Category Archives: Toast
French rabbit….
Happily, our electric toaster no longer toasts. Even when it did toast, it didn’t. There is something unpleasant and inept about toasters. In my mind’s eye I see floppy slices of artificial bread on a hinged platform, not unlike a … Continue reading
…ham and jam, kippers and treacle..
I was not myself this morning. Who I was is as yet unclear to me but, what is sure, is that the person in question had a pioneering palate. Pioneering, as an adjective, may seem romantic and exciting to some … Continue reading
Drive out the blues with brioche and apricot jam…
There is a mordant sadness, that is nearly tangible, about such a miserable February morning as this one . Normal antidotes, such as lighting the fire, and listening to Radio 4 with a steaming bowl of coffee cupped between slowly warming hands, seem … Continue reading
Merkin whoopee….
The simple red and white inverted triangle of the “Cedez le passage” road sign put me in mind of a festive merkin. It also put me in mind of stopping as it would be a bad Sunday indeed that included … Continue reading
Always on a Sunday….
Sunday is about breakfast. If it’s done properly, like sex between Sting and Trudie, it can last all day but, as with all day sex, the salt begins to lose its savour after an hour or two…maybe that’s old age. Eating is … Continue reading
The tomatoes are very nice, sir, if you like them…..
Frazzled brains and frazzled eggs. I dimly remember this advice being offered to me by the genial proprietor of the “greasy spoon”, in deepest Covent Garden, circa 1980, as I stared blankly through eyes weakened by drink and drugs at … Continue reading
A toast to Charley Sheen…….
“Could you stop your honeysuckle from growing over my vine?” was the question that was nearly as irritating as the poem about ducks on Radio 4 that had set my teeth on edge just before the insane Frenchwoman knocked on our door and … Continue reading
Dean Martin isn’t drinking any more…
The fact that he is no longer amongst the quick somehow deadens the segue “…..but he isn’t drinking any less.” I have been drinking less of late and I’ve noticed that life without a drip feed of Cotes de Rhone … Continue reading
Lady Sysonby’s Lover…
“Lady Sysonby’s Cook Book may prove a life belt for the valiant young wives of today who are doing their own cooking and remember, despairingly, the dinner parties, cooks and kitchen maids of their pampered parents.” With these stirring words … Continue reading
Apricot jam on toasted brioche brings warmth to chilled bones…
The last few days have been filled with the hiss and hideous hum of power tools which the rays of the winter sun confirm by clearly delineating the sawdust filled atmosphere of the house. I would be delighted if I … Continue reading