Friday night dinner out with Cornflake.
I’d almost forgotten what that felt like. It’s very nice.
The restaurant we went to most often pre lockdown is just around the corner from home. It belongs to the shouty, sweary, tv chef. I described Gordon Ramsey that way to a boy I know. This young man is the son of another tv chef, oh no, he’s a very nice man, he really is, was his reaction. I wondered if all tv chefs are mates and know each other’s kids. I was too slow to ask. However, I did glean over our many lunchtime chats, that even travel/cooking programs are filmed several in a batch, so lots of meals might need to be consumed by the presenter in a relatively short time span and it’s difficult. Really? A job for me perhaps, I could do with a change of career.
Anyhow, you’ve got to give Mr Shouty his due, the food at his place is always very good. Also whoever hires does a great job.
Friday night fish and chips was what I fancied.
Frenchie thought the fish and chips at Shouty’s were the best she’d ever had. Well, I believe that post lockdown they’re even better. Triple cooked chips, amazingly crunchy, light batter, minty mushy peas, tartare sauce with some herb that I can’t name AND now, curry sauce! Please note the exclamation mark, I barely ever use them. It was exclamation mark good. Chips and curry sauce is basically a low rent guilty secret of a dinner, but Friday night it was divine.
Was it wrong to drink champagne with it?
No?
Thank you.
I believe that on any occasion when you might drink beer or fizzy pop, you can choose to replace those liquid refreshments with champagne, without fear of criticism.
From me at least.
fat tart 