Last week during my blissful final days of freedom, I whipped up a batch of tikka masala curry paste with the intention of making lentil curry (so good!) for one of our 5:2 dinners this week.

Tonight I started softening the onions, added the crushed garlic, went to the fridge to grab the paste and … the paste was not in the fridge. We pulled everything out of the fridge to make sure, then we searched the cupboards, then the freezers – nothing.

After a massive freak out, I was forced to make another batch (without toasting the cumin and coriander seeds) pretty darn quickly, because that was a better use of time than trying to work out something else to have (at was 8:15pm at this point).

I feel like we’ll either find the jar somewhere unexpected or it will forever remain a mystery.

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On Monday night Don and I sat down and sorted through the shoe box containing bits and pieces from our trip to Italy (and a couple of things from New Caledonia):

Why we thought we should keep every single receipt for everything is quite beyond my comprehension. It was quite fun going through the box and we were amused at our past selves’ pack-rattedness. We were pretty ruthless and only kept significant things, like maps (we do love a map)

I think there are a couple of these caches around, must seek them out and attempt to consolidate everything in one box.

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