Curry Tacos? I think I’ve got an idea for a show on fusion cuisine!
Macho? Well, at least they got right to the point!
Does anyone else find something . . . um . . . odd . . . about the ear of corn in the middle?
During late spring every year, ducks take over our parking lots!
In a world gone mad, isn’t it nice to know that Little Golden Books still survive?
If I’m spending 15 bucks on a chunk of (frankly, not awesome-looking) meat, someone had better be cooking it for me. With sides. And beer.
I’m almost tempted to buy it just to keep on the mantel, like my can of spotted dick, but that would mean perpetuating this crime against nature!
And I, child of the countryside, grew up believing puffball mushrooms were poisonous!
These regal grapes were spotted just one day before The Wedding of the Millennium. Way to cash in!
To provide some background, I’m afraid of persimmons. The Homestead has a persimmon tree in the front yard which likes to throw its hard little fruit at us. All. Summer. Long. They’re not edible (we tried), they dent our cars (seriously), they lay on the ground and rot faster than we can rake them up and get stuck in our shoe treads, they smell like baby poo, and when they’ve decayed sufficiently, the butterflies come and feed on them and weave drunkenly around our yard and get trapped in our cars and try to land on our heads (which is not really as magical as it sounds). So, to see a persimmon the size of my fist next to a pineapple (which I love) bred to one-third its regular size was more than a little disconcerting. For perspective, look at the nice, regular-sized bananas in the background. I emailed this to my mom later that day with the subject line “Mummy, I’m afraid of the fruit . . .”.