
A busy day as you would expect but the roast forerib was much appreciated and therefore worth the effort. Our butcher hangs his beef for at least four weeks, so it was well purple when it went in the oven. Didn't we once call the cut 'chine' or have I imagined that? Whatever it was called it was full of flavour and tender. And the yorkshires worked a treat. I always worry about the yorkshires. Y says I shouldn't because they are always great - but I fear that, if I didn't worry about them, they would be as flat as a pancake. Virtually the same mixture, after all. Anyway, enough about food or Tracy will be shouting 'boring'. She looked tired and we think she is working too hard. Ho Hum.

Spoke to David this morning and he sounded perky even though he reports intermittent sharp pains in his collar-bone area but I guess it is just 'knitting'. Be a relief when he gets the all-clear though. They had just spotted a Great Tit in the garden and i.d'd it from the wall-chart. "Bigger than a blue tit and smarter" - bang on!
On the subject of words and although Jill is away, my pet hate at the moment is weather-forecasters who describe 'pulses' of rain. The thing which throbs in your wrist is known to me, as are the things you grow, cook and eat. Can anyone help explain?
We've just tidied up, hoovered, and emptied the dishwasher for the 3rd time and I'm done for.
Byeeee........
2 comments:
One of my favourite poems not only uses your ‘first light’ dysphemism but also employs the ‘f’’ (for ‘frequent’) word frequently (rather more than every other word, I think, in one classic sequence). Without it, the poem - called 'Jonesey's War' and based on an incident in the Desert Rats v Afrika Korps conflict but rather more concerned with the class conflict - would not work at all. I cannot recall the name of the poet.
I have never heard of ‘Eights’ but we used to play ‘Sevens’ in the army (at a later time but in the same theatre as the conflict referred to above). Perhaps surprisingly, it was a non-gambling game.
‘It takes all sorts’, as I more-or-less said in French yesterday, so no surprise then that I quite like ‘The X Factor’ although, unfortunately, I missed the first few weeks of the present series as it clashed with the not entirely dissimilar ‘How Do You Solve A Problem Like Maria’ (a search for a female lead for the forthcoming London stage production of ‘The Sound of Music’, a film which I am somewhat arrogantly and quite unreasonably proud to have never seen).
Got me!
The blog postscripts or extras serve to keep me on my toes, I suppose.
I think ‘chine’ (of beef) is a regional variation of ‘rib’. It is all part of the butchers’ plot to confuse the customer.
According to my Longman’s Dictionary:
chine n. (a cut of meat including the whole or part of) the backbone.
chine vt. To separate the backbone from the ribs of (a joint of meat).
But, in Lincoln, ‘Stuffed Chine’ is a renowned pork joint. All the butchers in that city sell it as a cold cut, by which I mean they did so 35 years ago.
David may like to know that, apart from size, the Great Tit has a black head as opposed to the RAF Blue of the Blue Tit’s. The Coal Tit (quite common), Willow Tit and Marsh Tit also have black heads but are smaller than the Great Tit.
I have never heard anyone refer to a ‘pulse of rain’ but it seems a good and useful descriptive term to me. Longman again:
pulse n … 4a a short lived variation of a quantity ...
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