Whilst making potato wedges last night I just couldn’t bring myself to slice into this little guy smiling up at me and when I showed it to my desperate-for-a-pet middlie, she promptly “rescued” it and has now officially adopted it. She’s even posted a pic of them both looking ever-so-happy-together on her Bebo. I wonder if she’ll be so eager to remain it’s foster mother when it’s all smelly and decayed.
Talking of spuds, this weekend my husband made a bean chilli with baked potato and it was delicious, as are all his meals, but he told me later that he’d stirred in three large chunks of dark chocolate whilst making the sauce. How odd is that? Chocolate in hot chilli sauce? It was yummy. He is a great cook and likes to experiment with food but he always forgets what he used so no two meals are ever alike. Variety does help to spice things up though doesn’t it.
Talking of chocolate, I do wish curly wurlies weren’t so yummy. I wish the Cadbury people would add some horrid substance to the ingredients so that I wouldn’t
need want to eat eight four bars a day. Pig’s blood would do it. If they added pig’s blood to the recipe, my addiction would be cured. But no, they have to make them so bloody tasty that I don’t even care that I’m being mislead by the deceptive size of the bar – all those holes making less chocolate seem like more. It matters not. I’ll just buy more. Just now, I broke the ultimate eating rule – I ate two and a half bars – before lunch. What kind of nutritional value does that provide? My children would rightly accuse me of hypocrisy because I’d never allow them to indulge in such bad dietary habits but hey, that’s one of the perks of being an adult isn’t it.
Now you see it . . . . .