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A Throbbing Tuesday to you, dear Reader,I may have given you the mistaken impression last time that I have something to learn from Berlusconi about the ladies. Truth is, I taught him everything he knows, even though I am 86. He has nothing on me( and my ever vigilant, but highly nervy lawyer asks me to point out that I have nothing on Senor B. either, at least nothing that would stick-Teflon was a great invention!). You see, I also have latin blood in me. My grandfather was Italian. This explains a lot about me, as you may have guessed!
Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about food and to mess around with the bard's timeless words, I say that 'Food is the Music of Love'. For starters, I find that music gets in the way of eating. My son-in-law, (the smart alec who thinks he is amusing), he insists on putting on music when I am eating my nosh. How can I concentrate on my din-dins, when there is a racket of a din in the background. I prefer the silence broken only by the sound of my satisfied slurps. (aliteration, what next? Correct spelling? I prefer grammatical correctness to political correctness!).
Moreover, my friends, I find that music gets in the way of wooing a lady. By the time you find something to listen to that you both agree on, the moment is past. Any rate, you can't exactly smooch to Lady Gaga, and Barry White is a bit single entendre! For a time, I used to regale my lady guest with some romantic ballads on the 'joanna'. Sadly, this led to the noise abatement order the neighbours got. Everyone's a critic. It was either that or an 'asbo'. I could have been in the Guinness Book of Records as the most geriatric ASBO holder in the UK. Never mind!
No, cooking is the new rock 'n roll. Only one thing I can't eat and that's spinach. Well, I'm not Popeye, although I have his muscles and I love 'Olive Oil'. Boom boom! My wife was a great cook. I loved her and her food. I'm no Jamie Oliver, which is probably a good thing, as I don't really want to cook in the buff. It's gets draughty around the trossachs. I'll leave the whole 'naked' thing to Jamie, although, if you come round to my place and you are a lady, feel free to cook up something in the nip!
Anyway, I have been lured back into the kitchen by Nigella. She and I enjoy our food and are very adventurous in the kitchen, and, no doubt, in other rooms too! She, the sainted chef, has inspired me in many ways, some of them are even culinary! She has the same recipe for life as I do. Enjoy everything to the full, even if it involves a load of cream and saturated fats!
One minor hitch for me, though, is following recipes. I'm ok with the cooking part, but the recipes are a closed book! I have admittedly burnt the ass out of a number of pots, but that is inattention, mostly due to watching Nigella when I should have minding the stove. Things get overheated when she is around! I tried one of the recipes from my daughter's cookbook the other day. I had everything in the pot and then it said 'season'. Well, I rang my daughter for an explanation. She sounded bemused and asked if I hadn't heard the term before. Apparently, it's salt and pepper. I didn't know. I'm not f-ing Gordon Ramsey,am I?
Did I tell you my checklist for deciding if I should chat up a lady? Well, firstly, she must be stunning. Secondly, she must fancy me, but that's automatically the case. Thirdly, she has to be significantly younger than my daughter, so that she can keep up with me, when we go clubbing and such like! You ask about the age difference? Well, I always say, 'If she dies, she dies!' For some reason my daughter gives me black looks, when I mention this and mutters things under her breath. Now that I have the hearing aids, I might be able to translate her murmuring. What do you think? As I said to her the other day, 'If it's not for sale, they shouldn't put it in the shop window!' She seems to have developed a nervous tick recently. Can't think why? It's probably living with that husband of hers!
Well, nearly there for today. Just 2 thoughts. One, if Dubya Bush thinks 'waterboarding' is ok, then I'm against it. If a democracy tolerates torture of prisoners, then God help us all! Secondly, what about Jack and Vera Duckworth from Coronation Street. Tears flowed. No doubt my dear wife will come for me some day. I hope nobody has told her what I have been up to! Don't you tell her for goodness sake! Off to cook up another storm of a meal. Wish me luck!
Yours romantically yet with a hint of spice
The blogging Gogfather
Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about food and to mess around with the bard's timeless words, I say that 'Food is the Music of Love'. For starters, I find that music gets in the way of eating. My son-in-law, (the smart alec who thinks he is amusing), he insists on putting on music when I am eating my nosh. How can I concentrate on my din-dins, when there is a racket of a din in the background. I prefer the silence broken only by the sound of my satisfied slurps. (aliteration, what next? Correct spelling? I prefer grammatical correctness to political correctness!).
Moreover, my friends, I find that music gets in the way of wooing a lady. By the time you find something to listen to that you both agree on, the moment is past. Any rate, you can't exactly smooch to Lady Gaga, and Barry White is a bit single entendre! For a time, I used to regale my lady guest with some romantic ballads on the 'joanna'. Sadly, this led to the noise abatement order the neighbours got. Everyone's a critic. It was either that or an 'asbo'. I could have been in the Guinness Book of Records as the most geriatric ASBO holder in the UK. Never mind!
No, cooking is the new rock 'n roll. Only one thing I can't eat and that's spinach. Well, I'm not Popeye, although I have his muscles and I love 'Olive Oil'. Boom boom! My wife was a great cook. I loved her and her food. I'm no Jamie Oliver, which is probably a good thing, as I don't really want to cook in the buff. It's gets draughty around the trossachs. I'll leave the whole 'naked' thing to Jamie, although, if you come round to my place and you are a lady, feel free to cook up something in the nip!
Anyway, I have been lured back into the kitchen by Nigella. She and I enjoy our food and are very adventurous in the kitchen, and, no doubt, in other rooms too! She, the sainted chef, has inspired me in many ways, some of them are even culinary! She has the same recipe for life as I do. Enjoy everything to the full, even if it involves a load of cream and saturated fats!
One minor hitch for me, though, is following recipes. I'm ok with the cooking part, but the recipes are a closed book! I have admittedly burnt the ass out of a number of pots, but that is inattention, mostly due to watching Nigella when I should have minding the stove. Things get overheated when she is around! I tried one of the recipes from my daughter's cookbook the other day. I had everything in the pot and then it said 'season'. Well, I rang my daughter for an explanation. She sounded bemused and asked if I hadn't heard the term before. Apparently, it's salt and pepper. I didn't know. I'm not f-ing Gordon Ramsey,am I?
Did I tell you my checklist for deciding if I should chat up a lady? Well, firstly, she must be stunning. Secondly, she must fancy me, but that's automatically the case. Thirdly, she has to be significantly younger than my daughter, so that she can keep up with me, when we go clubbing and such like! You ask about the age difference? Well, I always say, 'If she dies, she dies!' For some reason my daughter gives me black looks, when I mention this and mutters things under her breath. Now that I have the hearing aids, I might be able to translate her murmuring. What do you think? As I said to her the other day, 'If it's not for sale, they shouldn't put it in the shop window!' She seems to have developed a nervous tick recently. Can't think why? It's probably living with that husband of hers!
Well, nearly there for today. Just 2 thoughts. One, if Dubya Bush thinks 'waterboarding' is ok, then I'm against it. If a democracy tolerates torture of prisoners, then God help us all! Secondly, what about Jack and Vera Duckworth from Coronation Street. Tears flowed. No doubt my dear wife will come for me some day. I hope nobody has told her what I have been up to! Don't you tell her for goodness sake! Off to cook up another storm of a meal. Wish me luck!
Yours romantically yet with a hint of spice
The blogging Gogfather
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