Some people leave footprints on our heart. Cats leave fur on our sweaters. Dogs leave drool on our shoes. Families will crap on our doorstep. So when life gives you crap, garden it and make roses.
Friday, June 02, 2006
The only thing to do on a cold afternoon and there's no chocolate hidden anywhere in the house, is to make a visit to Miss Chika at http://shewhoeats.blogspot.com and drool over her beautiful food photos.
This is Ginger-scented chocolate mousse with mango and passionfruit.
Cubes of fresh Mango, pulp and seeds of passionfruit mixed with ginger syrup, light and smooth chocolate mousse with ginger bits, topped with chocolate shaves.
I used to make a marshmallow pavlova and fill it with chocolate mousse and drizzle melted chocolate over the top. Then I'd serve it with a small glass of Drambuie to cut the sweetness. No wonder I have a bum like a working bullock. Do you know you can actually taste memories?
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"No wonder I have a bum like a working bullock. Do you know you can actually taste memories?"
There are things that will, a propos of memories, come back and bite you on the bum, me sweet little working heifer. Needless to say I'm more your mammaries man than your memories man.
OK, I know, I know - less man, more your callow, hairy-handed, "Of course I was warned I'd go blind" adolescent. But did I take any notice? Nup. Too preoccupied at the time as I recollect. (I have many preloved thumb and fore-fingered copies of "Man Junior" for sale on Ebay. Never mind the quality feel the length.)
Yep, that's me at the head of the queue JahTeh. But you know I'm a gluteus maximus tart - well, after the aforementioned adolescent arrested development busty substances fixation that is.
Have to go, Nurse Ratchett has just poked her head through the door (was closed but that's never fazed her) with my container load of meds.
Culinary porrnography slurp slurp.
Thanks for that.
How many times have you rented the Chocolat movie?
Your pav sounds ok. Send me some. Bit hard to send a glass of Drambui with it, better make it a bottle.
If I ever get to Melbourne I'll accept an invite to sample your cullinary creations.
Aah, Your Excellency, a fine grubby young lad morphs into a fine dirty old man with a white cane concealing mammary sensors.
Coat Johnny Depp with chocolate and deliver him in chains to my tent at midnight. Love that movie Bwca.
I bring the Pav Andrew, you bring the plonk and don't tell his excellency, we'd never get a mouthful.
You don't have to leave the mountains little bear, as soon as I win Tattslotto the brownie and I will visit bearing luscious gifts. (How long do bears live?)
If your luck's anything like mine, I'll be dead.
If I win millions, I'll make Ron's day by buying him his dream bush cottage. But there'll be a string attached - he'll have to get a novel published and reviewed by the literati at Lavatory Rodeo all within twelve months or I'll repossess it.
About 8.30pm last night, about the time Lotto was due to be drawn, I had a very itchy right palm. I waited in vain for the call to come.
And ... no, my palm is NOT itchy because it's hairy!!!!
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