Well … Who should stagger in the door last night but Old Dive.
Having yelled "Yo, Bitches! I'm back!" he proceeded to fall over the coffee table and then got into a fist fight with Stouffer.
I locked them both in the understairs cupboard with some of Savannah's yummy baked SPAM (see yesterday's comments for her recipe) and went to bed.
They're still there.
Dive won't tell me where he's been, though I thought I saw him on the news at a pro-Palestinian rally and rumour has it he's been wandering around London punching random Americans in the head; in protest either at their support for Israel or for their inability to correctly pronounce the word "risotto", I'm not entirely clear on that one.
I'm leaving the two of them in the cupboard for a while longer as I'm not convinced Dive is currently in orbit around the planet Sanity.
He slipped this recipe under the door this morning:
"Thanks for the SPAM! I loved it when I was a kid and I love it now.
Not to eat, of course, but it feels great rubbed on the skin.
Hokay, dudes. Let's see what's cooking here in the "Naughty Cupboard".
Right …
Tripe!
Good, traditional food we never seem to eat any more.
Get hold of a couple of pounds of tripe. Don't cook with it yet, just spend a little time groping and squeezing it.
Fun, huh?
Now slip it inside your clothes and go for a good long run.
Done that? Excellent.
You should now be looking (somewhat askance) at a couple of pounds of warm, sweaty tripe.
Wrap the tripe round a chicken carcass, mash half a dozen bananas into it with some cloves and capers and stick it in a saucepan and cover the lot with milk.
We want to simmer that slooooowly on the lowest setting for a good four hours.
Carefully skim off any scum (we've covered scum-skimming when we made stock if you remember) and any icky stuff that floats to the surface.
It will form a skin after a few minutes and it's that deliciously flavoured skin and the scum we want to keep.
Toss the rest away.
Now coat the inside of an old sock (the riper the better) with maple syrup and pack all of that milk-skin and good yummy stuff inside it.
Don't forget to knot the top!
Now we need to make some custard. About a quart; quite runny. It's okay to use custard mix as I'm locked in a cupboard and it's all I've got.
Add a good half pound of grated Parmesan to the custard and stir it until it melts and goes all gooey.
Pop in the stuffed sock and two heaped tablespoons of instant coffee granules and boil the whole lot until the cheese/coffee/custard has evaporated/been absorbed by the sock.
When it's done, empty the sock's contents into a bowl containing a chopped onion and a cupful of malt vinegar and stir well.
Sprinkle with chocolate chips.
Serve with raspberries and the broiled lung of a horse.
Voilá! Banana Lungfat Surprise.
An old family favourite (though whose family I have no idea).
Now let me out of this cupboard, you fuckers!"
Don't blame me … You wanted him back.
29 comments:
EEWWWW.. that is all..
and no, that is not morse code for anything.
I must say I am disappointed with your lack of culinary daring, young Prudence.
We wanted you back, yep. But now I'm not so sure why exactly.
Maybe we need to think harder. Would you mind going back to that cupboard and locking yourself up in there while we think? I'll have a bit more of that stuffed sock in the meantime, it helps clear my mind. Oh, and two questions :
1. Do you have another recipe that will use the other sock or is it a recipe for single sock? (of which I have plenty of, worry not)?
2. Does the original colour of the sock matter at all in that recipe?
Mmm, that was yummy. You should have cooked two full socks of those, I've finished the dish already.
ha ha haa, dive very creative.
Nathalie: Dive will remain locked in the cupboard until he can come up with anything printable that I can post.
The sock recipe is for that odd sock that lost its sole-mate (sorry, I couldn't resist) in the wash.
Preferably (for a fuller flavour) the sock should be so icky that the colour can only be guessed at.
I'm glad you enjoyed it.
Rich: Now you know what to make when people invite themselves round and you want to get rid of them.
Is anyone else scared?
You're eloquence incorporated hun.
A skill you must take the time to teach me.
It must be an english thing, the australian version of this is more *^%&^%$^$&&&*!!!!!! or perhaps thats just me tonight.
Adopt me please.
Lynn: yes. I am scared. I have to go back home to feed them tonight.
Kate: you Aussies are naturally eloquent and need no help from me.
How frustrating it must be to have multiple personalities to wrangle. hee hee
I like the chocolate chips, but other than that...
Robyn: Having multiple personalities is especially troublesome when one of them goes walkabout and then gets locked in a cupboard.
Choc chips are nothing compared with the joy of chewing meat-infused milk-skin.
Your answer re the colour of the sock is just as I expected. I'm sure men's socks are better than women's socks for that. Somehow they seem to reach the desired condition more easily (I'm not talking about yours of course: with all the time you spend doing house chores i'm sure yours are hole-free and smell of lavender)
Nathalie: My socks actually smell of tinfoil and ambergris. I wash them carefully in the tears of small children.
Tried it once.. tripe that is. Once was enough. Spam on the other hand is the "other" pink meat.
As opposed to "baby", which is the other, other pink meat.
That Dive can be such a horrible beast of a fellow! He has sent Big Shan screaming and running out back for a quick ralph in the dumpster before she showers up and readies herself for the next dinner party.
I am so glad I don't have her same fall for anything-regret it later personality. Little Shan is much more cautious when it comes to trying new recipes and reading about guts and stinky socks. Did that post come with smell-o-vision? Because I could swear I got a whiff of your tripe in it's milk bath at some point and I'm not sure it has gone away entirely yet. [Spit, spit, shiver.]
Ok. Well, while it is exciting to have Dive back, I am also pleased he is well across an ocean keeping his culinary interests and influences at blogs length! :P
Hi, Shan!
I read your comment to Dive through the cupbard door and he made a sort of creepy chuckling sound.
Be glad he's locked in the cupboard.
I'm kind of really scared now.
You may not know it but every can of SPAM is made right here in my home state. SPAM stands for "spiced ham". There is even a SPAM Museum in Austin, MN. Not exactly The Louvre but still interesting. We send SPAM out by the truckload. The state of Hawaii consumes the most SPAM per capita. Golfers, Tom Lehman (British Open Champ) and Lee Janzen (U.S Open Champ) were both born in Austin, MN. The low temp in Austin, MN will be -8F tonight with a windchill factor of -25F so no golf in MN. today. Warm up the SPAM.
Lynn: Be afraid.
Mark: Woohoo!
We were brought up on SPAM in the postwar austerity era.
Thanks to paying back our war loans to you guys - for which we were extremely grateful, by the way, even if it took us until 1980 to finish paying the interest - rationing didn't end until just before I was born and such things as oranges were only seen at Christmas.
SPAM on the other hand was ubiquitous. It was our only form of meat when I was a kid, which probably explains a lot about how I turned out.
I still buy a can from time to time and make classic comfort food like SPAM fritters.
Yum!
holy mary!
xoxoxo
(you are deliciously insane, sugar!)
That's one of the nicest things anyone's ever said to me, Savannah.
xoxoxo
Welcome back Dive darling. I just couldn't read that recipe though ... something about offal. Is tripe offal?
I wrote you a long note yesterday but blogger ate it (MB was posting at the time and that cuts my internet connection off!). For the life of me I can't remember what I said so I'll just say now that you were missed, sort of, although your "other half" did a brilliant job in your absence. Hee hee.
Don't forget to add the bouillon cube! I'll have mine with a diet Dr. Pepper! Are you ticked off yet?
Sounds to me like Dive needs (everyone sing along): two all-beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions on a sesame seed bun.
Either that, Katie...or some
Oscar Meyer has a way with
B O L O G N A
Maria that's too funny -- I just posted an old postcard that a friend sent me with some slightly altered lyrics to the old Oscar Meyer Weiner song!
I do believe Dive needs to take this song to heart:
I wish I were an Oscar Mayer Weiner
That is what I truly wish to be
cause if i were a Oscar Mayer Weiner
everyone would be in love
oh everyone would be in love
everyone would be in love with me
But Maria I do also like that Oscar Meyer has a way with B O L O G N A. How's that!
Mmmm...sock hagis!!
[wipes tears from eyes]
Actually, Dive wants to DRIVE an Oscar Mayer Wiener. He told me so after he saw the photo of the Weinermobile on my blog the other day. Maybe that's where's he's been, driving around Maryland in the Wienermobile...
Mme: tripe is indeed that most noble of oft-neglected offal, the stomach of a cow.
Yummy!
Having worked in a butcher's as a schoolboy and dressed several tons of tripe I will never eat it again.
Neetzy: I am just glad that those culinary nightmares are only available outside my kitchen.
Katie: You are not too old to put across my knee! Be grateful that you are a whole ocean and a continent away.
Maria: Eww! To the max.
Katie: I regret to say that the behaviour of you guys has led Old Dive to rant about weiners (and indeed the Irish).
I think I'd better go into hiding …
Lulu: I so want that car!
It is a truly wonderful creation and probably tastes a whole lot better than a weiner.
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