there's a taste in my mouth and it's no taste at all

[freckles_and_doubt]

Wheee! Just got back from my first lecture of the semester - man, I'd forgotten how much I enjoy it. I'm buzzed. *bounces gently off walls*. Evilly introducing oblivious third-years to the joys of some of the dodgier corners of the internet - priceless. Also, mumbling about Freud, sexual symbolism, unreality, disembodiment, Buffy the Vampire Slayer and the existence of Weasleycest. This puts me on a reasonable footing to deal with the rest of Monday, which is usually tricky because (a) Mondays are always completely insane with student advice, suggesting that the little dears spend all weekend brooding over their curriculum wrongs and simply have to have it sorted out posthaste as Monday dawns, and (b) we do that regular jo&stv socialising thing on Sunday evening so I've always slept badly owing to eating and drinking too much (and, possibly, talking too much shit)¹.

And, with reference to the latter point, I reproduce for your hock and shorror an actual conversation from last night:
EVIL LANDLORD: What's in these potatoes, bacon?
ME: No, coriander and red wine.
EL: Bacon, coriander, taste the same, really.

I have been cooking for ten years for a man who cannot tell the difference between bacon and coriander. Do I need to draw your attention to the inutterable depths of this tragedy? It's enough to make me want to give up cooking. Only not really.

I have to add, just for the record, that I'm not sure if I'm amused or horrified that my previous post should attract so much comments attention, as you witterers give your serious analytic attention to the logic of evil dogs guarding zombies. That's high-class lateral pedantry, that is.

Last Night I Dreamed: I was packing up quantities of Earl Grey teabags very lovingly into a small tin emblazoned with elephants, in order to put it into a care package for someone in prison.

¹ Also, in an interesting departure from the norm, allowing jo to tie me to the sofa with banana fibre.

Comments

[origamitiger.livejournal.com]

I have been cooking for ten years for a man who cannot tell the difference between bacon and coriander.
NNNNOOOOOOO! What is with that man's tastebuds? Is he a heathen!!! Evil evil man!

[extemporanea.livejournal.com]

Not heathen, German. Also, he's not fundamentally interested in food. Not that you'd notice :>.

He's maddening to cook for because he never reacts to anything I feed him. At one point I seriously considered submitting supper to him with a small card full of check-boxes: I thought this meal was good/bad/indifferent, I'd like you to make this dish more often/less often/never again, etc. Ten years down the line and I'm still discovering food likes and dislikes he's never before articulated. *beats head against wall*

[origamitiger.livejournal.com]

I suppose that is one of the reasons I love Frog so much, I like cooking and he loves eating, tells me when it is good and when it is bad. Although his habit of hot sauce on EVERYTHING is maddening when it is top quality, expensive pesto it was more than disheartening.
He does say when he does not like something and being aware of those is very helpful. Mind you I am blamed in part for his thickening waste line.
I have a little project going at the moment and he has offered to taste test for it and go to the gym more often.

[strawberryfrog.livejournal.com]

I offered to go to the gym more often?

[origamitiger.livejournal.com]

No DEB suggested that. Sorry, that was not made clear but I think if you are going to taste test the gym might be a good idea.

[mac1235.livejournal.com]

Food is but fuel, after all.

[origamitiger.livejournal.com]

I am thinking that attitude comes from your mother, your brother has/had a similar thought. There is so much more, read my recipes on E2, cooking is history and family, it is bonding over a common need that you keep your clothes on for. The evening meal is a time to communicate with others in a relaxed situation, savouring the labour of love that a special meal or the skill it takes to throw together something quickly that feels the void and trips across the taste buds.

[bronchitikat.livejournal.com]

As extemporanea says - he's a man.

Now I know some men do mind what they eat, & express themselves & are even great chefs.

He isn't one of them!

[stringgeek.livejournal.com]

I can hear him saying this, accent and all, as if it's a great big joke. (insert irritated tone of voice) ~Germans~. And also, ARGH to not giving fabulous cooking the respect and proper feedback that it deserves.

I'm not sure I want to ask about the banana fibre.

[extemporanea.livejournal.com]

Banana fibre is the bomb! It's slubby, textured, slightly crunchy, with a gloss like silk. I had a couple of balls and a skein. Because of the slubbing the skein tangled like a bugger, and jo and I spent twenty minutes last night with me holding the skein and her trying to wind it. We triumphed, but only after many tangles.

[(Anonymous)]

Huh. Sounds like your subconscious borrowed my elephant kit. (A small tin, emblazoned with elephants, which has been the family's container of medical supplies lo these many generations. Well, three.) Although disprin and plasters is a different sort of care package to tea, and to my knowledge, none of the family has been in prison.

Glad you're enjoying the banana fibre, anyway.

scroob