Restaurant snarkage
Aug. 19th, 2007 02:39 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sparkindarknessWent out to one of my favourite restaurants tonight. All its food tends to be very simple and British but it does cook them EXCEEDINGLY well. British food cooked to perfection? Heaven.
It was much fun, but Beloved has now rudely gone to sleep rather than staying awake and amusing my insomniac self. If he wakes me up early tomorrow I shall have to hurt him, and not in a nice way. However cuteness happened at dinner that needs must be reported:
Me: *cutting steak*
Beloved: Moooooo
Me: *ignores* *eats steak*
Beloved: Mooo, help he’s eating me, mooooooooo!
Me: *continues eating steak*
Beloved: Moooo I’m still alive! Help! Moooooo!
Me: Have you turned vegan or something?
Beloved: Your steak is still alive! Look, it twitched!
Me: It is cooked to perfection, THANK you. Just because I don’t have my meat reduced to charcoal
Beloved: It’s bleeding!
Me: It’s a DEAD ANIMAL. It’s SUPPOSED to bleed. That’s what corpses DO when you cut them unless you incinerate them first.
Beloved: Ugh, you’ve got blood all over your plate!
Me: So? What, you can happily consume muscle, organs and whatever they put in sausages, but blood is disgusting? You eat black pudding! *dips garlic bread in blood, eats with relish*
Beloved: Oh, that’s just horrible. You’re going to catch CJD and DIE and then I’ll be a widower and all alone and what will I do?
Me: Throw yourself on my funeral pyre in abject grief of course - I did put it in my will.
Beloved: I’ll be too busy spending your life insurance
Me: Fine, but all the meat at the funeral feast has to be rare. I’ll make it my dying wish! Haha!
Beloved: Hell no, I'm going to be in pain, I want everyone else to suffer as well - the funeral feast will contain nothing but tofu.
Me: Truly truly evil, I like it.
It was much fun, but Beloved has now rudely gone to sleep rather than staying awake and amusing my insomniac self. If he wakes me up early tomorrow I shall have to hurt him, and not in a nice way. However cuteness happened at dinner that needs must be reported:
Me: *cutting steak*
Beloved: Moooooo
Me: *ignores* *eats steak*
Beloved: Mooo, help he’s eating me, mooooooooo!
Me: *continues eating steak*
Beloved: Moooo I’m still alive! Help! Moooooo!
Me: Have you turned vegan or something?
Beloved: Your steak is still alive! Look, it twitched!
Me: It is cooked to perfection, THANK you. Just because I don’t have my meat reduced to charcoal
Beloved: It’s bleeding!
Me: It’s a DEAD ANIMAL. It’s SUPPOSED to bleed. That’s what corpses DO when you cut them unless you incinerate them first.
Beloved: Ugh, you’ve got blood all over your plate!
Me: So? What, you can happily consume muscle, organs and whatever they put in sausages, but blood is disgusting? You eat black pudding! *dips garlic bread in blood, eats with relish*
Beloved: Oh, that’s just horrible. You’re going to catch CJD and DIE and then I’ll be a widower and all alone and what will I do?
Me: Throw yourself on my funeral pyre in abject grief of course - I did put it in my will.
Beloved: I’ll be too busy spending your life insurance
Me: Fine, but all the meat at the funeral feast has to be rare. I’ll make it my dying wish! Haha!
Beloved: Hell no, I'm going to be in pain, I want everyone else to suffer as well - the funeral feast will contain nothing but tofu.
Me: Truly truly evil, I like it.
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(no subject)
Date: 2007-08-19 02:50 pm (UTC)...damn ketchup...
(no subject)
Date: 2007-08-19 07:52 pm (UTC)I have a mebntal image of a tempremental French chef in his kitchen. The serving staff approach with great fear and whisper, in terror "Monsieur... they want ketchup..."
To which he wil respond "Qu'est-ils ont dit? KETCHUP? ARRRRRGH!" and charge out the kitchen with a huge meat cleaver.
IMO, asking for ANY sauces or seasonings in a restaurant (as opposed to a cafe) is an insult. The Chef has COOKED the food with ALL necessary seasonings to what HE considers to be an excellent standard. To season it is an insult to his cooking