I do not care anymore!!! I am going to "come out" about some things I wish I did not do. You will see that none of them will fit with your mental image of me, which, I am sure, involves a rather elegant, well-dressed, intellectually rigorous, well-educated simian with exquisite taste and a surprising line in small clay pipes.
But no. The truth is that amongst the things I enjoy, I include:
1. Watching "Gossip Girl" on my computer whilst eating biscuits, some evenings up to 5 of each
2. Looking at the Daily Mail website at least 10 times a day
3. Eating Chinese dumplings (meat unknown), cooked in the delicious juice of a Knorr chicken stock cube
4. Reading Harry Potter books and watching Harry Potter films and fucking loving them
5. Farmville
6. Flossing teeth and leaving used floss (with chunks) on floor/table
7. Pulling hairs out of chin with tweezers whilst watching "Fantasy Island" DVDs ($13.99, Ebay)
8. Buying 3 week old copies of "OK!" magazine for $10 at least twice a month
9. Something I cannot put on a blog my family read
10. Something I cannot put on a blog anyone I work with reads
11. Looking the fat cat in the face and saying "You LOVE me! You LOVE me! SAY IT. SAY IT."
12. Dangling fez tassel in my soup/absinthe then sucking it whilst watching "Canada's Next Top Model"
13. Dangling fez tassel in wine then sucking it whilst watching "America's Next Top Model"
14. Tapping small clay pipe firmly against tiny little monkey palms before filling it to settle down to Series 2 of "Australia's Next Top Model"
15. Wotsits. Hula Hoops, obviously, are nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, talking of Hula Hoops, does anyone know of a delicious Canadian equivalent?
Of these, the greatest shame is Farmville, a game in which you have a pretend farm, give each other rabbits, find that your plum trees are "16% ready" and spend hours and hours harvesting yellow melons that have been fertilized by your friends. These are dark days, my friends. Dark days indeed.
Now I would like to hear one of yours (only one, mind, otherwise we'll be here all year); extra points if it smells slightly of cheese and desperation, like whatever it is that is underneath my big toenail.
Monday, January 11, 2010
I hope to make you go "aaaah" in a fluffy-kitten sort of way
I love all my readers, even the ones to whom I am related by blood (e.g. that dangerous pair, Monkeymother and Monkeyfather). I also embrace all your comments, particularly ones about my astonishing intelligence and/or good looks.
But to the point: a combination of indigestion, insomnia and wind screaming round the corners of our house in rural Quebec led me tonight to this old post, which is not in itself relevant (although obviously it is brilliant, so won't disappoint); the comments however are, because I eventually married the commenter (commentator?) known as "Johnnyboy" who, at that point in August 2006, I hadn't even met. Yes, friends, that's amore.
But to the point: a combination of indigestion, insomnia and wind screaming round the corners of our house in rural Quebec led me tonight to this old post, which is not in itself relevant (although obviously it is brilliant, so won't disappoint); the comments however are, because I eventually married the commenter (commentator?) known as "Johnnyboy" who, at that point in August 2006, I hadn't even met. Yes, friends, that's amore.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
I cook spherical food
I am being faithful to my Marguerite Patten 1967 recipe cards, and I am doing exactly what she says, following the cooking times and believing her when she tells me that peppers and ham make a good stuffing for an apple. Green food dye is going to make an appearance, as are over 100lbs of breadcrumbs.
It is going to be a spherical type of dinner: the French-Canadian veterinary histopathologist with whom I live has pulled, at random, 3 cards, all of which feature round things stuffed with things that perhaps they should not be.
First up, Tomates au gratin, i.e. tomatoes with their insides taken out, mixed with breadcrumbs and (mild, pointless) cheddar and shoved in the oven, pulled from the "On a diet" section of the recipe cards. I broke the rules and added garlic, arguing that as garlic had only recently been invented in England by Elizabeth David at the time my recipe cards were written, there was a good chance that Mrs Patten might not have heard of it.
"Serves two for a light lunch with salad", writes Mrs P, "or as an accompaniment to grilled steak". She can use words like "light", "salad" and "grilled" as much as she likes, but I am not fooled: this is not diet food - it is made mainly of cheese and bread.
It is quite delicious. I shall make it again with stronger cheese and more garlic should I ever decide to have a 60s themed dinner party. (Highly unlikely - there is nothing less amusing than ironic food). Marks: 7/10.
Next up, Pommes farcies au jambon et aux poivrons. I do not like peppers (unless they are red and roasted), and I am afraid of ham, which can often be wet. This recipe tells me to dice ham, peppers and onions, 'lightly brown' them, stuff the resulting slop into the gaping maws of two stupid Granny Smith apples and bake the lot for 20 minutes.
It needs another 20 minutes but even imagining an apple that is softer, it is a pointless sort of food, that involves a relatively large amount of effort (I do not have an apple corer, for e.g., and do not intend to get one) for very little reward.
The final result, as you will see, looks like a tiny child has thrown up a pizza on a cheap beach ball, and it has no place in my kitchen. (It is however an excellent diet food, because you do not eat much of it.) Marks: 2/10
Finally, Paniers aux fruits, or Fruit Baskets. Some excitement involved in making meringue (despite it being a boring sort of meringue involving just sugar and egg white; no for e.g. vanilla); even more excitement involved in shaping said meringue into a 'basket' shape. Time passes; the meringues are put in the oven. I make stewed apple, as instructed by Mrs P. I whip some cream. And then, also following Mrs P's instructions, I add some green food dye. It looks like soft-scoop mint chocolate chip icecream.
It is OK, but not worth the effort. I eat half but only because I am hungry after the virtually inedible stuffed apples. Marks: 4/10.
And finally, the review from the French-Canadian veterinary research pathologist to whom, I would like to remind you, I am married. To be frank, I had no idea that he was such a sauce. Brace yourselves, friends.
"I don’t know much about this Marguerite Patten person, but one thing is becoming abundantly clear, from this entirely random sampling of her régime/diet and dessert recipes: the lady likes her some balls. Evidently here, the word ‘régime’ should be taken figuratively, as a ‘regimen’ of sorts, one that has actually little to do with food, but much more with the expression, or at the very least sublimation, of a very deep-seated, ravenous hunger.
Apparently Marguerite was a young cook in London during WWII, a time when, one can only surmise, there were very few tomatoes, apples, or able-bodied men to go around. Which, I’m sure you’ll agree, can only have led to the birth of an all-consuming fascination with balls. The actual food here is a secondary, unimportant detail – tomatoes with cheesy stuffing: yeah sure, an easy classic, done to death but always a crowd pleaser, she probably copied the recipe distractedly from The Joy of Cooking while gazing out the window and wisfully dreaming of real warm round things to fondle. Apples desultorily stuffed with incongruous peppers and ham, and barely cooked – this is immensely more disturbing, and must have originated at the darkest, bleakest hour of the Battle of Britain, a time when Marguerite surely believed she’d never again have a chance to grab some warm balls and stuff them in her mouth.
As for the dessert, well, the meringue and berries bear witness to a more hopeful, cheery state of mind, and must have been dreamed up when the war ended and the soldiers were coming home – the only possible reason for dying green some perfectly fine apple sauce being Marguerite, hormones frothing up, getting hypnotized by the returning tommies’ green uniforms, and the wondrous rounded pleasurelands hiding underneath."
I should like to point out that this juncture that it was the reviewer who 'accidentally' pulled out three ball-featuring recipes from the box, not Mrs Patten who forced him to choose them. I am just saying.
Pip pip!
* I fear the only use she had for olive oil was the type of olive oil that came in a little bottle from Boots for the loosening of earwax.
It is going to be a spherical type of dinner: the French-Canadian veterinary histopathologist with whom I live has pulled, at random, 3 cards, all of which feature round things stuffed with things that perhaps they should not be.
First up, Tomates au gratin, i.e. tomatoes with their insides taken out, mixed with breadcrumbs and (mild, pointless) cheddar and shoved in the oven, pulled from the "On a diet" section of the recipe cards. I broke the rules and added garlic, arguing that as garlic had only recently been invented in England by Elizabeth David at the time my recipe cards were written, there was a good chance that Mrs Patten might not have heard of it.
"Serves two for a light lunch with salad", writes Mrs P, "or as an accompaniment to grilled steak". She can use words like "light", "salad" and "grilled" as much as she likes, but I am not fooled: this is not diet food - it is made mainly of cheese and bread.
It is quite delicious. I shall make it again with stronger cheese and more garlic should I ever decide to have a 60s themed dinner party. (Highly unlikely - there is nothing less amusing than ironic food). Marks: 7/10.
Next up, Pommes farcies au jambon et aux poivrons. I do not like peppers (unless they are red and roasted), and I am afraid of ham, which can often be wet. This recipe tells me to dice ham, peppers and onions, 'lightly brown' them, stuff the resulting slop into the gaping maws of two stupid Granny Smith apples and bake the lot for 20 minutes.
It needs another 20 minutes but even imagining an apple that is softer, it is a pointless sort of food, that involves a relatively large amount of effort (I do not have an apple corer, for e.g., and do not intend to get one) for very little reward.
The final result, as you will see, looks like a tiny child has thrown up a pizza on a cheap beach ball, and it has no place in my kitchen. (It is however an excellent diet food, because you do not eat much of it.) Marks: 2/10
Finally, Paniers aux fruits, or Fruit Baskets. Some excitement involved in making meringue (despite it being a boring sort of meringue involving just sugar and egg white; no for e.g. vanilla); even more excitement involved in shaping said meringue into a 'basket' shape. Time passes; the meringues are put in the oven. I make stewed apple, as instructed by Mrs P. I whip some cream. And then, also following Mrs P's instructions, I add some green food dye. It looks like soft-scoop mint chocolate chip icecream.
It is OK, but not worth the effort. I eat half but only because I am hungry after the virtually inedible stuffed apples. Marks: 4/10.
And finally, the review from the French-Canadian veterinary research pathologist to whom, I would like to remind you, I am married. To be frank, I had no idea that he was such a sauce. Brace yourselves, friends.
"I don’t know much about this Marguerite Patten person, but one thing is becoming abundantly clear, from this entirely random sampling of her régime/diet and dessert recipes: the lady likes her some balls. Evidently here, the word ‘régime’ should be taken figuratively, as a ‘regimen’ of sorts, one that has actually little to do with food, but much more with the expression, or at the very least sublimation, of a very deep-seated, ravenous hunger.
Apparently Marguerite was a young cook in London during WWII, a time when, one can only surmise, there were very few tomatoes, apples, or able-bodied men to go around. Which, I’m sure you’ll agree, can only have led to the birth of an all-consuming fascination with balls. The actual food here is a secondary, unimportant detail – tomatoes with cheesy stuffing: yeah sure, an easy classic, done to death but always a crowd pleaser, she probably copied the recipe distractedly from The Joy of Cooking while gazing out the window and wisfully dreaming of real warm round things to fondle. Apples desultorily stuffed with incongruous peppers and ham, and barely cooked – this is immensely more disturbing, and must have originated at the darkest, bleakest hour of the Battle of Britain, a time when Marguerite surely believed she’d never again have a chance to grab some warm balls and stuff them in her mouth.
As for the dessert, well, the meringue and berries bear witness to a more hopeful, cheery state of mind, and must have been dreamed up when the war ended and the soldiers were coming home – the only possible reason for dying green some perfectly fine apple sauce being Marguerite, hormones frothing up, getting hypnotized by the returning tommies’ green uniforms, and the wondrous rounded pleasurelands hiding underneath."
I should like to point out that this juncture that it was the reviewer who 'accidentally' pulled out three ball-featuring recipes from the box, not Mrs Patten who forced him to choose them. I am just saying.
Pip pip!
* I fear the only use she had for olive oil was the type of olive oil that came in a little bottle from Boots for the loosening of earwax.
Saturday, January 09, 2010
I urge you to send me a song
I am thinking of creating a sort of Nonworkingmonkey Playlist, made of the songs nominated (and submitted!) by you, my adoring readers. It is quite easy; you simply go here:
Send me your track
and upload your track. Then I'll share a link to the final playlist with you, and we can all dance along at the same time. (When you upload it, set it to 'public' if you can.)
In other news, time passes and still the veterinary research histopathologist has not summed up the courage to explain what happens when you apply green food colouring to whipped cream and stewed apple. He has however assured me that he will take strong drink and write it before the end of the weekend.
In the meantime, amuse yourself by sending me a song you think we all might like, bearing in mind that a clockwise twirl of my fez tassle means "in the playlist" and an anti-clockwise twitch will shout "NOT in the playlist". NB: Sting causes the entire fez (tassle and all) to levitate and spin, hurricane-like, in an anti-clockwise direction.
Pip pip!
Beatmaster MC NWM
Send me your track
and upload your track. Then I'll share a link to the final playlist with you, and we can all dance along at the same time. (When you upload it, set it to 'public' if you can.)
In other news, time passes and still the veterinary research histopathologist has not summed up the courage to explain what happens when you apply green food colouring to whipped cream and stewed apple. He has however assured me that he will take strong drink and write it before the end of the weekend.
In the meantime, amuse yourself by sending me a song you think we all might like, bearing in mind that a clockwise twirl of my fez tassle means "in the playlist" and an anti-clockwise twitch will shout "NOT in the playlist". NB: Sting causes the entire fez (tassle and all) to levitate and spin, hurricane-like, in an anti-clockwise direction.
Pip pip!
Beatmaster MC NWM
Thursday, January 07, 2010
Sting News
"I too feel Sting is a blow-hard. Feel free to post the pic", whispers a contributor who wishes to remain anonymous, "just not my info. Thanks."
On the right, Sting. On the left, Yukon Cornelius.
Thank you, anonymous contributor (from Toronto)!
NWM
On the right, Sting. On the left, Yukon Cornelius.
Thank you, anonymous contributor (from Toronto)!
NWM
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