It’s all about the birds
THE family call me slapdash. I mean, they actually call me that, as in Hello Slapdash. Unfortunately, episodes such as Hair Soup—I got bored stripping the sorrel leaves and thought, mistakenly, that the blender would deal with the stalks —have cemented the nickname.
Hair soup and pork-loin fruit salad are among recent cooking lows. The pork dish, dreamt, was an inedible combination of sweet potatoes, cranberries and apple juice. He maintained that it was tasty. Perhaps, as one man’s is another woman’s foul-smelling pot with an ill-fitting lid seal that gets in the way near the kitchen taps, it’s all about perception.
