For Sixteen Nights And Days He Raved
Nobody these days has old fashioned illnesses anymore. Everyone has a specialized, complicated sounding, life threatening, rare illness or atleast it seems that way to me. Everyone, save I. I have inflammation of tonsils and as they plague my existence by making me feverish, I eat soup by the buckets because it seems so comforting. This is my interpretation of Jamie Oliver's Minestrone. It looks mighty ugly, but the taste, despite my tonsils - mamma mia!
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Labels: Food
1 Comments:
I have good, old-fashioned manflu, but I'm not eating anything inspired by Jamie Oliver. I want my mother's soup.
Jamie Oliver Fact #71. He's a hero for helping schools provide "healthy lunches for overweight schoolkids" and at the same time makes a fortune for doing voiceovers for a supermarket chain (Sainsbury's) along the lines of "and then pour over 4 pints of double dream - go on, treat yourself." God, I hate him.
Neil Fact #1. I'm feeling miserable (and bitter and twisted, obviously) - I think I'd be a willing customer for a Thappad Supari business. "That Jamie Oliver character - go and sort him out and make him stop pretending to be a cockney."
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