gibberish

While I was a regular visitor to St Columba’s Hospice seeing my Dad I posted this.

“If I had some eggs, we could have ham and eggs; if I had some ham.” my Uncle Christopher declared this afternoon.

Wise words.

But my mother violently disagreed with this because she retorted

“If we had some eggs we could have eggs and ham; if we had some ham.”

Not sure about that. In fact it’s total bollocks - because what she really meant to say, and did, was…

“If we had ham, we could have ham and eggs; if we had eggs.”

You know what…

…I don’t give a monkey’s uncle!

My first draft said “I don’t give a flying fuck” but I thought I should be more thoughtful and sensitive than that.

Anyway, the way tinternet works it has become a strangely popular post, having been read 500 or so times by people googling this lame image, which was the image I nicked to put in the original post. Strange .

I’M GOING TO HAVE TO WRITE THIS IN CAPITAL LETTERS TO REFLECT THE TONE OF THE TWO GEEZERS WHO PRESENT MASTERCHEFF THESE DAYS.

What was wrong with the lugubriousness of Lloyd Grossman?

ANYWAY, AFTER AN ENTHRALLING FINAL (BUT A NOT GREAT FORMAT OVERALL) THE GORMAN FAMILY AGREED THAT THERE WAS NO DOUBT JAMESY DESERVED THE TITLE.

HURRAH!

Youtube won’t allow embedding of this film on blogs, but I can assure you it is highly amusing.

Let me reveal to you… FARTMAN.

As the name suggests it is a novelty act and was shown on Dutch TV.  It is puerile, but funny.  Very.

Follow this link.

In my spare time, when I’m not writing this drivel, I sit on a fundraising committee for the advertising and media industry in Scotland called NABS (National Advertising Benevolent Society). It pays for the repair of broken Ferrari axles and so on. (That’s a joke!)

Last night was the inaugural Burns Supper for said charity and despite doing bugger all in terms of organising it I found myself on the top table clapped in as we followed the piper into the the main suite at the Roxburgh Hotel in Edinburgh. Then, to my delight, I found I was seated next to wit and raconteur, Charlie Mclean, one of world’s greatest authorities on Malt whisky and allegedly the most famous whisky writer in Macedonia.

He can certainly lay claim to having one of the more distinguished moustaches in Edinburgh.

It transpires that all that nosing, swirling and spitting out of whisky to “taste” it is a load of bollocks. You just neck it and move on. That was an interesting and reassuring insight. Between us and not many others we “nosed” a bottle of Old Poulteney.

The event was a triumph and Keith Crane should be knighted or something for his efforts.

My highlight of the evening was, on telling Charlie that he must read a sublime Newfoundland collection of short stories by Alastair Mcleod, called “The lost Salt Gift of Blood” which had been recommended to me by Simon Scott he told me that he had recommended it to Simon Scott.

Now, this is a book that is beyond reviewable. It is possibly the finest book I have ever read (pre blog days) and concerns itself with life in Newfoundlanfd. Taut, sparingly written and seemingly monochromatic it is a bleak but intense insight into human life.

It’s been out of print for years but second hand copies are available through Amazon. Sadly, I lent my copy to some bastard who never gave it back to me but I urge you to read it.

(If you are the bastard I leant it to could you give it back please.)

I played golf in the winter league this morning. I think the “nosing” affected my performance a tad. Four 7’s on the back nine not being the basis of great success, although my partner, Jon Rough (good name for golf), pissed it and won the medal.

(PS.  I gave the book to the Mrs, so forget the above random accusation.)

I think I’ve raved about Kismot before but, if so, I am going to do so again. It is a family run Indian restaurant in St Leonards Place in Edinburgh, described by some as the new “old” Khushis.

New, old, whatever. It boasts the finest food and the best service in an Indian restaurant in Edinburgh.

When I say good service, I mean spectacular. This family is brilliant. Dad is the chef. Mum bakes the exquisite nans.  The son is head waiter and has a truly authentic Edinburgh/Indian accent, and the daughters are the waitresses.

The food is abundant, authentic, delicious and stunning value.

To top it off it’s a BYOB joint.

I promise you, you will not find a better Indian restaurant in Edinburgh.

And, if you don’t believe me read this…

Night Out With Friends

The Kismot in St Leonards St, Edinburgh is a treasure of true ethnic Asian eating, whether eating in or taking a meal home. Spotlessly clean, this family run restuarant is the best we have sampled in the whole of the UK. Mum & Dad do the cooking, the rest of the family give the friendliest, most welcoming ambiance you could wish for. Yes often in Kilts!!!! We had arrived back in Edinburgh 18months ago from India and having nothing in the house went out for dinner-it was the night of the opening of The Kismot. So spotting a new place we gave it a try - no regrets whatsoever - the food was just as we had been having 2 days previously IN INDIA!!! We have been back to the Kismot many times and often with friends, others we have told about how good it is have all thanked us for the info. No drinks licence, so if you eat in - Take your own bottle(s) with you. The Menu is Typical of Indian/Bangladeshi Restuarants, however, the standard of the cooking, ingredients, presentation and taste are way way above anything we have experienced anywhere else in the UK.

Or this…

Claire
An absolutely wonderful restaurant! The food is delicious, probably the best Indian food I have ever tasted. The atmosphere is perfect for any occassion and for large or small groups. The price is very reasonable. But, the best thing about this restaurant is the family who run it - they are very friendly, lovely people and can not do more to please you!

Tony Harding told me I would have the finest meal of my life in a Thai restaurant in Manchester, where I am working just now.  It was pretty nice but Dusit in Thistle Street kicks its arse.

Four of the handsomest chefs on the planet cooked a three course meal (with three or four choices per course) for 60 of the ladies of Holy Cross Parish on Saturday. Given that I was at it from 10 am to 11pm the day after the hedonistic Scottish Advertising Awards it made for a tough gig.

My dad did it for years, so I took his place this year.

But we made at least £500 profit for charity so can’t really complain.

At least we looked good.

Nae. Great!

I always moan that I have all sorts of bird feeders in the garden and no birds appear.

But the last couple of mornings I’ve enjoyed my morning cup of tea watching the to-ing and fro-ing of lots of little birds. So I just wanted to remind everyone that as the weather is changing and getting colder, make sure you’re feeding all the little birdies.

I buy my bird food at the wholesalers, Lawson Donaldson, at Calder Road. A 20kg bag of wild bird feed for £9.00 lasts me a year and the two bird feeders were only £5.00. So get yourself along for all your garden paraphanalia before the 31st October as it is closing down.

Talking of the English class system (see Atonement review) has anybody had the misfortune to watch this hideous piece of nauseating snobbery served up as a guide to easy cooking for complete and utter idiots?

The BBC deserves a kicking for allowing this posh tart to serve up posh tarts.

If Nigella said once that this was the “quick” “easy” “lazy” or “fast” way to do something she said it 100 times. I was on the verge of throwing my Mascarpone in Goats cheese, olive and quince at the screen.

Beat it ya fat boot!

(I know…hypocritical.)

Jeana has a different take on express.

Get it from the carry out!