Skip to main content

When you cannot make up your mind which of two evenly balanced courses of action you should take – choose the bolder.


The horror as what lurks down low among the chives. The backyard, Geilston Bay. November 2010.

Another day, another questionnaire... Today, What Kind of Cook Am I?

Are you a good cook?

I believe so.

What kind of cook are you?

An instinctive one.

What is your speciality?

It depends who you ask. I like my gulyás. Ezra likes my Kim-chi Bo-kum-bop. Henry likes my cakes.

What was the last meal you ate?

Evening meal? It was a steak sandwich with the lot.

Do you eat breakfast?

Yes, EVERY day. I have been better about this in the past six months.

Name a food you dislike.

I hate nuts, but then again, they hate me too. If I had to name something that wouldn’t kill me if I ate it, I’m not a big fan of tuna.

What is your favourite fast food restaurant?

It depends on my mood. I like Nandos. If there were an Oporto in Tasmania, I’d be a regular there.

Where do you like to eat with friends?

I should confess that I don’t like to eat with friends.

Pancakes or French toast?

I cook a lot more pancakes than I do French toast, but I do love a good savoury French toast.

Are you a coffee drinker? Or tea?

Coffee. I am not a coffee snob though. Coffee snobs bore me.

How do you like your eggs?

Every which way!

What kind of jam do you like on your peanut better sandwich?

Pass.

What is your favourite ice-cream?

I like coffee ice cream. Or a nice choc mint.

If someone surprised you with a meal, what would please you most?

Something without nuts would be a start. Bangers and mash in brown onion gravy with peas on the side.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral

There was nothing left. No reason, no conscience, no understanding; even the most rudimentary sense of life or death, good or evil, right or wrong.

Here is a self portrait. I’m calling it Portrait of a lady in a dirty window . Shocking, isn’t it? However, it is apt! Samhain , Nos Galan Gaeaf , Hop-tu-Naa , All Saints , All Hallows , Hallowmas , Hallowe'en or HALLOWEEN . It’s Theme Thursday and we’re talking about the festivals traditionally held at the end of the harvest season. Huh? No wonder Australians have trouble with the concept of HALLOWEEN. For the record, in my thirty-two L O N G years on the planet, I can’t say I’ve ever seen ghosts ‘n goblins, trick ‘n treaters or Michael Myers stalking Tasmania’s streets at the end of October. [That said, I did once see a woman as pale as a ghost turning tricks that looked like Michael Myers in late November one time.] Despite the best efforts of Hollywood, sitcoms, and innumerable companies; it seems Australians are impervious to the [ahem] charms of a corporatized variant of a celebration of the end of the "lighter half" of the year and beginning of the "darke

In dreams begin responsibilities.

A life at sea, that's for me, only I just don't have the BREAD. That's right, Theme Thursday yet again and I post a photo of a yacht dicking about in Bass Strait just off Wynyard. The problem is, I am yet again stuck at work, slogging away, because I knead need the dough . My understanding is that it is the dough that makes the BREAD. And it is the BREAD that buys the yacht. On my salary though, I will be lucky to have enough dough or BREAD for a half dozen dinner rolls. Happy Theme Thursday people, sorry for the rush.