM20 Online purchase(with receipt) = 20 ABS
d. RM50 Online purchase(with receipt) = 30 ABS
e. RM90 Online purchase(with receipt) = 40 ABS
f. RM135 Online purchase(with receipt) = 50 ABS

*Pls note the redemption for ABS is only eligible for March / April receipt only.

PVP Event:

Besides all the special promotions and giveaways, we’ll also be having a PVP Session detail as followed:

Date : 25 April 2008
Time : 8.30pm – further notice
Venue : Sabah K.K, Cyber-X
Prizes : 1st prize - Elite La Ventisca + 500 ABS
2nd prize - Le Blanc of your choice + 300 ABS
3rd prize - Cumulonimbus Shield + 100 ABS

Lucky Draw Prizes:

1 x Elite Plate Mail (L84)
1 x Elite Ring Mail (L84)
1 x Bracelet of Three King
1 x Elite Moonstone Rod
3 x Le Blanc of your choice
1 x Desert Storm
10 x Field Survival Manual (15 Days)
20 x Field Survival Manual (1 Day)

Also for all the new signup on event date will receive 500 G-point as our welcome gift to enter the world of Granado Espada (SEA).

Hope to see everyone to join this event

granado-espada-

RESULT:

this sunday CW is really fun but hard... we WrathOfGod Faction gain 1 more colony again.. which mean get 60% hp colony buff.. this happened because the server system glitch when no one else hit the colony,but we still get it.. what WrathOfGod member did is.. decrease the colony HP only.. Hope Vradical faction can forgive us with this such error..

Vradical faction total lose 4 colony,1 been taken by us and other 3 are taken by GuardOfHonors faction (2),BlackSociety faction (1).. Halycon did lose 1 colony (king garden) and taken by BlackSociety faction.. last 2 week and last week they target halycon faction.. but this week they target vradical faction.. most of us wrong that save at Halycon faction place.. because our faction deputy call us save at halycon place so...

this week CW extra 3 more faction.. i wonder who is them :) .. but according to our faction mate.. they said that 2 more faction is trying to confuse us.. and theirs intention is.. if the other 2 faction win.. so they(GuardOfHonors and BlackSociety faction) will join it so they can participate the faction vs faction event.. they did really work hard for doing this.. they event use soul crystal and hrin potion to war with us.. I salute them!!

WrathOfGod got 55family only :) happy as always..
But why Halycon a lifeless faction that only have 20family online!?

This week CW, Our skypecast has :-
-koros
-Lunn
-Raki (silent mode)
-Calvin
-Malzias
-KageKurenai
-Emelgrande (sexy voice pawned)
-Granotas (ninja mode)