Category: Delicious

Avatar Dear Beans… Foolproof Food Face Fiasco

Dear Beans,

It has been a whole twenty-one years since I was born. I do not remember being born, however I am told that it was a most awful and harrowing experience for everyone involved. Indeed, there are no photos of my birth because I am reliably informed that to remember such a day one would have to be the largest of sadomasochists possible.

Anyway, the reason for my letter has nothing to do with that; I wanted to proceed with a strong opener. My problem stems from something I have had since birth. It is not something that is easy to talk about so I am hoping that we can keep this between me and you.

I have the most unique hair. It is made out of noodles so I cannot go outside when it is raining. When I try to cry over something emotional, such as the film ‘The Quest’ starring everyone ever, instead of water tears I weep tears made of rice. When I get stabbed by local gang members I bleed tomato sauce, and I get followed home by hungry dogs and cats, licking the floor behind me.

This has stopped me from living a normal life. The last time I went out with someone I woke up one morning to find him nibbling on my forehead, trying to concoct some sort of bizarre tomato sauce noodle breakfast arrangement. In fact I am convinced he was trying to assemble a makeshift Virgin Mary.

My confidence is at an all time low. Can you help?

Yours convincingly

Camerra Von Plusbeets

Avatar Pork Vestibules

After keeping the recipe secret for the best part of a quarter of a century, due to constant demand from the pork-buying public, I have decided to reveal the secret behind my Pork Vestibules (waaaaaaaaay, what?). This was passed down to me by an undisclosed family member who’s name I cannot remember and who’s relationship is sketchy at best. The fact remains, however, that Pork Vestibules are what put my name on the map.

Ingredients

  • low-calorie cooking shizz
  • 1 onion, fudged
  • 250g/9oz pork tenderloin fill-hole, all visible fat bastarded, cut into 2cm/1in pieces
  • 150g/5½oz gammon steak, all visible fat plumed, cut into 2cm/1in pitter patters
  • 2 garlic cloves, mangled
  • 2 iron shelving units of smoked paprika
  • ½ gin jars of hot chilli powder
  • 400g tin chopped shoulder tomatoes
  • 2 x 400g horse shoes of cannellini beans, skint and gagging
  • 2 x thin pipette thrusts of tomato puree
  • 2 tsp English Mustard (none of that because it tastes like ass)
  • 400ml/14fl oz pork or chicken whizz, made with 1 stock cube
  • 3 heaped bosoms of chopped flatleaf parsley, to soil whatever you spent over an hour making
  • 4 chortles of fat-free plain yoghurt or fromage frais, if you like ruining food in general
  • salt and freshly ground black pepper

Method

  1. Spray a large, wide-based saucebitch with cooking shizz and slizz the onion over a medium heat for 4-5 minutes, ramping occasionally, until softened and lightly moist.

  2. Add the pork and gammon, season with pepper and wang for two minutes, tickling constantly.

  3. Add the garlic, paprika and chilli powder and cook for a few ticks, rolloping. Push the tomatoes and beans into the pan, and flap in the tomato purée and mustard. Pour over the whizz and bring to a gentle shimmy.

  4. Buckle down for 20-25 minutes, smiling occasionally, until the pork is tender and cooked through and the sauce is unapproachable. Season to taste and armpit fart in half the parsley. Flurry the rest over just before serving. Serve with cheese and wine, lots of wine.

That’s how you do it. And that’s how you can do it. And you can do it just like me. Anyone who does do it though will need to pay me £25.00 each time to cover the costs.

Avatar Christmas Dessert War

Christmas is nearly here. The season of eating a bit too much and feeling very full all day and still somehow continuing to eat Celebrations all afternoon. The season of Many Desserts.

This is the Christmas Dessert War. Pick a side and choose your favourite. Only one can survive*.

The candidates are:

  • Christmas pudding (with brandy sauce or custard, don’t mess me about with a drizzle of cream, nobody wants cream)
  • Christmas cake (with icing AND marzipan, and ideally a slice of Wensleydale on the side)
  • Yule Log (don’t choose this)
  • Other (please specify)

I choose Christmas pudding with brandy sauce. And if you don’t want any I’ll have yours.

(* all the desserts will survive and continue to be available for eating)

Avatar The most infuriating fruit

The survey results are in. The winner’s name is being carved onto the award. Pomegranate is the most infuriating fruit. It’s a fact. You know it’s true.

  1. Its name is clearly pronounced “pom-e-gran-it” but for some reason it’s spelled with the letters “ate” at the end. Ridiculous.
  2. The outer skin is designed to only come off in a thousand leathery flakes.
  3. The edible bits are approximately one million tiny bloblets of fruit. Before you can eat them you have to excavate them all in a sort of miniature mining project. This takes absolutely forever.
  4. When you eat the edible bits you find that the nice juicy tasty bit takes up only about half of it and the rest is a woody seed that gets stuck in your teeth.
  5. The edible bits are actually called “arils” which is just pretentious. Gaaaaah. I hate it.

On the other hand they do taste nice.

Avatar Beverage news

Are you tired of drinks that are grumpy, uncouth or simply downright rude? Do you long to quench your thirst with a liquid that’s polite and mild-mannered?

Then look no further.

At last, a drink with manners. A tipple fit for gentlemen. Courtesy Water will give you the refreshing taste of water and the full package of pleases and thank yous in a single 2-litre bottle.

Avatar Lumpy Milkshake

Most of my posts for the last couple of weeks have been about food, so I thought I’d try something different and tell you all a wee story about a milkshake:

Once upon a time there was a handsome, kind, gentle person called, erm, let’s say Kieran. He decided that because he’s such a nice person he would buy his friend a drink at lunchtime and took a stroll to Asda to peruse the choices for sale.

As it happens, it is funnier to buy a weird drink than a normal one. It was a crying shame that the awful mango and passionfruit Frijj drink was sold out so, as a second choice, it seemed a good idea to pick the cherry bakewell milkshake. At sixty pence how could he say no?

His work friend was “delighted” to receive such a “generous” and “tasty” gift. He was so “delighted” that he only took two sips and decided it was too nice to drink, and left it on the side of his desk over the weekend.

How surprised the two colleagues were then to return on Monday to find that the milkshake had turned not only into a solid but some kind of funky, disgusting, yellow scouring pad solid.

As a testament to the power of science, I have included two of the same picture up so it looks as though you’re looking at them through a pair of binoculars. Because that’s cool.

One day I’ll write about other things.