> Pomegranate is the King Fruit according to the Moors of days gone past and every fruit has the same number of seeds. Enjoy that fact whilst growing a man bun, it’s a brave new world!
That smells too much to just leave it sitting there.
I am now pondering the Venn overlap between actual Olympians, and people who’d ordered an Olympian at a Little Chef.
My guess – it’s nil.
TJ, sounds great to me, sourdough is superior bread, end of.
Incorrect. As a young lad I sat next to Olympic shot putter Geoff Capes in a Little Chef. We both had the Olympic breakfast. He was dead impressed that I could finish it and earn my lolly.
He climbed into a liveried Suzuki SJ40 jeep, well, he sort of put it on as it was barely bigger than him. I dread to think of the resultant post Olympic breakfast hum in that tiny enclosed space.
‘Also, it is said to have 613 seeds, which corresponds with the 613 commandments of the Torah, but it was a misconception.’
I have heard this before but yes as you say it’s a misconception and comes from general comparisons in the Talmud etc of “many seeds = many commandments”… that said, take a look in the table you linked at the total average number of seeds in a pomegranate for the entire sample 😉
No I meant fruit puddin’ . Its you that’s been gentrified not the breakfast 😉
“Fruit pudding is a Scottish dish which is a mixture of wheat or oatmeal flour or breadcrumbs, beef suet, brown sugar, currants, raisins, sultanas, salt and cinnamon, formed into the shape of a large sausage.
Normally cut into slices and fried, it is an optional feature of the traditional Scottish breakfast. Although served in this context as part of a savoury meal, its close relationship to clootie dumpling means it may also be served as a dessert.”
If you’ve never had fruit pudding I think you should go and get some and report back. It could be a revelation for you. Have to say I’ve never seen it served in a cafe. I now want fruit pudding…
Only a matter of time before someone mentions the cafe at Grindleford station, their breakfasts and the (now retired) miserable sod who used to run it…
I made a point of asking for mushrooms every visit. He’d explode. If you know why you’ve read the sign.
As a young lad I sat next to Olympic shot putter Geoff Capes in a Little Chef. We both had the Olympic breakfast. He was dead impressed that I could finish it and earn my lolly.
He climbed into a liveried Suzuki SJ40 jeep, well, he sort of put it on as it was barely bigger than him. I dread to think of the resultant post Olympic breakfast hum in that tiny enclosed space.
I grew up in the town where Geoff Capes lived, but he was into big Ametican cars at that point.
Best one I had was in a truck stop (well at the entrance to the container port) when working at Medway power station. After a night out I was starving the next morning and a few of us thought we would go there for lunch as we had seen it earlier in the week. When we went in I saw someone sitting down with this massive fry up and thought “That’s what I’m having” the plate arrived and I had to do a double take as it turned out the bloke was half way through his when I had seen it. I’m 5’6″ and just over 10 stone and id guess this loaded plate was almost the same weight as one of my legs.
The only way they could have improved it even further is by leaving the silly little bowl in the kitchen. Or not even opening the damn tin in the first place.
Vile things.
Anyone with such energy to rail so religiously against legumes clearly has something far more worrying going on in their mind than simply disliking the taste of baked beans!
I know of a man similarly terrified/aghast at not baked beans but at the cucumber. Caution forbade my probing him more deeply as to the origin/s of his fear and loathing. Nor as to what he clearly saw as the ‘sin’ of this vegetable*
*He refused to refer the vegetable as anything other than ‘Satan’s Watery Member’ (politely paraphrased here)
Last time I was on a Calmac two (English) youths behind me in the queue at the food counter enquired what the hell square sausage was of the lady serving. In a thick accent she replied “lorne” to which they obviously heard Quorn and promptly refused it point blank. Made me chuckle.
Black pudding,
Poached or fried egg,
Mixed leaf salad, red onion and plum tomato salad, with a balsamic and olive oil dressing.
Parmesan shavings,
Sourdough toast.
Black pudding should be treated with respect and definitely kept away from baked beans. A northern delicacy if ever there was one, (might be the only one)