frog soup for the working(wo)man's soul

ampulets have been working hard the past couple of nights to present you this picture - something light to end the week with!

Ah, of course, as you can tell, the work was done in the living room with our television in the background tuned to this strangely addictive Korean drama series.

One day, having just watched the theatrics stirred in the imperial kitchen just because the emperor has decided to go for a hunt, J remarked how like this fictional Korean imperial kitchen our workplaces - public or corporate - are on our island.

In our workplaces we scurry to please our bosses (that is, both clients or superiors) and fuss over each demand, whether frivolous or significant. In our homes, parents fuss over the tiniest detail of their precious children's lives. In our relationships, we scrutinise each gesture and word, prod at it with the predictions of stars and birthtimes. If we walk the countryside, it is to scour for herbs and other treasures to enrich the meal. If we raid the libraries, it is for secret recipes that will earn us the praise of the emperor. In the imperial kitchens there are unspoken rules, scheming old maids and endless protocol laid out by petty court servants and eunuchs. So, like the kitchen maids, we can only take comfort by pinching at the luxurious meals served, snatching at whatever indulgence we can find - each gastronomic adventure more delightful than the previous.

How nice it is to close one's eyes and in the unconscious lose sight of lines and form - and depart from appetite and taste. Or that final rest, a different kingdom.

But this being a Friday night after a 12hr workday and I, a mere clumsy and reckless kitchen maid (not to be trusted with clay jars of hundred-year-old sauces or secret recipes), has spent it indulging in 2 mudpies with J, a junior court jester and my partner in love and servitude!