ILP Supperclub...

Sushi love.jpgStop with the sushi, Mags. Dang, that looks tasty. I miss all of the rolls, even have my own chopsticks, some for company (with your name on them), the bamboo sushi mats, and a sticky rice cooker.

Have you ever made your own sushi rolls MM? but where would one get the fish roe from :confused: it’s the best part about the roll for me.

Supper: pan-fried squid and monkfish, with chopped fine green beans and julienned courgette and scallions thrown in, cooked in Mags’ special spice mix. :wink:

Home-made red wine and roasted chestnuts last night…

Not really had supper since my last post, but this happened tonight… a necessity, after having to share my dinner with my ex… he always insisted, despite my not being the sharing kind.

Pan-fried monkfish, courgette, and baby plum tomatoes… in a chilli, garlic, and ginger infused natural bouillon:

5 of 6 nuked chicken wings… seasoned with unadulterated sea salt flakes and freshly ground black pepper in the last couple of minutes of cooking… I couldn’t finish the last/6th one, but at least I won’t wake up feeling empty and energyless.

I’m going to have to ask you to stop eating.

My output far exceeds my input, so I’m alright thanks… a bowl of minced lamb and potatoes and 5 chicken wings isn’t overly sustaining for the day, but it’ll do :wink:

I dream daily of pizzas, lasagnes, mousakkas, cakes, biscuits, crisps, and all the other things I cannot have, and now you want to deprive me of chicken wings :angry:

They were delicious by the way :slight_smile:

A late chicken wings and courgette supper… lightly seasoned.

An early minced lamb and vegetable supper, in a light sauce.

The temperature is warming up, and my appetite wanes with it… fast forward to supper, so skipped having dinner… et voilois!

Pumpkin with peeled ears?

I gotta say, Magsj, it is certainly a very good thing you and I aren’t a thing, cause I wouldn’t last.

Seriously, you serve me uncooked squid one night, then pumpkin and ear soup… with the pumkkin still fully intact…

Shit, honestly. I would just start crying and deeply question what I got myself into. Wondering if it should be a noose, or headfirst off the roof. No way I’m putting up with that for the rest of my days.

Maybe I can go into hiding in Hondoras, just convince the locals I’m a escaped criminal or some shit and run a automotive shop, and get a bunch of face tattoos. But then, twenty years later, I might pull out from under a car, to look up, seeing you standing there, with some Possum Head Alfredo. I’d have to blow my brains out on the spot. Just can’t go through with it, no escape. No escape.

Tonight’s supper, and my second meal of the day: the last of the chicken curry served in an organic mini squash, with a plaintain side… this mini squash was so much sweeter than yesterday’s one, which wasn’t sweet at all. Clementines and a green tea to follow in a bit…

How do you even eat it? Is it soft enough to bite into?

You mock my pricey organic offerings… how very dare you. [-(

lol

That would all make for a very good film you know… riveting viewing indeed… there’s always takeout you know. A marriage or life shouldn’t have to end for differences in taste of cuisine :confusion-shrug: it doesn’t have to end this way. :cry:

Yes.

It’s wonders what roasting a squash can do for its edibility :wink: lol

It so would make a decent short movie. It would just be me sitting on a bench in the park each day, watching the sun go down, sighing with a frown on my face, homeless people walking up to me and offering me a dollar cause I look so terrible. A priest approaching me, thinking I’m a depressed drug addict living on the bench he always sees me on, asking what kind of drugs am I on that ruined my life… I would answer “Boards, Magsj is cooking again tonight, she insists on cooking every night, so I say I gotta work late, but I don’t, so I just sit here, and try to wait till she falls asleep, then dump her foul shit she cooked for me down the drain. I’m skin and bones, I feel I’m dying, I can’t go on, I think she deep fried the neighbor’s kid pet Guinea Pig. Still had a head on, it looked pissed.”

Priest slaps his hands on his knees, stands up, does his cross, and says "Damn, ummm… go in peace my son, and may God be with you. "

I then begin to sob, no longer seeing God behind every increasingly blurred sunset, the image of which is warped by my tears. Life no longer has no meaning, only horrible cooking, and the inevitability of a lonesome death, as Marcus Gavius Apicius understood.

:sad-roulette: Why? Why? Why? :sad-teareye:

Mags,

Ever served up any spaghetti squash?

I cooked squid and it leads to all this? Trop dramatique!