My reluctantly tolerable acquaintance, Marmite
I know it's been a while since this but yesterday I finally got around to completing my task. Having been non-plussed the other day by the plain boiled beetroot and Marmite sandwich, I changed the formula completely in order to give the hitherto evil paste a fair assessment. For the anal, the new combination consisted of Roberts thick white sliced, Baxter's Hand Selected beetroot slices in vinegar, Utterly Butterly and thinly spread Marmite.
Clearly, bringing on the expensive import for the less impressive boiled root was an inspired substitution. As suspected, it did indeed provide the cultered first touch and clinically precise finish to the rather brutish route one clearance offered by the brown sludge. Think Johnny Giles slotting home a Norman Hunter thump upfield or Sachin Tendulkar flicking Lance Klusener off his eyebrows for 6: that initial promise of disappointment or pain turned into a thing of worth. Silk purse, sow's ear scenario.
That being said there is absolutely nothing on this earth that would compel me to eat the stuff unaccompanied. That doesn't mean to say I would like someone to hold my hand while I attempt to eat it again (although if Cameron Diaz finds herself at a loose end, she could pop round and hold a bucket for me, just in case), I just need something to take my mind away from what I'm really eating.
I am worrying myself somewhat though. Although my epicurian preferences have always tended toward the savoury, I find I am becoming ever more receptive towards foods I would never have previously countenanced. For instance, on Friday last, I purchased a small tub of rollmop herrings and on Sunday, I actually enjoyed one of them. My ex-wife used to eat them by the container-load; Sharon on the other hand, insisted I underwent fumigation before I entered the nuptial suite and has indicated that in future, I am not to mention the delicacy within her earshot. This is a woman who spent 18 years living in Norway . I do not wish to provoke her ire because should she be also suffering from pre-menstrual tensions, I shall be forced to retire to Wales for several days to sulk and they don't have newspapers there. I am assured by a medical acquaintance that it is physically impossible for me to be gravid so I am ascribing this phenomenon to nothing more than a burgeoning curiosity.
Sardines? Bugger off.
Clearly, bringing on the expensive import for the less impressive boiled root was an inspired substitution. As suspected, it did indeed provide the cultered first touch and clinically precise finish to the rather brutish route one clearance offered by the brown sludge. Think Johnny Giles slotting home a Norman Hunter thump upfield or Sachin Tendulkar flicking Lance Klusener off his eyebrows for 6: that initial promise of disappointment or pain turned into a thing of worth. Silk purse, sow's ear scenario.
That being said there is absolutely nothing on this earth that would compel me to eat the stuff unaccompanied. That doesn't mean to say I would like someone to hold my hand while I attempt to eat it again (although if Cameron Diaz finds herself at a loose end, she could pop round and hold a bucket for me, just in case), I just need something to take my mind away from what I'm really eating.
I am worrying myself somewhat though. Although my epicurian preferences have always tended toward the savoury, I find I am becoming ever more receptive towards foods I would never have previously countenanced. For instance, on Friday last, I purchased a small tub of rollmop herrings and on Sunday, I actually enjoyed one of them. My ex-wife used to eat them by the container-load; Sharon on the other hand, insisted I underwent fumigation before I entered the nuptial suite and has indicated that in future, I am not to mention the delicacy within her earshot. This is a woman who spent 18 years living in Norway . I do not wish to provoke her ire because should she be also suffering from pre-menstrual tensions, I shall be forced to retire to Wales for several days to sulk and they don't have newspapers there. I am assured by a medical acquaintance that it is physically impossible for me to be gravid so I am ascribing this phenomenon to nothing more than a burgeoning curiosity.
Sardines? Bugger off.
posted by Richard at 10:20 am
2 Vegetable peelings:
Nope, I just think this will be one taste I will skip, and I like sardines.
You could always try the Lake District next time. It's said to be quite beautiful in April.
~Your beloved xx
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