When you cannot make up your mind which of two evenly balanced courses of action you should take

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

Kris McCracken said…

Why bother?

17 December 2010 at 15:02

If you want to be loved, be lovable.

Henry admires the view.

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

Zeal, n. A certain nervous disorder afflicting the young and inexperienced. A passion that goeth before a sprawl.

Here I have tried my hand at the homemade sepia-toned photo. I wasn’t happy with the way that the sun had washed out some of the colours in the original, so had a bit of a fiddle because I like the look on Henry’s face, and didn’t want to pass on posting it. I have a tip for those of you burdened with the great, unceasing weight of parenthood. I have a new recipe, in the vein of the quick microwaved chocolate cake . Get this, microwaved potato chips . I gave them a run on Sunday, Henry liked the so much I did it again last night. Tonight, I shall be experimenting with sweet potato. I think that the ground is open for me to exploit opportunities in the swede, turnip, carrot and maybe even explore in the area of pumpkins. Radical, I know. I’m a boundary-pusher by nature. It's pretty simple, take the potato. Slice it thinly (it doesn't have to be too thin, but thin enough). Lay the slices on the microwave plate, whack a bit of salt over the top and nuke the buggers for five minut

This will hurt me...

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