I have been failing to document Bernard’s development. On the one hand, this doesn’t matter too much, as I have both (a) an in-depth photographic log and (b) Karen’s publications. But on the other hand, there are some things that get missed out, so I’m going to try to resolve that now. If you think that reading about my son will be dull, then you should probably stop now, though I’ve done my best to make it as interesting a read as possible.
The most important thing to know about CheeseOnToast++ is that it is ++. You must know this. You must believe this. You must understand this. You must live this.
So make sure that all your apparatus is dirty. Those pork steaks two days ago were gorgeous, weren’t they? So don’t wash up the baking tray – take advantage of all those lovely porky juices just begging to be recycled. ((Important! Cooking with dirty utensils is dangerous and will kill you. Only attempt it if you are a shark and spend your entire life swimming around in human excrement anyway.))
Brown some bread on one side.
Golden brown, every time. Golden brown, my little Sharkitechts. That’s the key to good toast.
Then put some tomato puree on, and spread it nice and thin. You can see those nice dirty porkjuice stains everywhere. Mmmm.
Pesto! Yes, I told you, my remoradoring fans, this is CheeseOnToast++!
Slop on a teaspoonful and spread it about. And only then is it time for the cheese. Try and mix a couple of varieties – Cheddar with Red Leicester is a particularly good choice, as the yellow and orange contrast nicely. I used Cheddar and Cathedral City today.
Back into the grill with you. Make sure you handle that tray with oven gloves, especially if you are a fluffy shark.
Season to taste, SharkFins. Some pepper and green flakey things called herbs. I don’t put too many of them on, partly because of the pesto that is already in place, but also partly because I am a carnivore and only eat meat.
Every single meal that you ever create should be served with a pork pie garnish. Remember that. It’s very important. I’ve also drizzled some olive oil over the CheeseOnToast++, just to make it gooier.
CheeseOnToast++, like all meals that can be eaten onehanded, should be enjoyed whilst leaning over a balcony / verandah / snake pit / politician’s wife.
Whilst holding an IM conversation, I totally forgot about my toast. My toaster has a fantastic feature, whereby if you use the “defrost and toast” routine, it totally neglects to turn itself off after however long you specify. I wonder whether this was a deliberate addition to its specification.
The byproduct of this neglect can be seen in figure 1:
*Fig. 1*
…and, for that matter, in figure 2:
*Fig. 2*
After crawling around my kitchen on my hands and knees, and finally getting all the windows open and every extractor fan turned on, I resigned myself to going back to bed to read another chapter of [The Straw Men][] by Michael Marshall Smith.
[the straw men]: http://www.amazon.co.uk/exec/obidos/ASIN/0006499988/
Half an hour later the doorbell buzzed. I picked up the intercom, thinking that it was going to be some helpful and concerned neighbour telling me that there was smoke pouring out of my windows.
“Hello?”
*”Parcel.”*
“Come on up.”
I then struggled to get into my dressing gown. Well, my left arm found the sleeve normally occupied by my right arm. Hilarity ensued as I attempted to fashion a sarong out of the asymmetrically distributed fabric. I opened the door looking like David Beckham, only probably a lot less presentable (and I never thought that I would be able to say that).
I took the parcel, signed for it, and returned back into my flat.
And stubbed my toe on *everything*.
Uh, that’s it. But what more could you want?
Short of a pizza, there was nothing viable in the flat this morning for my breakfast. So on my walk to work, I passed a little bakery, ten minutes late for work already. So I crossed the road and decided to pop in.
I investigated my wallet. Not good news. I could assume that they weren’t going to take Visa for a £2 snack, so I was going to have to turn on the charm.
“May I help you?”
“Um… I’ve got… £1.40. What can I get for £1.40?”
“Well, what would you like?”
“Just a little something for breakfast really. My cupboards are bare, and so I’m only really looking for a substitute for two slices of toast.”
“I’m feeling generous – I’ll do you a bacon roll for £1.40”
“Bless you. That’s very kind.”
“Butter?”
“Yes, please.”
“Any sauce?”
“No, thank you.”
Easy. I arrived at work ten minutes later, with my nice greasy bacon roll ready to meet its destiny in the usual way. I emptied my pockets to find another £1.40.
So in the interests of restoring the balance of things, I am going to go in at the same time tomorrow morning, and if the same girl is working behind the counter then I shall have another bacon roll, and I shall pay up the outstanding balance. I think it’s only fair.
It was a pretty good bacon roll as well.