For some reason that put me in mind of that joke about the armpit hamburgers. Thanks, rue. (And, no, don’t ask me to repeat the joke cause I only remember the part where the cook flattens the hamburgers in his armpit.)
Mr. Anachi wants me to be sure and tell everybody that he did manage to get the new springs installed in his garage door opener just fine…thankyewverymuch. Oh, swampy, he said to tell you the sticker in the upper left corner of the door didn’t have the weight unless it’s in code. Did yours? Did ACBG go :dubious: ? Enquiring minds wanna know.
shibb, psssst! True Floridians huddle under blankets from December to April. They do NOT go to the beach. I’m just sayin’ is all.
Floridians are wimps. It’s got to be significantly above freezing- beach weather!
The cooker did, in fact, have a bun warmer. I’m just sayin’. Although the husbands are useful, too.
C’mon, it was about 80 F at the beach. It was way to cold to go in the water, but it wasn’t windy at all so it was just fine sitting on a blanket and basking in the sun (with a shirt on, of course) while the kids playing in the sand and surf. Maybe it’s colder over in your part of Florida.
You’re kidding right? Please tell me you’re kidding. It was too cold to go in the water at 80 degree outside? Sheesh, Floridians are wimps. Temps of that sort are definite swim/water ski, etc days here in the Evergreen State.
I am seriously considering buying a deep fat fryer for the sole purpose of making ScotchEggs. Although I guess it would be useful for making fries also.
Maybe he means that the water temperature was too cold to go in it. I rarely go into the ocean here in San Diego. Partly because there’s poo in the water, but also because THE WATER IS COLD!! It definitely ain’t like wading into a bathtub.
Yeah, the water temperature is supposed to be about 58 F right now, although it felt like low 60s to me right at the beach. Since we’re used to water temps in the high 70s or low 80s, that feels mighty chilly. I could do it with a wetsuit, I suppose. Or a couple more percent bodyfat. That’s it, I need to eat more fattening foods!
Ya know, maybe it’s just me, but I don’t care what temperature the water is, if there’s poo in the water, I’m not going. Unless it’s just fish poo and even then it better be pretty small fish poo.
I whole idea of swimming in the ocean is foreign to me. I grew up on the ocean, went to the beach a lot when I was a kid, but except for the surfers, I never saw people swimming in the ocean. The surfers wore (and still wear, although I imagine they are different surfers) wet suits. Small children would get wet up to their thighs and walk around with bright red legs for the rest of the days (when you could no longer fell your feet, it was time to get out of the water). See, 58 degrees would be warm water in my side of the ocean, and 80 degrees an almost unheard of heat wave. Try swimming in an ocean when the temperature on the beach is a breezy 62, and the water is, oh, let’s say 45 degrees. And don’t forget the undertow. The undertow is a yellow haired sea monster that pulls people, especially children, into the water when they venture too far from shore. Not to be confused with the undertoe, the fungus-infected monster tow that lives under some beds. Homebrew, scotch eggs are the work of the devil. Icky, icky, yuck, yuck.
Puggy, Mr. Tupug is right. The little sticker on my garage door contains no useful information. Indeed ACBG did go :dubious: at me when I closed my garage door, got the ladder and climbed up to look at the sticker. So, I don’t know how much my garage door weighs but I’m no longer obsessing over it. Now, I want some scotch eggs. I’ve never had scotch eggs but Homebrew has me craving em. The recipe sounds easy enough. Maybe this weekend I will make scotch eggs. I’ll bet they’d be good with grits. Mooshed up in grits. Like how I like to moosh scrambled eggs and bacon up in grits. I’m hungry.
Scotch eggs don’t have to be deep fat fried, you can bake ‘em in the oven. I’m just sayin’
My present wife, (as opposed to my previous wife, the sister of Satan) and I went to visit my Mother in Flowduh a few years ago, (Fort Walton Beach, if anybody cares) and we went out to the beach, 'cause Wife had never been to the Bubba coast. Anyway, Wife and I were strolling around in shorts and tee-shirts and my Mother was bundled up in a sweater and a coat. We saw some people down playing in the water and my dear sweet Mother looked at them and sniffed “tourists”. So we went and stuck our feet in the water. It was pee-warm, that’s an actual scientific term. We woulda gone swimming but we weren’t equipped with swim suits at the moment. Kallessa is right (waves at Kallessa, one does not swim in the ocean around here unless one is certifiable. She’s wrong about Scotch eggs though. 'specially if you spice up the sausage some.
I don’t know what happened there, I’d planned to close my paren, I was on course to closing my paren, but when I got to the point of actually closing my paren, I just sailed right on by. Please forgive me. I’ll just put it in now—> )
K?
If you wrap an egg in sausage, dip it in egg yet again, then cover it with bread crumbs, it means it’s meant to be deep fried. In lard. I mean it’s chloresterol, wrapped in chloresterol, submerged in chloresterol, then coated in chloresterol. It is meant to be fried in chloresterol. Is chloresterol spelled right? I’d look it up but that’d mean I’d have to roll my chair over to the bookshelf and get the dictionary. That’s just way too much trouble.
Evil, evil, icky, icky. What is with Dopers and scotch eggs? Every time we plan a NW Dopefest, someone pops up with “I know a place with great scotch egg”. In the first place, there is no such thing as a “great” scotch egg and second, what you need is a place with great skinny fries. Garlic fries if possible, and a nice hoppy beer.
On New Year’s (know you’ve been waiting for this, you’re all living your lives vicariously through me, right?) I made myself a very nice dinner of roast beef, gravy, mashed potatoes, and asparagus. but before dinner I had creamy herb cheese and crackers and fine dry salami. And eggnog. Eggnog with brandy and kahlua. And then I had some more eggnog and watched the Twilight Zone marathon and the Win Ben Stein’s Money marathon depending on how well I remembered either show. It’s a glamorous life–single, no kids, good money–it’a a thrill a minute, I tell you.
Just so you know, in my world, Valentine’s Day does not exist.
Homebrew, btw, even though I do got someone special right now, you are still my a number one doper crush, the recipe is for six Scotch Eggs. What’s this "eating a Scotch Egg bidness?
Puggy are you trying to say I could have bothered to look up the spelling of cholesterol on line without moving an inch? Yeah, well that woulda meant I would had to open up another window which is work, So There!
We could have a cholesterolfest. We could have Scotch Eggs, skinny garlic fries, Poutine and bacon cheeseburgers, and chicken-fried steak all washed down with a nice hoppy beer or twelve. And cookies for dessert!
Now don’t get me wrong, a Chicken-fried steak is a thing of beauty. With fried eggs, biscuits, hashbrowns and grits at Mama’s Daughters’ Diner or The Mecca in Dallas, you’re hard pressed to find a better breakfast anywhere. But the Scotch Egg is the epitome of Pub Food. With a round of Porter or a Stout, it’s sublime.
