Let no one say I'm thin-skinned, but...
Jul. 13th, 2009 05:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
desperanceHow many times, O lord, must I cut my finger on the lid of a gushy-fudz tin?
I try to be good; I wash them, and then I recycle them. But I have already lost count of the times I have been fishing around in the washing-up water and gone ouchie, and seen the water turn shark-attractor pink, and drawn my hand out with a finger leaking.
This morning was a bad one, long and deep. I left quite a lot of blood on the kitchen lino, before I dashed upstairs for a plaster. When I came down again, there was - ahem! - no blood. I am a little anxious about this, for fear they might get a taste for me...
No news is really good news at the moment, it's all about pain and stress and angst and poverty; but I have leftover potatoes and carrots and turnips, which I thought I'd hashy-mash tonight and fry up with a couple of eggs and whatever else I came home with from the market. Only then I forgot when I was in the market, and only remembered halfway through town; and rather than go back I decided to nip into Costly Supermarket and see if they had something nice, a fillet of smoked haddock, say. It'd be expensive, but hey, once in a while nice food is just nice...
So in I went, and inspected the fishes, and blanched at the prices as you do; but then there was the butcher's counter, so I just glanced at that, and...
Well. Sometimes you land lucky. Pigs' cheeks! I've never seen pigs' cheeks, except on a restaurant menu. So I said, I'll have a couple of those, thanks...
Hee. 46p the pair.
And now my house smells utterly lovely, as they braise very slowly in onion and herbs and a splash or two of wine; and I think I'll go back tomorrow and get more if they have any, and try a confit. Whoo, yeah...
I try to be good; I wash them, and then I recycle them. But I have already lost count of the times I have been fishing around in the washing-up water and gone ouchie, and seen the water turn shark-attractor pink, and drawn my hand out with a finger leaking.
This morning was a bad one, long and deep. I left quite a lot of blood on the kitchen lino, before I dashed upstairs for a plaster. When I came down again, there was - ahem! - no blood. I am a little anxious about this, for fear they might get a taste for me...
No news is really good news at the moment, it's all about pain and stress and angst and poverty; but I have leftover potatoes and carrots and turnips, which I thought I'd hashy-mash tonight and fry up with a couple of eggs and whatever else I came home with from the market. Only then I forgot when I was in the market, and only remembered halfway through town; and rather than go back I decided to nip into Costly Supermarket and see if they had something nice, a fillet of smoked haddock, say. It'd be expensive, but hey, once in a while nice food is just nice...
So in I went, and inspected the fishes, and blanched at the prices as you do; but then there was the butcher's counter, so I just glanced at that, and...
Well. Sometimes you land lucky. Pigs' cheeks! I've never seen pigs' cheeks, except on a restaurant menu. So I said, I'll have a couple of those, thanks...
Hee. 46p the pair.
And now my house smells utterly lovely, as they braise very slowly in onion and herbs and a splash or two of wine; and I think I'll go back tomorrow and get more if they have any, and try a confit. Whoo, yeah...