This morning, Cuttlespouse left for a weekend with friends. Cuttlehouse is, of course, significantly quieter. To compensate, the stereo is considerably louder right now, playing music Cuttlespouse does not care for. Don’t worry–there is plenty of Cuttlespouse-approved music that I love, so this is not a sign of hardship on my part. But that’s not what I am here to write about. That, after the jump:
As with music, so with food. I am cooking my favorite foods that Cuttlespouse does not share my love of. Again, there is plenty of food we agree on, and I am a damned fine cook, so we eat well most of the time. (Some experiments do not work out, so I eat most of the failed hypotheses, and of course we are limited in budget, so we are more likely to have something from our own garden than, say, caviar.) But there are things Cuttlespouse likes that I do not (I’m not a big fan of chicken in a lot of forms, and I would sooner go without than eat a New England Boiled Dinner), and things I like that Cuttlespouse does not.
So, as I write, the house smells of Tuscan Cuttlefish Stew. Oops, I mean cuttlefish stew–it is not an eponymous recipe; rather, I am having my cousins for dinner. And in the fridge, marinating, is tomorrow’s feast of internal organs. Neither of these are in my top ten foods, but I get to eat those with Cuttlespouse, so there is no need to cook those today. (Ok, actually, tomorrow’s dinner is my all time number one–but don’t tell Cuttlespouse!)
So, appropriately, something from 3 years ago or so…
I would never eat fishes, except they’re delishes,
And lead my poor stomach to growl.
And one of my vices, with handfuls of spices,
I think that it’s fair to eat fowl.
I find an appeal in a meal of sweet veal;
I’ll eat all that my funds will allow.
And I will not lose sleep while I keep eating sheep,
Or a goat, or a bear, or a sow.
I’ve eaten grilled squid, and I’m glad that I did,
I think whale meat might give me a thrill–
If you don’t like my menu, be careful, cos when you
Say “bite me!”, the odds are… I will.
Oh, and last night I invented a drink–I have not seen it named yet (I googled), so I am claiming it as my own. It is deceptively sweet, but dangerous. I call it a “cuttlefish”. (you can name your own drink after yourself.) Very simple: Kraken rum and heavy cream. For me, no ice, but I know Cuttlespouse would want it frozen, which would put it in the far more dangerous “milkshake of doom” category. And no, not milk, not half & half, not light cream. Those would be pale shadows of the yumminess that is this drink. And as such, not nearly as dangerous. So… don’t try this at home; we’re trained professionals here, and all that.
Dammit, I started writing this to distract me while the cuttlefish stew was simmering. Isn’t it done yet? I’m ready to chew a tentacle off with frustration!
So sorry none of you (that I am aware of) are within hailing distance; I have made entirely too much stew, and would be happy to share it. For now, though, I am signing off and grabbing a plate. Enjoy your evening, whatever inferior food you are eating!
Update: This cuttlefish stew is one of the best damned things I have ever tasted!
Things that I am not allowed to eat with close immediate family members present: fish, liver, and beef heart. If I’ve gone fishing, my catch gets cooked out doors. When my ex was pregnant, I had to give up tuna fish sandwiches. Oh, the sacrifices we make. However let it be said, the the cats are away, the mouse does play (usually with the volume at eleven).
Wait–your own catches were disallowed? That’s cold.
Cannibal!
That said, I now want to make a cuttlefish drink. I have the kraken rum but no cream, I might go for the pale imitation with whole milk and some whipped cream. I’m also home alone and my back is killing me (the reason I’m not with the boyfriend visiting friends right now) so maybe it would help relax my muscles a bit.
If I had the car, I’d make the trip to bring you heavy cream.
I cannot tell you how incredibly wonderful dinner was…I am a very happy cuttlefish right now.
By the way, you can skip the whale meat. It tastes like nothing, is very expensive, and makes a small part of the international community really mad at you. It was on a plate also containing raw deer meat, which was similarly uninteresting, if less gamey than I would have thought (they wouldn’t tell us what it was until we ate it).
Most boring game of “What can we get the gaijin to eat?” EVER!
Oooo, don’t make offers like that unless you mean them! I live in a town adjacent to Cuttlefish U that shares the same starting consonant. I’d prefer for the giving to go the other way though, since I enjoy the blog. Perhaps next time I have an extra good batch of homebrew…
Cranapple–you may well live practically within spitting distance, but I have to warn you, I have had at least half a dozen definitive identifications of Cuttlefish U, in different locations (um… three different countries!). I have no idea where you live (by the time I checked the visitor stats, your visit was no longer recorded! Your evil plot is working!), but your “clue” fits at least 4 of the claimed Cuttlefish U. locations, so I have eliminated at least two locations (as such, I am willing to bet you are not Scottish). If you are my neighbor, I might well be convinced to shout a Cuttlefish at some local pub… but, of course, discretion in all things. Feel free to email, but any in-comment guesses as to CuttleTown will be deleted, because I can, and I need practice at being a ruthless dictator with cruel yet strangely provocative eyes….
Ooo, that makes it much more interesting! I could be completely wrong. I’ll have to email you, since I’m unable to think of any other clues that I could give which wouldn’t erode your anonymity.