Thursday, November 09, 2006

Gourmets are just confused Grommets

James is looking for recipes, apparently, and while my own culinary skills are rather lacking, I can at least suggest a few simple dishes.

The following recipe comes straight from the Motherland, Russia, although it has, sadly, fallen out of popularity there of late. However, it has had a popular revival here in the west, in cafes and restaurants in such popular inner-city suburbs as Newtown (Sydney) and Fitzroy (Melbourne).


You will need:
- One tablespoon of conspiracy theory (the most popular nowadays are Anti-Zionism or Anti-Capitalism, and can be substituted for one another if necessary)
- Half-a-cup of discontentment
- 4 cups of poverty-stricken masses, diced and chopped
- Ten well-preserved slices of post-Hegelian economic theory
- One Russia-sized nation.
- A pinch of salt.

1. Take the conspiracy theory, wrap it in tin foil, and half bake it in a pre-heated oven, toaster, or microwave. (It doesn't matter great which, but all the best conspiracy theories come half-baked.)
2. While the conspiracy theory is baking, pour the poverty stricken masses into a frypan at medium heat. Gradually fold in the half-cup of discontentment to the mix until it is simmering. Add the post-Hegelian economic theory, one by one, to the mix.
3. Add the salt.
4. Leave to cool. Serve with the Russia-size nation and the half-baked conspiracy theory. Enjoy!

For those with more refined tastes, I offer the following recipe:


Take an egg
Fry it.

You can enjoy all the subtle sophistication of the French-sounding name without actually bothering to cook the damn thing! I highly recommend this recipe!
Here is a slightly more difficult recipe that is perfect for the late Australian spring, especially in Perth:


You will need:

A frisson of gesundheit.
Seven cups of gestalt.
Three heaped tablespoons of vague anxieties.

1. Take the vague anxieties. Melt them slowly over a low heat.
2. Sift the frisson of gesundheit over the top of the vague anxieties, folding them into the mix. Bake until al dente.
3. Leave to cool. Whip the seven cups of gestalt until frothy.
4. Mix the vague anxieties and frisson of gesundheit into the gestalt and place in the fridge until cool.
5. Serve al fresco with a side serving of al crisco and al capone. Enjoy!

The final recipe is perfect for a treat. I call it:


Take your father's credit card.
Go to your nearest high-class restaurant.
Imagine how surprised he'll be when he sees the bill!

Of course, when it comes to matters culinary, maybe we should all consult Ogden Nash on The Strange Case of Mr. Palliser's Palate ...

Once there was a man named Mr. Palliser and he asked his wife, May I be a gourmet?
And she said, You sure may,
But she also said, If my kitchen is going to produce a Cordon Blue,
It won't be me, it will be you,
And he said, You mean Cordon Bleu?
And she said to never mind the pronunciation so long as it was him and not heu.
But he wasn't discouraged; he bought a white hat and The Cordon Bleu Cook Book and said, How about some Huitres en Robe de Chambre?
And she sniffed and said, Are you reading a cook book for Forever Ambre?
And he said, Well if you prefer something more Anglo Saxon,
Why suppose I whip up some tasty Filets de Sole Jackson,
And she pretended not to hear, so he raised his voice and said, Could I please you with some Paupiettes de Veau a la Grecque or Cornets de Jambon Lucullus or perhaps some nice Moules a la Bordelaise?
And she said, Kindly lower your voice or the neighbours will think we are drunk and disordelaise,
And she said, Furthermore the whole idea of your cooking anything fit to eat is a farce. So what did Mr. Palliser do then?
Well, he offered her Oeufs Farcis Maison and Homart Farci St Jacques and Tomato Farci a la Bayonne and Aubergines Farcies Provencales, as well as Aubergines Farcies Italiennes,
And she said, Edward, kindly accompany me as usual to Hamburger Heaven and stop playing the fool,
And he looked in the book for one last suggestion and it suggested Croques Madame, so he did, and now he dines every evening on Creme de Concombres, Glacee, Cotelettes de Volaille Vicomtesse, and Artichauds a la Barigoule.

Ladies and gentlemen, Voila!

PS: Stay tuned tomorrow for more culinary matters in The Fable of the Extremely Cultured Yoghurt. In the meantime, I suggest you try something fun like Bombe Alaska. Yeah, that sounds tasty.


treespotter said...

i used to be good with cooking, really. maybe i should do more often.

TimT said...

Yes, you should. Food is a marvellous thing. I could talk about it all day, but I'd much prefer to eat it.

Caz said...




Those recipes were hard to swallow and almost impossible to digest. I only persisted because it takes too long to send left overs to Africa.


The egg was pretty much okay; though a little runny.

TimT said...

Next you'll be telling me that my Roast Russian Communism is virtually indigestible.

Email: timhtrain - at -

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