Tuesday, 21 January 2014

Mad Dogs, series one ends...


About fish

Apparently, we're surrounded by all sorts of great, fresh fish. Yet we eat just cod, haddock and prawns, in the main. They account for a huge percentage of the fish sold, and it's little wonder that certain species are over fished, stocks are falling, and there's a load of perfectly tasty stuff thrown back into the sea because no-one wants it.

BLISS has her own fish rules: no heads, no tails, no bones, and definitely no faffing about.

I've never resolved to cook my way through a cookbook before. Mostly because the very first recipe gets thoroughly mangled before the list of ingredients is completed:

Don't have any of that or those. I'll use these and this instead. Don't much like that, I'll change it for one of these, and we'll skip the salt and / or sugar and double the vinegar / lemon / lime” and so on.

But I've decided to slowly work my way through Rick Stein's seafood lover's guide. I love seafood, and the book is geographically based, on a trip around the coasts of the UK. There's a couple of rules: (A) I won't slavishly follow the recipes, but will try to stick to them as far as is reasonable (I don't weigh, (unless it's flour for bread or pizza) and I don't measure (unless it's water and yeast for bread or pizza)), and there'll have to be some substitution of unavailable ingredients; and (B) so that BLISS and DLL can at least try everything to see if they like it, there'll be no meat, so cod with bacon and parley cream (say) will become cod with parsley cream.

Almost forgot. (C) never shop for recipes. Shop for what's in good nick and the best value and in season and local (and all that worthy stuff) and make the recipe fit.


Mad Dogs

The concluding episode of series one. More loose ends than something riddled with loose ends, on loose end Tuesday, in The International Year of the Loose End. My turn to hide my head behind my hands, because I hardly dared to glance at BLISS. Loose ends are not her thing.

Her favourite series conclusion was to Six Feet Under, where the future of every major character was summarised in the closing montage. Surety. Closure. She approved. In spades.

Loose ends and cliffhangers? Not the way to her heart. There was some laughter, but of the nervous variety, as we awaited the potential explosion. Naturally, series two episode one has been postponed, in protest.


The TV awards...

...just confirmed my point of view, that there's an infinite number of better ways to spend your time. Among the winners were:

  • The ever punchable Ant and Dec (with endorsements from: their mothers, Robbie Williams, Simon Cowell, and Alan Shearer – the lowest value endorsements since some poor soul called Mad Frankie Frazer as a character witness);
  • Dr Who (a revived children's programme) – best drama?
  • Strictly Come Dancing – I'd rather squirt lemon juice into my eyeballs than watch a millisecond;
  • Coronation Street – a soap opera, the equivalent of doing jigsaw puzzles or staring aimlessly into space;
  • Best entertainment? I'm a celebrity...get me out of here! I think just about sums things up.


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