The Budgens Cookbook of Success and Youngins
I was watching an episode of the "Newlyweds" show on the BBC with Michelle, (yes, we get Jessica Simpson's antics in Britain, much to the delight of Brits across the Isle), when my dear roommate got an inspiration after watching Jessica try to cook for her dear husband.
"Let's cook a new meal tonight!"
The look on my face couldn't have been more cynical. But, nonetheless, she had a point. We're broke as all hell, and we need to save money big time. Why not cook a meal that could last us for days? So, before I could even have my say, Michelle ran off to try and steal just enough internet access to rip a recipe for chicken and shrimp fettucini alfredo off the net. And that became our goal for the day. Michelle was determined to see to it that we tried to cook a different meal, and she definitely didn't want to go the way of Jessica Simpson. Of course, there wasn't too much hope for us to begin with. The last time we tried something new, it was a horrible disaster. I tried making Penne Pasta, and it came out horribly because I didn't have the kind of baking bowl needed to make the dish come out a success. We didn't even think of experimenting again until two months later, when Michelle had suddenly wanted to become Emeril fucking Lagasse. It was worth a shot, though. If it didn't come out good, though, we were sure to have TV dinners waiting on standby faster than you can say "BAM!"
So, first thing was first. We needed to go grocery shopping. Thing was...we forgot about just how hard it is to get certain ingredients in Britain, in the same exact sized portions. The recipe Michelle ripped was an American recipe, with American measurements and ingredients easily found in American supermarkets. So, here we were, heading to the local Budgens (the "Associated" of supermarket chains in London), trying to find ingredients like Sweet Butter (I was like, "what the fuck is Cornish Creamy Butter?"), a pint of half and half cream for the alfredo sauce (we picked up "568 mL of Single Cream." They had Double Cream, and Whipping Cream, so the Single sounded alright), and fresh shrimp (there was nothing fresh about the "prawns" we picked up.) We spent about an hour in the supermarket deciding on whether or not the ingredients needed were actually the ones sitting in our shopping baskets. Eventually, the store began to close around us at 6, so we were forced to make moves and get the stuff we had.
Back home, we started on our little misadventure in the kitchen. I put on a food-related playlist in iTunes, while Michelle got started with the food. Eventually, we had to use our brains for the dish. "How many mL is in a pint?" Out came the calculator. I gave up when my math skills sucked big time, and I just took out my 4 pint jug of milk to make an eyeball estimate. Things were going well, however, but then, Michelle made a slight faux pas. The recipe called for a "stick of butter to be melted," and while we had a stick, British sticks our like 2 or 3 of ours. So, Michelle opens up the pack and throws it in the pan, and I, like a dick, start melting the shit, when I realize the fatal error. By the time the meal was done, we were swimming in butter. I swear I don't want to see butter for another week. I thought I was going to die of a heart attack. Alas, however, the meal was decent. We couldn't even attempt to empty the pot of food, though; we got full immediately thanks to the sheer butter content.
Next time, we're going to Marks and Spencer (the Food Emporium of London).
And less butter, too.
...So I was chillin at the mall, doing my thing, and this chick walks up to me and starts talkin'. I'm like, "Hey, easy for me." The girl looked good, and I was like, "hey, things are beginning to look up." So, we're chatting n whatnot, and I get her digits. However, I wanted to be sure of something before anything started. I had a funny suspicion, and I don't trust girls in London...
"How old are you?"
"15"
And defeated, I walked away. Never mind she's old enough to smoke in the UK. To think...I'm gonna be a senior in college while she's a sophomore in high school...yikes...
I need to card every chick round these parts. :-(
"Let's cook a new meal tonight!"
The look on my face couldn't have been more cynical. But, nonetheless, she had a point. We're broke as all hell, and we need to save money big time. Why not cook a meal that could last us for days? So, before I could even have my say, Michelle ran off to try and steal just enough internet access to rip a recipe for chicken and shrimp fettucini alfredo off the net. And that became our goal for the day. Michelle was determined to see to it that we tried to cook a different meal, and she definitely didn't want to go the way of Jessica Simpson. Of course, there wasn't too much hope for us to begin with. The last time we tried something new, it was a horrible disaster. I tried making Penne Pasta, and it came out horribly because I didn't have the kind of baking bowl needed to make the dish come out a success. We didn't even think of experimenting again until two months later, when Michelle had suddenly wanted to become Emeril fucking Lagasse. It was worth a shot, though. If it didn't come out good, though, we were sure to have TV dinners waiting on standby faster than you can say "BAM!"
So, first thing was first. We needed to go grocery shopping. Thing was...we forgot about just how hard it is to get certain ingredients in Britain, in the same exact sized portions. The recipe Michelle ripped was an American recipe, with American measurements and ingredients easily found in American supermarkets. So, here we were, heading to the local Budgens (the "Associated" of supermarket chains in London), trying to find ingredients like Sweet Butter (I was like, "what the fuck is Cornish Creamy Butter?"), a pint of half and half cream for the alfredo sauce (we picked up "568 mL of Single Cream." They had Double Cream, and Whipping Cream, so the Single sounded alright), and fresh shrimp (there was nothing fresh about the "prawns" we picked up.) We spent about an hour in the supermarket deciding on whether or not the ingredients needed were actually the ones sitting in our shopping baskets. Eventually, the store began to close around us at 6, so we were forced to make moves and get the stuff we had.
Back home, we started on our little misadventure in the kitchen. I put on a food-related playlist in iTunes, while Michelle got started with the food. Eventually, we had to use our brains for the dish. "How many mL is in a pint?" Out came the calculator. I gave up when my math skills sucked big time, and I just took out my 4 pint jug of milk to make an eyeball estimate. Things were going well, however, but then, Michelle made a slight faux pas. The recipe called for a "stick of butter to be melted," and while we had a stick, British sticks our like 2 or 3 of ours. So, Michelle opens up the pack and throws it in the pan, and I, like a dick, start melting the shit, when I realize the fatal error. By the time the meal was done, we were swimming in butter. I swear I don't want to see butter for another week. I thought I was going to die of a heart attack. Alas, however, the meal was decent. We couldn't even attempt to empty the pot of food, though; we got full immediately thanks to the sheer butter content.
Next time, we're going to Marks and Spencer (the Food Emporium of London).
And less butter, too.
...So I was chillin at the mall, doing my thing, and this chick walks up to me and starts talkin'. I'm like, "Hey, easy for me." The girl looked good, and I was like, "hey, things are beginning to look up." So, we're chatting n whatnot, and I get her digits. However, I wanted to be sure of something before anything started. I had a funny suspicion, and I don't trust girls in London...
"How old are you?"
"15"
And defeated, I walked away. Never mind she's old enough to smoke in the UK. To think...I'm gonna be a senior in college while she's a sophomore in high school...yikes...
I need to card every chick round these parts. :-(
posted by djkibblesnbits at 9:59 AM
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6 Comments:
Yo, remember what we said in high school..."you like 'em young fresh and green..." :-)
-Ken
BORIQUA!!!!!!!
hey it's Sam..hehe..don't trust those London girls..they're worse then NY girls..and she was definetly too young for you..just hold out till u come back here..i'll find u a nice girl!lol
nice :-\.
jose
I think that's fucking funny...two journalists trying to do math...
Stick to your day-job. You know, the one you haven't figured out yet. :-)
-Amy C.
Thats pretty serious bori ...
fuck em anyway :-p
l8er
-Qua
When you get back home I'll show you how to make the shrimp and chicken fettucini and the penne pasta. Can't have a son of mine not know how to make a decent pasta dish! You can invite Michelle over too! Later, Mom.
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