ChoppedOnions

Greetings and farewells

2011-08-29T11:06:00.002+08:00

A year. Goes very quickly if you're not careful. Yes I'm still alive, no I haven't been "away" but I have changed jobs, drinking habits and lost some friends along the way. So if you're still interested this blog should become a bit more food oriented and less about the gutter.......we'll see.

Fridays lady

2010-08-20T20:25:00.003+08:00

Foxxy Love, mmmmmm

Boss is away at the moment and traditionally August is a very quiet month for the F&B industry, people on their hols, or saving for them etc etc. So in light of the fact that I'm currently holed up in an office, I've spent the best part of the last few days watching " Drawn Together" one of my all time great animation shows. Its up there with "Family Guy" and in my humble view, a lot better than "South Park". It only ran for three seasons and was eventually pulled as it really does do its best to offend everyone, or at least anyone how fails to see humour in themselves.
The full three series can be found here, the quality is not bad but for some reason the official website will not show anything but the first show. Enjoy. slightly NSFW depending on your company's policy about animated nudity......

My big red dream

2010-08-16T18:18:00.002+08:00

Next year, in MotoGP2011, this man will be riding for Ducati.
Orgasmic? I hope so....

You guys are sooooo weird

2010-07-31T17:42:00.002+08:00

Its all over..

2010-06-28T20:02:00.003+08:00

Boobs: England's speciality

Thank God for that, with England out, I can give up any remote pretence of enjoying a game where 22 seriously overpaid men run around for 90 minutes chasing a ball and go back to watching real sports like Rugby.

Whats the difference between the England team and a teabag?
The teabag stays in the cup longer.........Boom Boom

Following up

2010-06-08T19:51:00.005+08:00

Going commando

"Jesus, you've lost a lot of weight" observes MCM, "you got aids or something?"
We're in the Junk, or rather outside, as the view is better and he can smoke. The nightflowers are beginning their evening parade, sauntering past but never stopping, an occasional flirt but as Tim likes to point out, it is a private view of sorts.
"You don't look too shithot either mate. Cheers!!" I counter. Gulping down a San Mig.
"No, cracking hang over, spewed on the MTR this morning, just got it between the gap when the doors opened, but fucking close call. It was easier before they installed those bloody platform doors, you could just walk up the the edge and chuck your guts out, right onto the rails. Now you have to wait till the train arrives and aim......tedious."
"What about the other passengers?" I ask, really not knowing what to make of this unsolicited confession.
"Fuck 'em, just stare like as in 'What? you never seen a gweilo vomit before?' Act unabashed, like its totally normal,trust me, no one wants to catch your eye"
"So....what have you been up to?"
"Nothing really...."
Turns out that MCM's 'nothing really' is a convoluted tale that involved him getting plastered drunk and persuading two Angels to remove their underwear, in the pub, and then walking up too what used to be the Bull and Bear but for some unexplainable reason, now calls itself "The Village". It seems that the deal to go commando down Jaffe Rd was sealed by MCM agreeing to do the same thing. Pretty tame stuff and not something you think ( in comparison to some of the shit he's pulled) would result in to much trouble.
"So what happened?" I ask, trying to avoid the come hither smile of a particularly lithe ladyboy.
"Well, I'm sitting there, in the bar, with two girls, in skirts, all of us with no knickers on, things get, well, warm, and we decide to carry on and party in a nearby hotel, you know?" I nod but not really.
"Well......, balls deep and the mobile starts going, so, 28 missed calls later and I simply have to finish off and get the fuck out, there is only one person on this planet that would be that persistent and taking a call from her in a wanchai love hotel is a short cut to life as a eunuch. Background noise....dead giveaway."
"And then?" I'm not sure I like where this is going. "Was she waiting outside?"
"No thank God, but one of the calls is from the pub, ball and chain's been in, asking about my whereabouts, so she's stalking and close. Then, in a moment of genius, I nip round to the kebab shop and buy a spicy number for the old girl, nothing gets you off the hook faster than a kebab.....fuck flowers, they shout guilt........and hot foot it home"
As I said, seems pretty tame so far, "...and then?"
It turned out he'd got home before her, only just, but had had enough time to start eating his late night roadkill and have hers on the table. A ready smile of innocent joy, firmly planted on his face, by the time she walked in through the door. For awhile, it seemed as if the peace offering had worked; excuses for not answering the phone put down to silent mode and lack of reception, (plus no one in the pub had squealed,) duly accepted and things looked, as MCM said," Rosy"
"Yeah but then it all went pear shaped," he continues, morosely, "I got up to put the debris into the bin and all I heard was 'Why do you have your underwear hanging out of your back pocket?'"
Not good, even I can see that.
" Yeah, right! I tried to blag it that I thought I'd shat myself but when I got the withering reply of 'so you brought them home for me to wash? Huh? Lets see' I knew it was game over"
" So!" I exhale, trying to be breezy and supportive, "All's okay now though? Huh?"
"Just wish I'd bought a bigger fucking sofa..." was the response.

1937, in colour

2010-06-01T13:50:00.002+08:00

Keeping Cool

2010-05-19T15:18:00.006+08:00

Very Hot

As some of you know, I have a real weakness for all things Indian, especially the drinks which are always good on very hot days, this particular one is made from Kokum, a fruit native to the Western Ghats region of India and a member of the mangosteen family. As well as being an extremely refreshing after meal drink, Kokum Saar can also be drunk at room temperature as an accompaniment to a good fish or crab curry. Outside of India it is almost impossible to find in its fresh form but you can buy the dried version here at the India Provisions Store in Chung King Mansions

Kokum Saar
Ingredients
6-8 pieces of kokum (amsool)
4-5 black peppercorns
½ tsp cumin
½ tsp oil
sizable dash of asafoetida
jaggery (palm sugar will do) and salt, to taste.
a couple of coriander leaves
1 green chilli sliced

Method
Soak the kokum in 2 cups of hot water and set it aside for at least ½ an hour.
Squeeze the kokum to extract as much of the juice.
Lightly roast the peppercorns and the cumin.
Grind then to get a coarse powder.
Heat oil; add the asafoetida and the peppercorn-cumin powder.
Add the kokum water and chilli and then turn off the heat.
Cool completely before adding the sugar and salt.
Garnish with chopped corriander.

Serve chilled.

To cool you down

Cheap perfume and just washed hair...

2010-05-18T19:15:00.006+08:00

"You smell that? Its Wan Chai son,nothing else on the world smells like that"

I’ve mentioned this before but again, for those who may have just joined us, most chefs I know would be dead or in jail if it wasn’t for their jobs and indeed many end up there anyway. The latest being this dumb cunt who thought it would be a good idea to hire some homeless crackheads to slice the wife’s throat even though he’s a celebrity and been on TV…. and this one, whose idea of frozen meat leaves alot to be desired
Yes, I have been busy, (thanks for asking) and Yes, I have been away to the Philippines, Indonesia and Shanghai. Some of it pleasure and some of it work but all in all good to get out of HK for a while and above all else it’s a good excuse to arrange a Monday night drink with all your mates and catch up…..
Aussie chef: “Ah welcome back fella but I don’t do Wan Chai anymore. Broke up with the Thai bird and I’m try to avoid getting my nuts cut off. Maybe at the weekend, in LKF”
Paddy, the English chef: “Hello old chap….no not tonight, got the latest Indo here and I am…well a touch busy, sorry mate, catch up later...”
Fat Red Duke: in Singapore, demonstrating lychee foam and char sui powder or whatever nonsense his new molecular gastro thing is.
Tim the Etonian: “Hello chum, glad to have you back, no sorry. I’m stuck in Thailand, haven’t you heard? Bangkok, old boy, the new Belfast, terribly exciting…”
And finally,
MCM: “YES FELLA!!!! The Junk? Of course...Be there in two”
Left last because I know that his Irish ancestry means that it not genetically possible for him to refuse.
“Thank fuck you’re back, the missus won’t let me out unless she knows your involved”
I glance at him.....
“stupid of her, yes, but I’m not about to change her mind” he gasps, drowning a Guinness faster than I can type the name, “ I've been a tad reckless recently……”
I cant wait to hear this, God, its good to be back……..

This is my story

2010-05-17T20:07:00.001+08:00

Hello March!

2010-03-01T15:07:00.000+08:00

Fridays thought.....

2010-02-19T17:31:00.003+08:00

That my friends, is a very nice belt.

Hello there 2010

2010-01-05T19:31:00.006+08:00

"Yeah.....I bet you do!"

Things may change this year so expect either no blogging at all (whats news there-Ed) or loads.

The run up to Christmas and the New Year was as hectic as ever and it didn't help that due to a sudden rush of party bookings by people staying in town this year, the local hotels went on a hiring spree. I lost a few chefs. I cant compete with the pay scale or benefits

Haven't really had time to catch up with anyone lately, the Fat Red Duke has moved on to pastures new, Aussie chef is working his nuts off opening a new restaurant, MCM is "missing", Mad Scot is "giving his liver a holiday" and Tim's in Thailand looking for a Christmas present...........er, quite.

Should be back to normal by the weekend, we'll see.

Something for the weekend

2009-11-13T17:28:00.002+08:00

Dead man walking about a bit, not quite alone.....

2009-11-09T15:52:00.004+08:00

"Running Joke"

I can’t look at the picture above without a small, smug grin, making its way across my face. I thoroughly approve, I mean look at him (and whatever it is he’s wearing)He’s bewildered, carrying on till the bitter end, little fists all clenched and best of all is his expression.
“Fuck me,” it says “when will this torture end?”

I mean he might die....

Oi! you lot with them there sticks and bats........an ORDERLY queue if you dont mind......

Good Friday

2009-11-06T19:49:00.009+08:00

Cyanide and Happiness

can be found here

Jesus and Mo

can be found here

and, thanks to Mad Scot, People of Walmart,

look at this and your weekend can only get better....

Texas rattler

2009-10-30T21:10:00.001+08:00

it must be friday..............

love of wisdom

2009-10-29T15:50:00.004+08:00

"Pssst, want some of dat real shit brother?"

If Andre Agassi did Crystal Meth, what on earth was John McEnroe doing?........

Boondock Saint

2009-10-23T15:42:00.004+08:00

An essential item in TST

Sorry people, I've been a bit tied up recently, both figuratively and literally.....filthy little thing called Coco but I'm not going there, not public any rate.

Based over in TST for a few weeks and apart from catching up with MCM, who has an encyclopedic knowledge of the underbelly of Mong Kong, I've have been recovering.

And now for something completely different..

2009-10-05T15:36:00.004+08:00

The little one is Parma......an ex Typhoon

Forty years ago today, the BBC aired the first Monty Pythons Flying Circus, unleashing such gems as the Spanish Inquisition, the dead parrot (a Norwegian Blue), teams of footballers made up of philosophers and my personal favourite, Brian and his Welsh tart. Still find it funny today, don't get me wrong, there's plenty of modern humour I like, its just that when you see a Python sketch, it seems so ahead of its time...in most cases.

On a sadder note, (depending on your tastes in humour I suppose), is the death of La Negra: Mercedes Sosa, an Argentinian singer known as the "voice of the voiceless" and was the very first singer I heard on my very first night in South America. We (myself and a girlfriend, an ex girlfriend) spent the first few days in Santiago, Chile, with an old school friend, a correspondent for the BBC, and he was a big fan. He gave me a tape (yes, for a Walkman!) which I managed to keep right until we got back to the UK nearly a year later..oh happy days.

I hadn't heard any of her music for close to 15 years and then this morning, on the radio, they played a song and wham, there I was again: young, madly in love and in South America.

Fantastic!

Getting your moneys worth

2009-09-30T18:37:00.005+08:00

“Tipping today for tomorrow’s service” is a modus operandi Tim developed when he was based in the UK. It stems from a stay he had had in some “arse end, middle of nowhere” town, way back when he had the alarming experience of actually working for a living. The hotel was pleasant enough, but he decided he was going to take dinner in a small restaurant across the street. At the restaurant he was on the receiving end of some appalling service (quite a common thing even today in the UK), but the food was good and he was very short on alternate choices. He paid his bill, left a very large tip and left.
The next evening, he returned;the service was exceptional, the meal as good as it had been the night before and when it came to paying he did so, only this time leaving no tip whatsoever.
As Tim was leaving the manager asked him if everything had been to his “satisfaction”evidently quite worried.
“Yes thank you,” Tim replied “Why?”
Long story short, the manager noting that his generosity of the previous day was somewhat lacking, wanted to know why.
“Ah, simple” Tim explained “yesterdays tip was for today’s service”

What has this got to do with MCM? Well I caught up with him for a quick drink last night and although not sporting the shiner I was lead to believe he would be, there was some evident bruising around the face.

"What the fuck happened to you?" I asked

"You know!" He exclaimed "I read your stupid blog"

It turns out that Tim's version of the event was sanitised.

MCM had found himself in a hotel room with a Thai night flower and the service she gave was in his words, unacceptable.

"Why?" I wondered.

Well, for a start, 'she' was 'he', only I didn't find out till it was too late, second, even if I had wanted it , no kissing, thirdly, 'she' didn't have a vagina......."

"Jesus" was all I could say, "so what happened to your face"

"Well, I paid the full amount and, as they say in the newspapers, 'I made my excuses and left.'"

Eventually the full horror of the evening came out: after a skinful, he bumped into her again and having agreed to pay the same amount as before, takes 'her' back to the hotel and gets it on.

("Well at least you're guaranteed anal" was his sorry excuse.) However, when it came to paying, he refused, quoting Tim's "yesterdays tip was for today's service" as he stumbled around the room trying to get dressed.

"And then?" I ask, for decency's sake

"Oh you know, I woke up on the floor of the room, phone ringing, wallet empty, black eye and a million excuses going through my head."

Recipe for disaster

2009-09-18T20:33:00.006+08:00

Been away, not in the sense of her Majesty’s pleasure, but pleasure it was. The PAL flight back was, as usual, late, (I have been told on very good authority that Plane Always Late is what those initials actually stand for) and as there was no reason or desire to dash straight to work, I caught up with Tim the Etonian, who firmly believes that the answer to flying, or indeed anything, is vast quantities of booze. His usual haunt, besides the Yacht Club bar, has closed for repairs, “something to do with piss bubbling up through the floor” he explains, and so we met in the Junk Pub, named without intended irony and situated a few doors down from the entrance to Neptune’s.
“I like this place,” he muses, “it’s like those Private Views they have in art galleries, you can purvey the goods before they’re presented to the public, so to speak.”
(Fucking Etonians, always pointlessly ethereal in speech and manner)
He meant of course, the endless stream of Wan Chai night-flowers making their way to work, who by default, cross the Junk's front door and endure a “pass muster” of Tim’s haphazard standards.
“Your chum Floyd copped it while you were away” he adds, vaguely.
I don’t know anyone called Floyd and I’m not sure I’d admit it either so, seeing my blank expression he decides to enlighten me; “Keith Floyd, the cook chap, on the TV.”
Ahh, that Floyd: the man who started it all, glass in hand, real unfeigned pleasure shinning through, instructing his cameraman to stop his cinematic wanderings and get “back to me please, Clive”.
Especially fun when what he’d been cooking failed. On one of his shows he was preparing sea bass baked in a salt crust and managed to break the fish clean in two whilst removing the crust. I remember he looked non-pulsed for about a second before phlegmatically announcing to us that “Even celebrity TV chefs get it wrong sometimes”, chucked it into the bin, had a slurp and carried on
The man was a legend, a genuine pleasure to watch and unique in way that is probably unrepeatable in this day and age.
“Talking of rouges, have you seen MCM lately?” I ask, not sure if Tim’s caught up with him since we sailed back from the Philippines.
“Yes, recently, and he’s got a black eye.”
Tim and MCM are peas in a pod, except years separate them, Tim, the elder of the two falling gracefully but slowly from a great height whilst the younger is just falling, hard.
I shoot him an inquiring glance,
“Yes, it seems he tried my ‘Tipping Today for Tomorrow’s Service on a Thai masseuse in an establishment in Tsim Sha Tsui. She took umbrage to it all and the end result is a stonker that has required him to take some rest.”
I get the drinks in, this, if I know these two, should prove interesting.

Drink with a Bhang

2009-09-12T17:48:00.005+08:00

Thandai is a refreshing, spicy, cold drink with aromatic flavors, traditionally served during the Indian holiday “Holi”. It is not dissimilar to the Spanish Horchata, which with its Moorish (boom boom) origins, shares , I suspect the same food route.

Anyway, I made this this morning and I can say to things.

Its very good, especially after a night out with Mad Scot no 1.

Its very easy to teach someone else to make it.

Recipe serves 4.

Ingredients:

1/2 cup almonds
1 1/2 cup Milk
4 tablespoons Sugar
1 1/2 teaspoon whole black pepper

1 tablespoon fennel seeds
2 tablespoon poppy seeds
4 green cardamom
2 tablespoons rosewater
2 cup water, adjust as needed

Method:

Soak almonds in water for at least 6 hours. Peel off the almond’s skin.( I used almond flakes and soaked them for about two and a half hours).
Grind black pepper, fennel seeds, poppy seeds, and cardamom.
Using a blender, blend the almonds into a paste. Add just enough water to let the almond blend into a paste.
In the same blender add the ground spices and about ½ cup of water with almond paste. Blend until creamy.
Then add 1 cup of water and then the sugar, blend until the sugar dissolves.
Strain the mix through the fine strainer or cheesecloth.
Return the left over ground paste to the blender then add the rest of the water.
Blend again and extract the liquid once more.
Discard remaining ground pulp.
Mix the almond liquid, milk, and rose water.

Serve over crushed ice.

In India, it is sometimes mixed with a bit of Bhang

Move along now, nothing to see......

2009-09-12T16:29:00.005+08:00

"What the fuck is wrong with you people?......

........do some work"

weekends to hope for

2009-08-29T22:46:00.001+08:00

Yes. I would. In a heartbeat.

the roaring of the rivers

2009-08-21T13:44:00.012+08:00

......the roaring of the rivers of false and desolate times....

Just back.........After a few years......

England,

an impression of:

Everyone in England must be very easily offended, or at least that's the impression given...all you ever hear is " in case it offends....."

A twice disgraced uphill gardener runs the country (in the absence of any real leader) from his blackberry, while on holiday in Corfu. With a gangster.

He manages to pay back a 2.7 million pound mortgage in a year, cant explain how....

You can't call the girl who serves you a pint in the pub "Sweetheart" ......it's derogatory and yes...offensive.

You can't ask an obvious Johnny foreigner where they "originally came from", its racial profiling, based on pre-conceived "racial bias" an is ...wait for it, offensive.

Social workers will very quickly remove your children, for ever, if you're middle class ,working, but happen to have "anger issues" (and who wouldn't when you're taxed to the hilt, paying to support politicians and other assorted ne'er do wells) but if you're a fat, sex obsessed, porn surfing, out of work single mother,(the only vaguely balanced article I could find,)who's idea of motherhood is to let your boyfriend and his paedophile brother beat your child to death, slowly; then they'll visit you 78 times, not notice the dog shit, stench of urine and human faeces smeared on the floor and walls, or, that your child has had his finger nails ripped out and his back broken, and still not remove the kid..can't comment though as that shows class prejudice which as we all know, is offensive

and then this, which I cant even begin to comment on, a 24 year old out of work father of seven kids, yes 7, council house dwelling, dole drawing waste of fucking space.

The Police Force has become very very political: It'll fly the gay pride flag over police stations but ban wearing a British flag on the uniforms of its officers at Heathrow, (who are wearing them to show their support for the troops), in case it might, yes, offend someone

Jesus H it just doesn't get better.

Meanwhile good men die in a dusty Afgan shit hole, thousands of miles from home, sent there by the socialist scum that call themselves our "leaders".

"What miserable drones and traitors England has nourished and brought up, who let their country be treated with such shameful contempt by a band of low-born pretenders." [apologies to King Henry II]

Repatriation

2009-08-18T20:54:00.003+08:00

The leviathan of the sky does land
In England's green and pleasant land.
Its cargo more precious than gold
The body of a hero, bold.
Once the giant's engines stopped
The cargo ramp is gently dropped
Carried by six on shoulders true
The hero is saluted by the crew.
The coffin draped in Union Jack
Is slowly carried out the back.
Out of the dark and into light
Slowly down the ramp and to the right.
The six approach the hearse all black
And place the hero gently in the back.
The six then turn and march away
Their duty has been done this day.
Politicians usually have much to say
No sign of them near here this day.
They hide away and out of danger,
Much easier if the hero is a stranger.
The hearse with its precious load
Moves slowly out on to the road.
The floral tributes line the route
While comrades snap a smart salute.
At the edge of a Wiltshire town
The cortege slows its pace right down.
The streets are packed, many deep,
Some throw flowers, most just weep.
The crowd have come to say farewell,
The church bell rings a low death knell.
Regimental standards are lowered down
As the hero passed through the town.
The cortege stops and silence reigns
The townsfolk feel the family's pain.
The nations' flag lowered to half mast
Our brave hero is home at last.

Staff Sergeant Andy McFarlane

Camp Bastion, Afghanistan

What's on your mind......

2009-08-04T16:49:00.005+08:00

I fucking hate facebook.

What on earth do you want 700 plus "friends" for?

Can I be your friend? Sod off you sad cunt.

Twitter, not named with irony at all?.........an exercise in banality.

Give me a fucking pint, in a pub,that's social networking.

That or the dance floor in Neptunes, Luguna, Traffic...

kin 8 :)buk

Krakhead sons

2009-07-30T19:22:00.004+08:00

Krakatoa, the volcano that exploded in 1883, its shock wave going thirteen times round the world, (check out the before and after photos) spawned a son, Anak Krakatoa and now the little lad is spitting his dummy. Beautiful pictures taken by Marco Fulle can be seen here.
A few years ago I was the chef for a literary dinner, where I had to match dishes to the personalities of the guest authors, one of whom was Simon Winchester. He had written a book called " Krakatoa, The Day the World Exploded: August 27, 1883 " and for my pains I received a copy, signed with compliments.
He liked his dish and, I have to say, I really liked his book.
Detailed, compellingly written and exciting, it made me realise that I was lucky enough when I was young, to have a history teacher who taught me more than anything else, (1066 and all that) to enjoy the subject. He had a number of sayings,"You don't know where you are going untill you know where you have been" and " history is written by the winners" being amongst them, but the one we all dreaded was this, the simple:
"Boy! your knowledge of (insert subject here) is so small it could be written across your brain"
It never failed to have the rest of the class laughing like the idiots we were.

Mr. "Jenks", Thank you.

Its not the fall...

2009-07-29T15:07:00.010+08:00

"Its not the fall that kills the man,

Its the sudden stop"

Its three thirty in the afternoon and I want to know what the plan is for this evening, so I call MCM and it goes something like this:

Me: (after his phone has been answered but all I can here is shuffling noises, what sounds like a Japanese TV show and a faint high pitched giggle) " Er hello mate, what you up to?"

MCM: grunts, followed by a deep exhale, then " Er, bit busy fella"

Me:" Doing what?"

MCM: "I'm balls deep in a chinese hooker, in a brothel, in TST"

Slight pause, I mean what do you say to that...

Me: " Oh, er Ok, I'll call back later then, just wondering about tonight"

MCM: "No no Mate, its ok, now she's giving me a blowie and chatting to you is, er, you know, prolonging things......taking my mind off it"

I hang up.

Jesus Christ, try thinking witty comebacks during that kind of conversation, the mind boggles.

Something for the weekend......

2009-07-10T15:56:00.002+08:00

Er, thats it. Miss Santi.

Forever blowing Bubbles.......................

2009-07-09T14:41:00.006+08:00

I'm not a fan of the late Mr. Jackson, indeed had he not already shuffled off this mortal coil, I would be standing behind, pushing him, with a barge-pole. Still, lets move on, (I know he has... bada boom!) and get in with the spirit of all those who wish to "tribute and pay their respects" to 'Micheal', as he is now being referred to Diana-esque style (just as Mad Scot correctly predicted).
Here is my tribute: "Loonys what own pets" in which the Monty Python team, dealing with the issues of pet ownership,make more sense than 'Micheal' ever managed. Enjoy......

Porridge...and other lame jokes

2009-07-04T14:48:00.006+08:00

A prison opens a high class restaurant, inside the walls called, wait for it....The Clink.

Side splitting

All I can say is based on some of the characters I've worked with over the years, they shouldn't have any trouble finding staff.

Oh yeah...the picture has fuck all to do with this post...its a birds with tats thing, you know.....

Death of an Icon

2009-06-27T13:40:00.009+08:00

Not Micheal You-know-who

"That fucked up n*gger who spent his whole life turning himself into whitetrash and fucking little kids did his final moonwalk this morning, Ha! thank fuck!"-says MCM,(visibly worse for the loudmouth soup), to everyone listening at the bar.
Its Friday, he's been drinking with his boss on a "checking the competition mission" and joined/stumbled upon myself, Mad Scot, the Fat Red Duke and friends. Not a pretty sight.

"That's not the news, that's shiite, and you canny use that word, its wrong." Mad Scot remonstrates.

"I was being 'street' and anyway, that's what they're saying out there in 'blogland'" counters MCM, a knowing glance, cast in my direction.

"Farah Fawcett, that's THE news" continues Mad Scot "but it'll all get lost in the Diana-esque bullshit we're going to have to endure right up until they bury Micheal Jackson."

A collective sigh - with the exception of FRD who's too bloody young to have spent his youth whacking off with an image of Miss Fawcett, all nipples and legs, firmly planted in the forefront of his mind.

"Yeah, I had that poster on my wall, you know, the red swimsuit one" slurs MCM

"Ayie, didnae everyone?" replies Mad Scot, lost in his teenage years.

"I think every study, every bedroom and every desk, had a picture of her, that or the one with the tennis girl scratching her bum" I add to the general nostalgia.

"Fuck me" says MCM " I thought that one was Farah Fawcett!" and with that launches off in the direction of the men's room.

In his absence, the general conversation turned back to Micheal Jackson and though not putting it as quite as straight forwardly as MCM had, there was general agreement all round. Spike nailed it with his post yesterday.

"Jesus, you look like you've been vomiting!" remarks Mad Scot to MCM on his return. Indeed, his tear-streaked face and deathly pallor suggested just that, or extreme grief at the death of every ones first major crush.

"Yeah, I've been trying, but the funny thing was that nothing would come up, just foam, I mean I've had seven pints of Guinness and can only puke foam, whats with that?"

"Your body......trying to tell you something?" I offer.

"Yeah, like its so fucked up, it needs all the fuckin' nutrients it can get, wherever they're coming from" comes some friendly advice from the bar.

"So you're saying its a health drink?" ask's MCM of the barman,a sly glint creeping into his eye, ".....in that case, I'd better have another then, who's round?"

A little later and we all toast to Miss Fawcett, for sadly, with her, goes a large part of our formative years,

"Farah Fawcett. May she rest in peace"
"Ayie........and Amen to that!"

Because some people still think its acceptable

2009-06-23T12:42:00.002+08:00

for a Government to kill unarmed civilians.

This is the description:

"A young woman who was standing aside with her father watching the protests was shot by a basij member hiding on the rooftop of a civilian house. He had clear shot at the girl and could not miss her. However, he aimed straight her heart. I am a doctor, so I rushed to try to save her. But the impact of the gunshot was so fierce that the bullet had blasted inside the victim’s chest, and she died in less than 2 minutes.The protests were going on about 1 kilometers away in the main street and some of the protesting crowd were running from tear gass used among them, towards Salehi St."

Sugar and Spice

2009-06-17T18:14:00.010+08:00

Cora-loada those!

"What the fuck was that stupid recipe?" comes Mr Lamb's Canadian drawl, wonderfully clear, through my new-do-it-everything-web connected-cant live without-cant work it-thingy, "that's bullshit! And so's your dumb story....no such thing as a shagable female chef, your mate must be blind or desperate "

"On what evidence?" I counter.

"The brutes you've got working in your various kitchens. They're all carpet munching ex-Olympic weight-lifters"

Ouch.

So because I'm busier than a cat trying to bury shit on a frozen pond, I give you this:

The seven sexiest female chefs and ask two questions:

No1 : "Which one?" I know, not all of them are strictly speaking actual chefs, but lets face it, who gives a shit? its a technicality

and No2, in an equal rights gesture I'm not famous for: "Any other suggestions?"

Just keep it clean ok?

p.s. Bollocks! true to Mr.Lambs beliefs, Cat Cora's a muncher

Something for the weekend (part 2)

2009-06-12T20:13:00.005+08:00

By request, in exchange for a certain story(thanks fella !!)

Chicken Tikka

First Marinade:
15 x pcs chicken legs with thigh (cut in two places down to the bone)
1 x bulb of garlic and equal amount of ginger
2 x tsp salt
2 x tsp garam masala
2 x tsp freshly ground cumin powder
1 x tsp madras curry powder
2 tsp x red chilli powder
Plain vegetable oil
Lemon juice

Second Marinade
Yoghurt
Red food colour or yellow
Lemon juice
Reserved table spoon of first marinade

Blend garlic, ginger, salt, and spices, side aside 1 or 2 tablespoons and rub the rest into the meat with enough oil to lubricate the mixture. Add lemon juice and leave to marinade for at least two hours at room temperature then add food colour to yoghurt, then reserved marinade and a little more lemon juice. Marinade for a further 6 hours at room temperature or over night.
Cook on a hot BBQ but not over direct flame.
Serve with:
Mint Yoghurt Dip
1 x bunch of fresh mint picked
Equal amount of fresh coriander
2 x green chilies
1 clove of Garlic
Same amount of Ginger
Aprox ½ tsp Amchoor powder
Aprox ½ tsp Channa masala

½ a cup of yoghurt,
salt, lemon and sugar
Blend and add yoghurt, salt, lemon and sugar to taste.

This is the basic recipe but having tried it a few times I invariably end up making changes. For example taking the bone out of the meat. If you do this the marinating time is much shorter ie not over night otherwise its too strong and the meat gets really wierd texture-wise.

It was given to me by one of my Indian chefs who spent some time as tandoor chef in Bombay.

If we were dipped in the Styx

2009-06-10T15:22:00.012+08:00

Caught up with the Fat Red Duke*(another chef) over the weekend*, and MCM* , who loved the last post and in an effort to outdo me in perv points casually asked if I had seen one called "isshefilthy" I hadn't, but like him, suggest you google it. Nuff said.
On that point, (sex, specifically) the conversation steadily and drunkenly went down hill. Stories real, made up and imagined were recalled and reviled and the best, using the word in a very loose way, was: "The recent conquest!".
MCM has finally managed, through a combination of vodka, charm and sheer persistence, to bed a certain lady-chef friend of his and because this couldn't be done anywhere other than a specialist hotel, the lack of post coital romance was an issue he felt needed rectifying.
"Its pretty hard to snuggle, kiss and go for round two when the bloody phones ringing and the desk bitch's telling you your time's up" was his complaint.
So, he suggested a night cap and they found themselves on the balcony of The Pawn*, on a seat for two, like lovebirds. Long story short, (I'd lost interest; we're on the corner of Jaffe and Fenwick*, you know... the "many ships come sailing past" corner) her phone rings, some Cantonese is exchanged and next thing she turns to MCM and asks if its alright if her boyfriend joins them.
"What? for a threesome? Little bit of spit roast action huh?" I asked, interest snapped back into focus.
"No, Twat, at the bloody pub"
Turns out this minor detail, of an ongoing commitment on her part, hadn't been shared and so MCM went from playing the Big Casanova on the couch, to playing the Big Boss bolt upright and two feet apart, while in his words, "some local macho dwarf with an American accent" sat there making whoopee with MCM's new conquest.
" Fuck, that must have put a dampener on things" I said, stating the obvious, "what did you do?"

"First of all, I felt a bit of a prick, I mean we hadn't been subtle earlier and people were watching. But then I just kept my mind on something else, it always helps " he replied.
"Like what?" Asked the Fat Red Duke,
"Like that 15 minutes earlier, she'd had my cock in her mouth and had sucked the living bejeezuz out of me. Then she stuck her tongue out and showed me..." he enlightened us, in a Zen-like way
"Oh, bravo! Good girl!"
"Yeah, I know, I think I'm in love"

"That reminds me" FRD butts in, "have you ever had one of those dreams, you know, the one where you have sex with someone you never knew you even fancied, let alone want to shag but its totally real, and then you wake up, and then, when see them again, wham! you really fancy them?"

Both MCM and I stare, the Duke has a point, he's struck on something. This is a "New" topic....

"Ah, an in your dreams thing.." says MCM....."Go on!"

*names and locations have been changed to protect the not so innocent.

A little something for the weekend Sir?

2009-06-05T18:41:00.004+08:00

From Mad Scot, a website that involves the vaguely intellectual pursuit of guessing what she looks like nakid, charmingly titled "Guess her muff" and yes its very NSFW

Girls and Boys: "Happy weekend"

(Girls dont tell me youre not going to have a peek)

It was twenty years ago today....

2009-06-04T15:14:00.004+08:00

That I was in London and having dinner, in Chinatown, with some school friends, one of whom was both Chinese and from Hong Kong. We were in her favourite restaurant,she knew the owner and it was somewhere on Lisle St. As the beer went down and food passed round, we were all catching up and enjoying ourselves. Then, at some point during the meal, one of the waiters came over and spoke quietly into my friends ear, she looked shocked and went quiet.

When we left, there were Chinese people on the streets handing out leaflets and shouting.

At this point, our friend started to cry.

"Whats wrong?"

"They are killing people in Peking. The army. They are killing people, Chinese people."

I have to admit, I hadn't really followed what had been happening but after that evening, and her reaction, I did.

Five years later and three years away from the handover, I came to HK where the memory was still very fresh in peoples minds. We were told never to forget.

Now, twenty years later, we are at a point where it didn't happen.

Why?

pictures can be found here

El cocinero no tiene quién le escriba

2009-05-21T14:40:00.004+08:00

¿Esto es todo en lo que nos hemos convertido,
la luz de una estrella que se apaga?

A Fumie fan eats pizza

2009-05-11T12:06:00.004+08:00

Or not as the case maybe.

"I mean look at it, its... ah...... wait.......ah......"

Wales....

One hundred days

2009-04-30T15:25:00.004+08:00

On the BBC World Service assessing the first one hundred days of Obama coming to power,

Interviewer: " What are the noticeable changes ?"

Country town boy: " Well, the difference is black and white...... ummm, I mean night and day"

A true genius appears

2009-04-28T15:06:00.007+08:00

There is a theory that if you give an infinite number of monkeys, an infinite number of time and an infinite number of typewriters, they will eventually come up with a Shakespeare play.

Here, at Chopped Onions Research Labs Inc. "we make you cry so you don't have to"TM , we have conducted a similar though not, perhaps, as accurate a test and after extensive research, our findings are a little inconclusive. Paddy, male no# 247, came up with some imaginative but ultimately unrealistic fantasies about working girls and the seedier parts of wanchai (see section Nightflowers for examples) Madge, female no#19, gave Dehlia a run for her money in the culinary department, examples of which are helpfully placed in the section titled

'Recipes' and Honey, female no#5001 contributed to 'Shopping in Honkie', but really, the other scribblings, could have only be filed under WTF?

Most of the monkeys seemed to lose interest very quickly and started wiping their arses with the paper and then trying to eat it. That or bash each other to pieces with the remains of the typewriters and so it was, with much sadness,that as CEO, I decided to call an end to all this and was tasked with finding homes for the participants.

I'm glad to report that many of these monkeys found loving homes in restaurants, the more aggressive males being placed in the kitchens and the others, the placid, plodding and less face it, not to bright ones, in the front of house.

The remaining monkeys were initially a challenge, they could read and some could write, but you can only hire so many waiters and managers, so I contacted my old chum Etonian Tim and asked for his help.

Bingo, the bulk of the rest we placed in the UK's Houses of Parliament, were they took to throwing money around like their shit and wanking, just like they had when caged and the very few that remained we placed in journalism, (The BBC, Daily Mail, SCMP, The Standard to name a few) where, it has to be said, they've really had fun.

So we've had: "Financial Crisis: The great financial meltdown, tsunami, crunchy thingy of the bathing ape world". Then they gave us "Long slow death of fat but now skinny and bald lady ape event" and now, I can hardly contain myself, they've come up with a guaranteed hit especially here in the Big Lychee:

"PANIC,PANIC, PANIC!"

"Phew!Finally we've got something 'cos the birds didn't come through, walking on four leg human piggy death by coughing disease"

Frankly, I think they're getting ridiculous.

Selling my soul

2009-04-24T17:19:00.004+08:00

Had one of those "what can we do to get more customers" meetings with the Boss and the Marketing department yesterday, one where we were asked to "think out of the box".

I suggested a "Buy a drink and get a smile free!" promotion and showed them the picture above as an example.

Woops

Apparently the only box I might "be thinking out of " in the near future is one down near the Star ferry.

dirty hippie liberals and other short stories

2009-04-22T19:12:00.004+08:00

Shakey's got a post of a stunt cyclist called Danny MacAskill (good name when you think about it) doing his thing on the streets of Edinburgh, anyway the music used is by 'Band of Horses' and this is them on Letterman a few years back. Like 'Fleet Foxes', they hail from Seattle.

In every short fat bald chef theres a thin grundgy hippie trying to get out................

Ship of Fools

2009-04-21T19:57:00.006+08:00

"Its a question of tactics" announces MCM to no one in particular.

We're on deck, on watch, watching the satellites. The sky has cleared, revealing a red half moon and its finally stopped raining, no one has said anything for about two hours.

"Er, whats that old chap?" asks Tim (an old Etonian who's had a long but enjoyable fall from grace) and is on deck for a "breather" ie a smoke.

"Getting two girls to bed you at the same time, its a question of tactics" explains MCM.
How his mind thinks is beyond me but, ok, hes got my interest at least and anyway, its not like we can walk away, here's every guys basic fundamental fantasy about to be broken down to a simple series of tactics 'Methode MCM'. I mean the only time I've tried it, they seemed much more interested in each other, spent the whole time yabbing away in Spanish and used words like pequeño and pola in the same sentence. Not fun.
"You go to your favourite bar and let a girl pick you.You're of course a gentleman, don't grope or attempt to insert fingers in unusual places, you know, don't do the leery stuff. Buy her a few drinks and make her laugh" he continues. (I'm still back there with the "insert fingers" thing, I mean where's he going with that?)
"Then, when you're ready, you ask her if she wants to go home," Tim's yawning at this point and I'm waiting because I know whatever MCM says, Tim's counter will be unsurpassable.
"She'll say yes, of course, and off you go..."
"You said two girls mate, I am actually listening to your drivel" I prompt.
"That's the point, you go home and you make love to her, really make love, not pound pound and whamo thanks, you do what she wants....its pretty obvious when chicks like something, then in the morning you cook some breckky and bada baboom"
"That's still one only"
"Yeah but then you go back the next day, she's there and makes a bee line for you; you are after all not that bad. You immediately say that you want to take her home but, here's the thing, you ask if she has a friend, you have to stress 'good friend' and 'good looking, because you don't want any confusion later and then, off you go. It works because girl A will tell girl B that 1.you're nice and 2, that you pay well."
" Hang on, you mean you just go to a girlie bar and pay two girls to bang you, that's not what I call a challenge mate" I state " and anyway, why the rigmarol on the first night?"
"That's what makes the second night a guaranteed success, trust me on this fella, I know.."
What about you Tim? What do you think?" I ask.
"Oh, I don't go there anymore. Last time I took two ladies home was in Thailand, they turned out to be men and ended up chasing me down the road with machetes. I had to hide in the shrubbery of a nearby hotel, wearing absolutely nothing except a pair of handmade brogues. Very embarrassing indeed."
Gold.

Being in a ship is being in a jail, with the chance of being drowned

2009-04-20T21:08:00.002+08:00

Been sailing in the Philippines. MCM, Tim and "The famous Captain Roy" were all, as usual, on good form and up to no good. The last few days were spent bringing the boat back from Subic to the Big Lychee and the weather was not amusing. Rain, fog, rain, squalls, rain, fog, rain etc etc. There really isn't alot to do on passage except chat and tell stories and, if youre with this mob of deviants, your stories had better be good.
More to follow but in the mean time, a bed calls. A dry, still one.
Bliss.

Keeps you coming back....

2009-04-09T16:35:00.003+08:00

From an era when in America, British accents didn't mean you were a gay/homicidal villan, porn movies had plots, bobbies gave you a clip round the ear not heart attacks, my father wore tight blue striped T-shirts and flares and my mother styled herself on Fafrah Fawcett. We, as a family, drove around in this and a visit to MaccyD's was a very, very, rare treat.

Cool? I didn't care.

On another note, posting will be light over the next week, I'm sailing.

the long goodybye

2009-04-07T16:23:00.005+08:00

"Jade Goody has her own place in the history of television and, while it's significant, it's nothing to be proud of.
Her death is as sad as the death of any young person, but it's not the passing of a martyr or a saint or, God help us, Princess Di.
When we clear the media smoke screen from around her death what we're left with is a woman who came to represent all that's paltry and wretched about Britain today.
She was brought up on a sink estate, as a child came to know both drugs and crime, was barely educated, ignorant and puerile.
Then she was projected to celebrity by Big Brother and from that point on became a media chattel to be manipulated and exploited till the day she died."

-Sir Michael Parkinson more found here

couldn't have worded it better.

it took a hundred years to come true.....

2009-04-06T15:32:00.002+08:00

"And I sincerely believe, that banking establishments are more dangerous than standing armies; and that the principle of spending money to be paid by posterity, under the name of funding, is but swindling futurity on a large scale."
Thomas Jefferson 1816

Easy riding

2009-04-05T15:42:00.003+08:00

Sundays, especially sunny ones, should be spent either riding a motorcycle or having sweaty afternoon sex with the blinds half drawn and the windows open enough to allow for a cool breeze and to give your neighbours a glimpse.

So if, like me you are stuck at work and cant do either, I give you the little known fact that one of the most iconic bikes of the last century, "Captain America" from the film Easy Rider, was built by two bike builders, Cliff Vaughs and Ben Hardy (who died in 1994) and they were both black. Not a lot of credit has gone their way since.

"All animals are equal.....

2009-03-30T14:48:00.004+08:00

but some are more equal than others"

Following on with Spikes views on the skewered aspects of the justice system here in sunny HK, light jail sentences for drunken-drivers-who-kill-but-happen-to-be-connected and wives of African dictators who-beat-people-up-with-diamond-in crusted-rings-but-its-ok-cos-she-has diplomatic-immunity, we have this weekends specials:
a visiting rugby player knocks an armed policeman out cold (assault in my book) and gets a five hundred dollar fine
but a guy who unravels a banner protesting against China's human rights record, gets six months bird and its been kept pretty quiet to.
Still, our great leaders aren't quite yet watching "blue movies" and then charging us, the tax payers, for their enjoyment. This activity seems to be all the rage over there, in that "shitty little island on the wrong side of the sleeve"

Calm at sunset, calm at dawn

2009-03-26T13:50:00.012+08:00

"For the first time in 14 years my old man isn't coming out to HK, I'm not going to the sevens and on the same weekend Fennies is closing!" MCM sates " There are new chapters in my life about to start mate ! I can feel it.....Oh and Happy Birthday for the other day."

We're in a bar on the darkside, TST, on MCMs insistence. He's developed something of a crush on a young lady chef and figures that A). her being Chinese and B). meeting her here, will mean that C). his Filipina wife has less chance of discovering and he can continue to enjoy that fact that his balls are attached to his body. We'll see.

"Thanks, you missed a good night out, loads of the boys made it, it was good craic" I said, practising my new found Irishness, "what happened to you?"

"I was closing chapters, in Villa Victoria" this was news to me, I wasn't aware they had any over here. I left it at that but there was more to come

"You ever read a blog called 'Chopped Onions'?" he's staring straight at me, a pint of Guinness suspended mid way to mouth. Not an innocent question.

"Er yes, why?"

"Then a toast to Mr. Onions and his taste in women" and then after a slight pause " from MCM!"

"Ha! Busted! Cheers fella!"

Happy returns....many

2009-03-23T18:54:00.006+08:00

Anybody out there born today;

Welcome to a pretty exclusive club.

Mine.

Happy Birthday.

Nick knack....

2009-03-18T12:43:00.004+08:00

Yesterday, funny, every mother and his dog suddenly got Irish.
Today, I've had to "let go" a guy who's the sole bread winner for his family, whose son has Down's syndrome. I feel, "Why me?"
Because the guy who should be doing this (my fucking Boss, owner of the company)is to fucking spineless.
This is becoming a regular thing and its not because were an empty restaurant. Yes we're quieter that before, but were still taking good money. No its but its because on average, it takes us 20 days of trading to pay the rent, then comes payroll and our profit, if any, is the last seven days. Throw in a few quiet days, say a public holiday, and that seven day period becomes shorter.
Throw in the herd 'better not go out' mentality of your average honkie panicked by the media hyped "Depression" and you start to lose money, fast.
So, in view of the fact that the greedy, life sucking bastard landlords raised rent by 100% on average last year, you'd think they might be slightly open to reducing them a touch.
Yeah I know, cuckoo land.
More of this coming...........
I think tonight, I might be Irish, big time.

Pathetic Shark

2009-03-16T19:35:00.002+08:00

Ulie recently posted about a woman losing it after missing her flight, I wonder if this lady and her are related......

Cod's wallop and amber fluid.

2009-03-12T15:47:00.003+08:00

I'm beginning to worry about Married Chef Mate, he's losing what little social niceties he once possessed
Caught up with Aussie Chef and MCM last night as business is generally slow we can actually all finish at a reasonable hour and get home before the demons kick in. Sitting outside our favorite bar, with a perfect vantage to see the comings and goings of the wanchai night flowers, we're relaxed, chatting and generally catching up. Aussie Chef hails from Melbourne and everyone is hooked on a TV series called Underbelly he's going through Aussie slang. I've spent most of my working life around Aussies so I get the slang but MCM needed a couple of things clearing up. "Ive fucking cooked for those freaks" AC exclaims, "you know its all fucking true?"

All good stuff but it was MCMs round and he'd been awhile:

"Where's MCM?" I ask, " Mate, gone to the dunny or getting some coldies" AC explains.

Eventually he gets back, passes the drinks around, sits down,lights a cigarette and sighs.

"You know fellas?" he asked "What ?" both AC and I ask. " I totally get why some some people are into anal" he replies, "Yeah" I answer, "We know your tastes." " No" says he "I mean receiving it, I've just had the best,biggest, most wonderful crap ever, it was sensual, it was sexual and now I can understand...."

"Jesus mate" whispers AC." fella's as mad as a cut snake"

Open all hours

2009-03-11T20:29:00.002+08:00

Thanks to Spike (cheers fella!) I have managed to set up an email thingy in my profile.
Gossip, reviews and hot wanchai tips now welcome....

This is why you're fat...

2009-03-09T17:41:00.006+08:00

The Mad Scot otherwise known as Scot number 1 has recently brought it to my attention that Cricket may have been invented by some drunken Dutchman (I didn't read the article that carefully)and ignored the fact that the same group of horse eaters were running around playing golf long before our skirted mates north of the "fashionable side" of Hadrian's wall. He's also very proud of his national dish, which is not, as I had imagined, a stuffed dogs bladder, but something called a "scoobie snack" and went to great lengths to provide me with recipes and piccy's.(Thanks fella)

Alas, a quick stroll through a website where your dreams become heart attacks (which surprisingly isn't a real estate advert for the west coast of Scotland but more a culinary journey to hell) reveals that those perpetual night dwelling Finns have laid claim to a remarkably similar snack. They've called it (with true Nordic simplicity)the "Kannibul" and its described as looking
"big but not unconquerable if you were very hungry and partial to processed meats with an aversion to vegetables. It’s satisfying in the way that only processed meats and grease can be"

I booked my ticket this afternoon, immediately, Helsinki here I come.

(yes, I know, quite quiet today....)

Yummy Mummy

2009-03-09T14:08:00.004+08:00

Claudia Schiffer, 38 and still as hot as English mustard.....yum

Not so yum, latest shock news from the UK: "Jade's going to bother God"

John's killer gets a paultry four years...

2009-03-04T12:42:00.005+08:00

Some of you may remember me blogging about a lad Ive raced with in Zui Hai being killed by a drunk driver at 10:30 in the morning. At the time we all knew that because of the killers connections he'd think he was above the law and as last weeks trial proved, he did. However he was convicted, BUT, because he eventually pleaded guilty (even though initially trying to blame John) he had his sentence reduced. From six, to four. But could have been given Ten.
He showed no remorse, even tried to get Johns wife (now with two small children, she was pregnant at the time)to accept $70,000 HK to make it go away, She refused and has spent the last year campaigning for tougher sentences against drunk drivers. Understandably, she thinks this sentence was way to lienent.

I hate drunk drivers. I hate them with a passion. There is never, ever, ever a reason to drive drunk. Get a taxi, or take a bus. especially here where the transport system is so good.

Amongst other things I wish happen to this prick, is an explicit hope is that when he's done doing porridge, his arse will look like the entrance to the western tunnel.
Only not quite so neat.

Sundays easy listening...

2009-03-01T19:58:00.002+08:00

Fleet Foxes, and a track called Mykonos. Love it.

Friday's Listening

2009-02-27T16:42:00.003+08:00

Ralph Henry Johnson's debut effort, found on Celtic Park Records

and

Tour Signal's last release, a Canadian band, found on Big Tom Records.

(Hi fidelity anyone-Ed)

"The life I'm supposedly leading"

2009-02-26T13:44:00.004+08:00

Latest album by a British band called 'Rocket Raccoon'
Thanking HK or Bust for the heads up and a chance to be 15 again.

Goody up and go go

2009-02-24T15:08:00.004+08:00

I'm with Fumie on this one. I've had enough of the ghoulish emotional outpouring the circus of Mrs Tweed's death is producing back in Blighty. In light of the UKs love of common, idiotic, ignorant, deeply stupid and crass "role models" and the current climate of rampant PC , I going to choose my words carefully.

Giddy up Goody and shuffle off
This mortal coil
Cheers all round.

The Mail, that bastion of rabidly reasoned Jekyll and Hyde school of thought has a question: Why do we love Jade

God I want to get off................

Porn Creep

2009-02-23T17:04:00.003+08:00

A fellow chef, who's French and therefore an officially listed "depraved individual" sent me an email last week in which he had, quite literally, worked himself into a lather over some new porn site that, in his words, "knocked the knickers of xtube". A self imposed exile to the surprisingly night flower free outback of Australia, after two years trawling the bars of Wan Chai, has reduced him an avid fan of the five finger shuffle (or three if your technique is more delicate) and as such I very rarely open an email of his at work. 'Pornhub' (no not giving you a link for very good reasons, google it) is something you want to be very alone and no where near work , a window, a light source or anything else that might show the world to what levels of depravity you've plumbed. In the name of research, I clicked onto Frenchies helpfully provided link and Wham! no prove you re 18, join first registration bullshit just a video of some poor tiny woman getting the bejezus fucked out of her by six of the largest black cocks its been my misfortune to behold. I mean in Gods name what is that all about? one of those monsters on its own looked hard enough to handle (boom boom) and I don't think I'm far off the mark in saying that no-one looked like they were really enjoying themselves....

Then, later, on telly, on CSI, came the phrase " porn creep" as in an emotional state, in which those who watch this stuff regularly, find they are slowly unable to get sexually stimulated by real women.

Er, any real surprises there?

no squirrels were harmed in writing this post

2009-02-17T14:03:00.004+08:00

I am indebted to Scot Number 1, who really is becoming something of a specialist in, lets say, specialist food (his tireless research into unearthing the unofficial national dish was inspiring in both its dedication to the quest and the "gun ho" attitude to his health) He has kindly pointed me in the direction of a marketing campaign, disguised as new range of crisp flavours "for the 21st century"(potato chips to our American friends) being developed by Walkers, a well known British brand. In keeping with yesterdays theme of how the country has "gone to the dogs", they've managed to unintentionally reflect this in the truly awful flavours they have come up with: Builder's Breakfast, Cajun Squirrel and the nod to food snobs, Chilli and Chocolate, to name a few.

Trouble is, when these said flavours "capture the feeling of sitting in a greasy spoon, being dumped via text while your food repeats on you" or they're reminiscent of "kissing someone who's just eaten a plateful of scampi. Halfway through they belch in your mouth" you may not be onto the winners you thought you had.

The great unwashed may well take to these, being irked by cheese and onion, dispirited by prawn cocktail but I wont and, call me old fashioned but I have a hunch MCM wont like them either.

For the full and very funny post, go to Charlie Brooker

Of course I love you

2009-02-16T15:38:00.005+08:00

Not had a lot to say as recently, like a few people out there, I'm keeping my head down and staying out of the firing line,literally as it happens. The theme in central office these past weeks has been which outlets are going to close and when and who can we keep
Me: "Sorry, but were going to let you go..."
Soon to be ex staff: "where I go?"
"Er, you're not going anywhere..."
"Ah thankee very much"
"...you're being made redundant"
"Oh"
Its depressing.

Last night was a bit of a regroup and quiet drink with some of my fellow chefs after a very big, post-service Wan Chai saturday night . With the stories of deeds done, crimes committed, vows broken and love paid for,the subject of "what if..." came up as in what would we do if we are "let go". For most, it would mean leaving Hong Kong and for some, returning to England were they can once again enjoy all the delights of (as MCN calls it) "that shitty little island on the wrong side of the sleeve".
"I'll never move back" he announced "Its got 12 year old boys shagging slappers and producing more fucking welfare drains," he ranted "the head of the nations church STILL pro-introducing sharia law, its a place were even monkeys have more sense of right or wrong " pausing to gulp at a Guinness " you cant walk the streets for fear of gangs of feral hoodies waiting to knife you and rape your woman, police that unless you're Muslim, wont do anything and an inherently corrupt and greedy government..."
" So where would you go?" Aussie chef asked.
"the Philippines" MCM replied
"Its the same" came an almost unanimous reply

"Yeah but the beers cheaper........."

Hong Kong Tram Ride going to Western

2009-01-20T18:40:00.002+08:00

1967

recentlyish....

Spies like us..

2009-01-08T14:39:00.004+08:00

Sexpots: A test

Here we go, new year and with that resolutions.

I can confidently say that I will keep none of them and so wont bother boring you lot with the trivia.

Wan Chai was one but that went out with the bathwater of 2008...at about 1:45am to be exact.

Anyway, one nagging resolution repeated and failed every year, is this:

This will be my last job "on the stoves" as it were. First made that one five years ago and yet here I am, still cooking.
However, surfing through the British press today I find an outfit that's recruiting. It looks attractive, its "official work" you must like travel, must speak languages, must not have used Class A drugs recently, well in the last 12 months!!It's "Work you can believe in. Colleagues you can trust" and best of all you can now apply on line...

Martini anyone?

Its started already.......

2009-01-06T14:21:00.006+08:00

Today, during lunch service:

"Yes Ah Mak?"

"She says she didn't know it have meat." explains the visibly shaking floor monkey, abjectly holding a plate in front of him.

"What?"

"Says she didn't know it have meat in it.....want to change" he repeats, again. "Very angry. She say she legitarian, maa faan bitch, now want some thing else."

"Is she going to pay for that?" I ask.

"No, she say menu not clear..."

"Is this lady Chinese or Gweipo?"

"No, USA....fat, not chinese, not gweipo."

"She speak English?"

"Yes...."replies Ah Mak,

"But...." I'm at a loss here, "its Lasagna...it says on the fucking menu: Lasagna, I mean its layers of 'homemade ragù alla Bolognese', with pasta, with bechamel, with cheese, baked, etc, etc,etc, its Lasagna, of course its got fucking meat in it, what did she think she was ordering?"

Jesus wept.

Happy New Year!

2009-01-02T19:03:00.006+08:00

Bridespool Rd 7:00am

Been really busy the last month, obviously...
so in order to get the ball rolling and gather some kind of feedback, here are the top ten bugbears of British Foodies (read "Food Snobs")
• Double tipping
• Over-attentive waiters
• Cover, bread or petit four charges, which are not made clear
• Small portions
• Turning tables
• Charging for tap water
• Tables placed too close together
• Out-of-season ingredients
• French terms on English menus
Salt and pepper served in open bowls
from here

Comments please....

Bar stool for Scots

2008-11-12T20:23:00.003+08:00

For Scot number 1 and 007 Scot, you know, when you've got your skirts on........although I think they may have been very flattering...

from this site here

Lest we forget

2008-11-11T13:37:00.005+08:00

"We set to work to bury people. We pushed them into the sides of the trenches but bits of them kept getting uncovered and sticking out, like people in a badly made bed. Hands were the worst; they would escape from the sand, pointing, begging - even waving! There was one which we all shook when we passed, saying, "Good morning," in a posh voice. Everybody did it. The bottom of the trench was springy like a mattress because of all the bodies underneath..."

Soldier from "The Great War" which ended 90 years ago today, on the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th Month in the year 1918

Ovillers cemetery

All that bull.....

2008-11-10T21:20:00.005+08:00

Yeah, I know, the craze for posting clips or links to clips could be taken as laziness, ahem, but this is a clip of a food critic visiting El Bulli and meeting Ferran Adriá, considered by many to be the greatest chef in the world today. Many dismiss his food as "frankenstein food" but having dished out serious wads of lolly on two of his door stopper size "cook" books, I have a growing admiration for what this man does. He is extremely driven, uncompromising and as you can see, ever so slightly mad.
A few years ago, myself and my then girlfriend, happened to be in Spain for a wedding, the friends we were staying with announced that should we be able to change our flight plans and delay our return by two days, they had "a table at El Bulli......." I knew from the way it was said, the almost reverential way it was delivered that we were supposed to be stunned, draw droppingly stunned.
Major problem, never heard of the place (been living out here for almost eight years then) so politely said I would make a phone call and soon changed the subject.My friends were a little crestfallen but did, in all fairness press me to "try, try, try, try to make it"
Needless to say, no phone call was made and at breakfast the next day, excuses presented: we both had to be back, bosses weren't impressed, Honkie Town doesn't due slacking, holiday extending workshy F&B people etc etc etc.
When I got back, I happened to mention this to my Executive Chef and his reaction WAS what my friends had expected."You mean you said no?" "Yes Chef." An hour later I emerged from his office in no doubt whatsoever of quite what an ignorant, stupid and unaware chef I was.
I went down considerably in his esteem and I had passed on a life time chance to visit a place that has become a legend.
I still regret it today.

A UlieTube post

2008-11-08T13:41:00.002+08:00

The Island" (Ostrov) -Soviet-era animation from 1973 made by the director Fyodor Khitruk, it won the Golden Palm in Cannes. I'm guessing that Ulaca will like this sort of thing...

From this site: Dark Roasted Blend

Bang-er to rights

2008-11-03T13:38:00.004+08:00

There are a million reasons I wake up every morning and thank God that I left the miserable little shithole that Britain has fast become, a good sixteen years ago.
1. I won’t and don’t, have to put up with muslim chefs who have problems handling pork. A chef for the Met Police is suing them because he’s been made to handle pork as part of his duties…wtf? I cant even begin to explain why this irritates me so much except to say that he’s been backed by “the Association of Muslim Police” (who they?- Ed?) and if I ever go home, I'm going to start drinking alcohol at work on the grounds that I’m a christian. (snigger snigger-Ed). Reading between the lines: this guy is sixty and looking for a retirement check.

2. No one I know here, speaks welsh, or reads it

3. Wanchai
4.- 1’000’000. Same as number three, only different.

Chopped Onions can make you cry

2008-10-25T22:12:00.005+08:00

TST, otherwise know as the Dark side and a place until recently I avoided like the plague. Tailor touts, watch touts and now massage touts.

"Massageee?" she asks, every day, four times a day, six days a week. To me and any other random white guy walking past.

"Nice massaagee, very poofeshonal, speakee engerlish"

"No thanks"

"Full body, nice girl... very good!"

ok says the deviant part of my mind, lets see where you're going with this.

"Happy ending?" I ask.

"Mmmchee" comes the reply, with frantic waving of the hand.

"Blow job? no suckee suckee?" a small crowd has gathered, including two tourists.

"M' sai" She's still waving the leaflet but not with quite so much enthusiasm.

"What about fuckee fuckee?" violent hip thrusts just in case my point isn't crystal.

Again, a negative reply, only now backing away and regarding me with deep suspicion.

"No anal, you know, back door bum fun?"

The actions accompanying this were, to put it mildly, graphic and not lost on all watching.Stunned silence for a second or two and then I was given some pretty clear advice as to where I could go, if I wished and what I could do with my mother, again, if I so wished.

"As I said, no thanks"

Today, she said nothing, but I did get a wary smile.

One nil to me....for the moment.

Obama is to Ducati as Palin is to....wtf?

2008-10-22T18:49:00.007+08:00

From this website here

or make your own

I see the goateed one is floating his money in a highly unstable environment after a ten year lack of adventure/challenge.

Named "Virgin Money" I wonder if, in today's market, it will sink?

The BBC launches its latest channel

Shopping at a Chinese market and essential for any wan chai hound: Food of the Philippines

Food porn gone bad and another opinion on Spanish food

Best present ever for your frequent flyer not so great friend
The Laugh-a-Lot doll .....?! (creepy) as fuck
and if you still bored...end it all now

Where are you now Batman?

2008-10-20T16:09:00.004+08:00

The attack by Mr. Oldage hit me last week;
it began while I was watching a show on TV, sporadic attacks followed over the weekend and a full charge was mounted this morning, under the cover of a post by Spike, regarding the death(or retirement)of a thirty year old penguin.
The show was about a restaurant that had been, when I was a young commis chef, talked about in hushed tones. It was called the Walnut Tree and was regarded as a temple in the most hallowed way for three reasons: It had a Michelin star, it was Italian and it had achieved this in some unpronounceable backwater in Fummies favorite place: Wales.
Times it seems have changed and in an effort to save the place, Gordon *$&#ing Ramsey himself was in to save it. Bang, the first volley from Oldage. There is Gordon, on TV, giving advice to a restaurant that as commis together, we talked about visiting if only we could have afforded it. His advice was ignored; it lost its star and has recently been re-birthed as a gastro pub.
Oldage was there again, blasting away, when a friend, returning from London, gave me a copy of the latest guide to the city’s dinning scene. I had at least heard of some of the latest trendy spots but what got me more was when I looked up places that I’d worked in, what seems to me, only yesterday: comments like “this old stalwart of British cooking” “Grande old Dame of haute cuisine…” “still going strong after ALL(my italics)these years”
Applied to places like The Ivy, J Sheekys, Snow’s on the Green, all places that were considered cutting edge at the time.
Some weren’t mentioned at all……..
A call from a daughter I have never known, she was 2 years old and living in Majorca when I last saw her, who has tracked me down by of all things, Facebook, and now, on her birthday, rang to remind me she’s eighteen.
And last, Opus, who began in Bloom County, is going to a special place. A thirty year veteran, the last of the greats, and now like all of us, caught by Mr. Oldage, “his machine gun dripping with years”
I’ll miss the lardass, for sure, but not quite as much as Bill the Cat.

Brian can explain the Batman bit

If you don't work you die.

2008-10-14T14:22:00.000+08:00

The Gods of the Copybook Headings

As I pass through my incarnations in every age and race,
I Make my proper prostrations to the Gods of the Market-Place.
Peering through reverent fingers I watch them flourish and fall,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings, I notice, outlast them all.

We were living in trees when they met us. They showed us each in turn
That Water would certainly wet us, as Fire would certainly burn:
But we found them lacking in Uplift, Vision and Breadth of Mind,
So we left them to teach the Gorillas while we followed the March of Mankind.

We moved as the Spirit listed. They never altered their pace,
Being neither cloud nor wind-borne like the Gods of the Market-Place.
But they always caught up with our progress, and presently word would come
That a tribe had been wiped off its icefield, or the lights had gone out in Rome.

With the Hopes that our World is built on they were utterly out of touch
They denied that the Moon was Stilton; they denied she was even Dutch
They denied that Wishes were Horses; they denied that a Pig had Wings.
So we worshipped the Gods of the Market Who promised these beautiful things.

When the Cambrian measures were forming, They promised perpetual peace.
They swore, if we gave them our weapons, that the wars of the tribes would cease.
But when we disarmed They sold us and delivered us bound to our foe,
And the Gods of the Copybook Heading said: "Stick to the Devil you know."

On the first Feminian Sandstones we were promised the Fuller Life
(Which started by loving our neighbour and ended by loving his wife)
Till our women had no more children and the men lost reason and faith,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "The Wages of Sin is Death."

In the Carboniferous Epoch we were promised abundance for all,
By robbing selected Peter to pay for collective Paul;
But, though we had plenty of money, there was nothing our money could buy,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "If you don't work you die."

Then the Gods of the Market tumbled, and their smooth-tongued wizards withdrew,
And the hearts of the meanest were humbled and began to believe it was true
That All is not Gold that Glitters, and Two and Two make Four --
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings limped up to explain it once more.

* * * * *

As it will be in the future, it was at the birth of Man --
There are only four things certain since Social Progress began --
That the Dog returns to his Vomit and the Sow returns to her Mire,
And the burnt Fool's bandaged finger goes wabbling back to the Fire --
And that after this is accomplished, and the brave new world begins
When all men are paid for existing and no man must pay for his sins
As surely as Water will wet us, as surely as Fire will burn
The Gods of the Copybook Headings with terror and slaughter return!

Rudyard Kipling, 1919

Paris sheens up her image....

2008-10-09T15:26:00.001+08:00

See more Paris Hilton videos at Funny or Die

In the business we call waiters "Floor monkeys" and as usual, the Japanese have taken the idea and improved on it...

Caption that

2008-10-08T13:31:00.003+08:00

Chopped Onions: Caption competition

"and this, folks, is what another 4 years under the Republicans will be like"

Letters they won't print in the SCMP

2008-10-02T19:58:00.002+08:00

Dear Sir,

I heard recently that, on average, Donald Tsang receives two turds in the post each week.What I want to know is, who's sending the other one?

Mr Chopped Onions

"your own folly and greed..........."

2008-09-25T13:57:00.001+08:00

as usual, Alex is spot on.

Typhoon Daze part two

2008-09-24T15:15:00.004+08:00

Sadly no typhoon lock-ins or ladyboy chasing squalor for me last night. Instead it was spent in the Bull and Bear, smoking two very fine cigars and discussing amongst friends and typhoon girlfriends, ahem, who had the best shaped back side. No comp really, I mean three lassies in T Backs and us fat old men and its pretty much game over. Wanchai was fairly empty, I guess, like Spike, most people realised that it wasn't going to be a day off today and so just went home.

the best bum competition turned into a best at drinking competition and very shortly it descended into a best story of wierd requests by customers competition. Really. Honest.

As I said, it was quiet last night and I think the girls where just trying to outrage each other and us, but the whole thing was quite funny and very very informative...

Anyway, today was a planned day off and with the weather, my head and a very late night, I have spent my morning listening to these guys, specifically "Next" and the album above, whilst keeping last nights over-all winner busy, she especially likes the second one, if you get my drift....

Monday's links

2008-09-22T19:15:00.009+08:00

"You cunts! because your offence offends me"

This is for the two scots: http://www.stevecarter.com/highlandpics/highlandpics.htm
nice piccy's taken on mostly sunny days. Rannoch Moor is a place after my heart, it was where I shot my first stag, a 12 pointer, and he made me work for it trust me.

This is for those who want to know who couldn't find better things to do with their life: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Converts_to_Islam
A religion I simply have no time at all for.

This will offend the guys above with its babes in space section, but the website itself is a real gem and a terrible time waster. No piccys of Nichelle Nichols which is a shame because she is
the only reason I ever watched Star Trek and with the possible casting of a certain lady in the new movie, I might have to go back on the bridge.

This website , FXcuisine, is for food porn addicts. It's great, SFW and the recipes work.

Much more to come but this fucking computer keeps crashing......

This is for the budding artists or those of you considering painting your rooms, a colour hue test, on the strength of my result: 12, I should have considered a career in "int'rior desighnn darlinnks"

and a site for fans of American ghost towns (WTF?-Ed)

Oh congrats to HK or bust who's joined the club in being "deemed harmful" and had his scribbles banned at Mix. ( you know the place, grass wheat mocha's and that crap) You would have thought a company set up by a sausage jockey might be a bit more tolerant but it seems not.
Which brings me to my point,
When the hell did we all start getting so fucking offended? Or worried about offending?
fucked if I can remember or care actually.

Pigs in lipstick

2008-09-12T15:54:00.004+08:00

"Me, I service the machinery of death, so that people can eat.
Spend any amount of time around people, you get your heart broke.
Treachery, hypocrisy, promises of love.
Look into the mouth of a person

and you'll find lies, wriggling there like maggots,

waiting to grow wings.
The world has gone mad.
A man could kill from sun up, to sunset, and still his work would never be done....."

Who needs a bike?

2008-09-04T18:49:00.000+08:00

Keeping out of trouble on a sunday afternoon

2008-08-26T15:40:00.009+08:00

Planet Earth: rarely visited by members of the Royal family

I think HRH Pip is going a little bit doolally myself, its not bhiriyani its a vindaloo. This is a very satisfying and rewarding curry to make and it is worth following the recipe and taking your time. All the ingredients are available here in HK, the best place to go is Chung King mansions on Nathan Rd. Kashmiri chilies are very bright red and not quite as hot as some varieties, but I haven't yet find them whole. The powder is available as "Kashmiri Mirch"

Last thing, this is an adaption, based on recipes by Camellia Panjabi (author and owner of a restaurant called Chutney Mary )and my Ex's mother, who taught me how to cook Indian food. (yes she was, from Bombay actually)

If pork doesn't grab you, this works well with lamb (use shoulder) or beef (use brisket)

Vindaloo

Ingredients:
15-20 whole red chillies (preferably Kashmiri type) or 6 tsps red chili powder

2 tsp cumin seeds

12 cloves

1 tsp fennel seed
1tsp black mustard seeds
2-inch cinnamon stick

15 peppercorns

2 whole star anise

1 tsp poppy seeds

2 x 1/4-inch piece of ginger

12 plump garlic cloves

2 tbsp tamarind pulp

8 tsps Goa or Parsee vinegar (coconut vinegar/ cider vinegar)

1/3 cup ghee (clarified butter)

3 medium onions, finely chopped

3 potatoes, cubed

Garam Masala

750 gm pork cubed (use shoulder or shank)

salt

1 or 2 tsp jaggery to taste (rock sugar, looks like sticks of honey and can be bought in Welcome)

15 curry leaves

15 silverskin pickled onions

Method:

Soak the chillies in a little water to soften. Then grind all the spices including the chillies, ginger, garlic and tamarind with the vinegar to make a smooth paste. Rub a little of the spice mixture on to the meat and marinate for 1 hour. Heat the ghee in a cooking pot and fry the onions for about 15/25 minutes until brown. Add the spice paste and fry for a further 5 minutes, stirring continuously and adding 2 tbsps water if necessary. Add the meat and saute in the spice mixture for 5 minutes. Add 4 cups water and salt to taste and cook over a low heat for about 45mins, then add the potatoes, rock sugar and cook until the meat is very tender. Stir in the curry leaves and garam masala and simmer for 3-4 minutes; the vindaloo is now ready to serve. The vinegar in the dish acts as a preservative and it freezes extremely well. It can also keep in the refrigerator for 2 days and will in fact be better the day after cooking. You can also make just the spice paste in large batches and freeze it, using small amounts as and when required.

Next: For the gun freaks.........

A snack is born

2008-08-23T15:55:00.005+08:00

Scot number 1 has returned from an exhausting eight week holiday spent re-acquainting himself with the highest points of his country's cuisine and culture and normally I would have had a full report by now, but due to yesterday’s typhoon and my excesses a few weeks ago, I declined the chance for more mayhem last night even if it could quite legitimately be labeled under the heading of “let’s catch up”
But, dear readers, we have him to thank for the pictures of the infamous “Scoobie snack” which unlike the recent reports of a frozen Sasquatch, happen to be real. I would like to say that his research was conducted at his own expense (both in money and health) and in his words, it was “Good value however, when you think about it.”

Yeah, if you're in the market for a cheap heart attack....

Below is a piccy:

Scoobie Snack Recipe

1/4lb burger
Square sausage
Cheese
Bacon
Egg
Potato Scone

"all in one roll"

Typhoon daze

2008-08-08T22:02:00.004+08:00

“G’day mate!”
and thus began a trail of wanton self abuse, all under the cover of something called a “Typhoon Lock-in”
Ouch.
“Bruce”, a big burly deviant Aussie, comes from a part of Melbourne the tourists don’t visit, his dad sells second hand cars and if you’re wise, you don’t buy them or if you do, you don’t go back when something goes wrong… but he left a long time ago and through hard work and charm has done well. Collects art, very rich, lives in cities around the world and gets me into Trouble, always.
“Just got in mate, have some meetings tomorrow but they say a typhoon is on its way…so..Captains Bar, nine-ish?” comes the familiar drawl through my cell phone.
fuck that, I know better than to say yes, I know where this is going, I’m getting old, I’m busy tomorrow, typhoon no typhoon, it will hurt, it will involve night flowers, it will involve a ridiculous amount of piss and ..
“Yeah, fella, see you then” (Sade would’ve been be proud)
The Captains Bar was full, it always is and rumours of an unexpected and enforced day off accentuated the general atmosphere of an upmarket speakeasy.
Three bottles of pinot pisso later and the glassy stare descends…
“What you say we go to Wanchai after this…you know…just a look…”
“No mate, you’ve got meetings and I can’t do kitchens with a hangover and no sleep, my chefs get disturbed when I vomit pints of coke and panadol into the bins. It’s not good for discipline.”
Then, his dreaded blackberry flashes; a combination of cancelled meetings and white wines acidic backbone dissolving properties and we're in a taxi, stepping behind the velvet curtain, pulling up stools, ordering rum and cokes (very amateur in a Wanchai girlie bar, I think they use brake fluid) and wondering at the sheer emptiness of it all, this, in what seemed like a nanosecond.
“Right mama-san, four girls, keep the drinks coming and here’s to typhoons” toasts Bruce, a notion enthusiastically backed by all.
Then it went down hill, as it was always going to, but the finale was a showstopper, literally.
The joy of the rich is that they can afford what you want, they can stay where you would like to, and, if, as in this case, they tip handsomely enough, they can arrive back at their five star hotel with a mate, a few girls, go to their fuck off suite, order room service and no one bats an eyelid.
“This is ridiculous, mate, this is bigger than my entire flat, times many” I slur.
Bruce’s not interested he’s staring at the tightest set of buns I’ve seen in a while, trust me.
“Do you like her?” I ask……on the way back, we’d spotted a long legged beauty, soaked by the torrential rain, struggling with a scarf and umbrella. Bruce stopped the cab, wound down the window and asked if she wanted to come to a “party” Reluctant at first, some negations were made, the hotel was mentioned and I had a wet, surprisingly heavy, long legged half drowned lady, sitting on my knee.
She was now standing looking at the view of the harbour, giving us a view of long black hair, a t-back and wet see-through tiny white hot pants.
“Always wanted an orgy” was Bruce’s reply, pops open the champagne and with characteristic Aussie charm, says “right you lot, kit off and let’s party”
Here, I would like to say, (in the great tradition of the British tabloids) was where I made my excuses and left. But I didn’t. I’m mesmerized by this performance, this show of sheer unadulterated debauchery: four naked nightflowers, two semi naked men and a soaking wet but clothed, woman, all moving about like a nest full of newly born puppies in the half light of the rain reflected many coloured harbour lights.
“I’ve got to go Bruce, this is getting weird”
“No mate, wait, entertain them. That one there, she’s still got her clothes on” and with that, he grabbed her hand and disappeared into the bedroom.
Six minutes. That’s a long time. Door opens, Bruce, bollock naked and a deathly, deathly pale, reappears saying “he’s done something stupid” and I panic.
Visions of dead women, jail, men who want to play hide the soap in the showers; all this floods my now very sober mind.
“Fuck! Oh fuck! Fuck! Let me in, let me see” and I barge past him
Sitting serenely on the edge of the bed, looking at me with a wry smile is a very beautiful, very alive, very naked, young lady. Arms and legs crossed, smoking.
“Oh fuck, thank fuck for that…” I’m beyond relief, I want to kiss her, I’m so happy, I move in. She opens her arms, “Wow!” Opens her legs and there, for the entire world to see, was the biggest cock in the wrongest place, ever. With balls. Stiffish.

Taxis cost a lot in typhoons, but I didn’t care, I was in one and homeward bound, my sides still aching, tomorrow it will have faded, a bit.
“Bruce” I finally get through, late Wednesday evening, “you alright? You want to catch up for a hair of the dog?”
“Yes, but I’m not drinking rum and cokes in Wanchai again.”
“Why?”
“That shit they put in them….........it makes you go blind”
“And it fucks your memory”
“Thank God for small mercies, hey fella?"

Antonys Original "Gormet" Scottish Recipes

2008-08-05T12:48:00.006+08:00

Smoked Salmon with Fresh Herb Salad

(Serves 4)

Ingredients: four large slices of salmon

4 sprigs of fresh parsley

Take smoked salmon "with no fucking bones" and slice
put on plate
add one wee tiny sprig of that green shiiite per plate ( see illustration-Ed)
If yer must: "serve with lemon and then drizzle some of that extra virgin olive oil shiiite on it, but ah thinks used chip fat gives it more flavour"

eat yer heart out Ramsey

Life's a bitch or a beach whatever.........

2008-07-30T14:08:00.003+08:00

Thank you to the many bikers who turned up for John’s memorial / against drunk drivers ride on Sunday, in all we had nearly 80 bikes there and with the added 10 from the police escort (WTF?-Ed) it was a good effort. Noticeable in its absence was the HK Ducati club. Shame on you gentlemen, considering your monthly crawl round the roads of our fair island coincided with this event, plus it was conducted at a pace you’re all very comfortable with (i.e. well below 50 kmph-Ed) and you’re just as vulnerable on a Duc as you are on a scooter, I am unimpressed. Very.
Anyway…..been relatively busy over the past few months but now we are going into the holiday season when those with money disappear for 6 weeks and I may, hopefully, be able to post a tad more and relax a little………….or fuck off to the beach, who knows?!!!

All welcome....

2008-07-18T13:42:00.000+08:00

Those who make peaceful revolution impossible will make violent revolution inevitable.

2008-07-15T15:41:00.004+08:00

Is it about now that we can start the revolution? Cos my list of cunts who would be first against the wall is getting pretty fucking big…in fact, in true Brit style, they’d be made to form a fucking queue. Starting with that bow-tied papist dwarf, his happy band of sycophants and any other politician you care to name, then followed closely by anyone who made money in property. Especially my money grabbing greedy lying backstabbing prick of a landlord who regards a 50% hike in rent as, quote, “reasonable”. Right at the back though, so he could see what was coming (a privilege he didn’t give his victim) would be a certain drunk driver (whose brother is a canto pop star from the stables of Albert “I’m no triad” Yeung) and then the police, who because of his connections, afforded him special treatment. ie bailed the drunk driver killer, before they informed next of kin, thus allowing the press to arrive at his unsuspecting wife’s house and ask her how she felt about the whole thing. Spike has mentioned it on his blog so no need to go into details except to say I ride a bike and I used to race.
Deep breath, deep breath, deep breath......

antony this is for you
“A liberal is a socialist with a wife and two children.”

and I want proof that the scooby snack exists....

Not bruised, mashed, scattered or drizzled...just battered

2008-05-27T20:37:00.010+08:00

"see you Jimmy...!"

Yes, Scot and Scot number 2, (who’s some sort of top secret spy from all I can make out) were indeed in the bar, the latter flying in from the UK for a brief visit to see the love of his life and of course, to drink heavily and talk shit. I was a bit late in getting there and found both of them and MCM propping up the bar discussing the charming advertising campaign conducted recently by fans of Glasgow Rangers in the city of Manchester. It seems that hundreds of thousands of them decided to visit Manchester (“twinned with Mutare in Zimbabwe” says MCN to no one in particular) for a final match of some sorts and spend, according to one oik, thousands of pounds in the process. For this act of devotion they were rewarded with being bashed over the heads by ungrateful coppers not amused by their actions in defeat.
007 Scot mentioned he’d used millions worth of government computer time and manpower to work out that there was no way you can spend those sort of sums by essentially going on a 200 mile weekend jaunt, even if you do travel first class and stay in the most expensive hotel on offer and this evidence, coupled with the inability to acquire tickets, but however, drink massive amounts of piss and smash the place up, seemed to compound the general view that all Rangers supporters are evil, lying, violent “Huns” and deserved some sort long drawn out horrible death.
Lost? Yeah me too, but in the logic of people who think “normal” is dedicating your life to supporting eleven men chasing an inflated pigs bladder into a net and then kissing each other, this all makes compelling sense.
In an effort to change the subject, I mentioned the deep-fried pizza,(thanks Antony) a concept I’m struggling with.
MCM made a sort of strange popping sound and then started twitching and both 007 Scot and Number One took a swig of their drinks and then, I swear to God, began to glow, unnaturally,
“That there is real food” (more popping noises from MCM) pronounced 007
“Aye none of your twists of lemon and parsley sprigs ‘gourmet’ shiiite there” agreed his countryman.
Followed by a heated debate as to whether or not you battered it, folded it in half before the deep frying, fried it straight from the freezer (scored particularly high in approval rates that one) or had this or a “fish supper”. Various other delights were discussed until 007 stated
“Aye but nothing beats a Scooby Snack” with the authority of “one who knows”
He went on to explain to an increasingly disturbed MCM and myself that this was Glasgow’s answer to a kebab; one with fourteen different kinds of filling, all deep-fried, wrapped around a pie and then put into a bun
This, he pronounced, was available from some gypsy caravan in a park near the hospital and the challenge is to keep it down, negotiate your way past other peoples very obvious evidence of failure, and get home. The unstated fact being that you’d have to be “mad from the drink” to want one of these in the first place.
“Jesus! I’ve had enough” my fellow chef complains, shaking his head “it all sounds like a fucking heart attack on a plate”
“Aye, but that’s us Scots caring about the environment you see”
….blank stares from both MCM and me,
“we’re making sure that we don’t live long enough and therefore be a drain on all our natural resources………”

Toast...a recipe.

2008-05-23T20:18:00.003+08:00

In response to my concerned reader, no I haven’t been arrested. Well not for corruption anyway. Some of you may be aware of a body here in HK called the ICAC and recently they’ve taken a very dim view of certain chefs who see it as a perk of the job, if you will, to receive backhanders for awarding exclusive purchasing rights to certain companies. In total the ICAC took this dim view on 46 chefckufing individuals and yes, some of them have recently crossed my path.
This particular form of corruption used to be the specialty of purchasing departments (usually of a Hotel/Club) and was not renowned for the subtlety in the method of application. The “you buy my product, I give you money” approach tended to work best but in the hands of the average chef, ingenious methods of deception were used. Roughly speaking it was along the lines of the short sell. As in “You purchase 8 kilos of something, they charge you 10 and pay you the difference” but rendered with percentages, quotas and trips to hookers.
Then there were the blind eyes being turned to goods that have seen better days, hung around to see them again and then for good measure gone on a return trip just to make sure the better days had indeed fucked off, products higher than Coleridge lost in his pleasure domes and sunless seas and as user friendly as Mr. Khan himself. …. a corruption difficult to track and difficult to prove, providing there is no money trail.
For years though this had, on a big scale, disappeared; it wasn’t worth the company/ sales-persons/chefs time or effort and the price of being caught, far outweighed the benefits. Pay was good, restaurants were busy and by and large if you were a good chef, working in a good environment, your boss would see to it that the incentive was to make yourself make money, by making the restaurant make money.
“Times they are a changing” as they say and with the squeeze on rents, the 30% increase in running costs and product cost, something has had to give and it’s been wages. Or a wage stagnation. Or in real terms a 25%-30% wage cut. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not condoning backhanders, on the contrary, I’m well know for my particular loathing of chefs who are prepared to compromise their and the restaurants reputation, especially for the sake of some horse money. But, when confronted with a weeping man in his late forties, who’s worked an average 60 hrs a week for most of his life, seen his pay drop and workload increase, was genuinely trying to better his kids future and now knows that he will never work in this industry again, its difficult for me to get on my pedestal.
For the others, with the Rolex, designer clothes and mainland girlfriends…
“I’m sorry but we’re going to have to let you go” were the words I was instructed to use.
“Fuck off you’re fired and forget about a reference, you thieving lying cunt” would have been my preferred choice. No point in leaving people confused about how you feel is there?

On that note, off to meet the Scotsman for a cleansing ale, high chance of Scot number 2 being about as well, which will involve heated discussions regarding the delights of footy(yawn) and those whom indulge in its basic tribalism by donning green "hoops" or "blue Hun" somethings to be followed by an in depth review of the current culinary delights offered by the nation that gave us the deep fried pizza.(yes, correct, DEEP FRIED)

Full report pending.......

Fridays gem....

2008-04-11T19:44:00.002+08:00

Thanks Spike for the link