Look st the blue of those blueberries! I dunnno about yours, but ours are a much darker hue. One begins to suspect some Instagram/HD shizz going on in the IHOP. Excuse enough to revisit George Carlin’s epic Blue Food rant.
I often wonder why there’s no blue food. Every other color in well represented in the food kingdom. And don’t bother me with blueberries; they’re purple. The same is true with blue corn and blue potatoes. They’re purple. Blue cheese? Nice try. It’s actually white cheese with blue mold. Occasionally, you might run across some blue Jell-o in a cafeteria. Don’t eat it. It wasn’t supposed to be blue. Something went wrong.
Manolo says, in the autumn, the middle aged man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of toast.
Gone now is the summer of our grapefruit halves, sprinkled with sugar, replaced by toast
All hail toast!
The miraculous transformation of that holiest of foods, bread, into the perfect synthesis of homey tastes, the essential conveyance of butter, or jams, or honey, or if one is ambitious, perhaps the scrap of soft boiled egg.
Toast! The English vice!
“Village life makes stale bread so common that toasting has become a national habit restricted to the British Isles and those countries which have been colonized by Britain.” – H. D. Renner, The Origin of Food Habits
Of the course, as we all know that the Battle of Waterloo was won on the toasting forks of Eton?
“It isn’t only fictional heroes to whom toast means home and comfort. It is related of the Duke of Wellington – I believe by Lord Ellesmere – that when he landed at Dover in 1814, after six years’ absence from England, the first order he gave at the Ship Inn was for an unlimited supply of buttered toast.” – Elizabeth David, English Bread and Yeast Cookery
Did the Manolo say toasting forks?
We modern have advanced into the present blessed with the electronic 4 slice toaster. Two for me, and two for thee, dear breakfast friend!
So, lift your cup to toast! Humble, yet divine. Simple, yet delicious.
Life has few pleasures as subtle and satisfying as having Craig Brown for breakfast.
One does not have to look at him, you understand. That might put one off one’s nosh entirely. One simply has to read him, preferably with a steaming mug of something brain-fortifying nearby, to help keep up. His sneakier bon mots tend to prove indigestible to the cocktail-lubricated system; yes, responsibly consumed, Craig Brown is an important part of a nutritious breakfast.
Take this little morsel, from the bountiful spread of Vanity Fair: Breakfast With Obama
This morning, I say to my wife and my girls, the waffles we face are real. They will not go away. Cornmeal waffles, buckwheat waffles, pumkin waffles, chicken ‘n’ waffles. The waffles we face are serious and manifold.
In my life, I tell Sasha and Malia, I have learned that there are three ways to eat a waffle. With a spoon. With a fork. Or with a spoon and fork. I put the choices before them. You may eat your waffle with a spoon. Or you may eat your waffle with a fork. Or — and this is the choice awaiting you, and that shall one day await us all — you may prefer to eat your waffle with, yes, both a spoon and a fork. So which is it to be?
I pause, and look up from my breakfast podium. The girsl are already halfway through eating their waffles. With their hands.
We could not wait for you to finish, Daddy, they say.
I call that satisfying.
Time to rub the crumbs of sleep out of our eyes and frappé la rue; we’re back to regular blogging chez ManoloFoods. What’s that you say? The coffee’s just not doing it for you?
Well, maybe what you need is a little pastry to go with:
In what must have seemed like a scene straight from a movie, hundreds of Orthodox Greek mourners were mistakenly served kourabiedes, a traditional Greek biscuit, at a funeral reception. Shortly after tasting the biscuits, the guests started acting incredibly strangely and the funeral bureau officers called the police.
Authorities and funeral goers were surprised to find out that instead of icing sugar, the biscuits had cocaine toppings sprinkled all over them.
MOURN FASTER! MOURN FASTER! Compared to the staid Anglicanism of my upbringing, this is looking mighty interesting; do you think it’s some kind of marketing outreach?
Just to keep you suitably off-balance, and in case you don’t happen to have any Greek mourning biscuits handy, we present this awesome tribute to David Lynch’s Coffee…
and a mashup of Wilkins Coffee pitches, from the revered, and apparently somewhat demented, Jim Henson.
It’s a little-known (and less-cared-about) fact that Canadian television and radio licensees are required by law to broadcast a certain percentage of “Canadian Content” each hour, and that there are very strict definitions thereof. We are glad to see that Timmy’s is extending the national-identity-reinforcement to their tasty confections as well, with these Canucks Long Johns. Just a shame those poor boys in Afghanistan can’t get their regulation issue battle gloves on these babies.
Maybe just as well. They look like Leafs fans.