The worst thing the unfortunate food blogger (UFB) can hear is “Cook it again.” If the UFB spends time repeating stuff, they, like a baguette left out in the sun, will go stale. So, when my eldest daughter (ED), herself a blogger, began to put me under pressure, I had to do my best to resist. Continue reading
Many visitors to that fine country have no understanding of the national psyche of the French. They are a very proud nation with an incredibly rich history and more culture than one might find in a Roquefort cheese. Tourists wrestle with the concept of the entire country closing every day between noon and three. They also don’t follow the reasons for the early start in the day and everything remaining closed on Sunday. The divide is prised open by foreigners who speak loudly in English while affecting a stage French accent “No, garçon, we want a pot of tea for two.” or “Non, J’ai asked for it to be cooked medium. This est rare.”
I grew up beside the sea at Seapoint, just south of Dublin city. From the age of four, my father gave me an interest in fishing and seafood. Sadly, there has been little point in my taking the fishing rods out over the past 20 years. The disastrous mismanagement of our coastal fisheries over the long-term has led to there being very little fish of any sort left within a decent beach cast of the Irish east coast.
I love it when family and friends are pleased for me. Like when I announced we were off to the south of France for holidays. There was general approval from most people in my life. Then the trouble started. It began as a simple request from Matt, a colleague in work “Are you going near that place where you ge the garlic?” Like the gullible enthusiast that I am, I replied “Yes, I think we will head over to Lautrec one of the days.”
I was reading about speed reading today. By working at it, you can really improve your performance. Skim over sentences. Pay attention only to the important words. Let the meaning flow and you will rapidly learn to read and absorb information at a far quicker pace. I want you to try this while reading this post. To assist, I am going to put the important words in bold. Now, speed read on…
There are few advantages to getting into the second half of the game of life. One is that the children are now adults. Despite their constant infantile behaviour their willingness to let us go on holidays without them matches up with our willingness to leave them behind. This year, we drove to the south of France on our first child free summer holiday in over 20 years. Continue reading
Picture the scene. Saturday evening and the Wife is getting a bit fidgety, sticking her head around the kitchen door and asking when we will be eating. I am with her long enough that I should know the signs. I have bought a couple of nice pieces of plaice and plan to do something. Something that I should photograph as I do it. My mind is on the cooking and not where it should be. On her plaintive questions….. Continue reading
OK, that’s IT. I’ve had all I am going to take. A few days ago, we got back from holidays, to be greeted by grey skies and rain. The same grey skies and rain we had left behind a couple of weeks earlier. Things didn’t improve either. As I type, it is bucketing down outside. I now suspect that the sun only comes out in the middle of the night. So, as the powers that be refuse to give us any summer, I’m going to make a bit of my own.
They say that God removed a spare rib of Adam’s to make Eve. I find this very difficult to believe. Not because I want to start a fight with the Creationists. That argument is for another time and a different place. Perhaps at Easter on the Galapagos Islands?
I can think of far better things to do with spare ribs. I am not starting to show cannibal tendencies either. For this fine rib recipe, I use pork ribs. I also use this fantastic smoked paprika emblazoned with the Lord’s picture. Perhaps my sub-conscious treats it as a kind of insurance?