If you want a god damn delicious dinner, this is the shit for you.

With the perfect heat for a curry, the Thugs have fucking outdone themselves again, Thuggish-Spectacular-Genius-Vegans that they are.

The chalenge: To cook all 115 recipes from the first Thug Kitchen cookbook within 365 days.

I’m getting to stage where I can’t remember what number recipe we are at, or how many days of the challenge are left. This is due to the army of boxes that has invaded our home. Moving can be a fucking nightmare.

Last night’s sleep was disturbed by dreams of swimming and drowning in Tupperware. Wtf? Side effects of living out of boxes while trying to have a semi-normal life.

I think I gotta face it, there is no normalcy when you have to push past boxes to get to the bathroom, and you can’t find your frying pan because it’s under the sofa or in some unlabelled box somewhere. Eating freezer food like there’s no tomorrow, I can’t wait to just be in the new place already.

Anyway, I made this curry while I still had access to my spatula and my sense of humour. (Both are now nowhere to be seen. There are only so many times you can play ‘Find Your Clean Underpants’ before you start to crack.)

This curry was both an oasis of calm amidst the packing hysteria, and also a slap in the face, flavour-wise. Just what I needed to keep myself in check.

I had forgotten just how therapeutic slicing and dicing can be. I chopped all my troubles away. (Anyone remember the slap-chop? If not, YouTube that shit.)

Once everything had been chopped and I was once again feeling zen, I got out the soup pot and cranked the heat. I threw in the onions and sautéed the shit out of them before bitch slapping the zucchini into the soup pot too. Once those two had hashed it out, and resolved their issues, I threw in the green beans and peppers and let them all get to know each other. 2-3 minutes into their slightly awkward party I introduced a few more guests to break the tension. These temperamental fuckers really got the party started: nobody knows how to party like Ginger, Garlic, and Curry Paste do. These party animals can hold their liquor and dance all night long.

Just as things started heating up, and I feared some sort of drunken fight breaking out, soy sauce and coconut milk showed up and calmed things down. Every party needs balance, and these mellow mediators showed up to smooth the way for a good time. They even brought an extra guest: vegetable broth. Rumors were going around that he’d brought weed. Whatever the case, the party mellowed. By now my kitchen was smelling choice so all was good.

The party was humming along nicely, simmering away when someone noticed tofu wasn’t there. This freaked me out because I’d forgotten to invite him, and I quickly scrambled to get his fine ass to the party too. Before you knew it tofu was screaming on the frying pan (I kid you not-he was squeaking and screaming. Try this shit yourself and you’ll see, when you press down on the tofu it’ll sound like there’s torture and massacre going on in your kitchen. Does tofu have to be entirely dead in order to not feel pain? )

Once Tofu had recovered from his torture he was ready for a change of scenery, and wanted to join the party. (ignore the carrots and broccoli, I have a kid who wouldn’t eat curry if you promised him his very own live unicorn and five gallons of ice cream.)

Tofu and mango showed up fashionably late, but what do you expect from the stars of the show?  Brown rice had been working his magic behind the scenes too, and promised a cameo. At first mango kept itself to itself, seeming aloof and noncommittal. After a while she warmed up though and started breaking it down on the dance floor.

Once mango was inebriated with flavour she was easy as hell, and she willingly followed brown rice back to his place and threw herself all over him. Unfortunately for him the other guests tagged along too, thinking some sort of after-party was occurring. Not knowing how to take a hint, they threw themselves all over him too.

This curry really packs a punch of flavour. So if you want a flavour orgy in your mouth, take these naive fuckers back to your place-You won’t regret it. Just grab ’em by the mango.