Of coeliacs, kosherites, fishophobes, and dairynoughts.

those of us without special dietary requirements are beginning to feel threatened in our reckless gluttony. and wonder whether it is unseemly behaviour for those of calvinist extraction. anyway, i would suggest that anyone faced with such diners should not try and cook different omlettes to suit each eater, especially when suffering from the delayed effects of karaoke fuelled red wine drinking.

nevermind. the advice of the omlette king was missed.

mr kipperling and i concocted a winner for the mussels though. broth: softened onions, celery, and leek. add cider, sweet white miso, a generous dash of soy (tamari would be even better i think), and lime juice. sans moules: a fine cup of soup. avec moules: a fitting celebration of ten years palship with my favourite ever traveller and gin-with-a-gin chaser. kipperling, it's been fun! though not quite so fun this morning. i hold you entirely responsible for channeling the spirit of the attic (i do not count the fact that i told you to do so as an excuse otherwise).

also discovered today:

1. the incense produced as a by-product of smoked haddock poaching reduces to scent of prawn cocktail skips and is impossible to expel from one's above the kitchen bedroom. or the third step on the staircase. or my scarf.
   
2. english teachers make the best tea.
3. i should pursue a career in the design of sports kits for national rugby teams. the SRU, are you listening?
4. credit cards, betrunkeness, and peer pressure are an excellent combination. thank you, young wasabian!