You can always rely on Shakespeare for a good quote, especially when taken totally out of context. The title of the post is Harry Hotspur in Henry IV (part 1) railing against Glendower and more complete (and accurate) would be “Worse than a smoky house: I had rather live with cheese and garlic in a windmill, far, Than feed on cates and have him talk to me In any summer-house in Christendom”.
However, The Daily Prompt suggests that the world is ending tomorrow and would like to know what my last dinner will be. I think that cheese and garlic in a windmill would be a great way to bow out providing there’s a decent bottle or two of port to help it go down.
I asked the youngest resident of the house what would be his preference. I promised that whatever he chose would be served as Sunday dinner. He chose a pot noodle. Those of you from other
parts may not be familiar with pot noodles. All I can say is that they are the staple diet of male students and (allegedly) have the nutritional content of an ant.
Youngest resident (I’m not counting the cat, she is the youngest in human years but the oldest if we allow for “cat years”) is a bit of a character. He requires daily medication for an ongoing condition and a side effect of the medication is that he is awake way into the night and has absolutely no appetite until around midnight. Getting food into him in daylight hours is always a challenge so any positive request for food is to be encouraged. We occasionally have “Robby Fried Chicken” which, unlike Colonel Sanders recipe goes nowhere near a deep fat frier and (though I say so myself) is rather delicious. If I had a recipe blog I would give you the means to make it yourself (but I don’t, so you’ll just have to wonder).
Back to pot noodles – Chicken and mushroom pot noodles to be precise. It can’t be that difficult to fool him into thinking he’s eating something rubbish when it is really a healthy dish. I reckon I can rattle off something in a wok and serve it in a plastic bowl and he will never know the difference. It does come to something though when you’re having to make good food seem like bad food in order to get it consumed.
We also had a chat about who should come to dinner (I didn’t promise that they would actually attend), he wants Louis Suarez, Jennifer Lawrence and Adolf Hitler. I quite approve of Jennifer (now that I’ve found out who she is) but I’m not convinced about the others. Suarez (a footballer playing for Liverpool for those that don’t know) is famous for biting somebody during a match so if he’s not fond of pot noodles he may start tucking into the other guests. Hitler? He’s (the youngest, not the former Chancellor of Germany) just come back from a visit to Berlin so it may be that he (the youngest) wants to question him (the fuhrer) about some matters that he (youngest) felt could have been handled differently.
The final question (the aforementioned condition means that questions to the youngest need to be limited and sprung on him when he is in a relaxed mood) was to select a venue. Where shall we go for our pot noodle bonanza with the Uruguayan (you have no idea how many goes I had at spelling that) foootballer, the man who kick started the most devastating war in history and the girl who is very handy with a bow and arrow?
On a trampoline, on a boat, when it is foggy.
I have no idea. He has previously shown no inclination to naval bouncing in a mist, in fact he’s never shown any interest in any one of these before. Sadly he had run out of patience and refused to elaborate on why we have such an obscure place to eat. It does sound like fun though so the next time it is foggy and you are by the coast, keep your eye open for a ship with a trampoline on it. There’s going to be a very interesting meal taking place.