Oh Yeah.
I just had some fried-up “No. 36 BBQ Pork and Rice” leftover from yesterday’s Broadway-Shopping-Mall-Food-Court lunch.
Whilst starving and waiting for the doctor to see me this morning, (my fault - guess who thought her appointment was at 9am and it was- “… what? Scheduled for 6.30pm? I got sent a reminder? You called me on Friday?”) I went to the nearest Coles and bought all my favourite Sick Foods.
Sick Foods* are delicious in that super-processed, high-sodium, instant gratification way that is at least some comfort when you no longer have an appetite for coffee or wine.
*Sick Foods are not to be mistaken with Comfort Foods, which is a food-group that contains actually unprocessed, tasty meals like roasts, baked potatoes and home-made soups without MSG. Sick Foods are only consumed concomitantly with the side-effects of illness, namely; loss of appetite, impaired olfaction and dubious gustatory function.
Doodles and notes for the Wine and Cheese Night, Chez Richard. The only place you can turn up an hour and a half late (with friend and baby in tow), fry up some Haloumi with oregano and olives and realise… I forgot to get the wine.
(A light, sweet Greek white wine was what I had figured would go with my aforementioned dish.)
“You wouldn’t have a late harvest reisling or Gewurts?”
“Sure.”
And straight out of the fridge, a divine Gewürztraminer, really quite the perfect accompaniment - pre-chilled and poured into little wine glasses to go with sizzling cheese. Hurrah!
But I guess that’s what you should expect when all you find are bottles and bottles of wine stacked in the kitchen cupboards whilst looking for a grater or a teaspoon.
P.P brought a Pecorino with Pasta (which I matched with a lacklustre Tuscan Sangiovese - my bad.) Pero perfecto!
Today I was starving and decided to (gasp!) cook dinner. It’s a tough call for someone who is living with a gourmand and Breatharian (this is the same person, by the way). Not wanting to blow my own trumpet too much, I do hate to say it but despite the real (and metaphysical) challenges of cooking with nothing- Yours Truly just happens to be a master of cooking with ‘whatever’ is in the cupboard. Whole meals and two course dinners have been whipped up from congealing condiments, dry pasta with the weevils meticulously hand-picked out and tins of dubious vegetables. I’ve resuscitated wilted spinach, skimmed the mould off a dried out gran padano and entertained ‘foodie’ friends by tarting up prosaic pasta by roasting old nuts and picking fresh basil from the garden (not necessarily my own). I reckon if Chairman Kaga were to fling open the silk tablecloth to reveal a handful of long-forgotten supermarket purchases on an otherwise empty table (“Today’s secret ingredient is… WHATEVER!”) I’d kick those Iron Chefs off their thrones and reign supreme.
Now I dont’ actually have television but the phenomenon of the TV celebrity chef is a pop cultural phenomenon that isn’t lost on me. (Maybe because nearly every restaurant in Sydney is run by one or at the very least has published a glossy hardback recipe book featured by a display copy next to the cash register.) If I were to be a celebrity chef, here are some of the ideas I would float for a prime-time cooking show.
However, tonight I was defeated. Mid-way through what I had considered to be an inventive and nutritious concoction of tomato and egg fried rice, Paul peered into the wok and said. “Let’s get burritos.” After which I switched off the gas, put on my coat, called ahead to order ‘lo de siempre’ in my best Spanish and took the car to Crows Nest.
At least I have tomorrow’s lunch.
Last night we had Bone Curry and Onion Tikka Marsala from Blu Ginger on Blues Point Road. The first dish featured a dark, mild curry sauce flecked with shards of goat bones and gristle and the second dish consisted of chewy, chicken pieces sparsely distributed amongst a generous serving of coarsely chopped, slightly raw onion. The main constituent was ghee.
We picked at it gingerly, complaining the whole time until it was all gone and mopped up with naan.
Today I will go for a run.
Someone left a beautiful leafy salad with a pomengranate dressing in the kitchen for everyone to eat.
However, today’s choc-o’clock (traditionally 3 pm) has been brought forward by two and a half hours and celebrated with milk chocolate and peanuts. And lots of it. Peanut slab, a Boost bar and a coke. That should tide me over until the real choc-o’clock rolls by, afterwhich I may have some of that salad. But itmay be disrepectful to that quiet moment of reverence I have to the cocoa bean and sugary, fat-derived products it provides.
Healthy living is all about making the right choices.
