Saturday 23 June 2012

Food Porn. and dining with friends is good.

this isn't a great or philosophical post.

this is food porn.

one of the great things about having a food loving friend visit is that lots of good food must be eaten.

we began the visit with a trip to Yo Sushi and a total blow out.
have some pretty pictures of noms. but most things ended up disappearing before the camera could get out.  like the duck. and the squid. and the soft shell crab. and the mixed fish maki.


and some things you somehow manage to hold off and photograph even though you can't resist the wonderful burst in the mouthiness of the roe.

 considering I've photographed two dishes here, the picture of the spoils just goes to show how hard it was to hold of long enough to get a photo

is that eleven dishes? and Miso soup.
it was great to have someone there with similar taste, so we could share dishes and therefore eat more things.

can you believe it, later that day we had Curry at the White Hart Inn, Chilsworthy
The White Hart
we can't miss the curry nights. even if we're too too full.

and yesterday. well. yesterday. let me tell you about La Bouche Creole.
La Bouche Creole

a wonderful little restaurant in Launceston. it's a bit small and cosy, and almost feels a bit like you're a guest in someones home. the people there are so friendly, and remembered us from a visit last summer.

first of all. the bread. now you tell yourself not to fill up on the bread, but it was SO good. and had just been made a matter of a few hours before. it had a scattering of sea salt, and the butter was creamy and light and lovely. how can you not fill up on bread when it tastes so good.

then. OH MY MULTIPLE DEITIES THE GUMBO. the Gumbo was SO good.
it's a lot lighter than my Gumbo, a little more of a soup than a stew, but I could have eaten it all night. it was so so good. with lots of big cubes of fish, prawns, crab, oh glorious glorious. it was a tomato-ey one too, which again is rather different from how I do it, but I loved it very very much.

you can probably see how I started it, then remembered to take a picture.





it was SO good.

then I had slow roasted babyback ribs, AND chicken in voodoo barbequeue sauce, some REALLY nice fries and coleslaw. again, really good.

then my friend and I shared a chocolate and pecan brownie with coconut ice cream. even though it HURT.

so there's my few days of absolutely gorging myself. we had a light lunch of goats cheese, smoked austrian cheese and water biscuits. which is always nice.

I don't KNOW if I can do much for dinner tonight. but yum.

I'd also like to throw in a recommendation for Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter. which, according to my friend who did American Studies at University is "quite historically accurate"
so there you go. that thought amused me greatly.

please feel free to share some of your own food porn with me.

Thursday 14 June 2012

it's time for you to meet the mischief

you're probably going to get to know these guys pretty well, so I suppose you had better be formally introduced.

animals have fun group names. like a group of crows being known as a murder.


so the critters I'm about to introduce you to are my little Mischief.

first of all, I'll introduce you to my ladies. who, if we're playing with fancy pants animal words are Does.

this is, left to right,  Juju, Zorro and Mojo.


the lovely, squishy hammock is a custom Corner Crush by
Fuzzbutt cage comforts
please check them out. her work is excellent and the customer service is above and beyond.

Juju is silver fawn hooded. the biggest of the girls, very placid and thoughtful. and she LOVES food. when she was a kitten she reminded me of Nicole Kidman. that's kind of hard to explain. but oddly true.

Zorro, the black hooded,  is damn near terrifyingly athletic. that girl spends as much time upside down on the roof as she does the right way up. she's as bright as a button and has a cracking sense of humour.

Mojo, the champagne berkshire, is a complete mummies girl. she loves her snuggles, melts for an ear scratch and likes nothing better than a good snooze in a well cushioned cleavage.

on to the boys. or Bucks. if we're being technical. obviously they don't live in the same cage as the girls, otherwise I'd have far more than five.

the boys came to me earlier this year after their previous owners wanted to find them a home that had more time for them.





both of the boys are Dumbos. which means nothing more than that they have a gene that gives them  large, low set ears, giving them a perpetually befuddled expression.

this is Scamp. he's a roan. which means you can just see the traces of a mask and marking on his back he used to have when he was a juvenile he has the thickest ever fur on  his cheeks that he loves to have scratched.

he's also a champion boggler.
a relaxed rat (mostly male rats that do this) will grind their teeth so hard that the masseter muscle, which passes behind the eyeball, will cause the eyeball to bulge and vibrate. like this.


and this is Sam. a darling little Blue boy who is prone to respiratory infections, and seems to be here purely to have me in a state of constant worry over every sniff and sneeze.
he is my heart rat. a term used in rattie communities to describe the occasional rat who just touches your heart above and beyond the usual very close bond you have with rats. he's my precious little man. when I come up to the cage he starts pawing and nibbling at the cage door, as if to get it open as quick as possible so he can give me snuggles and kisses. don't you just want to tickle him behind the ears?


so there you have it. the whole Mischief. all here to say Hi. and get  a cyber  cuddle.

XXX
The Wicked Witch of the Westcountry.

Villification of the social "underclass"

this was a topic of much discussion over on the old book of face yesterday. it was all prompted by this.

Diary of a Benefit Scrounger: RIP Karen Sherlock

and an issue also blogged about by a good friend at

Mystic Moaning

the villification in the media of the so called social underclass.

it was a rant about this that led to a friend suggesting maybe I should blog. I didn't want to make it my first post, as I don't want to pigeonhole this blog. I don't want people to see this as my thing. this isn't how I define myself. I don't want to alienate people on the grounds of politics. but I DO want to maybe give a few people a reality check.

time and time again in the press we see an image projected of people on benefits. that they all drink too much, chainsmoke, sit around in a cannabis fueled haze of careless procreation and a private life befitting a regular slot on the Jeremy Kyle show.

all in their palatial council houses, watching their massive flatscreen TVs, playing their Xboxes, planning their tacky holidays where they will return with a massive hangover and a nasty rash downstairs. a life of luxury, debauchery and not a care in the world. while the hard working tax payer eats beans on toast and wonders how to pay the electricity bill.

how many people believe this myth of life on benefits? well everyone knows someone that knows someone that lives like that, right?

someone on benefits couldn't possibly be, Oh I don't know. someone like me.
with a husband I love dearly who is not well enough to work.
someone who never once imagined they wouldn't work full time and pay into the system their whole life. with a good work ethic. good manners. a strong sense of right and wrong.
no, never someone like me.

never the widow who following the death of her husband of 60 years, finds that on her pension alone she cannot afford to stay in the house she's lived in all her life. where she was carried across the threshold, where she raised her children and cared for the love of her life in his last years.

never the comfortably off, two good, well paid jobs. who decide to add another child to their family. of course they can afford to, if she goes back to work when the child starts school. they've thought about this carefully. they can afford this. they've budgeted for the maternity leave. they can do this.
but their child turns out to be severely disabled and will need round the clock care for the rest of their life. and on one income they will struggle.

never... people like you. who knows what circumstances the universe has lined up for you.

you never think that is what your life is going to be until that is what it is.

these blogs are an insight into what life is really like when you rely on benefits.

PLEASE remember that the people who claim fraudulently are in the minority.
most people on benefits aren't in that position through choice (why would you choose to be?) and are good people.


and people always complain when they see people on benefits with any kind of luxury.like they haven't saved for it, or unwisely run themselves into debt for it. or carefully budgeted for it. 

because of course, if life deals you a beating with the shitty stick, you deserve a life knowing that if you carefully save for a holiday, or are cheaply sold or given a relatives half decent old car when they get a new one, or if you have ANYTHING nice, someone will go around muttering about benefit scroungers with holidays or cars or nice things. because of course, being on benefits you deserve to scrape along and never have anything good in life.
oh, you've been through a shitty and disastrous experience in life? well you can look forward to deserving only just enough to keep a roof over your head and food in your belly? some people will say this is how it should be. that a life on benefits should never be anything more than the bare minimum. a half life.

Karen Sherlocks story is the reality of life on benefits. yes, I will say I am comfortable, and if I budget carefully I can have some luxuries. but I will always have the fear that everything can be torn out from under my feet and I'll be left with no way of paying the bills. 


and that kind of anxiety isn't good for anyone. especially people with mental health issues.

so what does the media do about it?

focus the eye of the world on the minority of benefit scroungers and frauds that work the system for every penny they can, with no intention of ever being a productive member of society.  paint that as the norm, rather than the exception that it is. 


if you turn the general public against the most vulnerable in society, then who will stand up and cry foul when they take away vital funds and resources?
 
 instead they paint us as lazy, fradulent scroungers. so that when benefit cuts are announced, the public are not on the side of the people that rely so much on them to get by. 
because they believe the lies that the press are encouraged to spread, of a life in a palatial council house with flat screen TVs, no worries and two holidays a year doled out to the undeserving. the hard done by taxpayer isn't encouraged to see what is really there. instead they see the lineup of the Jeremy Kyle show, getting fat off the hard won fruits of their toil.
 
THIS IS NOT THE REALITY. THIS IS THE FICTION. 
a fiction we are all encouraged to believe.
and if it draws attention away from how much money is lost to tax evasion, which far outweighs how much is lost to the benefit fraud minority, all the better.

Camerons big society.
demonise the needy so that when you kick them when they're down, you get hailed as a hero.

Wednesday 13 June 2012

dipping your toe in.

so here I am. not entirely sure yet what I'm doing here.
it seemed like a good idea at the time. so starts many a bad plan.

and we all know how fun they all turn out.

blogging is a funny old thing when you think about it. we're such complex creatures.

so do we go for a concise topic and then realise we have little to say on only one subject. or do we go broad, and bore people that may be fascinated by your food but creeped out by your pets.

well I'm going broad. because that's what life is like. so you may have the occasional rant about bad TV ads that annoy me that day, you may have me pondering the mysteries of the universe. you may have me baffled at the whearabouts of yet another thing I'll blame the disappearence of on the faeries. or you may have the ongoing frustrations of how to convince a hypochondriac rat to take his antibiotics.

so much like it would be in conversation with me, really.

here you have it. a Wife, a Witch, a seller of fine smelling cosmetic products, a damn fine cook and paranoid and overprotective mother to a brood of rodents. or a mischief. because that is what a group of rats are called. daughter. maker of jewellery and mess. loyal friend.

sticking out into the ocean on a county with the heart of a country, walking an age old path and wondering what exactly brought the Lwa into my life and into THIS neck of the woods. yeah, there's an odd one.

I'm here. dipping my clawed toes into the world of blogging and wondering where it might take me.
you're welcome along for the ride.


 XXX
The Wicked Witch of the Westcountry