Originally posted by teamsaint
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What are you cooking now?
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Originally posted by Beef Oven! View PostStop all this and listen to the Bruckner on R3!!!
Originally posted by teamsaint View Post(is it only in London that people order a pickled egg in a bag of Salt and Vinegar crisps? )"...the isle is full of noises,
Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears, and sometime voices..."
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Originally posted by Caliban View PostHope everyone did! See my comment on thread - astonishing!
No! I think that was only on the occasion when you witnessed it being done by people who were taking the **** out of you!
And I can't make sense of your sentence. (as the barrister said to the judge when I did jury service !!)
Edit: take the ****?!.....as if.......I will not be pushed, filed, stamped, indexed, briefed, debriefed or numbered. My life is my own.
I am not a number, I am a free man.
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Originally posted by teamsaint View PostSt Johns Wood matey, night after night they used to buy them.
"Get ready, lads, he's just coming in now ... oh, barman, a pickled egg in a bag of salt and vinegar crisps, please," "Make that two, please, barman." "And a third!" "And for me." And so on ...It isn't given us to know those rare moments when people are wide open and the lightest touch can wither or heal. A moment too late and we can never reach them any more in this world.
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Well, posh it may be, (you can tell by the cuisine), but NW8 is London any way you slice it.
pretty sure I saw the savoury snack served elsewhere, although my time living up there was 30 years ago.
Perhaps I should rephrase the question.
" Is it only in St Johns Wood that Londoners play feeble pub food centred jokes on non locals, or does it happen elsewhere in the capital? or is it just a cunning (and probably much needed) marketing campaign by the pickled egg companies?"
Edit: This evening. Seattle Salmon.
with pickled eggs a la mode.
And Rubbra SQs.
Yum.Last edited by teamsaint; 27-02-14, 17:56.I will not be pushed, filed, stamped, indexed, briefed, debriefed or numbered. My life is my own.
I am not a number, I am a free man.
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Originally posted by Flosshilde View PostPickled wallnuts anyone?It isn't given us to know those rare moments when people are wide open and the lightest touch can wither or heal. A moment too late and we can never reach them any more in this world.
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The French neighbours are coming round for an apéro and, as they would look seriously askance if one produced nothing but a bowl of crisps and some peanuts, it's pissaladière: stew 1kg of coarsely chopped white onions with a small slug of olive oil and a teaspoon of finely chopped thyme for about 2 hours until they begin to caramelise but woe betide you if they go brown; make some pizza dough with 200g flour; roll it thinly; spread the onions - into which you've put a cook's cheat of a teaspoon of balsamic vinegar as it improves the taste - and then decorate with anchovies and black olives - and they must be black (I once used green olives which were met with looks of horror - the French are nothing if not wedded to the principle of 'comme il faut'). And, as they have healthy appetites, arancini (the left-over broad bean and pancetta risotto), blinis and smoked salmon, frittata ....... And then there's the problem of how to get rid of them after they have consumed all the wine and have got stuck into the whisky. Go to bed and leave them to it I suppose.
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