No more than the faintest whiff. Eating the gravy is like the vague memory of a journey to exotic climes, all dressed up in stout trencherman fayre.Originally Posted by Burney
It's fusion but in a good way.
No more than the faintest whiff. Eating the gravy is like the vague memory of a journey to exotic climes, all dressed up in stout trencherman fayre.
It's fusion but in a good way.
Exoticism has no place in gravy, sir!
Well I wouldn't give you any anyway so bóllocks to you.#flounce
It's your poor wife I feel sorry for. God knows what culinary monstrosities you are inflicting upon her as you thrash about rediscovering the concept of flavour. And I'm sure she smiles sweetly and pronounces it delicious, doesn't she, poor girl? She's a saint.Well I wouldn't give you any anyway so bóllocks to you.
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