Sorry guys pressed the wrong button, here's the recipe!
Preheat oven 350F/160c
Gently cooked half an onion in oil with a finely sliced carrot or two.
Add 225gms of sliced mushrooms and continue cooking.
Stir in a tablespoon of brown flour and cook for further minute.
Add a cup and half of water/ with a stock cube if you want.
with 2 teaspoon of soy sauce
a tin of pasta sauce or tin of diced tomatoes.
Cook for 3 mins.
Add a tin of drained chickpeas, mix.
Put in an ovenproof dish.
Topping
Mixed 2 - 3 tablespoons of grated cheese
with 2 tablespoons of ground almonds
abit of grated lemon rind
and 1 tablespoon of coconut.
I added breadcrumbs, but think it disguised the taste!
Spread topping over mixture and bake for 20mins.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Camel Train with Chickpea and mushroom pie
CAMEL TRAIN
On Fridays I go by train to Britomart and back
Auckland’s flashest station, have you been there yet?
Sometimes the journey is slow, sometimes fast
sometimes there’s a character ticket collector,
wishing us well, hoping this weekend the
Warriors’ll win, but sometimes not.
But always there’s an adventure waiting to happen
‘cos the melting pot of Auckland at 5.30pm
is stirred going home or not.
I am a watcher of people on trains, an earwigger of note
a random conversationalist, and I empathize with the tired
people who outfits and faces intrigue and enchant.
Take the suited Indian man – meets woman–
who asks ‘have you found a girl yet?’
‘We’re getting married in January, India,’ he says nodding his head.
I know this, I’m tempted to say, been there, done that and
the stars will be right in that cooler season, like it or not.
There’s been a talk with a working mother who says times have changed.
She alights before me and I see her skirt is short and in her patterned tights
she’s trying to be younger to keep up with her job, after only a month they’ve
already assessed her lot. This week a fizzy hair window hugger is
incommunicado, her bags are packed, her fingers twitchy
and her mouth is moving to an unknown plot.
There’s co-operation in the evening light when I must have looked tired,
I’ve been offered a seat twice and when the end carriage rolled from
side to side, I was grateful as I’m short and the tall woman with goggley
eyes, was able to brace herself with a hand on the roof as this particular
carriage only had poles near the doors and seat handles beside.
The biggest item was a woman asleep til it came to her stop, then she flew off the train and drop her tiny bag. I yelled and the Indian lady next to me got up in a flash. She picked up the wallet but the doors shut. ‘Through the window!’
said the Palagi woman looking up from her book. The girl with short hair on a seat at the side, snatched the wallet and threw it with all her might. As the train moved off the woman who had been asleep caught her tiny bag and with high heels teetering, moved off into the night, and we all laughed.
‘Camel’ trains sway wherever you are, they’re stately as you sit up in the air.
There are people who stare and views to stare at. There are experiences to
share and folks getting off at your stop. A migration of warmth,
silence but always a purpose, an adventure in motion, travelling to rock!
On Fridays I go by train to Britomart and back
Auckland’s flashest station, have you been there yet?
Sometimes the journey is slow, sometimes fast
sometimes there’s a character ticket collector,
wishing us well, hoping this weekend the
Warriors’ll win, but sometimes not.
But always there’s an adventure waiting to happen
‘cos the melting pot of Auckland at 5.30pm
is stirred going home or not.
I am a watcher of people on trains, an earwigger of note
a random conversationalist, and I empathize with the tired
people who outfits and faces intrigue and enchant.
Take the suited Indian man – meets woman–
who asks ‘have you found a girl yet?’
‘We’re getting married in January, India,’ he says nodding his head.
I know this, I’m tempted to say, been there, done that and
the stars will be right in that cooler season, like it or not.
There’s been a talk with a working mother who says times have changed.
She alights before me and I see her skirt is short and in her patterned tights
she’s trying to be younger to keep up with her job, after only a month they’ve
already assessed her lot. This week a fizzy hair window hugger is
incommunicado, her bags are packed, her fingers twitchy
and her mouth is moving to an unknown plot.
There’s co-operation in the evening light when I must have looked tired,
I’ve been offered a seat twice and when the end carriage rolled from
side to side, I was grateful as I’m short and the tall woman with goggley
eyes, was able to brace herself with a hand on the roof as this particular
carriage only had poles near the doors and seat handles beside.
The biggest item was a woman asleep til it came to her stop, then she flew off the train and drop her tiny bag. I yelled and the Indian lady next to me got up in a flash. She picked up the wallet but the doors shut. ‘Through the window!’
said the Palagi woman looking up from her book. The girl with short hair on a seat at the side, snatched the wallet and threw it with all her might. As the train moved off the woman who had been asleep caught her tiny bag and with high heels teetering, moved off into the night, and we all laughed.
‘Camel’ trains sway wherever you are, they’re stately as you sit up in the air.
There are people who stare and views to stare at. There are experiences to
share and folks getting off at your stop. A migration of warmth,
silence but always a purpose, an adventure in motion, travelling to rock!
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