Creamy Goodness
The colder the weather, the darker the sky, the more I want to consume creamy things. In the last few days I have gorged myself silly on bowls of steamy creamy porridge with sultanas and brown sugar and milk, creamy barley soup full of dissolving soft vegies, and Whoretics creamy pumpkin risotto with shaved parmesan melting through it.
When I was in Sweden I became addicted to RissiFrutti, a deliciously creamy rice pudding affair. And nothing beats full milk creamy hot chocolate on a crisp winter's day, with a marshmallow oozing through it (best consumed at the mid-station of the Perisher quad chairlift, where you used to get one for $1 if you made it before 10am). Cream of asparagus soup, creamy mashed potato and parsnips with lashings of butter. And although not strictly creamy, I do have a strong urge for the texture of suet dumplings (preferably soaked in venison stew- vegaquarian who?). Mmmm... Its a starchy thing too perhaps? There used to be a brilliant Japanese restaurant in Neutral Bay, Shimbashi Soba, which not only made its own noodles on the premises and sold a wild variety of sakes and plum wines, but had the most curious (and wrong-sounding but astoundingly yummy), concoction of some strong spirit served alongside a piping hot teapot filled with the water they cooked the noodles in. You mixed the two of these liquids to conjure up a magical brew that warmed and intoxicated smoothly and slyly. Apparently it is astounding to some that any non-Japanese person should drink it, but I was addicted from the first sip.
Whoretic insists that I add vaginal juices to this assortment, so by all means I guess I really should add semen too, although the frothy connotations of this statement do make me gag a little. She also tells a rather sordid tale from long, long ago, involving a bioboy, an extravagent application of spermicidal jelly, and lots of in-out, with the result of the aforementioned prophylactic forming stiff egg-whitey peaks all over the bedlinen. Oh, and for reasons best known to herself, Whoretic also wants it mentioned that she is a great wife.
When I was in Sweden I became addicted to RissiFrutti, a deliciously creamy rice pudding affair. And nothing beats full milk creamy hot chocolate on a crisp winter's day, with a marshmallow oozing through it (best consumed at the mid-station of the Perisher quad chairlift, where you used to get one for $1 if you made it before 10am). Cream of asparagus soup, creamy mashed potato and parsnips with lashings of butter. And although not strictly creamy, I do have a strong urge for the texture of suet dumplings (preferably soaked in venison stew- vegaquarian who?). Mmmm... Its a starchy thing too perhaps? There used to be a brilliant Japanese restaurant in Neutral Bay, Shimbashi Soba, which not only made its own noodles on the premises and sold a wild variety of sakes and plum wines, but had the most curious (and wrong-sounding but astoundingly yummy), concoction of some strong spirit served alongside a piping hot teapot filled with the water they cooked the noodles in. You mixed the two of these liquids to conjure up a magical brew that warmed and intoxicated smoothly and slyly. Apparently it is astounding to some that any non-Japanese person should drink it, but I was addicted from the first sip.
Whoretic insists that I add vaginal juices to this assortment, so by all means I guess I really should add semen too, although the frothy connotations of this statement do make me gag a little. She also tells a rather sordid tale from long, long ago, involving a bioboy, an extravagent application of spermicidal jelly, and lots of in-out, with the result of the aforementioned prophylactic forming stiff egg-whitey peaks all over the bedlinen. Oh, and for reasons best known to herself, Whoretic also wants it mentioned that she is a great wife.
Labels: food fancies
posted by Zoo at 8:48 pm
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