Scorched Stuff

I made some strange cakes yesterday. They were a cross between a muffin and a doughnut, so I've decided to call them Muffnuts:)

My consuming passion is er....consuming! And as a result have spent far too much time in the kitchen creating all sorts of weird stuff. I suppose cooking IS creative although I don't always see it that way especially when things stick on the bottom of saucepans like my onion sauce did yesterday. I'd sweated the wretched onions for ages, then added stock, tomato ketchup, oregano, Worcestershire sauce and other stuff. Then I made a mistake....I popped into the office....Oh dear.

As you all know one can get carried away on line and so when I finally remembered the sauce I shot up from my chair only to find a rapidly reduced sauce and Monty looking posh on the back of his chair. It's at times like this, when I think a hound might come in useful. This hound would have been trained to alert me when cakes, buns and sauces start to turn black. But that's just phooey because I would rather have a scorched sausage and a pussy than a perfect pie and a poochie.

Nonsensical Stuff now:
If I changed my name I'd change it to Josephine Wack,
I cuddled a cat yesterday and it wasn't Monty.
Pigeons are so predictable. But lovable.
Girls who giggle need a slap. Giggling is annoying to oldies because it reminds them of their youth.
Monkeys are dangerous when aroused. All their pornography should be shredded.
Old people should be restrained especially in August. They do so clog up the parks.
Men under fifty should have my address.
Men over fifty shouldn't.
That's enough nonsense for today. Possibly more tomorrow.

On the menu today: Perfect Chicken in a Perfect Sauce....