Karen Neuburger

On a recent rampage through some market stalls in Macau, I thought, Let me get some proper pyjamas. I usually wear an old pair of shorts and a loose T-shirt. But I wanted something else. I wanted a matching set – proper pyjamas.

After swaying from this to that, I finally decided on a summer pair sporting the name Karen Neuburger. The pattern was a soft blue – forget-me-nots in three different hues. The thing I was happiest about was that the bottom part was long shorts rather than pants. I wouldn’t have to worry about the length, about tapering them, cutting them, folding them, or tripping over them.

I brought them home, put them in the laundry basket, and a few days later they were washed and dried and ready to wear.

Well, what can I say? Two days ago I went back to the stall. I wanted a second set and was oh-so-disappointed that it was closed! Golden Week in Macau, HK, and China. Sigh. You see, I haven’t washed them again yet… I can’t bear to part with them. I want to wear them every night.

They are quite simply the most comfortable pyjamas I have ever worn. They are loose, the fabric is soft to the touch, and… I have never been so excited over pyjamas in my life.

I was also curious about Karen Neuburger. Who was she? Where did the brand come from? Was she German?

So I typed her name into a search engine, and now I know all about her. Well, quite a bit, anyway.

She’s American, for starters. She was a stay-at-home mom (me too!) who was more comfortable lounging around in her pyjamas than getting dressed. When her husband came home from work one day informing her that they would need a double income once again, she decided she didn’t want to get back into a suit. And then it hit her. Why not sell her pyjamas?

The article I read is not new (2004), and the company was making $100 million a year then. I love it. I love success stories. Especially ones like that.

Here’s a link to the article I read so you can read up about her as well:

http://money.cnn.com/magazines/business2/business2_archive/2004/11/01/8189352/index.htm

The brand’s site: www.karenneuburger.com

Sewame Again

I'm going to become Sewame's unofficial spokesperson. Here are two more products that I tried over the weekend, and I'm ecstatic about the outcome.

Here's the first of the two. It's part of the PXE pore refining series. This one promises "anti-blackhead pore refining cleansing mud". Generally when I read the promises on labels, my heart wants to desperately believe them. I close my eyes as I use the product, fondly imagining that I am some model with flawless skin in a commercial. Then I open my eyes. Unfortunately, promises on labels rarely bear out. But, I'm happy to say, this one is different. I squeezed a bit in the palm of my hand, added water to create a foam, and gently rubbed it in. I was honestly amazed by the result, and I am not one to be easily amazed, nor do I bandy the word around lightly. It's been two days, and when I look in the mirror I think: Wonderful, my pores continue refining. :)
Here's the 2nd related product:

This is PXE's mask. I love the luscious strawberries in the photo. Like the foaming cleanser, it promises "anti-blackhead pore refining". People talk of killing 2 birds with 1 stone, but it seems I am killing 1 bird with 2 stones.
I placed the mask on my face for 15 minutes as per instructions. I think my kids are growing up because they are no longer frightened when they see Mommy with a mask on. :(
The instructions actually said there was no need to rinse the residue off my skin afterwards. I let it dry, but I found the slightly sticky feeling a bit uncomfortable, so I ended up washing it off. The mask was also impressive. The foaming cleanser cleared my pores; the mask seemed to take a layer off my face. It did something. The only way I can describe it is to say that I sported a "clean look".
Two thumbs up to Sewame products, I say. They don't cost an arm and a leg, and they do the work most admirably.

Time for another Marks & Spencer rave

I haven't graduated from culinary school, but all in all I'm not too bad in the kitchen. I'm not trying to boast when I say that I can put out a mean cake, muffins, cookies, etc. Given the choice, I would pick homemade cookies any time.
Except for Marks and Spencer's 'Pistachio & Almond Cookies' [see insert]. They're probably the best store-bought cookies I've ever had. I love pistachios, and I love them even better in cookies.
I stash the package away in a cupboard, far away from prying fingers and eyes. Caught with crumbs at the corners of my mouth, I will admit to what I was nibbling on. But I'll put up a fair battle before grudgingly sharing my horde with my kids or hubby.
Who's counting calories? Not me.
I just bless each cookie and munch happily away. :)

Hip hip hurray for clear skin

Marketing sells. That’s its job. Packaging also sells. I picked up this face toner (see photo insert) largely because I felt attracted by its packaging. It looked like a little house. And it promised an end to acne. Needless to say, I was intrigued.

If you don’t know me, you have to first understand that I’ve been plagued by acne since I was 10 years old. Puberty, it seemed, set in early and never left. Long after the adolescent years had come and gone, and everyone else’s face had cleared up, mine was a garden of roses. That’s right, I had adult acne, as it is termed.

I would wake up each morning, dreading to look in the mirror, wondering what had sprung up since the previous evening. I shudder at the memory of the creams, ointments and pills that I took. My skin peeled, looking like it had been rubbed raw.

So when I came across Sewame’s toner promising clear skin, is it any wonder that I picked it up, examined the promises on the package, and promptly purchased it? Now I must admit, this wasn’t the first Sewame product I had purchased. I bought a facial cleanser that I swear by. I don’t use it very often, but when I do, it stops all acne growth in its tracks. But as with all facial cleansers, because it strips your skin of its oils, the skin goes into overdrive and produces enough oil for 3 or 4 faces (most unscientific statement. I made that figure up. It’s my conservative estimate).

But the Sewame toner is different. It balances. It does everything it promises to do.

It makes use of such unlikely sources as mangosteen, Balsam pear, and asparagus, extracts some key ingredients from them, and presto: clear skin.

My skin is the clearest it’s been in years. Pigmentation from old acne marks are fading. No more surprises in the morning.

A word about the iPhone

I was on hiatus, but I’m back. Don’t worry, I haven’t run out of things to love, and consequently to blog about. Far from it. My husband convinced me to get an iPhone and I’m afraid I’ve been “lost” for the last few months. Who wouldn’t be – among the free iBooks, the apps for adults and kids alike, instant weather updates from Yahoo!, browsing Safari with Google, receiving and sending e-mails without the trouble of booting the computer up, taking really good quality photos of the kids and e-mailing them to their doting Grandma – is it any wonder I didn’t surface for a few months?

I’ll be happy to furnish you with more details in future blogs.

Soup glorious soup

I like to entertain illusions that I am an adept in the kitchen. More often than not, they end up being delusions.

A case in point: I think I can create a unique soup by tossing a bit of this and that into the pot. It works in that it is a truly unique soup – it was never made before and will never be made again.

This time when the weather turned cold, I had a brilliant revelation – let me carry out investigations of the virtual kind. I surfed the web with the confidence of a virtual surfer and came up with a truly wonderful catch: www.simplysoups.com.

I’ve tried two soups so far – Split-Pea Soup and Avgolemono. I haven’t got pictures because they taste better than they look. But 2 for 2 so far – I’m impressed.

When the weather takes a cold spell again, as it is sure to, I shall go and unearth a few more soup treasures.

So here’s a tip from one who now knows: Don’t just cast anything into the pot – try a true and trusted recipe. J

Salad Days

The weather was mild today and sunny. Generally, that means one thing to me: salad. So I happily went vegetable-shopping with my 3-year-old son running riot in the supermarket – every mother’s dread come true. I also bought a fine basil plant that came all the way from New Zealand and landed in Macau’s Park’n’Shop. The bag promises that the plant has never been sprayed, and I believe everything I read.

At the moment it is happily sitting on the kitchen window sill, waiting for some rays of sun to shine its way. The instructions on the bag said not too much water and no drafts, but how much is not too much? Whenever my mother buys plants, she insists that they’re parched and runs water over them for about 5 minutes before saying, “There, don’t they look happy now?”

But I am not my mother and I was brought up following instructions to a T, so until otherwise enlightened, I shall water my basil plant just a little. I feel like I’m quite the green thumb now, with my plant in the window. I snipped some leaves for my lovely salad and suddenly felt as though I had grown up in Italy all my life. Italian green thumb – that’s me.

So, my delectable salad (please refer to insert) included hand-shredded lettuce, basil, diced tomato, cucumber moons (by that I mean cucumber slices cut in two), and then I sprinkled the top with pine nuts from China, sweetened dried cranberries from Canada, cashews from the local market (probably from China), and drizzled the whole with Kraft Caesar dressing from Australia. I hadn’t meant it to be such an international mix, but that’s how it turned out.

Yum.

A hint of mint

Today’s rave is all about Marks and Spencer’s After Dinner Mints (please refer to photo and proceed to drool).

Everyone knows After Eights, of course, so it’s refreshing to see another company’s take on chocolate mints. I’m starting to think they’re an English thing, because they’re both from the U.K.

The Marks and Spencer box reads: dark chocolate with a soft peppermint filling. Made with pure mint oil distilled from traditional English Black Mitcham mint, grown in Hampshire.

I’ve no idea what Black Mitcham mint is, but is sounds deliciously fragrant and old-world, as though it grew side by side with rampion in Rapunzel’s witch’s garden.

The map of England I’ve got in my head has London planted firmly in the southeast. The rest of it is a bit hazy, as though someone had gone and spilled water over an inked map. That’s my way of confessing that if you ask me where Hampshire is, I’d have to tell you very honestly: Haven’t a clue.

I know New Hampshire, but something tells me they’re not very related, except possibly ancestor-wise.

A bit of research might be in place at this point.

Ok, I’m back, and this is what I have to report:

Two very instructive and interesting web articles on Black Mitcham mint can be found at the following urls:

1)   www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2007/jul/22/foodanddrink.features8

2)   www.churchtimes.co.uk/content.asp?id=45829

Alternatively, you can simply Google Black Mitcham mint and see what comes up. Sir Michael Colman (of Colman’s Mustard fame) decided to grow mint. Apparently it’s a particularly fragrant, delicate sort of mint that had all but died out until Sir Colman decided to breathe new life into it.

It used to be grown in an area of south London called Mitcham, therefore the name, in the 18^th century. With the advent of the Second World War, more important crops were required to be grown (I suppose eating took priority over afternoon tea!), so Black Mitcham mint was left by the wayside.

Apparently (so say the articles), it also grows in Montana and Oregon.

It all sounds heavenly and minty, and I’m so glad Marks and Spencer uses it in their chocolates, because for a while no one was interested in Sir Colman’s new fangled idea about growing a better mint.

Now all I need is a soothing cup of tea made from the same mint, and possibly a trip to Hampshire (where’s that again?) to see these fields for myself.

Mint grows like a weed in my mother’s garden in Canada. I have no idea what variety it is, but I’ll try and see if I can’t get my hands on some Black Mitcham mint seeds.

I can smell it already.

Lifetrons - gift for hubby

About a year ago, I came across a gem of a book called “The 5 Love Languages”. I heartily recommend it to anyone wishing to enhance, maintain, or save a relationship. But this is not a book review.

Suffice it to say that I learned that everybody has 1 or 2 main love languages and this is how they understand love. For instance, one of my 2 main love languages is time. If my husband doesn’t spend enough quality time with me, I think he doesn’t love me.

One of my husband’s love languages, on the other hand, is gifts. He understands and processes love through the action of gift-giving, but paradoxically enough, prefers to choose his own gifts rather than receiving gifts from me that he doesn’t like and that end up being stuffed into a cupboard. In essence, he likes to choose his own gifts and mine.

I railed against the injustice of it all, and on a recent trip to Singapore, decided to do something about it. I know my husband likes electronic gadgets (read: expensive gizmos). I was flipping through the in-flight magazine on Cathay Pacific and came across Lifetrons – a Swiss brand-name for teeny tiny speakers (you can hold one in the palm of your hand) that you can connect to your iPhone, iPad, Blackberry, etc. Boys’ toys.

I read the fine print a few times to make sure that my husband could really hook the speakers up to his iPhone, and promptly purchased them.

The look of unadulterated delight on his face at receiving the Lifetrons speakers was thanks enough. I knew I had made a good choice and was further confirmed in my belief when he hooked them up to his iPhone, cranked the volume up (it was past midnight and the kids were asleep), and was duly impressed.

“Wow, it can go so loud! The sound quality is so good!”

I smiled and trudged to bed. Mission accomplished.

Eating for life

101 Foods that could save your life

by David Grotto, RD, LDN

© 2007 Bantam Books

Although from time to time I see health food books in bookstores, this is the first time I was moved to purchase one, take it home, and call it my own.

I was not disappointed. Far from being rare and hard-to-find, most of the 101 foods listed in this book are readily available, and the author goes out of his way to list the States which grow the particular food. You’d be surprised to find out how versatile the crops are that grow in the U.S. I was surprised and impressed.

I like the fact that recipes are included in the book – recipes ranging from salads to cakes – foods that you would actually want to make and eat. Without the recipes, imagine getting your hands on a pound of goji berries because you know they’re good for you. But without a recipe to go along with it, you would in all likelihood scarf a few, gag, and donate them to your maiden aunt who’s “into healthy things”.

Each of the 101 foods described in this book also include the story or history of the food, sometimes wrapped in a layer of folklore. As a storyteller myself, I particularly warm to “origin” stories – a personal favourite.

Love those lips!

I love Kiehl’s and I love the idea of in-flight shopping. So, combine the two, and my wish came true. I bought a Kiehl’s product on a recent Cathay Pacific flight. They’ve even got a website to pre-book your purchase at www.cathaypacific.com/dutyfree, but I’m not that high tech or organized.

I purchased a set of 4 lip balms: original, mint, mango and cranberry. I tried the  mint one first and immediately felt an irresistible urge to eat it or at the very least lick my lips. What a delicious scent!

I discovered Kiehl’s a few years ago. Strolling through a department store with 2 rambunctious kids in tow, their signature skeleton immediately attracted us to come and browse. I love Kiehl’s distinctive, plain design. I even love their snobby prices – definitely a mark of quality.