Showing posts with label cheesy chips. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cheesy chips. Show all posts

Thursday, February 29, 2024

THE CHEESE AND I

 It takes a brave man to admit that he’s been inspired by the food at a Wetherspoons, but I am such a man.

 

After I had my cheesy chips at the Peter Cushing in Whitstable last week, which were perfectly good, I still thought more could be done.  Essentially I thought the chips could be cheesier and the cheese could be pokier – it tasted like fairly mild cheddar.

 


So I decided to do something very similar but using Godminster Red Chili Devil's Dance Organic Vintage Cheddar – a cheese sharp enough and hot enough to strip your carburetor and adjust your float level.  




And though I say so myself it was very good, and it looked like this (in an inappropriate bowl):




But this is interesting – and maybe everybody knows this already, the hotness of the chili cheese was much reduced. Now obviously any cheese is going to seem milder which eaten alongside a mound of fried potatoes rather than eaten on its own, but I did wonder whether the actual chemistry had been changed by a few minutes under a hot grill.  Further research may be required.

Wednesday, February 21, 2024

SPOONS AND CUSHING


Why do Wetherspoon pubs get such a bad rap? I mean I know that the owner Tim Martin supported Brexit but then so did many millions of others.  



And Wetherspoon pubs do have some reputation as the home of ‘bad behavior,’ but you know, I suspect there may be one or two other pubs in Britain to which that may apply.


Of course I know that Wetherspoons (and no, I don't know why it's sometimes singular and sometimes plural but as far as I can see it never has an apostrophe) doesn’t represent the pubby perfection as described by Orwell in his essay 'The Moon Under Water,' but that’s because, as Orwell says, perfection doesn’t exist in pubs.  Nor in anything else, we might add.

 

But the few times I’ve been in a Wetherspoon pub I was perfectly happy.  The beer was affordable, the vibe was OK, and I wasn’t surrounded by drooling Yahoos.

 


I was especially happy in the Wetherspoon in Whitstable last weekend.  The branch there is named The Peter Cushing  after the actor - he bought a house there in 1958.  It’s a converted cinema and the conversion is very well done I’d say it doesn’t look cheap. There was Cushing memorabilia, some bits of antique cinema machinery and some very nice stained glass.

 



The beer of course was much like the beer anywhere else, and the cheesy chips we ordered arrived quickly and were exactly as good as you’d expect cheesy chips in a pub to be to be.  

 

I couldn't see what people are complaining about.



  Although of course I accept that at chucking out time on a Friday night, things may be different.

 



I don’t know how much of a gourmet Peter Cushing was but there’s a recipe of his in Parkinson’s Pie (as in Michael) for ‘Pain-Grille Brule’ that in part runs ‘Place 1-2 slices … of brown bread under a grill set “high.” When flames appear, it is done. Reverse until the other side cries for mercy.  Do not scrape off the cinders.  Served with butter and your favourite marmalade plus a pot of Indian tea, it constitutes a meal that can be eaten any time of the day or night.’

         As yet this doesn’t appear on the Wetherspoon menu.

 

Meanwhile on the streets of Whitstable, thoughts turned more than once to mother’s ruin.