KerrieJean.com

WHO IS HISTORY’S MOST FAMOUS AND ENTHUSIASTIC QUEUER?

Simple!

From ‘The Diana Chronicles’ by the former editor of ‘The New Yorker’, Tina Brown:

…….She [Princess Diana] called her ‘healing therapist’ Simone Simmons from outside Ronnie Scott’s jazz club….

 She said how much she loved standing in the queue, admitting she’d never had to wait in line for anything before.

‘I’m queuing!’ she crowed happily into her mobile phone. ‘It’s wonderful! You meet so many different people in a queue!’

[* Do have a fantastic time queuing for your traditional devon and tomato luncheon sandwich - KJ]

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My suburb’s gone all Pre-Perestroika!

The peasants are doing very nicely for themselves [thank you!] except in one key area.

There’s a dreadful *macaron shortage.

*I spell it ‘macaroon’, and I say it ‘macaroon’ but the experts go with ‘macaron’ – so who am I to argue? [It's just not in my nature.......]

[Macaron breadwinners: cr: Library of Congress: flickr]

The result?

Queues of  hundreds of thousands of  desperate people [with plummeting blood sugar levels] outside the modest premises of the only man on the Pacific Rim with stocks of macarons, Mr Adriano Zumbo.

In a country facing its biggest challenge since myxomatosis, Mr Zumbo should never have gone on Masterchef with the news: 

‘I have macarons.’

My investigations show that his latest offerings include Japanese Mayo Macarons, Charred Coconut And Black Rice Pudding Macarons and for the purists, simple Satay Macarons.

So dire is the situation, people – most dressed in designer garb - are forced to queue for six hours in the cold and rain for just two or three macarons costing 1,546 rubles each.

Even though things are very tough I have my pride.

I have never and will NEVER queue for a macaron.

I’ve discovered a bakery tucked away in the back streets that has small supplies of things called ‘date scones’ for 4 kopaks each.

I know it’s wrong NOT to tell anyone……..

But, as history shows, when people are pushed to their limits, morality is the first casuality.

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Would love to hear your views on the macaron shortage.

If you’ve got the strength please report in by:

Just clicking on the ‘comment’ thingo and following the simple instructions. The place to write your gems is at the bottom of the last published comment. *A little bit of counsel for people new to this caper. Your email (just called ‘mail’ in this case) address does NOT come up on site. And just ignore the URL thingo.

Best Ever IWD Tip To Get Ahead As A Woman In A Harsh World…….

Get a wealthy fella.

*Simple and effective……..a new life mercifully free of:

Discrimination. Money Bags picked me, did he not?

Work/Life Balance Dilemmas.  Money Bags pays. You sit on your bum and smile.

Odious Career Trajectories. Money Bags invests his vast inheritance wisely. You sit on your bum and smile.

Competition From The Sisterhood. They talk all the time about you ’selling out’. You sit on your bum and smile.

Happy International Women’s Day…….

Read on for the Charlie Mr Sheen missive……….

Well, well, well…….I’m back.

And [just quietly] more unashamedly passionate than ever [if that's humanly possible].

I make no apologies for what’s been goin’ on the last few weeks…….

[Finding Myself Was Fun': KJ. Cr: Cornell University Photostream:flickr]

The truth?

There’s two very special people in this loose configuration of nobodies called the world – Charlie Mr Sheen and MissKerrieJeanatpleasurecentral/too.right.  

So here I am slumped knee deep in the detrius of my StayCation……

……. Just for starters, the hundreds of ‘post it’ notes stuck on my cookie jars have already become reminders of how gloriously selfish the pursuit of pleasure simply for pleasure’s sake is.

For example, don’t forget KJ:  go! [channel 99] 2:00 ‘Dukes Of Hazzard’, 7:30 ‘Total Wipeout’ UK, 1:00 am ‘Hellcats’ PG. *Just like Charlie Mr Sheen I couldn’t give a damm about Leigh Sales and Chris Uhlmann’s premiere menage a deux.

Charlie Mr Sheen and me also have another glorious trait in common – we’re both die-hard sensualists.

I’d like to tell you that during my StayCation, I shared everything with two attractive and personable guys who just happened to come into my life – perhaps a Red Shield collector and a real sweetie who came by to give me a quote for a wind turbine.

But that would be a bald-faced lie.

Instead, I’ve been re-igniting my insatiable appetites….by cooking.

But only with the three most sensuous ingredients – egg yolks [ova of life] condensed milk [check Charlie Mr Sheen's larder) and cream (ditto).

Put 'em together and what have you got?

The start of a *Key Lime Pie, that's what!

It is said that when Charlie Mr Sheen turned up in the Emergency Ward, the doctor said:

'Mr Sheen you gotta stop makin' *Key Lime Pies. They're dangerous for folks like you for whom the words moderation,  family and values have no meaning.'

 To which Charlie replied: 'And when Zombie Nobody Sir was the last time you acquainted yourself with the pleasures of f****** condensed milk?'

I concur.

The truth is:

I have spent my StayCation experimenting with condensed milk: making Key Lime Pies, turning it into caramel for caramel pies, eating it straight out of the tin, making Hedgehog slices.......

And I have no regrets - none at all.

And because - just like Charlie Mr Sheen - I love to share, I'll leave you with this -

My favorite Key Lime Pie recipe....[note: Charlie Sheen uses 'Key' limes because he can get anything he wants. I use limes from Woolies because that's all I can get]

http://www.thenibble.com/reviews/main/cookies/pastry/key-lime-pie-recipe2.asp

…..If you’re worried about getting obscenely fat obscenely quickly on Key Lime Pie, this site is not for you.

Talk soon.

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So, here we are all again  – and I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to hearing news from your patch.

I guess some people may find the idea of a StayCation odious, to say the least. Why, why, why…..?

I – for one – can’t wait to turn up in the office and tell everyone that I’ve been exploring my inner Charlie Mr Sheen….through the bottom of a Key Lime Pie tin.

Oh boy!

Another thing, if you run into any problems with your Key Lime Pie, don’t hestitate to get in touch by:

Just clicking on the ‘comment’ thingo and following the simple instructions. The place to write your gems is at the bottom of the last published comment. *A little bit of counsel for people new to this caper. Your email (just called ‘mail’ in this case) address does NOT come up on site. And just ignore the URL thingo.

Emergency Update: 5:28pm. Gwennie’s Pineapple Slice Keeps Well In The Fridge For A Week.

[Original story]

Serenity Now………

Today, is the day I can forget what a miserable tableau my life has become.

Grand Final!!!!

It’s also the day I offer my gift to this most sporting of sporting nations:

Gwennie’s Traditional Footy Day Pineapple and Banana Slice.

[cr:US National Archives: flickr]

[Harvesting nature's pineapple bounty for Grand Final Day, 2010]

Gwennie’s Traditional Footy Day Pineapple Slice is:

* ‘NO mess Charlie’.  Sticks to teeth, gums and whole of face when yelling at the telly. 

* With 12987 kilojoules a 4cm portion, provides enough energy needs for four quarters of even the most gruelling football.

* Tried and tested. This slice is no ‘MasterChef’ novelty. This is THE slice that went with Gwennie, Hec (President of the Leeton Redlegs) and their five lovely daughters to thousands of games in the glory days of the old South-West League.

This is the secret weapon that may not have delivered us Grand Final Glory….

But I shudder to ponder what the final margins would have been if  Gwennie’s Pineapple Slice had been stuck on the benches.

Get cookin’!

Base Camp:

One and a half cups SR Flour.

Quarter pound butter.

1 Egg

Half Cup Icing Sugar.

Rub butter into dry ingredients, add egg. Push into dough consistency. Press into eight inch tin.

Bake in moderate oven until brown.

Time On Topping:

Grab one 450 gram can crushed pineapple in syrup.

Thicken with custard power.

*WARNING, WARNING, WARNING. Custard POWDER not made up custard…

*Last time I released this recipe (’Footyzine’, Spring ‘96) thousands of furious cooks claimed Gwennie’s Pineapple Slice was a fraud.

Wrong.

They’d made up the custard and ended up with something resembling the Whitton Footy Oval after two drops of rain. And (just between you and me) malicious attempts to sue me for carpet cleaning bills came to nought – let me assure you……

Spread on cooled base.

Top with layer of sliced banana.

Finish with whipped cream and tinned passionfruit pulp.

Put in boot.

Cover with tarpaulin.

Transport to Griffith/Whitton/Narrandera/Grong Grong-Matong/ Ariah Park Mirrol/Ganmain/ Coolamon/Turvey Park.

So good you can get it down NO matter what tragedy is befalling your team……

Sing the praises of Gwennie’s Pineapple Slice by:

Just clicking on the ‘comment’ thingo and following the simple instructions. The place to write your gems is at the bottom of the last published comment. *A little bit of counsel for people new to this caper. Your email (just called ‘mail’ in this case) address does NOT come up on site. And just ignore the URL thingo.

God help me…….. 

Another series of the risible MasterChef.  AND don’t even try laying the ‘you just don’t get it’ one on me…..

Call me self-obsessed, call me shallow, call me Peri-Demi-Semi Menopausal – call me anything you like but waiting around for four hours to see whether Amanda’s double crusted stingray tentacle stayed on the bed of triple dandelion infused cous cous – or fell off – is not my idea of even a passably pleasant night.

I like (no demand) that my culinary experiences are exciting, memorable……

It’s a family tradition going back to the sixties: a tradition underpinned by passion and natural yearnings to show love by saying unforgivable things around a huge laminex table groaning with iceberg lettuce, pesticide-enhanced tomatoes and the crowning glory – a four foot stack of devon. 

And make NO mistake, this was a family always looking for the next big thing.  

(The Next Big Thing! Cr: langleyo: flickr)

So when the ground breaking ’Red Steer’ Restaurant opened in Wagga Wagga, Hec and Gwennie, and their five partly grain fed girls, were among the first through the two colossal horns framing its imposing teak stained plywood door.

Inside, a clever use of space: tables and chairs placed at seven-inch intervals.

The spectacular backdrop?

A state-of-the-art 150 foot long stainless steel grill appliance capable of  shooting  flames to ceiling height. Framing it, a massive glass ‘open’ counter filled with six tonnes of crushed ice and 19 tonnes of prime Riverina beast.   

After being seated by the ‘Red Steers” smiling young staffers (dressed in impeccable fire resistant overalls), gourmand Hec came into his own.

‘Magnificent, bloody MAGNIFICENT. IT’S called a self-cook flame grill kids - which means……..

…….I get to pick what we’re havin’ and I get to cook it….’

Before (by then) a very flushed Gwennie even has a chance to say: ‘Be careful, we all love you on payday,’ Hec’s gone…….

……Only to emerge 30 seconds later from the slaughterhouse cum kitchen, sporting a (big) regulation chef’s hat and full white apron which is (unfortunately) a bit small.  Which mean the ties are straining at his bum. 

But, in the scheme of things, that’s nothing. 

Because other families trying to celebrate shotgun engagements or cancer all-clears are shocked to see our personal chef demonstrating Samurai-like two handed knife skills while lurching towards the beast cabinet.

Hec’s repeatedly waving an abattoir grade knife high in the air, bringing it down hard on an industrial size sharpening stone.

The noise – the overall effect - is blood curdling but thankfully no-one has to endure it for long.

Because within 40 seconds,  the ‘Red Steer’s’ most audacious self-cook-flame-griller has thrown seven (’one each’), eight pound T-bones at the furnace. 

Then bravely, even petulantly - with just one small spatula at his disposal – Hec’s desperately trying to control the (a) sudden surge in fire activity (b) white hot globules of  fat coming straight at him and (c) clear and present dangers threatening his dignity. 

The ‘Red Steer’ is suddenly quiet:

Has THIS Master Chef, this man of passion and nerves of steel, finally gone TOO FAR?

Thrilled to report - a resounding NO.

*We returned to the ‘Red Steer’ on several occasions during the next few years. It was always good. But while no-one dared say it the magic of that very first visit could NEVER be recaptured.

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So, so where to now…..? You’re very welcome to come in here and tell me that ‘MasterChef’ is brilliant – because anyone who knows me will assure you I’m pretty broadminded…….and one of the things I hold dear about kerriejean.com is its role as a forum for the free exchange of opinions/ideas – however whacky.

And do I need to say it? It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy when folks just report in on what’s happening in their lives. Trust me, the very first mistake you’d make would be to think: ‘Why the hell would I do that?’ So…..go on.

All posters take a deep breath…and just click on the ‘comment’ thingo and follow the simple instructions. The place to write your gems is at the bottom of the last published comment. *A little bit of counsel for people new to this caper. Your email (just called ‘mail’ in this case) address does NOT come up on site. And just ignore the URL thingo – just ignore it