Food for thought

Food matters again.

Has the weekend turned my mind to balls? Football? Cricket? That strange game played with an oval ball?

No, chicken balls.

How crucial os our food?

Have a relaxing weekend.


Oh Steve! I’m wiping tears of laughter from my eyes here. Just loved that. The big “white phone”! I had to read it twice!! Chicken balls, chicken Nuggets, gougons. Chickens don’t have these on their anatomy. The same as fish don’t have fingers.

Good blog Steve , Its hard for mums when you have fussy kids and everyone wants something different. Jars are a staple in our house. Occasional pizzas and kievs…Now what part of a chicken are they from??? I try not to think too hard about it . If lived alone i think I’d live on toast and jam , it’s so easy and you don’t get put off by wondering which part of the animal it came from or if they were happy or sad . Fraser’s glad that we don’t live in China or he might have been part of someone’s menu. Michelle and Frazer xx

Great blog Steve, thanks. Back in the day when I was a little girl my Dad had his own shop as he was a butcher, ironic really as I only ever ate a small amount of meat!

I remember especially Christmas time and all the chickens and turkeys arriving, all still with feathers on and jiblets in situ. My Mum was chief ‘plucker’ and jiblet remover, and she would appear at the end of the day absolutely shattered and feathers in her hair, not wanting to see another chicken or turkey ever.

Probably why we always had beef on Christmas day!

Hope the move goes smoothly.

Pam x

Was that last comment regarding the Sex Pistols never mind the ‘chicken bollocks’?

Nice blog piece as always Steve. I must say though, your picture of the happy smiling mutton chopped butcher looked like the butcher in my village. My good man (aka Mr Sssue) goes trotting round to the village butcher regularly for what are known in this house as ‘Dave’s big breasts’, or a little piece of beef to roast, some steak (biggish bit for him, 3 ounces for me!), sausages or some Old Spot pork. I don’t think the butcher necessarily knows the name of the specific pig he’s selling, but he often knows exactly where the beast comes from.

Vegetarianism isn’t likely to infect this house in spite of the frequent meat free meals. (Lovely risotto primavera last night!)


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