Zeke’s is a local institution which serves allegedly authentic British fish and chips. I would have to make a trip to Old Blighty in order to tell you how authentic my dinner was. But my taste buds are happy to report that dinner last night was delicious. Brother Sushi and I each enjoyed a two-piece dinner, which comes with two deep-fried whales, two vegetables and a handful of pups.
Pups are hush puppies, frequently amorphous blobs of fried cornbread batter but in this case small cylinders about the diameter of a taquito [please don’t make me explain what a taquito is, at least not before breakfast], or roughly the length of my thumb and the girth of my little finger.
Vegetables are something which are theoretically good for you, but in this case were battered and fried. To perfection. I had the fried mushrooms [at Trainman’s recommendation], and the french fries. Amazing. It is a real art to fry potatoes in such a manner that they come out hot and salty on the outside, dry and mealy on the inside, and greasy nowhere.
The fish is Icelandic cod, about half a cubit long, approximately the size of an average hank of sock yarn. And there were two of them. The tartar sauce was unlike anything I’ve ever had before: thick and pale yellow and robust, without being overbearing.
Zeke’s is now officially on my list of places to eat about once a quarter or so. Why? Well, when I was discussing fried foods with Trainman last night, I said that I ate fried foods as little as possible, because I have good blood pressure and good cholesterol and would like to keep it that way. He countered that he has high blood pressure and high cholesterol, and fried anything is his favorite food. [He would probably love that episode of Gilmore Girls where Jackson deep-fries Sukie’s organic turkey. And the side dishes. And the lawn chairs.]
So now I have one deep-fried whale in my fridge, half a dozen french fries, one lone pup, and the last three or four mushrooms. I will pick the batter off the fish and enjoy it later today or possibly tomorrow.
OK, in knitting news, the entrelac sock is stalled until I can try it on Middlest’s foot, so I cast on the March Sockdown sock, which is Interlocking Leaves from the Fall 2008 Knitty. I am using the baby-poop-green Jitterbug in my stash and have completed the first five or six rounds of pattern. I like that there is something happening on every round, and so far I am liking the pattern. Maybe tomorrow I will have enough done that it’s worth a picture.
And I know that I’ve promised you a picture of the new turquoise Chelsea Silk alongside what I already had. But today is supposedly going to be cold and rainy. So no pictures today, and no links in the paragraph above, or to Zeke’s.
I had a serious falling-down at Central Market before dinner last night. Brother Sushi needed to pick up a few things, and I got paid yesterday, so I kindof had my way with the produce department. And the seafood area [had a coupon for $10 off with a $40 purchase, easy-peasy]. And the butcher shop. And the cheeses. I almost bought one of those purple cauliflower. Almost. I think next time I am in the mood for a $4 vegetable, I will, and I’ll give 3/4 of it to Brother Sushi, who actually likes cauliflower.
Saw a new hybrid vegetable last night, priced like an HDTV. A cross between asparagus and broccoli. I might have to try that sometime.
Bought another three slices of applewood-smoked bacon and tossed them into the freezer. Someday soon I will frizzle it up and will know to pay a little more attention than I did last time.
Breakfast beckons. Today is the doll meet with Middlest, Fourthborn and Fiancé. Which may end up as a nice chat chez the latter two, if the weatherman knows what he’s talking about. And I need to whip up a flag for our Relief Society for tonight’s activity at church, and bake two dozen cookies for same. Oh, and I’m signed up to feed the missionaries, but that will be covered by the ward dinner. At any rate, I’d better get moving.
- Five years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!