My love for food I am beginning to think is slightly unnatural. I have dreams while I sleep about food, not every night but often. I think about food a lot throughout the day. I fantasise about the perfect thick slab of Victoria sponge with lashings of jam and fresh cream, served with a bowl of fresh strawberries. Jones' chocolate cake warm and gooey from the oven served with raspberry sorbet. Steak and kidney pies cooked perfectly so the top pastry lid flakes and pops off in one swift movement letting loose to the steam from the thick clotted gravy. Donor kebabs sweaty with grease and smothered in mayonnaise. Jones' spaghetti bolognaise. Cheese toasties. Full English breakfast at the aquatic café. Hot smoking cottage pie on a cold day. Steak stew with thickly buttered crusty bread rolls. Sage and onion stuffing-the packet stuff. Heniz tomato soup. Those little tea time treat cake selections from Iceland. Southern fried chicken. Fish cakes with parsley sauce.
Chocolate truffles from Thornton's.
I'm just hungry again. There's an apple in the fridge that looks completely unappetising. Not that I don't like apples. I love apples, when they're pinkish red and chilled but I love apples as an afterthought to lets say....a chicken tikka curry or a plate of Chinese noodles..oooo that's it. Chinese noodles, you know the brown ones. Special Chow Mein, with a curry sauce and prawn crackers. Then I'd eat the apple happily afterwards. The apple would be better served in a crumble of course, hot and with scalding custard. Hmmmmm.