editors note: andy still in hospital and he tried to organise a sweepstake for the big race here is how he got on
Good day beautiful people and a happy glorious Saturday to you all.
My attempts to organise a sweepstake with my fellow inmates for todays Grand National tested my progressively waning tolerance level to an unprecedented limit. I shit you not my friends, One Flew Over The Cuckoos Nest is more factual than fiction.
"Right my little band of friends, in this bed pan is the names of all the horses running in this afternoons big race and this is how out works".
I preceded to explain the whole concept of a sweepstake; the folded pieces of paper with a horses name printed on them, the entrance fee,the number of lucky dips into the bed pan per stake, ie: 50p gets you one pick, £1 gets you two picks etc etc...whoever picks the winning horse will win £10, whoever gets second place will win £5, third and fourth place will each win £2.50.
"Everybody understand the rules?"
The following is a true account of questions and events that pushed my progressively waning tolerance level to an unprecedented limit.
"How do you know whose won, do you decide?"
"If I dont win, do I get my money back?, I always like a snack from the tuck shop in the afternoon and I've only got enough money for me Mars Bar. (a sincere question)
"What do you want 50p for again?"
"Can I buy all the horses?, I've never won anything before"
Ray protested.."It's all a conspiracy to keep the proliteriat in the gutter". The global gambling industry and a little known Governmental department, that we in the know call by its pseudonym 'The Department of F@ck the Poor. Together they promote and exploit the dreams of the desperate lower working class into believing "that one day you will dine at the table of the Bourgeoisie" whilst all along stealing the little capital that proletariat are killing themselves for every day in the toil and shit of their existence. And do you know something, all this 'booty' is spent to adorn that dining table with a feast that you will never be invited to. SO F@CK YA GRAND NATIONAL"...At this point, I noticed all the other inmates had already left the table, leaving myself and a ranting Ray. Cheers fellas.
I retreated back to the solitude and comfort of my padded cell. I picked all the folded pieces of paper out of the bed pan and threw £20 in.
I now need a long deep full body meditation. I shall return to the external world at 4.15...to see if I've won the sweepstake. I've never won anything before.
I WISH I WAS IN THE PEEL.
editors note... the Peel Andys Local
Saturday 9 April 2011
Thursday 7 April 2011
more from inside the block
editors note... more from Andy again nothing to do with food but funny passages from his facebook Diary
After eight days of being a denizen of the Sanatorium has had his dignity fragmented on a daily basis. Today they have finally desecrated the remnants. This final act included a nurse, a sock, a pair of swimming goggles and a Phototherapy Pod
He seems to have spent a lot of time in Camp Bedlam in various states of undress. This one took the biscuit. Now, before all you mothers cry out in disbelief "desecration of dignity? You want to go
through pregnancy and childbirth, sunshine". Well, he has. Three times (and he's managed to keep his figure). Ok, he concedes that the internal examination reminded him of those Lucky Dip's at the carnival. The ones were you inserted your whole arm through the hole in the box and blindly had a good rummage about, grabbing for the biggest prize. And after the birth of the slimy little thing, you have to lie there with your legs, strapped in stirrups, pulled up to your chin as a midwife sits inbetween, inches away from your traumatised genitalia and torn perenium, holding a needle and thread whilst you lie there with an inane Entonox-induced grin on your face, sipping a cup of tea.
Now, if childbirth is as painful and undignified as you profess and he has been told many times (personally, the three labours and births he witnessed were worthy Oscar nominations) He therefore questions;
A) WHY THE HELL ARE YOU LYING THERE WITH A STUPID GRIN ACROSS YA FACE, SIPPING TEA, AS THE MIDWIFE IS STITCHING YA TORN BITS?
B) THE COPULATION MAY BE PLEASURABLE (so I'm led to believe) BUT WHY DO YOU CONTINUE TO
PROCREATE?
Being kicked in the b@llox is extremely painful experience but I know not of any male who would gladly and willingly revisit that experience.
Anyhows, back to the brave little soldier. This is the final act of binning the remnants of his dignity.
He is standing in front of Nurse Lilian, naked, his genitals stuffed into a trainer sock (Yes, A TRAINER SOCK, stop laughing, that he will have to wear where its supposed to be worn when he gets discharged. ON HIS FOOT) and a ridiculous pair of swimming goggles. She checks my colouring and body heat before locking him in the pod. He can see his reflection in the full length mirror on the far side of the room.
"Oh sweet jesus"
Right, that's him done. He's let the cat out amongst the pigeons and is now gonna turn off his phone before the diatribe, the thunderous written onslaught crashes his inbox
and finally a bit about Ray
is sat in the Sanatorium bell tower having a smoke with Ray who is on top form tonight. He is educating me on the galactic journey that Narmer and the Egyptians made to settle on this planet over 5000 years ago. He has promised to show me their star from where they came on the next clear night. Can't wait. Will someone please get me out of this place.
After eight days of being a denizen of the Sanatorium has had his dignity fragmented on a daily basis. Today they have finally desecrated the remnants. This final act included a nurse, a sock, a pair of swimming goggles and a Phototherapy Pod
He seems to have spent a lot of time in Camp Bedlam in various states of undress. This one took the biscuit. Now, before all you mothers cry out in disbelief "desecration of dignity? You want to go
through pregnancy and childbirth, sunshine". Well, he has. Three times (and he's managed to keep his figure). Ok, he concedes that the internal examination reminded him of those Lucky Dip's at the carnival. The ones were you inserted your whole arm through the hole in the box and blindly had a good rummage about, grabbing for the biggest prize. And after the birth of the slimy little thing, you have to lie there with your legs, strapped in stirrups, pulled up to your chin as a midwife sits inbetween, inches away from your traumatised genitalia and torn perenium, holding a needle and thread whilst you lie there with an inane Entonox-induced grin on your face, sipping a cup of tea.
Now, if childbirth is as painful and undignified as you profess and he has been told many times (personally, the three labours and births he witnessed were worthy Oscar nominations) He therefore questions;
A) WHY THE HELL ARE YOU LYING THERE WITH A STUPID GRIN ACROSS YA FACE, SIPPING TEA, AS THE MIDWIFE IS STITCHING YA TORN BITS?
B) THE COPULATION MAY BE PLEASURABLE (so I'm led to believe) BUT WHY DO YOU CONTINUE TO
PROCREATE?
Being kicked in the b@llox is extremely painful experience but I know not of any male who would gladly and willingly revisit that experience.
Anyhows, back to the brave little soldier. This is the final act of binning the remnants of his dignity.
He is standing in front of Nurse Lilian, naked, his genitals stuffed into a trainer sock (Yes, A TRAINER SOCK, stop laughing, that he will have to wear where its supposed to be worn when he gets discharged. ON HIS FOOT) and a ridiculous pair of swimming goggles. She checks my colouring and body heat before locking him in the pod. He can see his reflection in the full length mirror on the far side of the room.
"Oh sweet jesus"
Right, that's him done. He's let the cat out amongst the pigeons and is now gonna turn off his phone before the diatribe, the thunderous written onslaught crashes his inbox
and finally a bit about Ray
is sat in the Sanatorium bell tower having a smoke with Ray who is on top form tonight. He is educating me on the galactic journey that Narmer and the Egyptians made to settle on this planet over 5000 years ago. He has promised to show me their star from where they came on the next clear night. Can't wait. Will someone please get me out of this place.
Monday 4 April 2011
I,m John Merrick
editors note 'not much about food but this is funny'
's soul has finally returned to its inanimate marionnette after yesterdays abandonment to go cloud hopping across the zenith. It is now pulling the strings as the marionnette takes centre stage, a matinee performance for the baying medical students in The Theatre Bedlam.
He is stood near naked in the circle of a Victorian operating theatre whilst 20 med students sit on raised benches in the round. Professor Griffiths is firing questions at them and inviting them down, one by one, to examine, diagnosis and give their prognosis. If he thought he was gonna be treated like John Merrick he would have worn a f@ckin potato sack over his head.
His own observations shows the girls are all wearing brown trousers, white or stripy blouses with shoulder length centre parted mousy hair. The boys all shop at Burtons and have had the same haircut since primary school. A collective of well spoken, well educated middle to upper-middle class children. Not a hint of Salfordian or Lancashire dialect is perceptable by the ear.
editors note ' andy is having a bit of a holiday! for more go click here'
's soul has finally returned to its inanimate marionnette after yesterdays abandonment to go cloud hopping across the zenith. It is now pulling the strings as the marionnette takes centre stage, a matinee performance for the baying medical students in The Theatre Bedlam.
He is stood near naked in the circle of a Victorian operating theatre whilst 20 med students sit on raised benches in the round. Professor Griffiths is firing questions at them and inviting them down, one by one, to examine, diagnosis and give their prognosis. If he thought he was gonna be treated like John Merrick he would have worn a f@ckin potato sack over his head.
His own observations shows the girls are all wearing brown trousers, white or stripy blouses with shoulder length centre parted mousy hair. The boys all shop at Burtons and have had the same haircut since primary school. A collective of well spoken, well educated middle to upper-middle class children. Not a hint of Salfordian or Lancashire dialect is perceptable by the ear.
editors note ' andy is having a bit of a holiday! for more go click here'
Wednesday 30 March 2011
is now a denizen of the Sanatorium. In the confines of his padded cell of solitude, devoid of Lucifers Dream Box, he is alone with his literature and the thoughts in his head. God help him.
with aid of facebook here is his Waffle from his cell
woke up on floor of my padded cell this morning. Fed more drugs. Fell asleep in me cornflakes and nearly drowned. Fed more drugs. Fell asleep in me lunch. Meat chunks and hot gravy stuck to me bubbling, blistering face. Fed more drugs. Fell asleep during afternoon coffee. A large ice pack is now sitting heavily on my naked groin (yea, I know its not the mental picture you want to be haunted by). That doctors twisting me melon man.
Ray, did you know that 'real time' tracking device thats embedded in ya head"
"Yea man"
"Well, the receiver is planted in 'Doctor' Barbies teeth and all the incoming transmissions are bounced off her teeth,hitting the orbital satellites and bounced back to 'them' who live in the woods. That'd how they know my friend"
"Ya f@ckin kidding man?"
"Straight up Ray"
"Yea man"
"Well, the receiver is planted in 'Doctor' Barbies teeth and all the incoming transmissions are bounced off her teeth,hitting the orbital satellites and bounced back to 'them' who live in the woods. That'd how they know my friend"
"Ya f@ckin kidding man?"
"Straight up Ray"
The thing is about 'Doctor' Barbie is that she looks like she should be running around Burger King in a pretty party frock, waving a ballon with a belly full of chicken nuggets and birthday cake, waiting for mummy to come and collect her, skipping home with her party box.
"F@ck man, I knew it"
Oh dear, I knew I should have kept my mouth shut.
"F@ck man, I knew it"
Oh dear, I knew I should have kept my mouth shut.
Editors note: so read on and find out about Ray
Ray has accosted me as his new best friend. My seclusive stroll of self-awareness through the gardens of the Sanatorium during my roaming pass has been violated by the company of Ray. Everytime I am released from my padded cell he is loitering somewhere along the corridor.."You going for a smoke Clusk?"
Ray trusts no one. Everybody is furtive. The whole of life is a conspiracy instigated by 'them', those faceless figures who live in the woods. He whispers in a guarded tone "in case they hear us"
"Do you know what they do? When ya born yea ' they' implant a tracker in ya head yea. 'They' know exactly where you are, what ya thinking and what ya saying. And if 'they' dont like it ya in deep shit man. You'll just disappear. Its true man. Its a New World Order".
"Do you know what they do? When ya born yea ' they' implant a tracker in ya head yea. 'They' know exactly where you are, what ya thinking and what ya saying. And if 'they' dont like it ya in deep shit man. You'll just disappear. Its true man. Its a New World Order".
We are on the same cocktails of drugs, 32 pills a day, including Chlordiazepoxide which enhances the calming effect of a certain brain chemical, which causes muscles to relax, reduces anxiety and induces sleep, a long, deep, uninterrupted sleep, that can befall you at any time of the day. Why?
Me? Cause the doctor doesn't like me and just wants to feed her sadism by seeing me comatosed, dribbling, in a foetal position on the padded floor.
Ray? Cause he's off his f@ckin head.
Might invite him to The Peel, if he ever gets out. He'll fit in just dandy, me thinks.
Me? Cause the doctor doesn't like me and just wants to feed her sadism by seeing me comatosed, dribbling, in a foetal position on the padded floor.
Ray? Cause he's off his f@ckin head.
Might invite him to The Peel, if he ever gets out. He'll fit in just dandy, me thinks.
A patient of the Sanatorium who has decided I'm his new best friend and together he wants us to bring down the New World Order then fly away in a spaceship and bring peace across the far reaches of the universe. I want to come home.
Editors note andy is in hostipal having his annual holiday it would be cheap on the NHS to send him to Portugal to sit in the sun but it aint going to happen
Saturday 26 March 2011
'A long stay denizen of the Sanatorium', The last meal request before the cockcrows and the golden sunrise illuminates the color of faded limes along the green mile.
Good evening beautiful people
Tonight I find myself home alone, a privilege and a pleasure I am very rarely afforded. On the eve of my imminent exclusion from the general populace, a long stay denizen of the Infirmary, though previous experiences would warrant the title of 'A long stay denizen of the Sanatorium', I have put my affairs in order. Priority was given as follows;
1) The Sky+ has been cleaned up and the following weeks TV schedule has been programmed and series linked
2) The larder has had a stock-take and replenished accordingly.
3) Fridge and freezer have been checked and all my fresh homemade meals have been frozen, dated and labelled, along with instructions.
4) The microwave has been removed and hidden under the stairs.
5) Two dozen books have been chosen and packed.
6) Supply of tobacco has been rationed.
7) All things deemed as 'Chocolate Crisply Crunchelies' have been bagged.
8) Ipod fully charged and 'The Archers Omnibus' podcasts have been downloaded (Yea, OK..............I know)
9) My lovely newly purchased hooded bunny rabbit dressing gown with floppy bunny ears and matching slippers, has been packed.
10) My Last Will and Testament has been reexamined and revised. The charming, delectable and divine Miss Joolz Greenlees will acquire my Slow Cooker and all my handwritten recipe books. All my beloved 'Crag Rats' will each recieve an item of Pen-y-ghent malodorous bog stained clothing. Emu will inherit my 'Dregs Session' bar stool. The housemates will be left with my cat...and my debts.
I feel like the condemned man, deliberating over his last meal request before the cockcrows and the golden sunrise illuminates the color of faded limes along the green mile. I have been brooding over this great decision all day. I covet a mighty feast before I am forced fed a diet of soggy, floppy toast, rehydrated powdered potato, undercooked or 'boiled to death' veg and an array of gravy ponds with chunks of dead animal meat and fats embedded in it's coagulated surface, often disguised on the menu under the illustrious and tempting titles Beef Bourguignon, Chicken Chassuer, Pork & Apple, Lamb Casserole and so on.
Well, I have finally made my decision.
I will shortly be gorging on the biggest, fattest Doner Kebab this town has to offer. I want it loaded with strips of succulent, self-basted spit-roasted spiced lamb, large helpings of raw onion, tomato, cucumber and lettuce and topped with lashings of mint yoghurt and hot chilli sauces, all wrapped up in a huge warm naan bread. A feast of behemothic proportions, a feast fit to quell the pains of famishment of the ravenous vagabond. There will be no dining etiquette. There will be no guests. Just me, me boxers ('CAUSE I CAN), me 'curry top' (we've all got one, haven't we?) me beer and me cat.
Another couple of beers then one shall make that call...better keep my pants on till the delivery guy has been.
Love, peace and catch you all on the otherside people
Sleep well and stay safe............Cluski
Tonight I find myself home alone, a privilege and a pleasure I am very rarely afforded. On the eve of my imminent exclusion from the general populace, a long stay denizen of the Infirmary, though previous experiences would warrant the title of 'A long stay denizen of the Sanatorium', I have put my affairs in order. Priority was given as follows;
1) The Sky+ has been cleaned up and the following weeks TV schedule has been programmed and series linked
2) The larder has had a stock-take and replenished accordingly.
3) Fridge and freezer have been checked and all my fresh homemade meals have been frozen, dated and labelled, along with instructions.
4) The microwave has been removed and hidden under the stairs.
5) Two dozen books have been chosen and packed.
6) Supply of tobacco has been rationed.
7) All things deemed as 'Chocolate Crisply Crunchelies' have been bagged.
8) Ipod fully charged and 'The Archers Omnibus' podcasts have been downloaded (Yea, OK..............I know)
9) My lovely newly purchased hooded bunny rabbit dressing gown with floppy bunny ears and matching slippers, has been packed.
10) My Last Will and Testament has been reexamined and revised. The charming, delectable and divine Miss Joolz Greenlees will acquire my Slow Cooker and all my handwritten recipe books. All my beloved 'Crag Rats' will each recieve an item of Pen-y-ghent malodorous bog stained clothing. Emu will inherit my 'Dregs Session' bar stool. The housemates will be left with my cat...and my debts.
I feel like the condemned man, deliberating over his last meal request before the cockcrows and the golden sunrise illuminates the color of faded limes along the green mile. I have been brooding over this great decision all day. I covet a mighty feast before I am forced fed a diet of soggy, floppy toast, rehydrated powdered potato, undercooked or 'boiled to death' veg and an array of gravy ponds with chunks of dead animal meat and fats embedded in it's coagulated surface, often disguised on the menu under the illustrious and tempting titles Beef Bourguignon, Chicken Chassuer, Pork & Apple, Lamb Casserole and so on.
Well, I have finally made my decision.
I will shortly be gorging on the biggest, fattest Doner Kebab this town has to offer. I want it loaded with strips of succulent, self-basted spit-roasted spiced lamb, large helpings of raw onion, tomato, cucumber and lettuce and topped with lashings of mint yoghurt and hot chilli sauces, all wrapped up in a huge warm naan bread. A feast of behemothic proportions, a feast fit to quell the pains of famishment of the ravenous vagabond. There will be no dining etiquette. There will be no guests. Just me, me boxers ('CAUSE I CAN), me 'curry top' (we've all got one, haven't we?) me beer and me cat.
Another couple of beers then one shall make that call...better keep my pants on till the delivery guy has been.
Love, peace and catch you all on the otherside people
Sleep well and stay safe............Cluski
Thursday 24 March 2011
My inane 'hop, skip and jump' disposition of the day has been subjugated, quelled by the grotesque pantomime that is played out on a daily basis in every 'Primarni' store across the land. The wails of the maddening banshees pierce my senses, wailing that warns of an impending death.
Good day beautiful people
Another glorious Spring day and my self-diagnosed winter-based Seasonal Affective Disorder is screaming from the Bastille, imprisoned in the bleak disorder and throes of the winter just passed. My inane 'hop, skip and jump' disposition of the day has been subjugated, quelled by the grotesque pantomime that is played out on a daily basis in every 'Primarni' store across the land. After my minor role in today's matinee, I realised I'm old and my Bohemian style and character has been traduced by Mr Primarni.
'Primarni' (a pseudonym of Primark) is a very low cost fashion retailer and a purchase of necessity, of economical sense, invited me into this afternoons matinee. With the imminent hospital confinement looming, I needed to purchase;
A: a dressing gown
B: a pair of slippers
C: pyjamas
The unmovable staining the 'Dith' treatment will leave on the garments means they will all be disposed of on discharge, so I was not prepared to pay dear for any of these purchases. The local 'Primarni' was the only option. On entering the store I am instantly confronted with the bedlam that is the womens section. The more ordered and serene mens floor is accessible via the stairs, climbing high on the horizon line across this raging sea of anarchy. I stop at the door. Less than confident that my navigational skills has found find the safest and expeditious route to the beckoning stairs, I am carried away in the crush, losing my footing on the clothing that have been violently rip from the rails and left scattered across the floor, in the death throes of their finest hour. The wails of the maddening banshees pierced my senses, wailing that warns of an impending death.
"IF SHE PICKS UP THAT LAST SIZE 10 FROCK SHE'S GOING DOWN"
"WHAT? YEA, I KNOW I'M A 12 BUT IT'S ONLY THURSDAY AND I'VE GOT TWO DAYS TILL SATURDAY TO DROP A SIZE. JUST HURRY UP WILL YA, GRAB IT"
I begin to hyperventilate.
I reach the stairs and take a seat on the eighth step till my breathing returns to normal. The bedlam below me is incessant and will have to be revisited or I could just sit here for the next 8 hours till closing time.
My breathing returns and I ascend the stairs to the mens floor. All is quiet and there is order as the predominantly male shoppers peruse the rails. I find the nightwear section and go straight for the dressing gowns. Now, this is when the realisation started sinking in. I don't own or would not contemplate purchasing a dressing gown to wear at home, that's what my slouchers are for. But I now find myself 'touching' the material for softness and warmth, checking the labels for the material information, humming and ahhing over the design and colour. I even try them on, luxuriating in their big, loving, soft and warm hug, exhaling a long affectionate sigh.
"WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING?"
Oops that was a big loud.
Didn't get any better when choosing the pyjamas and as for the slippers; I found myself shoeless and sockless parading down the aisles in a pair of 'Toasty Toes' slippers, a stupid 'look at me' expression sat on my smug face
Transaction complete, I found myself back on the eighth step, paper shopping bag clutched tightly to my side pondering whether I should sit here, safe and protected, till closing time.
"B@LL@X.........I WANT A SMOKE AND I'M HUNGRY"
Oops, too loud again.
"If I time it right, I could probably bounce of the manic heads of the banshees and make that final dive that will propel me through the open doors leaving an abrupt body sprawled at the feet of the passing street traffic, battered and bruised, clutching a 'Primarni' paper shopping bag...WHERE'S THE WEIRD LITTLE XBOX KID WHEN YOU NEED HIM? HE COULD SAFELY NAVIGATE ME THROUGH THIS THUNDERDOME, THIS GLADIATORIAL ARENA. HE BRINGS HELLFIRE AND DAMNATION DOWN ON THE ZOMBIE FLESH EATERS FOR GOD'S SAKE. HE COULD HANDLE THIS".
Damn, too loud again.
I bounced off the heads.
This, my friends, has been a true account of my day and I am now slouching on the couch, my cuts and grazes dressed in a variety of different sized Band-Aids, smelling of TCP, watching Spartacus: Gods Of The Arena, with a much needed beer in my hand.
Love, peace and please forgive my retail indiscretions (but I did see a comfortable looking cardigan and a pair of practical summer slip-ons whilst passing the British Home Stores window
Cluski
Another glorious Spring day and my self-diagnosed winter-based Seasonal Affective Disorder is screaming from the Bastille, imprisoned in the bleak disorder and throes of the winter just passed. My inane 'hop, skip and jump' disposition of the day has been subjugated, quelled by the grotesque pantomime that is played out on a daily basis in every 'Primarni' store across the land. After my minor role in today's matinee, I realised I'm old and my Bohemian style and character has been traduced by Mr Primarni.'Primarni' (a pseudonym of Primark) is a very low cost fashion retailer and a purchase of necessity, of economical sense, invited me into this afternoons matinee. With the imminent hospital confinement looming, I needed to purchase;
A: a dressing gown
B: a pair of slippers
C: pyjamas
The unmovable staining the 'Dith' treatment will leave on the garments means they will all be disposed of on discharge, so I was not prepared to pay dear for any of these purchases. The local 'Primarni' was the only option. On entering the store I am instantly confronted with the bedlam that is the womens section. The more ordered and serene mens floor is accessible via the stairs, climbing high on the horizon line across this raging sea of anarchy. I stop at the door. Less than confident that my navigational skills has found find the safest and expeditious route to the beckoning stairs, I am carried away in the crush, losing my footing on the clothing that have been violently rip from the rails and left scattered across the floor, in the death throes of their finest hour. The wails of the maddening banshees pierced my senses, wailing that warns of an impending death.
"IF SHE PICKS UP THAT LAST SIZE 10 FROCK SHE'S GOING DOWN"
"WHAT? YEA, I KNOW I'M A 12 BUT IT'S ONLY THURSDAY AND I'VE GOT TWO DAYS TILL SATURDAY TO DROP A SIZE. JUST HURRY UP WILL YA, GRAB IT"
I begin to hyperventilate.
I reach the stairs and take a seat on the eighth step till my breathing returns to normal. The bedlam below me is incessant and will have to be revisited or I could just sit here for the next 8 hours till closing time.
My breathing returns and I ascend the stairs to the mens floor. All is quiet and there is order as the predominantly male shoppers peruse the rails. I find the nightwear section and go straight for the dressing gowns. Now, this is when the realisation started sinking in. I don't own or would not contemplate purchasing a dressing gown to wear at home, that's what my slouchers are for. But I now find myself 'touching' the material for softness and warmth, checking the labels for the material information, humming and ahhing over the design and colour. I even try them on, luxuriating in their big, loving, soft and warm hug, exhaling a long affectionate sigh.
"WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING?"
Oops that was a big loud.
Didn't get any better when choosing the pyjamas and as for the slippers; I found myself shoeless and sockless parading down the aisles in a pair of 'Toasty Toes' slippers, a stupid 'look at me' expression sat on my smug face
Transaction complete, I found myself back on the eighth step, paper shopping bag clutched tightly to my side pondering whether I should sit here, safe and protected, till closing time.
"B@LL@X.........I WANT A SMOKE AND I'M HUNGRY"
Oops, too loud again.
"If I time it right, I could probably bounce of the manic heads of the banshees and make that final dive that will propel me through the open doors leaving an abrupt body sprawled at the feet of the passing street traffic, battered and bruised, clutching a 'Primarni' paper shopping bag...WHERE'S THE WEIRD LITTLE XBOX KID WHEN YOU NEED HIM? HE COULD SAFELY NAVIGATE ME THROUGH THIS THUNDERDOME, THIS GLADIATORIAL ARENA. HE BRINGS HELLFIRE AND DAMNATION DOWN ON THE ZOMBIE FLESH EATERS FOR GOD'S SAKE. HE COULD HANDLE THIS".
Damn, too loud again.
I bounced off the heads.
This, my friends, has been a true account of my day and I am now slouching on the couch, my cuts and grazes dressed in a variety of different sized Band-Aids, smelling of TCP, watching Spartacus: Gods Of The Arena, with a much needed beer in my hand.
Love, peace and please forgive my retail indiscretions (but I did see a comfortable looking cardigan and a pair of practical summer slip-ons whilst passing the British Home Stores window
Cluski
Tuesday 22 March 2011
Greetings from the Northern Hemisphere my friends and as I bask in the sunlight, midway between the vernal equinox and the summer solstice, the glory of the seasons rebirth, renewal and regrowth is a feast for my senses.............What the hell am I going on about?
Greetings from the Northern Hemisphere my friends and as I bask in the sunlight, midway between the vernal equinox and the summer solstice, the glory of the seasons rebirth, renewal and regrowth is a feast for my senses.............What the hell am I going on about?
Good day people on this beautiful Spring day.
I am sorry to announce, that due to the forthcoming hospital confinement and no internet access, this blog will be on vacation for 3-4 weeks from Sunday 27th March.
I suffer from psoriasis, a skin complaint, that a requires hospitalisation every now and again for intense treatment that cannot be administered at home. Purely routine, but a long process of control and confinement. So, what do I have to look forward to? Long, very long, days of reading, writing, relaxing, sleeping and not forgetting the 4 meals a day with intervening scatterings of crisps, chocolate and sweets.
You are given a daily menu to choose the following days meals but no matter what you choose, for a hot lunch and dinner, you will always end up with a stew. Example;
LUNCH: Beef stew with creamed potatoes and seasonal veg
TRANSLATION: a pond of tiny chunks of meat and gravy, 2 ice-cream scoops of rehydrated powdered potato and crunchy undercooked mixed veg
DINNER: Steak n Kidney pie, chipped potatoes and seasonal veg
TRANSLATION: THE SAME BLOODY BEEF STEW YOU HAD AT LUNCHTIME BUT WITH A SQUARE PIECE OF PUFF PASTRY SITTING ON TOP OF A POND OF TINY CHUNKS OF MEAT AND GRAVY.....about 7 cold and hard chips and.....THE SAME BLOODY CRUNCHY UNDERCOOKED MIXED VEG YOU HAD AT LUNCHTIME.
One shall be missing his homecooked food to the point of tears within 48 hours
Anyhows, cauliflower is bang in season right now, so in anticipation of the fellow housemates eating crap for the next month, I have cooked and frozen a beautiful Cauliflower Cheese Soup, along with a slow-cooked Piri Piri Chicken, 2 more large Cottage Pies, a large Beef and Guiness Pie and an assortment of cook-in-sauces (not hard, defrost, then just add meat)
Give this Cauliflower Cheese Soup a go, but please note; if you intend to freeze DO NOT ADD THE CHEESE. Add the cheese when you defrost and reheat it. Enjoy.
knob of butter
1 large onion, finely chopped
2 garlic cloves, peeled and finely chopped
1 large cauliflower (about 900g/2lb), leaves trimmed and cut into florets
1 large potato, peeled and cut into chunks
700ml vegetable stock (I use swiss vegetable bouillon powder)
400ml milk
100g mature cheddar, grated
Heat the butter in a large saucepan. Tip in the onion and cook until softened, about 5 mins, stirring often. Add the garlic and cook for a further couple of minutes. Add the cauliflower, potato, stock, milk and seasoning. Bring to the boil, then reduce the heat and leave to simmer for about 30 mins until the cauliflower is soft and the potato almost collapsing.
Whizz in a food processor or crush with a potato masher until you get a creamy, thick soup. Add more milk if you prefer a thinner soup. Freeze now, if desired. If not freezing, return to the pan, warm through, add the grated cheese and stir till melted into the soup. You can make ahead up to 2 days in advance, cool, cover and leave in the fridge until needed, or freeze for up to 1 month.
Love, peace and freedom beautiful people
Cluski
Good day people on this beautiful Spring day.
I am sorry to announce, that due to the forthcoming hospital confinement and no internet access, this blog will be on vacation for 3-4 weeks from Sunday 27th March.
I suffer from psoriasis, a skin complaint, that a requires hospitalisation every now and again for intense treatment that cannot be administered at home. Purely routine, but a long process of control and confinement. So, what do I have to look forward to? Long, very long, days of reading, writing, relaxing, sleeping and not forgetting the 4 meals a day with intervening scatterings of crisps, chocolate and sweets.
You are given a daily menu to choose the following days meals but no matter what you choose, for a hot lunch and dinner, you will always end up with a stew. Example;
LUNCH: Beef stew with creamed potatoes and seasonal veg
TRANSLATION: a pond of tiny chunks of meat and gravy, 2 ice-cream scoops of rehydrated powdered potato and crunchy undercooked mixed veg
DINNER: Steak n Kidney pie, chipped potatoes and seasonal veg
TRANSLATION: THE SAME BLOODY BEEF STEW YOU HAD AT LUNCHTIME BUT WITH A SQUARE PIECE OF PUFF PASTRY SITTING ON TOP OF A POND OF TINY CHUNKS OF MEAT AND GRAVY.....about 7 cold and hard chips and.....THE SAME BLOODY CRUNCHY UNDERCOOKED MIXED VEG YOU HAD AT LUNCHTIME.
One shall be missing his homecooked food to the point of tears within 48 hours
Anyhows, cauliflower is bang in season right now, so in anticipation of the fellow housemates eating crap for the next month, I have cooked and frozen a beautiful Cauliflower Cheese Soup, along with a slow-cooked Piri Piri Chicken, 2 more large Cottage Pies, a large Beef and Guiness Pie and an assortment of cook-in-sauces (not hard, defrost, then just add meat)
Give this Cauliflower Cheese Soup a go, but please note; if you intend to freeze DO NOT ADD THE CHEESE. Add the cheese when you defrost and reheat it. Enjoy.
Cauliflower Cheese Soup
knob of butter
1 large onion, finely chopped
2 garlic cloves, peeled and finely chopped
1 large cauliflower (about 900g/2lb), leaves trimmed and cut into florets
1 large potato, peeled and cut into chunks
700ml vegetable stock (I use swiss vegetable bouillon powder)
400ml milk
100g mature cheddar, grated
Heat the butter in a large saucepan. Tip in the onion and cook until softened, about 5 mins, stirring often. Add the garlic and cook for a further couple of minutes. Add the cauliflower, potato, stock, milk and seasoning. Bring to the boil, then reduce the heat and leave to simmer for about 30 mins until the cauliflower is soft and the potato almost collapsing.
Whizz in a food processor or crush with a potato masher until you get a creamy, thick soup. Add more milk if you prefer a thinner soup. Freeze now, if desired. If not freezing, return to the pan, warm through, add the grated cheese and stir till melted into the soup. You can make ahead up to 2 days in advance, cool, cover and leave in the fridge until needed, or freeze for up to 1 month.
Love, peace and freedom beautiful people
Cluski
Sunday 20 March 2011
Liberation from this repressive cocoon is not forthcoming. It has the seductive power to quell any physical attempt to break free. That's another Cardinal Sin to cross off the 'to do' list
Greetings from the confines of the duvet. Liberation from this repressive cocoon is not forthcoming. It has the seductive power to quell any physical attempt to break free....I have managed to release one leg which is left dangling, without purpose, over the side of the bed.
It has been a frenetic weekend of gigs, debauchery and gluttony (that's another Cardinal Sin to cross off the 'to do' list) which has left me wandering around 'Hangover Alley', beaten and penniless. OK, I might be overstating one's current state of being but today is officially 'Detox Sunday'. A day when a constant supply of still water will take precedence over food....once I've devoured the leftover Jerk Pork, downed my eighth cup of strong black coffee and had my nicotine hit. (see 'There's only one way of life and that's your own. Anticipating the post gig munchies attack - Blackened Chicken and Jerk Pork' post)
Now, if only I had the strength and will to escape this bloody cocoon, my dangling leg is getting cold.
Love, peace and happy Detox Day
Cluski
It has been a frenetic weekend of gigs, debauchery and gluttony (that's another Cardinal Sin to cross off the 'to do' list) which has left me wandering around 'Hangover Alley', beaten and penniless. OK, I might be overstating one's current state of being but today is officially 'Detox Sunday'. A day when a constant supply of still water will take precedence over food....once I've devoured the leftover Jerk Pork, downed my eighth cup of strong black coffee and had my nicotine hit. (see 'There's only one way of life and that's your own. Anticipating the post gig munchies attack - Blackened Chicken and Jerk Pork' post)Now, if only I had the strength and will to escape this bloody cocoon, my dangling leg is getting cold.
Love, peace and happy Detox Day
Cluski
Thursday 17 March 2011
There's only one way of life and that's your own. Anticipating the post gig munchies attack - Blackened Chicken and Jerk Pork
Greetings people.
I am very much looking forward to a weekend of gigs. Starting with the Levellers tomorrow and finishing with Zodiac Mindwarp and the Love Reaction on Saturday means it's gonna be all go this weekend....poor me.
One of the dry spice rubs and a marinade I made on Sunday will be coating chicken breasts and pork steaks in anticipation of the post gig munchies attack. So, here is what will be cling wrapped in the fridge for Friday and Saturday suppers.
Blackened Chicken
A great New Orleans Cajun blackened rub
1 1/2 tablespoons paprika
1 tablespoon garlic powder
1 tablespoon onion powder
1 tablespoon ground dried thyme
1 teaspoon ground black pepper
1 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1 teaspoon dried basil
1 teaspoon dried oregano
Combine the paprika, garlic powder, onion powder, thyme, black pepper, cayenne pepper, basil, and oregano in a bowl until evenly mixed. Lightly coat 4 chicken breasts in the mix, pressing in well. Store the remainding mix in an airtight container in a cool, dry place.
Leave to marinade in the fridge for 1 hour or overnight. Cook the chicken as desired - bake, griddle or grill till cooked through.
I'll be serving this late night supper, sliced, with flatbreads, Pico de Gallo (recipe listed), extra sliced onion and a bottle of Louisiana Hot Sauce.
Jerk Pork Steaks
This jerk marinade will make about 3 cups and can be stored in the fridge for a month. Go easy on the marinade. You want to coat the meat, not completely drown it. Baste some of the marinade on the meat whilst grilling.
5 spring onions, roughly chopped
5 sprigs of fresh thyme, about 1 tablespoon chopped
2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1 tablespoon brown sugar
2 teaspoon ground allspice
1 teaspoon nutmeg
1 teaspoon cinnamon
2 scotch bonnet peppers, deseeded and chopped (for that true authentic Jamaican feel.. keep the seeds, if you dare)
1/3 cup soy sauce
2 tablespoon vegetable oil
1/4 cup white wine vinegar
1 onion, roughly chopped
1/2 cup orange juice
2 cloves garlic, roughly chopped
1 teaspoon grated ginger
Put all the ingredients in a food processor or blender and pulse to start then run at a puree speed until everything breaks down to a smooth consistency. This marinade can be used on chicken or fish but I will be pouring it over 6 pork steaks until evenly coated, refrigerated overnight to marinate, then grilled.
I'll be serving the jerk pork with panini bread, sauteed red pepper and onion, steamed buttered corn cobs and the habitual bottle of Jamaican Pepper Sauce.
Wednesday 16 March 2011
"If wasn't for stupid Mike". Akin to James Brown, a bit out of breath.
Greetings from the valleys of green and grey my beautiful people
 |
| My dear 'Dregs Session' hosts, Tabitha and Mr Bloody Know-it-all |
It's been a couple of days since the last posting and in the intervening period the wierd little Xbox kid is still sulking about the outcome of this weeks poll (see previous posting) and is now challenging me to 1 game of Fifa '11 to overturn his loss on the coin toss. Tabitha, my generous 'Dregs Session' hostess, is still reeling with Mike after he 'advised' her to place her Cheltenham Festival horse racing bets to win, rather than her preferred each-way bets. She would have had a return;
"If wasn't for stupid Mike, but I can't even shout at him, seeing he's just bought me a new cooker and tumble dryer. But he's still bloody stupid. Mr Bloody Know-it-all".
The second day of the Cheltenham Festival and she's placed each-way bets, so I wish her luck.
Wags, another 'Dregs Session' patriot, won a couple of hundred quid on the racing and didn't bat an eyelid, I won £20 and jumped about, busting some hot East Coast 'booty' moves.
"Get in there, who's the daddy?"...Wags bought me a beer and I was helped to my bar stool, akin to James Brown, a bit out of breath.
Anyhows, as promised here is the very tasty and easy recipe for the pulled pork dish that many of you have requested. I did promise to share some portions with my fellow patrons, but the housemates devoured it all. Please accept my apologies.
2Ilb boneless pork shoulder, fat removed
1/2 cup barbeque sauce
1/2 cup tomato ketchup
1/2 cup cider vinegar
1/2 cup hot chicken stock
3 tbsp light brown sugar
1 tbsp American yellow mustard
1 tbsp Worcestershire sauce
1 tbsp chilli powder
1 large onion, finely chopped
3 garlic cloves, finely chopped
1 1/2 tsp dried thyme
Mix the barbecue sauce, tomato ketchup, cider vinegar, chicken broth, brown sugar, yellow mustard, Worcestershire sauce, chili powder, onion, garlic, and thyme in a jug or bowl. Pour in the slow cooker and place the pork shoulder on top of the sauce and baste. Cover and cook on High 5 to 6 hours or low for 10 - 12 hours until the roast shreds easily with two forks. 'Pull' into shreds and stir well through the juices.
Spoon onto large toasted buttered baps and serve with rosemary and garlic potato wedges (listed in 'recipes') or American-style fries, sauteed sliced red and green peppers and sliced onion and coleslaw.
Love, peace and don't bust any East Coast booty moves if you've got a dodgy hip
Cluski
Monday 14 March 2011
Engulfing concrete basking in the gold and yellow of an exquisite solar day. "Feel the force weird little Xbox kid. The righteous one will prevail".
Good day beautiful people. How glorious a greeting the sun gives the mountains!
The sun sits high and naked in the blue sky and the usual greyness of my hometown is transformed, the engulfing concrete basks in the gold and yellow of an exquisite solar day. Me thinks an early evening stroll through the valleys is beckoning after a dinner of Texas pulled pork, rosemary and garlic potato wedges and slaw.
Anyhows, this weeks poll result was a 50/50 split. So, should I honour the weird little Xbox kids menu request for next week to the disservice of all the other fellow housemates...and myself'? We came to a deal. Holding the casting vote, I agreed to toss a coin.
"Oh Dear"
"Best of 3?"
"I think not young man, but I will reluctantly permit ONE pasta dish to deface this weeks dinner table. Make your choice"
My humanity knows no boundaries
"HOW CAN I? ITS ALL PASTA AND CHEESE, MY FAVOURITES"
"Feel the force weird little Xbox kid. The righteous one will prevail"
The reverberation of a slammed door succeeded the grunts and heavy ascending footsteps.
Love, peace and enjoy the respite from ya negative seasonal affective disorder
Cluski
The sun sits high and naked in the blue sky and the usual greyness of my hometown is transformed, the engulfing concrete basks in the gold and yellow of an exquisite solar day. Me thinks an early evening stroll through the valleys is beckoning after a dinner of Texas pulled pork, rosemary and garlic potato wedges and slaw.Anyhows, this weeks poll result was a 50/50 split. So, should I honour the weird little Xbox kids menu request for next week to the disservice of all the other fellow housemates...and myself'? We came to a deal. Holding the casting vote, I agreed to toss a coin.
"Oh Dear"
"Best of 3?"
"I think not young man, but I will reluctantly permit ONE pasta dish to deface this weeks dinner table. Make your choice"
My humanity knows no boundaries
"HOW CAN I? ITS ALL PASTA AND CHEESE, MY FAVOURITES"
"Feel the force weird little Xbox kid. The righteous one will prevail"
The reverberation of a slammed door succeeded the grunts and heavy ascending footsteps.
Love, peace and enjoy the respite from ya negative seasonal affective disorder
Cluski
Sunday 13 March 2011
A snail tale. "Che l"uomo รจ pazzo", A quiet and solitary day of relaxation and batch cooking.
Good day beautiful people
This weeks poll on whether I should honour the weird little Xbox kids menu request for next week to the disservice of all the other fellow housemates...and myself closes at midnight and is currently a 50/50 split. If you cast a vote in the coming hours ask yourself;
'Could I really spend a whole week on a diet of unleavened dough made from durum wheat and water, smothered in a variety of tomato based sauces and topped with handfuls of Parmigiano-Reggiano?'
Now, this is not persuasion...I am merely posing the question that you need to ask yourself. I very much like the supportive comment from 'Anonymous' regarding this poll;
How would you impress a new girlfriend during a romantic dinner in an upmarket Italian Ristorante? You could always try this one.
Dave, looking rather dapper in his taupe suit with a pocket watch and chain attached to a blue and gold waitcoat over a white dress shirt, and Francis, dressed to kill in a little black designer number with matching expensive clutch bag, had just started courting and were sat in a subtly lit Italian Ristorante on their first dinner date. Perusing the menu, Dave noticed a starter of snails simmered in olive oil, vinegar, garlic and butter. In an act of complete bravado, an act to impress Francis with his cosmopolitan and refined palate, he announced "I think I will have the snails"....he had never tasted snails. Francis opted for the Calamari.
The starters arrived and the snails went down well, leaving a debris of empty shells scattered around the plate, which Dave proceeded to gather up in his napkin.
"Francis, pass me ya bag"
"Why?"
"Quick, before the waiter comes over"
The bag was passed over and the filled napkin was shoved into it.
"Was everything satisfactory sir?" enquired the imported Italian waiter, noticing the empty plate that sat in front of Dave.
"Very nice thank you, but the snail shells were rather crunchy"
The waiter stood aghast. Mouth agape.
"I will..erm..inform the..err..chef sir"
Secondi and Dolci courses devoured, bill paid, they left and went to continue their evening in the nearby bars. The full repercussion of Daves practical joke was realised when Francis ordered the drinks and opened her clutch bag to retreive her purse. A huge waft of vinegar and garlic aroma engulfed the bar, bringing a look of distate from the patrons gathered at the bar.
She retreated to the Ladies and emptied the contents of her bag into the wash basin. All the contents and the whole lining of the expensive designer clutch bag were covered in a buttery film of garlic-infused olive oil and vinegar. Everything was ruined...and stank. She was not happy.
They went home.
After all these years, Francis has still got that clutch bag and refuses to throw it away..and it still stinks.
Anyhows, I've had a lovely, quiet and solitary day of relaxation and batch cooking. The Texas Pulled Pork is bathing in the slow cooker, two large cottage pies have been made and waiting to be transferred to the freezer, spice shelf in the larder has been replenished and various dry rubs and marinades have been made for later use (I will post the recipes for the dry rubs and marinades later). Time for a beer, TV and a slouch me thinks.
Love, peace and che l"uomo รจ pazzo
Cluski
This weeks poll on whether I should honour the weird little Xbox kids menu request for next week to the disservice of all the other fellow housemates...and myself closes at midnight and is currently a 50/50 split. If you cast a vote in the coming hours ask yourself;
'Could I really spend a whole week on a diet of unleavened dough made from durum wheat and water, smothered in a variety of tomato based sauces and topped with handfuls of Parmigiano-Reggiano?'
Now, this is not persuasion...I am merely posing the question that you need to ask yourself. I very much like the supportive comment from 'Anonymous' regarding this poll;
'I feel you are duty bound to sit the Xbox child down and explain the theory behind dehydration, hydration and then subsequent dehydration of pasta and the likelyhood of a football sized bowl obstruction,which although possibly appealing in a strange biological research sort of way certainly has potential to put house and housemates in extreme peril'
I could not have produced a better counterargument for the defense of the fellow housemates and myself your honour (think I've found a new best friend). Coincidentally, I heard a rather amusing Italian-based foody story during yesterdays Dregs Session.
How would you impress a new girlfriend during a romantic dinner in an upmarket Italian Ristorante? You could always try this one.
Dave, looking rather dapper in his taupe suit with a pocket watch and chain attached to a blue and gold waitcoat over a white dress shirt, and Francis, dressed to kill in a little black designer number with matching expensive clutch bag, had just started courting and were sat in a subtly lit Italian Ristorante on their first dinner date. Perusing the menu, Dave noticed a starter of snails simmered in olive oil, vinegar, garlic and butter. In an act of complete bravado, an act to impress Francis with his cosmopolitan and refined palate, he announced "I think I will have the snails"....he had never tasted snails. Francis opted for the Calamari.The starters arrived and the snails went down well, leaving a debris of empty shells scattered around the plate, which Dave proceeded to gather up in his napkin.
"Francis, pass me ya bag"
"Why?"
"Quick, before the waiter comes over"
The bag was passed over and the filled napkin was shoved into it.
"Was everything satisfactory sir?" enquired the imported Italian waiter, noticing the empty plate that sat in front of Dave.
"Very nice thank you, but the snail shells were rather crunchy"
The waiter stood aghast. Mouth agape.
"I will..erm..inform the..err..chef sir"
Secondi and Dolci courses devoured, bill paid, they left and went to continue their evening in the nearby bars. The full repercussion of Daves practical joke was realised when Francis ordered the drinks and opened her clutch bag to retreive her purse. A huge waft of vinegar and garlic aroma engulfed the bar, bringing a look of distate from the patrons gathered at the bar.
She retreated to the Ladies and emptied the contents of her bag into the wash basin. All the contents and the whole lining of the expensive designer clutch bag were covered in a buttery film of garlic-infused olive oil and vinegar. Everything was ruined...and stank. She was not happy.
They went home.
After all these years, Francis has still got that clutch bag and refuses to throw it away..and it still stinks.
Anyhows, I've had a lovely, quiet and solitary day of relaxation and batch cooking. The Texas Pulled Pork is bathing in the slow cooker, two large cottage pies have been made and waiting to be transferred to the freezer, spice shelf in the larder has been replenished and various dry rubs and marinades have been made for later use (I will post the recipes for the dry rubs and marinades later). Time for a beer, TV and a slouch me thinks.
Love, peace and che l"uomo รจ pazzo
Cluski
Friday 11 March 2011
I concede to the revolution and acknowledge the power of the militant reformers. Shepherds Butchers first delivery of their own bred free range pork
Good day beautiful people and a very happy Friday to you all.
Firstly, the results of the 'hackers' poll are in and the result shows that 65% of you agreed with him/her that I was wrong to ignore the democratic vote and take the housemate for her birthday dinner to a restaurant of my choosing (Nandos) and not to a restaurant of her choosing (Frankie and Bennys)....I WAS PAYING.
In response to the result of the 'hackers' own poll, that questioned my despotic stance against the democratic opinion of the populace, I concede to the revolution and acknowledge the power of the militant reformers. Therefore, I will relinquish my power to negate the democratic process and will cease to violate the privilege of persuasion.....
Anyhows, I've got a free day today, so I will be taking a stroll over to Shepherds Butchers, defrosting a homemade cottage pie for the housemates dinner and will be joining the patrons of the Dregs Session in The Peel Hotel later this afternoon before strolling home, kebab in hand (supper and breakfast) and retiring to bed, to lie in fear of the abominable 4am alarm call and work.
Today, I am happy to announce that Howard recieved the first delivery of his very own bred free range pork yesterday (see February 6th review posting 'Detailed anatomical and forensic skills, expert husbandry knowledge and obliging service remain the hallmark of a good butcher' Click here for details, location and phone number) and in anticipation of this delivery I ordered a 2lb pork shoulder that I will pick up today, along with housemates habitual weekend breakfast menu of pork with garlic and spring onion sausage, black pudding, bacon and fresh local eggs.
The pork shoulder will be used for a Texas Pulled Pork dish. The shoulder will be immersed in a bath of BBQ sauce, tomato ketchup, cider vinegar, chicken stock, brown sugar, mustard, Worcestershire sauce, chilli, onion, garlic and thyme and slow cooked for 10 hours. The shoulder will then be 'pulled' using two forks to pull the pork apart, leaving it in large strips and then returned to the bath and stirred through. This will be served with large baps, rosemary and garlic potato wedges (recipe listed) and homemade coleslaw.
I have to point out that I shall be cooking this dish on Sunday and depending on the results of this weeks poll will either be lovingly presented to the ravenous housemates on Monday or frozen for another time. Please vote wisely...
Crap, there I go again......sorry.
Love, peace and power to the people
Cluski
Firstly, the results of the 'hackers' poll are in and the result shows that 65% of you agreed with him/her that I was wrong to ignore the democratic vote and take the housemate for her birthday dinner to a restaurant of my choosing (Nandos) and not to a restaurant of her choosing (Frankie and Bennys)....I WAS PAYING.In response to the result of the 'hackers' own poll, that questioned my despotic stance against the democratic opinion of the populace, I concede to the revolution and acknowledge the power of the militant reformers. Therefore, I will relinquish my power to negate the democratic process and will cease to violate the privilege of persuasion.....
............NOT THAT I BLOODY HAD ANY OVER YOU PESKY, MEDDLING MILITANTS.
Anyhows, I've got a free day today, so I will be taking a stroll over to Shepherds Butchers, defrosting a homemade cottage pie for the housemates dinner and will be joining the patrons of the Dregs Session in The Peel Hotel later this afternoon before strolling home, kebab in hand (supper and breakfast) and retiring to bed, to lie in fear of the abominable 4am alarm call and work.
Today, I am happy to announce that Howard recieved the first delivery of his very own bred free range pork yesterday (see February 6th review posting 'Detailed anatomical and forensic skills, expert husbandry knowledge and obliging service remain the hallmark of a good butcher' Click here for details, location and phone number) and in anticipation of this delivery I ordered a 2lb pork shoulder that I will pick up today, along with housemates habitual weekend breakfast menu of pork with garlic and spring onion sausage, black pudding, bacon and fresh local eggs.The pork shoulder will be used for a Texas Pulled Pork dish. The shoulder will be immersed in a bath of BBQ sauce, tomato ketchup, cider vinegar, chicken stock, brown sugar, mustard, Worcestershire sauce, chilli, onion, garlic and thyme and slow cooked for 10 hours. The shoulder will then be 'pulled' using two forks to pull the pork apart, leaving it in large strips and then returned to the bath and stirred through. This will be served with large baps, rosemary and garlic potato wedges (recipe listed) and homemade coleslaw.
I have to point out that I shall be cooking this dish on Sunday and depending on the results of this weeks poll will either be lovingly presented to the ravenous housemates on Monday or frozen for another time. Please vote wisely...
Crap, there I go again......sorry.
Love, peace and power to the people
Cluski
Wednesday 9 March 2011
My common sense has abdicated it's responsibility, Sausage and Root Veg Hotpot,
Good day beautiful people. I once made the mistake of letting the weird little Xbox kid choose the coming weeks menu for the housemates and myself (I do like to involve him in matters of the commune from time to time). Alas, yet again, my common sense has abdicated it's responsibility to monitor the words that breed like adders in my throat and to keep my mouth shut when the words that explode through my lips will, knowingly, have a detrimental effect on myself or others.
I pushed a blank piece of writing paper under his door and retreated into the darkness of the landing. The emanating sound of crackling gunfire and the bloodcurdling screams of people having their throats ripped out and inners consumed by blood thirsty zombies ceased. Five minutes later, the folded writing paper was pushed back under the door. I picked it up and read his menu;
Monday - Spaghetti Bolognese.....OK
Tuesday - Lasagne..................OK, pasta again
Wednesday - Cannelloni................OH NO!!!
Thursday - Pasta Bake..............HE'S DONE IT AGAIN..BLOODY PASTA BOY
Friday - Pizza.....................AAAAAAAARGH
How am I going to confess my revisiting stupidity to the other housemates?
So, this weeks poll is to decide, through the democratic process (that has been brought into question by a certain 'hacker'), whether I should honour the weird little Xbox kids menu request for next week to the disservice of all the other fellow housemates...and myself.
Anyhows, my confession can wait until I have filled their bellies with a comforting sausage and root veg hotpot. Swedes and parsnips are coming to the end of their season and wont be back to their best till August, so I like to use them in a hearty stew whilst they are still at their best and the days are still cold.
3 tbsp olive oil
8 good quality sausages (I always buy the butchers homemade)
2 large red onions, finely sliced
4 garlic cloves, crushed
2 parsnips, peeled and cut into chunks
1 swede, peeled and cut into chunks
2 large carrots, peeled and cut into chunks
300ml red wine
400g tin chopped tomatoes
A few fresh rosemary sprigs
200ml chicken stock, hot
Handful of fresh flatleaf parsley, finely chopped
Heat 1 tbsp of the oil over a medium heat in a large pan, then brown the sausages all over. set aside, then heat another 1 tbsp of oil and gently fry the red onions for 10 minutes. Add the garlic and fry for another 2 minutes, then set aside with the sausages.
Heat the remaining oil and quickly fry the root veg for 5 minutes until starting to colour, then set aside with the other ingredients.
Pour the wine into the pan and bubble until reduced by half, return the other ingredients to the pan, then add the tomatoes, rosemary and chicken stock.
Season well, then bring to the boil, cover with a lid and gently simmer for 20 minutes. Remove the lid and bubble for a further 10 minutes to reduce the sauce. Sprinkle with the parsley.
Serves 4 and will freeze.
Love, peace and don't let common sense abandon you
Cluski
I pushed a blank piece of writing paper under his door and retreated into the darkness of the landing. The emanating sound of crackling gunfire and the bloodcurdling screams of people having their throats ripped out and inners consumed by blood thirsty zombies ceased. Five minutes later, the folded writing paper was pushed back under the door. I picked it up and read his menu;
Monday - Spaghetti Bolognese.....OK
Tuesday - Lasagne..................OK, pasta again
Wednesday - Cannelloni................OH NO!!!
Thursday - Pasta Bake..............HE'S DONE IT AGAIN..BLOODY PASTA BOY
Friday - Pizza.....................AAAAAAAARGH
How am I going to confess my revisiting stupidity to the other housemates?
So, this weeks poll is to decide, through the democratic process (that has been brought into question by a certain 'hacker'), whether I should honour the weird little Xbox kids menu request for next week to the disservice of all the other fellow housemates...and myself.
Anyhows, my confession can wait until I have filled their bellies with a comforting sausage and root veg hotpot. Swedes and parsnips are coming to the end of their season and wont be back to their best till August, so I like to use them in a hearty stew whilst they are still at their best and the days are still cold.
Sausage and Root Veg Hotpot
3 tbsp olive oil
8 good quality sausages (I always buy the butchers homemade)
2 large red onions, finely sliced
4 garlic cloves, crushed
2 parsnips, peeled and cut into chunks
1 swede, peeled and cut into chunks
2 large carrots, peeled and cut into chunks
300ml red wine
400g tin chopped tomatoes
A few fresh rosemary sprigs
200ml chicken stock, hot
Handful of fresh flatleaf parsley, finely chopped
Heat 1 tbsp of the oil over a medium heat in a large pan, then brown the sausages all over. set aside, then heat another 1 tbsp of oil and gently fry the red onions for 10 minutes. Add the garlic and fry for another 2 minutes, then set aside with the sausages.
Heat the remaining oil and quickly fry the root veg for 5 minutes until starting to colour, then set aside with the other ingredients.
Pour the wine into the pan and bubble until reduced by half, return the other ingredients to the pan, then add the tomatoes, rosemary and chicken stock.
Season well, then bring to the boil, cover with a lid and gently simmer for 20 minutes. Remove the lid and bubble for a further 10 minutes to reduce the sauce. Sprinkle with the parsley.
Serves 4 and will freeze.
Love, peace and don't let common sense abandon you
Cluski
Monday 7 March 2011
A weekend across the border, the cream of the Atlantic and if it's wearing a furry coat - THROW IT AWAY
Good day beautiful people. Had a wonderful weekend away across the border with the wider family to celebrate a milestone birthday.
When I travel back home from these infrequent large family gatherings and contemplate the chronology of our entwined lives, their long absence both physically and consciously is realised. My dear cousins are a lot more muted in silver colour and their children are no longer the little snotty toddlers I remember. They are all unrecognizable in their little adult bodies as the girls consume bottles of Blue Wicked, wine and vodka's and the boys, with the 5 O'clock shadows, knock back the beers. Reintroductions are required. My aunties and uncles are all holding free bus passes and dressed for warmth and comfort. I, obviously, have not aged.
My brother and sister-in-law made the journey from Portugal, where they now reside, and it's always a pleasure to share a beer or ten with them. As always, they arrived with gifts for me and the 1.5kg bag of 'Flor de Sal' and the big bag of dried piri piri chillies were gladly received.
'Flor de Sal' translates to 'Flower of Salt' and is the cream of the Atlantic. The flor de sal is the result of the work of nature obtained by natural evaporation of Atlantic Ocean water that enters the salt pans through the Natural Marine Reserve of the "Ria Formosa" on the southern coast of Portugal. The clusters of crystals that float on the surface (the rosy coloured slices indicates the presence of quality carotene) is collected by hand using wooden rakes (every two weeks) that skim the surface of the salt pan to collect the thin layer of salt "flower" that forms on top of the water as the water evaporates. It is then put in perforated boxes to drain and dry, and then to storage. After it is boxed without any way of changing its content, the consumer obtains a product 100% pure. Historical research shows that it has been done like this for over 4000 years. Flor de sal is prized for its small grains, lightly crunchy texture and balanced, briny flavor and has been certified by worldwide environmental organizations to be free of the industrial contaminants sometimes found in mechanically harvested sea salt. It is a much prized and sought after sea salt throughout the world.
How can one be so passionate and excited by sea salt?.......it's all rock n roll to me.
The piri piri chillies will be used to make chilli oil which will be used to pan fry Potuguese Bifana (hot pork sandwiches) and Prego (hot steak sandwiches) and piri piri marinades for chicken.
Anyhows, I have done a full stock-take of the spice and herb shelf in the larder and made a shopping list for tomorrow. A day of making spice rubs and marinades for meat and fish is on the cards. Will leave you the recipes tomorrow.
Love, peace and when staying with an elderly relative make sure you go through their fridge and larder and dispose of any produce that smells, has turned green and is sitting in a furry coat as well as anything that has a 'use by date' of 2004.
Cluski
When I travel back home from these infrequent large family gatherings and contemplate the chronology of our entwined lives, their long absence both physically and consciously is realised. My dear cousins are a lot more muted in silver colour and their children are no longer the little snotty toddlers I remember. They are all unrecognizable in their little adult bodies as the girls consume bottles of Blue Wicked, wine and vodka's and the boys, with the 5 O'clock shadows, knock back the beers. Reintroductions are required. My aunties and uncles are all holding free bus passes and dressed for warmth and comfort. I, obviously, have not aged.
My brother and sister-in-law made the journey from Portugal, where they now reside, and it's always a pleasure to share a beer or ten with them. As always, they arrived with gifts for me and the 1.5kg bag of 'Flor de Sal' and the big bag of dried piri piri chillies were gladly received.
'Flor de Sal' translates to 'Flower of Salt' and is the cream of the Atlantic. The flor de sal is the result of the work of nature obtained by natural evaporation of Atlantic Ocean water that enters the salt pans through the Natural Marine Reserve of the "Ria Formosa" on the southern coast of Portugal. The clusters of crystals that float on the surface (the rosy coloured slices indicates the presence of quality carotene) is collected by hand using wooden rakes (every two weeks) that skim the surface of the salt pan to collect the thin layer of salt "flower" that forms on top of the water as the water evaporates. It is then put in perforated boxes to drain and dry, and then to storage. After it is boxed without any way of changing its content, the consumer obtains a product 100% pure. Historical research shows that it has been done like this for over 4000 years. Flor de sal is prized for its small grains, lightly crunchy texture and balanced, briny flavor and has been certified by worldwide environmental organizations to be free of the industrial contaminants sometimes found in mechanically harvested sea salt. It is a much prized and sought after sea salt throughout the world.
How can one be so passionate and excited by sea salt?.......it's all rock n roll to me.
Anyhows, I have done a full stock-take of the spice and herb shelf in the larder and made a shopping list for tomorrow. A day of making spice rubs and marinades for meat and fish is on the cards. Will leave you the recipes tomorrow.
Love, peace and when staying with an elderly relative make sure you go through their fridge and larder and dispose of any produce that smells, has turned green and is sitting in a furry coat as well as anything that has a 'use by date' of 2004.
Cluski
Thursday 3 March 2011
A scuppered solitary and relaxing excursion into the city. Chorizo, mushroom and egg on toast
Good day beautiful people. Due to a forgotten appointment later this afternoon, my plans for today have been scuppered. The choice was to stay home and cook a Roast Chicken dinner for the returning housemates or take myself off for the day. I had decided to have a relaxing day with lunch at The Soup Kitchen (Chicken Barley Broth, a selection of freshly baked rolls and a cup of tea) followed by a meditation session at the Buddhist Centre. Alas, the late afternoon appointment, that I completely forgot about, has prevented this solitary and relaxing excursion into the city. The housemates gave a very insincere and patronizing response;
'Oh dear, never mind'
that was then followed with.....
"Roast dinner back on then?"
Anyhows, I've just enjoyed a beautiful lunch of Chorizo, mushroom and egg on toast and now chilling with a mug of Yorkshire tea and The Sopranos.....Rock 'n' Roll
Chorizo, Mushroom and Egg on Toast
3 tbsp olive oil
200g cooking chorizo, sliced into rounds
knob of butter, plus extra to serve
350g mixed mushrooms, such as chestnut and portabellini, sliced
4 large shallots, thinly sliced
2 large garlic cloves, finely chopped
Small bunch fresh parsley, leaves picked
4 medium-large free range eggs
1 rustic loaf such as cottage, sourdough, bloomer, sliced
Heat 1 tbsp of oil in a frying pan and fry the chorizo until starting to crisp. remove with a slotted spoon and set aside. Add the butter to the pan and, once it begins to foam, add the mushrooms and shallots. Season and fry over a medium-high heat, stirring, for 5 minutes until softened and golden. Stir in the garlic and fry for 1 minute. return the chorizo to the pan and heat through, then stir in most of the parsley.
In another frying pan, heat the remaining oil and fry the eggs, leaving enough room for them to spread. Fry to your liking.
Meanwhile, toast the bread. Butter the toasted slices, divide amongst the plates, then spoon the mushroom and chorizo over the top. Top each with a fried egg and scatter over the remaining parsley.
I've given you the quantities to serve 4. Easily halved or doubled......enjoy
Love, peace and NEVER make a late afternoon appointment on a free day
Cluski
Wednesday 2 March 2011
An official statement that disclaims any responsibility for stupidity. Who's the daddy?
Good day people. May I submit this post as a disclaimer. An official statement that disclaims any responsibility for stupidity. I share my recipes with you all to inspire and to encourage you to get in that kitchen, put ya Ipod in the docking station, turn the volume up and rock over the stove. To move away from the supermarket ready meals and dump the microwave. To use fresh local produce and meat, to batch cook and freeze for easy mid-week meals, to reduce your weekly food bills and for you to experience the pleasure in preparing, tasting and sharing new dishes and twists on the old classics with ya loved ones and friends.
So, when Diesel confronts me one evening during the 'Dregs Session' with this kitchen injury, I really have to question just how responsible am I if, when following the recipes, you set yourself on fire, lose a couple of digits whilst handling knives, incur horrific facial disfigurement from exploding fats...OR GET ATTACKED BY AN OUT OF CONTROL TIN OPENER WHILST TACKLING A FRAY BENTO'S PUDDING (Dougie's Fray Bentos 'Classic' Steak n Kidney Pudding with Tomato Soup 'Dregs Session' recipe)
Well, I'm not bloody responsible for stupidity. I blame his partner Joolz for not putting child locks on the drawer were all the nasty, horrid sharp things live and for not putting the baby gate on the connecting door frame that leads from the living room and the kitchen. So, Joolz, it's your fault.
Last evening we finally took the housemate out for her birthday dinner. It was cancelled on numerous occasions due to her socialite lifestyle of ladies who lunch, ladies who shop and ladies who get smashed. The poll results were, again, disappointing. I was paying and wished to dine at Nandos, the housemate preferred Frankie & Bennys. So, the results are as follows;
Frankie & Bennys 55%
Nandos 19%
Greggs 13%.....very strange!!!
Pizza Express 9%
Flaming Dragon 4%
May I thank the 19% who did the right thing. We had a celebratory evening of feasting, drinking and much merriment and on behalf of the fellow housemates and guests I would like to thank all the staff at......
Well, I'm not bloody responsible for stupidity. I blame his partner Joolz for not putting child locks on the drawer were all the nasty, horrid sharp things live and for not putting the baby gate on the connecting door frame that leads from the living room and the kitchen. So, Joolz, it's your fault.
Last evening we finally took the housemate out for her birthday dinner. It was cancelled on numerous occasions due to her socialite lifestyle of ladies who lunch, ladies who shop and ladies who get smashed. The poll results were, again, disappointing. I was paying and wished to dine at Nandos, the housemate preferred Frankie & Bennys. So, the results are as follows;
Frankie & Bennys 55%
Nandos 19%
Greggs 13%.....very strange!!!
Pizza Express 9%
Flaming Dragon 4%
May I thank the 19% who did the right thing. We had a celebratory evening of feasting, drinking and much merriment and on behalf of the fellow housemates and guests I would like to thank all the staff at......
...........for the great service and fantastic food
Love, peace and who's the daddy?
Cluski
Sunday 27 February 2011
Slumped and beaten in Hangover Alley. Precipitated the inevitable consequence of birth.
Good day my friends. After an evening in the company of my beloved 'Crag Rats', an evening of debauchery fuelled by excessive alcohol consumption, I find myself slumped and beaten in Hangover Alley today.
The 'Crag Rats' are a band of my dearest friends. A bond of friendships that have traversed the high peaks and lowlands of a journey that began over 35 years ago. Why 'Crag Rats'?
Karen and I have both been touched by the fragility of life, the death of our parents. Cancer had precipitated the inevitable consequence of birth. Their final days were spent in comfort and peace in the care and dedication of the nursing staff at the local Hospice. Their palliative care and the comfort the families received was incomparable. The Hospice is a registered charity so what better way to thank them than raising money through a challenge. At my mothers funeral, surrounded by these friends, Karen suggested doing a walk and Si, a keen walker, suggested the Yorkshire 3 Peak Challenge, a gruelling 26.1 mile circuit of the three peaks of Ingleborough, Whernside and Pen-y-ghent with nearly 5,249 ft of ascent and descent. Karen hit the ground running with the planning and Si used his navigational skills in planning the route and times when we all agreed that it was a great idea. We decided to complete the challenge over two days to give us a full weekend away.
A couple of months later, we found ourselves on the peak of Pen-y-ghent and a final treacherous descent through deep bog to the finish line. A descent that nearly ended in my death, much to the amusement of my watching public. Henceforth, we are always referred to as 'The Crag Rats'.
The pledges realized over £2,037.
Now, accuse me of being inattentive to a persons physical appearance but last night, after 35 years, I realised that Si has only one eyebrow and he has had this condition since childhood. I was only drawn to this through his new eyebrow piercing. I counted his finger's just in case I missed anything else
Anita is still buying her VW camper van and is progressing with her plans to set up a self-sufficient commune in the South of France
My piggy bank is still holding my dream
Woody is going on holiday AGAIN...'I've only been away twice this year' - IT'S ONLY FEBRUARY WOODY. He also can't comprehend the spiritual need for a life on a narrowboat or Anita's desire to travel Europe in a VW camper van - 'Why not buy a yacht and a American RV motorhome, much more comfortable' - A man of considerable wealth and luxury is our Woody.
Karen celebrated her birthday with copious amounts of Woo Woo's and vodka. Don't think she'll be hitting the treadmill with her new-born giraffe legs today
Julie is sleeping in a tent
Dave is still flitting between the UK and Thailand..Wherever he lays his hat.
Alec and Jayne were late...AGAIN. A couple who groom, Alec more than the naturally beautiful Jayne
Janice fell over
Anyhows, back under the sodden cardboard and trash in Hangover Alley for me...now where did I throw that half-eaten Kebab. Hunger calls.
Love, peace and don't step on the vagrant under the trash
Cluski
The 'Crag Rats' are a band of my dearest friends. A bond of friendships that have traversed the high peaks and lowlands of a journey that began over 35 years ago. Why 'Crag Rats'?
Karen and I have both been touched by the fragility of life, the death of our parents. Cancer had precipitated the inevitable consequence of birth. Their final days were spent in comfort and peace in the care and dedication of the nursing staff at the local Hospice. Their palliative care and the comfort the families received was incomparable. The Hospice is a registered charity so what better way to thank them than raising money through a challenge. At my mothers funeral, surrounded by these friends, Karen suggested doing a walk and Si, a keen walker, suggested the Yorkshire 3 Peak Challenge, a gruelling 26.1 mile circuit of the three peaks of Ingleborough, Whernside and Pen-y-ghent with nearly 5,249 ft of ascent and descent. Karen hit the ground running with the planning and Si used his navigational skills in planning the route and times when we all agreed that it was a great idea. We decided to complete the challenge over two days to give us a full weekend away.
A couple of months later, we found ourselves on the peak of Pen-y-ghent and a final treacherous descent through deep bog to the finish line. A descent that nearly ended in my death, much to the amusement of my watching public. Henceforth, we are always referred to as 'The Crag Rats'.
The pledges realized over £2,037.
Now, accuse me of being inattentive to a persons physical appearance but last night, after 35 years, I realised that Si has only one eyebrow and he has had this condition since childhood. I was only drawn to this through his new eyebrow piercing. I counted his finger's just in case I missed anything else
Anita is still buying her VW camper van and is progressing with her plans to set up a self-sufficient commune in the South of France
My piggy bank is still holding my dream
Woody is going on holiday AGAIN...'I've only been away twice this year' - IT'S ONLY FEBRUARY WOODY. He also can't comprehend the spiritual need for a life on a narrowboat or Anita's desire to travel Europe in a VW camper van - 'Why not buy a yacht and a American RV motorhome, much more comfortable' - A man of considerable wealth and luxury is our Woody.
Karen celebrated her birthday with copious amounts of Woo Woo's and vodka. Don't think she'll be hitting the treadmill with her new-born giraffe legs today
Julie is sleeping in a tent
Dave is still flitting between the UK and Thailand..Wherever he lays his hat.
Alec and Jayne were late...AGAIN. A couple who groom, Alec more than the naturally beautiful Jayne
Janice fell over
Anyhows, back under the sodden cardboard and trash in Hangover Alley for me...now where did I throw that half-eaten Kebab. Hunger calls.
Love, peace and don't step on the vagrant under the trash
Cluski
Friday 25 February 2011
am realy sry i shudve askD :((' ....some kind of obscenity in an incoherent language. Boiled Bacon recipe
Lunch at Cafe Grumpy.
Do you think I should invest in a personal fridge freezer with a keypad security lock? The reason I ask is because last night I made boiled bacon, roast potatoes and cauliflower cheese for dinner and today I was looking forward to the leftover bacon for lunch with cheese, mustard, pickled onions and crusty bread. What I got was a boiled bacon lunch without the bacon.
The housemate came bouncing in, muttered some kind of greeting, dumped her bag and keys on the table and marched with purpose into the kitchen. The banging of the cupboard doors, the milk bottles rattling against each other as the fridge door swung open and the muffled sound of things being moved about in the larder indicated that a ravenous forage for food had ensued. The bedlam ceased, proceeded with the sound of heavy footsteps ascending the stairs.
Twenty minutes later, she bounced back into the front room with a change of outfit and a newly painted face. She picked up her bag and keys and muffled some kind of farewell. To be honest with you, as a man of considerable years I find it easier to decipher her 'txtspk' than her incoherent language..LOL.
An empty house = a quiet lunch and the lunch time news. I laid a large plate with a slab of cheddar, a slab of Brie, a dollop of mustard, a handful of silverskin pickled onions, a buttered sliced baguette with a freshly brewed pot of Yorkshire Tea on the side. Where's the cold thick slices of boiled bacon? The ravenous forage...a phone call had to be made.
"Hello"
"Hiya, it's only me"
"What's up?"
"What did you have for lunch when you came home earlier?"
"Nothing, we're having lunch at Olivia's, why?"
"I had some leftover bacon from last nights dinner in the fridge, it's disappeared"
"Oh, the meat that was wrapped in foil?"
"Yea"
"Didn't know you wanted it, so I took it. Sorry, I should have asked"
"Took it?"
"Well, me and the girl's are having lunch at Olivia's, so we decided that everybody bring food but not tell each other what they're bringing and see what we end up with for lunch. Olivia is providing the wine"
I hung up. Five minutes later I received a text message;
'am realy sry i shudve askD :(('
I muffled some kind of obscenity in an incoherent language
If you fancy hot boiled bacon for dinner and, if your lucky enough, the cold leftovers for the following days lunch then here's the recipe.
Boiled Bacon
1.4-1.8kg/3-4lb piece of gammon or hock bacon
Stock
2 bay leaves
3 cloves
5 black peppercorns
2 onions, roughly chopped
3 carrots, roughly chopped
5 sticks celery, roughly chopped
Check the weight of the joint before throwing away the plastic covering. The cooking time will be 25 minutes per 445g/1lb plus 25 minutes. Soak the joint in cold water for a couple of hours to remove any excess salt; alternatively, place it in a large pan, cover with cold water and slowly bring to the boil, then discard the water.
Cover the bacon with fresh cold water and add the rest of the ingredients for the stock. Bring slowly to the boil. Skim the surface when needed and cover with a lid . Calculate the cooking time from this point and reduce to a gentle simmer.
When cooked, remove the joint to keep warm. Sieve the stock into a clean pan, catching all the veg and spices in the sieve. Skim the stock, allow to cool and freeze - it's great for soups and stews.
Love, peace and lock up ya fridge
Cluski
Thursday 24 February 2011
'Although his death robbed England of her nutmeg, it gave her the biggest apples' - A Book Review
Nathaniel's Nutmeg
How One Man's Courage Changed the Course of History
Giles Milton
I have always been fascinated by the Age of Discovery, a period in history starting in the early 15th century and continuing into the early 17th century during which Europeans engaged in intensive exploration of the world. It is common to think that these long-distance maritime travels into unmapped waters were undertaken not merely to map the world but to be the first European to set foot on an unchartered continent in an unchartered ocean. In fact, these marine explorations were driven by Europe's profit-hungry merchants who would chance everything in their desperation for alternative trade routes to 'the Indies' moved by the trade of gold, silver and the very much desired and hugely profitable spices. The purpose of Christopher Columbus' initial voyage of 1492 was not discover a new continent but to map a faster trade route to the Indies. He estimated a westward route across the Atlantic, from Iberia to the Indies, would be shorter than the overland trade route through Arabia and this would allow Spain entry into the lucrative spice trade. He had severely underestimated the circumference of the Earth and, following his plotted course, he landed at a locale he named San Salvador. He believed the lands he encountered to be Asia. History shows us he accidently landed on what was to be seen by the Europeans as the 'new world', America.In Nathaniel's Nutmeg, Giles Milton deals with the struggle between the East India Company of London and the Dutch East India Company for the control rights of the spice-producing islands of the East Indies throughout the 17th century, especially the smallest and richest of the Banda Islands - the nutmeg-producing island of Run.
In 17th century Europe, nutmeg was a most coveted luxury. It was claimed to have powerful medicinal properties and became as sought after as gold when the physicians of Elizabethan London claimed their nutmeg pomanders were the only certain cure for the plague. The market price became so high that a small sack full could set up a man for life, affording him with all things gentry.
The central character of the story is Nathaniel Courthope (1585-1620), a merchant naval officer, who was hired by the East India Company of London to go to the Spice Islands on a quest to break the Dutch hold on the nutmeg supply. He left England with great fanfare in April 1610.
What follows is a voyage of deadly illnesses, seiges, battles, torture and executions.
On 23 December 1616 Courthope landed his ships, Swan and Defence, on Run. He persuaded the islanders to enter an alliance with the British for nutmeg much to the great annoyance of the Dutch. Following attacks from the Dutch he fortified the island by erecting forts to overlook approaches from the east. With only 39 men and vastly outnumbered he proceeded to hold off a Dutch seige for 1,540 days.
Courthope arranged a visit to the island of Great Banda, accompanied by his Boy William, he would set sail in a small boat under the cover of darkness. His men were most unhappy about this. Two miles off the Ai's coastline, 50 Dutch soldiers lay in wait. A spy in Courthope's camp had informed the Dutch governor-general in Niera of Courthope's movements and a heavily-armed ambush party was despatched with one simple order - kill the troublesome Englishman.
Courthope was shot and wounded. Rather than surrender, he leapt overboard. It was the last time he was seen alive.
What followed was one of the most incredible deals in world history.
Today, Run is of such insignificance that it fails to even make it onto the map. However, in the 17th century it was the most talked about island in the world. An island of such fabulous wealth. An island of nutmeg. The English were outraged by the murder of Courthope, who they saw as a man who had laid down his life in the defence of Run and now the island was lost to the Dutch. Nathaniel Couthorpe's defiance, heroism and murder would spark an unstoppable train of events that would last for the next forty-seven years.
The Dutch presence in New Netherland began in 1624. New Netherland was a colonial province on the East Coast of North America and the provincial capital, New Amsterdam, was located at the southern tip of the island of Manhattan on upper New York Bay. Little did the settlers realise that its future would be inextricably entwined with the nutmeg-producing island of Run. In 1664, the English conquered New Amsterdam and renamed it 'New York'. This provoked the second Anglo-Dutch War that would last for two years with neither side gaining the upper hand.
In March 1667, with the war dragging on, it was agreed both sides would meet at the Dutch city of Breda to discuss their grievances. On 31 July 1667 they had reached an agreement. One of the most significant documents in history, The Treaty of Breda, was signed.
The result.....The Dutch retained Run and secured a worldwide monopoly on nutmeg, whilst England was given the whole of New Netherland, producing the Colonies of New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania and Delaware.
All that from the little seed that sits, unassumingly, at the back of your cupboard.
A glorious, historical account of a world full of infinate adventure...a book I have read and re-read ****
Cluski
The book is available from Cluski's Book & Grocery Store at the top of the page priced at £5.02
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