In the words of Bridget Jones, “The way some people know the alphabet or times tables, I know calories.” The classic quote of the classic yo-yo dieter – and one which I often find myself uttering, while I struggle to remember what seven times eight is. Some days are perfectly controlled and others (such as today) are beautifully fat. I filled out a rough version of my CAO form today which is my exucse, but normally I wouldn’t have one.
But I can’t help it, I just love food. In the process of writing answers for our Scrudu Cainte in Irish class the other day, one of my answers included Is iad mo caitheamh aimsire ná leitheorieacht, an idirlion, ag suil agus ag ithe*… I rest my case. When I was younger, although not a picky eater, I had my rules. No cauliflower, no mushrooms, no ham out of a packet, etc, etc. Nowadays, if it doesn’t kill me, I will throw it down my gullet. I specify “doesn’t kill me” because of that large list of allergies (I said I was a nerd didn’t I?)
I can cook. Kind of. I make killer pancakes. Wheat free of course. 🙂 But I can’t make anything really outstanding. Dad’s trying to teach me. This time next year I’ll be living off stir frys and frozen veg. One thing I’m determnined to master, though, is chowder, the ultimate of all comfort food. No amount of chocolate or chips can compare. When I was a kid, it was delightfully referred to in our house as Daddy’s Fish Surprise. Over the years, ingredients have been adjusted, variations made and undone, names changed, yet the awesomeness of it all still remains. I would attempt to write up the recipe but I know I’d just get it wrong. So Dad, if you’re looking for blog ideas… When I perfect, I’ll post. Until then, Bon Appetit.
*For all you non-Gaeilgeoirs, ag ithe means eating.