Pig (2021)

 

I'm caught in a time loop, people . . .

Tried to explain the wonders of childhood Toast Toppers to the family in lockdown, and they just weren't buying it. It appears my descriptive powers are not as shit hot as I first thought. It didn't help that I also fell on my arse trying to describe a top cooker grill to them . . . 'You mean, it's like a broiler?' No, it's not a bastard broiler.

In exasperation, I dove into the internet, hoping to find a half decent pic of Toast Toppers in all its  last century glory but all I found was a thread from 2013 on Urban75 where people were shitting all over Toast Toppers. And, yep, I was in the middle of said thread, trying to defend the wonders of Toast Toppers. I'm living in a fucking time loop, people. No wonder I'm coping better than most with this lockdown repetition b/s.

Some of the better quotes from that 2013 thread. (I've removed the user-names, to ensure that the guilty are protected despite their snacking sins.):

• "It's a shame each variety looks like puke on toast.”
• “they look like a tramps vomit and taste like hells own armpit.”
• “Truly vile shit in a tin - even back in the day when they were the pinnacle of modernity."

And this particular contribution won the internet that day:

• "This is probably the most incisive class analysis thread on Urban. Love = working class Hate = middle class No fucking idea what you're talking about = ruling class."

Just the one? Amateur . . .

. . . with chips and gravy

I'm thinking of you and the things you do to me
That makes me love you, now I'm living in ecstasy
Hey, it's you and the things you do to me
That makes me love you, now I'm living in ecstasy

How the hell did I forgot this culinary delight? I must have ate enough of them down the years that I'd be sweating the gravy out of my pores on a hot New York afternoon.
Just googled. I can't find them anywhere in New York. Not even at Tea and Sympathy. There's an online store trying to sell them for nearly five dollars! The whole point about Fray Bentos pies were that they were both cheap and nutritious.
I'll need to go find me Brooklyn's Uruguayan community and befriend someone under false pretences.
Hat tip to someone on Urban 75 for providing me with the instant foodie flashback.
Lest we forget:

TV Dinners

Picture the scene: a cold windswept garret in Brooklyn, trying to negotiate ever-increasing lukewarm mouthfuls of Chef Boyarde* on toast whilst watching re-runs of Murder She Wrote on TNT.

But that's enough about my Saturday night last week: check out the latest post from the Gourmet Peasant blog, for a course by course report of Kara and her friend Maddy gorging themselves at the fanch schmancy restaurant, Aliseo Osteria del Borgo, in Brooklyn, on the self-same Saturday night.

You can scroll down the post for a picture of Kara enjoying the banquet feast. She's so happy in the picture 'cos she'd just taken a phone call from me where I informed her that I'd just tivo'ed an episode of Murder She Wrote that she hadn't seen before.

*For my British readers, 'Chef Boyarde' is the American equivalent of Spaghetti Hoops.