As the weather warms up it means one thing. Cockroaches. I bet you thought I was going to say something food related, right? Well, I’ll get to that, but for now we’re going to talk about cockroaches. Foul little critters, they are. Spiders? Meh. Snakes? What’s the big deal? Cockroaches? I’m cool as a cucumber, of course. Ahem. While my sister has a minor breakdown in the corner over the one hiding in our vanity cupboard, I’m pretending to be all calm and collected. Upholding the image of a responsible older sister, rather than someone who wants to shriek and flap their arms like a little girl (what I actually want to do). I think it’s something to do with their hairy legs and their shell (I have nightmares about crunching down on one in my salad) and their feelers, all twitchy and wavy in the air. And they move fast. And jump. Some even fly. And sometimes, I swear they run straight at you. Cockroaches are sneaky little devils. Continue reading
There is an elderly gentleman who frequents my work a few times a week. His order is exactly the same, rain or shine. Two slices of raisin toast, lathered with copious amounts of butter on both sides, as soon as they come out of the oven, and then run out to him whilst they are still piping hot. His face breaks into the biggest crooked smile when you present the plate of hot, melty-buttery toast to him and you just know that it has made his day. Even when work’s frantic and you’ve hardly got time to breath, let alone be fussed trying to butter both sides of the toast without dropping it or smearing butter all down your front, it’s worth the effort just to see his reaction. And after observing this gentleman for a number of weeks, I’ve reached the conclusion that most of his enjoyment lies in the process of eating the toast. Relishing every mouthful. 
Put your hand up if the word ‘offal’ sends you into a fit of dry retching. There we go, don’t be shy. You’re far from alone. What is it about that particular category of meat that causes so many people to run and hide their head in a cupboard until the threat has passed? Is it the texture? The flavour? The smell? All three? Or perhaps because it has undeniably come from another once living, breathing organism? You can pretend that a piece of steak is a funny looking vegetable or that the cubes of chicken in your curry are magical titbits of protein and flavour, but a brain, well that’s a different story. I’d wager a bet that if you don’t like bones in your meat, you most definitely shirk from the idea of offal. And I must admit that the concept of eating a brain is a little confronting, if not downright nauseating. I think it has something to do with fact that you yourself are able to think about the topic whilst munching away on a fellow animal’s thought powerhouse. I don’t know about you but that a) prompts the reaction “ick” and b) gives me an unexplainable (and most likely sympathy related) headache. But hang on, I actually want to delve into the good things about offal. Yes, would you believe it, there actually are. Let’s get started shall we? 
Taste Without Waste 