B is for...
A "friend" sent me a message yesterday to say I wasn't writing a dictionary it was more like an encyclopedia.
So I retrieved a dictionary from my "library" and checked the word pedantic.
Huh,
funnily enough there he was........
....smart arse.
So I retrieved a dictionary from my "library" and checked the word pedantic.
Huh,
funnily enough there he was........
....smart arse.
B is for...
...Botherers. Restaurant botherers come in all shaped and sizes. The most common are the God Botherers of course. A pamphlet is not a tip and soup is not an acceptable main course. Others include the guest botherer. Have you ever sat in a restaurant happily minding your own business enjoying your food and the pleasant conversation when the slightly odd looking couple on the table next to you make eye contact? For the love of all that is right in the world don't acknowledge them, don't nod, don't smile, and if you want a moments peace for the rest of the meal don't speak to them. It starts with a simple, "How's yer food?" and ends up two hours later swapping phone numbers and pictures of the kids etc. I've seen many a good meal ruined by the people next door all for the sake of being polite.........
it's also for...
...Blood. It's not blood it's myoglobin. So when you send your steak back because it's undercooked tell the waiter the myoglobin is pouring out of it, that'll confuse the hell out of him. Actually don't.....Some things are better when they are cooked rare, lamb, steak etc and somethings will kill you, chicken for one. No one wants a nice rare/bloody chicken breast.
and...
...Back of house. This is where the cooker jockeys, kitchen porters, and general psychotics work. Only the brave/foolhardy enter this world of pain, misery, and constant abuse. Anything and everything is fair game in the back of house, your mother (whore), your sister (whore), your girlfriend (whore), your football team (gay whores), your dog (whore) anything. It's like a young offenders centre but with knives and fire. The heat is unbearable and there is a constant cacophony of noise from fans, ovens, dishwashers, radio (happy hardcore etc) and the ceaseless barking from the head chef. It's a testosterone filled world of machismo and then they all go home wearing their nice lemon and pink jumpers. Odd place, best avoided......
as well as...
...Bookings. My definition of restaurant booking seems to differ widely with that of the dining public. I define it as being the time the gusts wish to arrive for something to eat and drink. That being the case we like to have the table ready for that time with the previous occupant being told to feck away off so that we can accommodate the lovely table of four booked for 8pm. But to the dining public it means nothing. It's more of a suggestion, a hint if you will, to the time that they might turn up at. 8pm shouldn't be considered the time that the guests will arrive but rather the starting point from when they may or may not arrive. Being a control freak I really hate tables being late, I'll give you 15 minutes leeway then the next punter to walk in gets your spot and when you do show up I'll take great pleasure in pointing out the time and seating you beside the toilets......
and not forgetting...
...Bacardi. Terrible rum, don't drink it.
...Bacon Bits. If the menu lists bacon flavoured bits anywhere just put the menu down, pay for your drinks, apologise, and leave. It's not real food!
...Brazil. Brazilian beef has sneaked it's way into Irish kitchens not that they, the chefs, will tell you that. Brazilian beef comes from Brazil and it's not some sort of well shaven meat. Insist on the locally reared stuff.
...Bar. This is where off duty waiters live. Leave them alone and don't speak to them. They don't have to be nice to you now and will probably be grumpy/drunk.
...Botherers. Restaurant botherers come in all shaped and sizes. The most common are the God Botherers of course. A pamphlet is not a tip and soup is not an acceptable main course. Others include the guest botherer. Have you ever sat in a restaurant happily minding your own business enjoying your food and the pleasant conversation when the slightly odd looking couple on the table next to you make eye contact? For the love of all that is right in the world don't acknowledge them, don't nod, don't smile, and if you want a moments peace for the rest of the meal don't speak to them. It starts with a simple, "How's yer food?" and ends up two hours later swapping phone numbers and pictures of the kids etc. I've seen many a good meal ruined by the people next door all for the sake of being polite.........
it's also for...
...Blood. It's not blood it's myoglobin. So when you send your steak back because it's undercooked tell the waiter the myoglobin is pouring out of it, that'll confuse the hell out of him. Actually don't.....Some things are better when they are cooked rare, lamb, steak etc and somethings will kill you, chicken for one. No one wants a nice rare/bloody chicken breast.
and...
...Back of house. This is where the cooker jockeys, kitchen porters, and general psychotics work. Only the brave/foolhardy enter this world of pain, misery, and constant abuse. Anything and everything is fair game in the back of house, your mother (whore), your sister (whore), your girlfriend (whore), your football team (gay whores), your dog (whore) anything. It's like a young offenders centre but with knives and fire. The heat is unbearable and there is a constant cacophony of noise from fans, ovens, dishwashers, radio (happy hardcore etc) and the ceaseless barking from the head chef. It's a testosterone filled world of machismo and then they all go home wearing their nice lemon and pink jumpers. Odd place, best avoided......
as well as...
...Bookings. My definition of restaurant booking seems to differ widely with that of the dining public. I define it as being the time the gusts wish to arrive for something to eat and drink. That being the case we like to have the table ready for that time with the previous occupant being told to feck away off so that we can accommodate the lovely table of four booked for 8pm. But to the dining public it means nothing. It's more of a suggestion, a hint if you will, to the time that they might turn up at. 8pm shouldn't be considered the time that the guests will arrive but rather the starting point from when they may or may not arrive. Being a control freak I really hate tables being late, I'll give you 15 minutes leeway then the next punter to walk in gets your spot and when you do show up I'll take great pleasure in pointing out the time and seating you beside the toilets......
and not forgetting...
...Bacardi. Terrible rum, don't drink it.
...Bacon Bits. If the menu lists bacon flavoured bits anywhere just put the menu down, pay for your drinks, apologise, and leave. It's not real food!
...Brazil. Brazilian beef has sneaked it's way into Irish kitchens not that they, the chefs, will tell you that. Brazilian beef comes from Brazil and it's not some sort of well shaven meat. Insist on the locally reared stuff.
...Bar. This is where off duty waiters live. Leave them alone and don't speak to them. They don't have to be nice to you now and will probably be grumpy/drunk.
Take notes......there is a test coming.
It will be "C" next time.
Probably not tomorrow as I have pure blog gold booked for lunch, 40 pensioners on a day out. It doesn't get any better/worse than that........
Probably not tomorrow as I have pure blog gold booked for lunch, 40 pensioners on a day out. It doesn't get any better/worse than that........
