With moderation being the last stand of the unimaginative, I have kind of embarked upon a stomach-turning odyssey of calorific magnificence recently. Time to take stock. With a Yorkshire Three Peaks Challenge just around the corner and a National Three Peaks only a couple of months’ away, perhaps having a few weeks which are a little less reminiscent of Elvis Presley’s last stand, may be the way to go.
The Day of Rest was indeed pretty horizontal, but crescendoed with a return to The Langton in Cheltenham with a few of my closies. Here, we ate burgers, drank Vidot Martinis made with Marmalade Vodka, grazed on pistachio nuts and spent a little too much time thinking up motoring innuendo. We also created a new and very special cocktail concocted from the leftovers on our table. The pistachio shells leant a welcome and unusual texture to the drink. I sampled it based on my mate’s assertion;
“Here, try this. Doesn’t it taste exactly like vomit?”
Vomitinis are fun to try but not to drink, so we retired back to my mates’ house, where they broke open a bottle of Elements Eight Spiced Rum. I returned home, feeling like a drink and un-Disneyfied Jack Sparrow.
A day of writing Eurovision rhetoric for Yahoo! was punctuated only by two things; firstly, a delicious Carbonara made by my dad, which made me want to take London, knee it in the jewels and return home for good. Secondly, I treated myself to a pack of Edible Gold. Known to many as Mr. Kipling French Fancies, these are teeny-weenie little cakes that are definitely good for you as they are so small and pretty. I eat the yellow ones first, the pink ones second and leave the brown ones to last. Saving some for later seems a little redundant and tortuous, like slowly peeling off a plaster.
A bit of a better day today, however I did end up eating way too much Easter Egg, at one point using a shard of chocolate shell to spoon up a yoghurt. My mum was on tea duty tonight. She made spaghetti and meatballs but thickened up the tomato sauce using gravy granules.
As many people by now would have realised, I was of course on holiday last week. I spent a great part of Wednesday morning making pancakes. I mixed bacon lardons into the batter, in a moment of Man Vs. Food-esque madness. That didn’t turn out at all well. The super-salty pancakes were not great at first, and when introduced to maple syrup, became less edible than Dog Chapman’s armpit hair. Still, the cats seemed to enjoy them.
In the evening, my dad and I ate Cadbury choccy biccies whilst watching Heat. The chocolatey, calming cuddles of chunky biscuit contrasted beautifully with Robert De Niro’s pensively violent demeanor and Al Pacino throwing a television out of a car.
ASDA sell a banging stuffed-crust pizza. It is topped with meatballs and Serrano chili pepper. So, a bit of that and some Jeremy Kyle made for a lunch of sensory overloads. In the evening we went to try Ruby Tuesday in Cheltenham. More to follow on this, but for now, suffice to say that it is TGI Friday’s dragged out of puberty, made to put on a shirt and stand up straight. Good on them.
I made Mars Bar pancakes for lunch which was a damn-sight tastier than the bacon ones the other day. In the evening I was over at my mates’ place. Red wine and Domino’s Pizza. Heat was on again. The feel-good factor and optimistic camaraderie of sharing pizza and wine contrasted to perfection with the pathos of fugitive Val Kilmer having to decide between the miserable and forlorn Ashley Judd – or living his life. The punch of the wine complemented the visual majesty of Tom Sizemore crashing a Peterbilt into a bank van in order to steal an envelope.
We took brunch in a fantastic little deli called Jack in a Box on the Bath Road in Cheltenham. Nothing much here apart from eating a smashing bacon and sausage panini (with extra cheese, I’m afraid to say) amongst some pretty decent horseracing-inspired artwork created by one of the baristas.
Replete, we left Jack in a Box and ventured across the road to the pub to drink Crabbies, cider and ale (not in the same glass). We had some snacks, but combing jelly beans and pistachio nuts was a natural accident, if you can call jelly beans ‘natural’. We returned to watch the Grand National. Sources say that Tesco beef prices skyrocketed after all the horses made it round.
The evening was debaucherous. Popeye’s in Cheltenham is a dangerously awesome take-away and I went nuts with some kind of cheesed-up quarter-pounder with all the trimmings, followed by Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate-Chip Brownie. I figured that the sound of my own chewing would drown out Doctor Who.
The second Sunday
Back to London today and relative gastronomic normality. My housemate introduced me to Marks and Spencer Mini Belgian Chocolate Hot Cross Buns. They are currently BOGOF. I ate nine.