quote:Originally posted by New Way Of Decay: I want to scatter them in the wind like a hated uncle's ashes.
lolol. It's true. Mixed herbs is what you chuck in everything when you first start cooking for yourself, thinking that it will add some kind of home cooked magic to any dish. You've gone from re-heating to preparing with one flourish.
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quote:Originally posted by New Way Of Decay: We have a mammoth jar of them and I hate having them in the flat. I want to scatter them in the wind like a hated uncle's ashes.
That just gave me a great idea. I'm going to go to one of those cheap dried food stores and buy some massive bags of dried herbs and spices, take them up to the tallest building I can access on a windy day and spice up the city.
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Or like, you'll be cooking something that is minutes away from finished and have that second crushed the peppercorns in the peslte and mortae enough to get carpal tunnel and someone leans over your shoulder and says 'ooh have you put any mixed herbs in?' and pushes the giant container closer. You feel like gripping the plastic lid and using it to dent the offenders head in.
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And as for ashes, I'd like mine put in a large nescafe jar, taken to the top of another very tall building and dropped, in the jar, onto a police car.
quote:Originally posted by Jimmy Big Nuts: best thing for beans is as accompaniment to quiche.
Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!
The bean juice soggies up the quiche pastry.
Is this...not ok? As a lad, every one of my meals involved beans. My mum was always at work so my dad would cook when he got home, and it was pretty much beans every damn meal. Egg, chips and beans. Omlette, chips, and beans. Quiche and beans. Fishfingers chips and beans. Beefburger, chips, and beans. Out of all of those, quiche and beans is the only one I can still stomach.
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quote:Originally posted by Black Mask: Nobody else celebrating Burns' Night?
Yeah, Pink and I went to a burns night thing at my parents last night, ate tons of lovely food including deep fried mars bars, drank loads of red wine, whiskey and vodka and Irn Bru, then went home and drank loads more whiskey until passing out on the sofa. This explains why I'm wearing a dressing gown and have just eaten a big pile of food from Dominos in bed.
Tomorrow we're going up to Pink's parents for a few days, so they can look after us and make us roast dinners etc.
Regarding the baked beans thing, I think Ringos sound pretty damn good and anyone who eats them cold is a bit strange.
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quote:Originally posted by Jimmy Big Nuts: My mum was always at work so my dad would cook when he got home
I hear ye, regarding bean overload. My stepmother was telling me at Christmas that when she use to start seeing my dad she'd come over and my dad would make three meals. All identical in size. She was saying that my dad would get a swiss roll and instead of cutting off a few slices, would divide a swiss roll into three. But anyway, back to the beans. You'd get beans with everything. As a sort of backup dinner. If you didn't enjoy something. You could always rely on the beans. The thing I remember most was the gravy. I mean, because we were poor...it was watered down. Imagine that in todays society. Easy on the gravy granules there....it's got to last all month. Fucking hell.
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I'm told that I used to be obsessed with baked beans when I was a very small child. I'd insist on them for every meal, apparently. However I'd grown out of them by the age of six, and have harboured a hatred of the tinned unpleasantness ever since. So much so that I once threatened to quit my job at Deep Pan Pizza Co rather than go through the indignity of washing up a child's plate that was smeared with 'bean juice'. They made a waitress do it in the end.
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quote:Originally posted by H1ppychick: where's ralph today, btw? do you think he's confused by all this talk of baked beans?
I'm here. Not so much confused by the baked bean talk as I was by the class structure of your fair land. Here, we simply have lower, middle, and upper class.
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I hate burns night. Well, I hated the one celebration I went to. Some London-living scot droning on about English opressors, then reading reams of that tedious fucking poem about the horse, not even with the proper accent. And I don't like whisky much either.
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quote:Originally posted by Louche: I don't think pesto has made it in Wigan yet, and Wigan is, undisputably working class.
I was on a train in the Wigan area the other week and the ticket collector came round and someone asked out of curiosity how much it would cost to upgrade to First Class. He tapped around on his machine for a bit and then glanced up with a puzzled look on his face and said, "Uh, there isn't a First Class option from Wigan."
Surely the last bastion of the working class in this country. It's probably a local bylaw or something.
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quote:Originally posted by herbs: I hate burns night. Well, I hated the one celebration I went to. Some London-living scot droning on about English opressors, then reading reams of that tedious fucking poem about the horse, not even with the proper accent. And I don't like whisky much either.
Yeah, that's not a proper Burns' Night. Less important than poetry, haggis, whisky and English-bashing is getting really pissed really quickly on cheap alcohol and singing along to The Proclaimers, Big Country and SAHB, hot knives over an electric stove and a visit from the police because of the noise.
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Yeah, we just use it as a good excuse to get as drunk as possible. Not that you need an excuse, mind, but it's nice to have one occasionally.
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oohhh, not hot knives, surely. Nobody does hot knives and likes it so much that they want to do it again the next year.
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quote:Originally posted by Jimmy Big Nuts: oohhh, not hot knives, surely. Nobody does hot knives and likes it so much that they want to do it again the next year.
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this one time, my housemate and his girlfriend got all dressed up, like really smart, new clothes etc, and were going to go clubbing in london. taxi, train, drugs, hotel, all sorted. Just before they left he came downstairs and did hotknives with us, only for about a minute or so. Then they went off in a cab, and came back about twenty minutes later because he lost it. They never made it to London, and they split up soon after.
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Louche
Carved TMO on her clit just to make you feel bad
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The last party I was at where my mate was doing hot knives ended up real messy. I remember crawling around the floor, bumping into my mate Ian, then discovering a large lump of resin on the floow. We just looked at eachother, knew what to do, snapped it in half and downed it with an available beer. It went kind of pear-shaped after that....
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When I used to be a stoner, I always much prefered buckets. I apparently did 18 in order to properly celebrate my 18th birthday, though unsurprisingly my memory of events of the evening is somewhat hazy.
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Eating the fucking stuff is the worst thing, yeah. I've got some sort of in built chemical intolerance to cannabis and even a quick puff on a spliff has more effect on me than half a bottle of vodka does, but every couple of years I seem to think that I'll probably be ok this time and I just give it one more go. And of course it's worse every time. Disgusting stuff.
Probably very nice in chili con carne though.
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I used to like eating it, but yeah it can get messy. We made a great birthday cake for my boyfriend at the time - chocolate sponge, with loads of resin in the cake and even more in the chocolate icing. It was gorgeous but did lead to a bunch of stoners fighting over the leftover icing.
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