Hark the hack
It amused me when a
notice went out with one of those words that confused homophones with synonyms,
ending up in a malapropism. Workmen had sown material that a seamstress might
have sewn into fabric, causing safety issues.
That such mistakes
seem to jump out of the seam of the misuse of words is something I cannot help;
I see words in patterns, and if something does not fit, it is at once obvious.
The workmen were not farmers; I should not be looking for seeds, whether they
would have heeded this issue clearly enough not to mistake their screwdrivers
for needles, is another matter.
However, this thought
was sown in mock criticism of my kitchen acumen, where traditional cooking
methods honed through observation and application found the ridicule of trendy
experiences.
Cooked in preserve
The stove, with its
reliability, an old steamer abandoned after it stopped working, a whisking hook
lost in the exhaustion of kneading dough, or slow cookers aplenty abroad, the
expansion of one's culinary repertoire had barely suffered the onslaught of modernity,
and the food was still good to taste after all the striving.
Having pooh-poohed
the advent of the air fryer, the needling that followed, compounded over days,
led to relent. There was no compliment on offer without having gained another
to complement the electrical goods.
Chopped in searing
We trundled round the
front of the building, maybe quite a stretch for peace to reign and a box too
large to bear even evoked visions of Africa; women with babies on their backs
and basins on their heads, bare feet making steps on concrete or macadamised
pavements, we found a convenience that could be out of place in Manchester, if
you cared that much.
The operator took the
flesh and bone and placed them in the apparatus. A few touches on the top,
chops, time, and start, were for 15 minutes what sent the trusty oven to
Coventry. Though, for roughage, it was the steamer in full regalia, a role no
other could play better, we were once damned with praise, an acquisition that
might be exercised in culinary achievement yet unrealised.
The fair friar indeed
had successfully proselytised and won a convert, that her sacrifice, which felt
like a punishment, was soon redeemed in the serving of a meal.
