Hello Peeps
Well hasn’t it been a while! I feel so embarrassed as I noted with head in face, and almost under armpits that I have not updated this blogspot for two months. Whatever must you all think of little old me?
But, as much as I lament about being over-worked and extremely busy building this business of mine, I must still be “ooman” enough to hold up my hands and say…sorry because there is no excuse, none whatsoever, for neglecting you all.
I am sure many of you will be going through the effects of cold turkey at not having your fill of humour, due to my neglect, but rest assured, my leetle pip squeaks, I am back.
So, upon my grand return, I had to ponder upon the subject matter to which I would attempt to humour you with and I had to make sure this was a good one too.
Ok, here we go. I really do admire people who run their own restaurants. Just think of it, day in day out for 365 days of the year, slogging away in a furnace kitchen, sweat dripping into pans which then mingle with the oil and then onto people’s food, which then mingles with the array of sauces that accompany a dish. One can never tell what is in the food nowadays, that’s why I always pray before I eat mine, star.
Restaurants have to provide edible food of a high quality and standard. I have seen the intricate detail some chefs go to, in order to tantalise a client’s taste bud, keeping the punters coming back time and time again – the loyal flock - rendering them senseless and almost incoherently stupid so they pay without realising it, exorbitant prices (£50 for a meal and that is without starters) for something which in Tesco’s would be Fish and Two Veg for a fiva. Um excuse me but since when did the creative process come into cooking, I ask? Leave that process to us writers.
I then reflect on how I prepare food for my two boys and myself over a 7 day period, and how this sometimes becomes a tedious chore, even after day 3. To be honest often times, what I present on their plates is not something that is done with a labour of love and the only place fit for such dishes are in the bin. I would not even present my dog with such food (that is if I had a dog) as he would be so outraged that he would be forced to run directly in front of a vehicle of some sort and pray that he got hit. Anyway, being creative with a piece of fish and a potato is just not my sort of way to spend time productively and £50 would certainly go a long way in my household. Why! that is food for one week.
But on the whole, I really am impressed with a lot of restaurants and take-away eateries. I visit my local Caribbean restaurant about two to three times a month (sometimes maybe more, but I ain’t telling because this makes me look as if I am earning over £10,000 a year). Anyway, I visit my local regularly and am always impressed by the standard, taste and quality of food served. If I owned one such place, I could only surmise that I’d be accused of being a traitor to the Caribbean cause, I’d be shot in the knee caps for doing injustice to the mother of all chickens “the jerk chicken” and I’d be elbow capped by turning a Fried Dumpling or Bake into something that resembled a fried olive.
So on that note, peeps, I am glad that my two boys once in a while are forced to pick up a frying pan and see how it works on those days when “mummy goes on strike.” As for moi! – I can always pop into me locals when my chow gets to tough to eat and my digestive system gives up hope.
