Thought for food

It might suprise you if you're familiar with my cooking habits from The Old Country, but I've rediscovered the beauty of home-cooked meals.

It's true that I lived at SEF for several years and bought my dinner almost every single night. Oh Burgerfuel, how I miss thee! On the rare occasion that I did make my own dinner, it was undoubtably either a butt-load of pasta bolognese or an butt-load of nachos. Either of these meals would be stripped to a minimum of ingredients, prepared in a way that dirtied the minimum number of dishes.

Lately, however, I've been treated to a variety of delicious Mediterranean cuisine, courtesy of the Monkey's Italian flatmates. Wonderful salads, focaccia bread and stuff I couldn't pronounce even if I did know what it was called. I've been treated and inspired.

The Monkey's traditional American cookies aren't half bad, either. I still don't understand what American biscuits are, though. It seems that they are something like bread roll, and they're often served with fried chicken.

I sometimes feel bad that no matter how I try to curb my anti-Americanist outbursts in front of the Monkey, I still bag her country on an alarmingly regular basis.