Wednesday, January 6, 2010

The "With" Curse


Every year, prior to the arrival of Santa, I promise myself that I won’t splash out excessively on festive treats and nibbles, and every (New) year, I find myself burdened with a piles of uneaten Christmasy treats to be gorged before their Use By / De-fungoidgrowth By dates expire (typically with the aid of a funnel and a sink plunger).


I’ve cut down, honest I have. On all those fatty vol-au-venty pastry things, the overabundance of pretzels and the Yule logs. Yet still the fridge bulges with wodges of novelty cheese like Oprah at her most voluminous squeezed into one of Karen Carpenter’s old bikinis.

This morning, I had to take action.

Armed only with half a packet of Carr’s Water Biscuits and a tub of slightly salted Danish butter (two spatulas and a mixing bowl, the other half packet of biscuits — okayokay, and some chocolate), I negotiated the North face of the Wenselydale with Cranberries mountain.

It has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? Wenselydale with Cranberries — the sort of thing to which Henry VIII might have treated himself between games of Tudor hockey, or whatever it was kings did in those days.

“Verily, ‘tis the finest of cheeses, blest with hearty bite-sized chunks of the Lord’s sweetest fruit ‘sif twere thick set custard stainèd red with the blood of my manye departed brides...”

Better still — being a novelty festive cheese, said WwC was encased in thick red wax like an avant garde Egyptian mummy. Mmmmm. Luxury.

Problem was, millennia-old rotted pharaoh was exactly what it tasted like, and having never sampled WwC before, I have no idea whether it was off, or just immodestly weird. The cheese itself was OK, I think, but something peculiar had clearly happened to the cranberries between being plucked from their bushes by the man from M&S, and slithering, half chomped, into my gullet.

I’m a little nauseous now. But at least Wenselydale with Cranberries is off the list for next year.

And maybe, when I’m recovered, I’ll still have room for the roulade of Sage Derby with Pickled Komodo Dragon...

23 comments:

fairyhedgehog said...

Yet still the fridge bulges

Sadly, our fridge doesn't bulge. I do.

sylvia said...

I'm with FHH on this one.

Very brave of you, actually! Funnily enough some friends of ours had a hangover party on the 1st, with a full buffet of food imported directly from a jaunt to the UK and this cheese - exactly this Wensleydale with Cranberries cheese - was part of the spread!

I was distracted by the egg salad in vol au vents and I didn't try it. It sounds like I had a narrow escape!

Kerrie said...

Got any Stilton?

Whirlochre said...

Hoggy Hoggy Hoggy Oi Oi Oi
In every photo of you I've seen so far, you look decidedly svelte. Or did you employ the Narrowing Lens on New Year's Day?

Sylvia
It's definitely weird stuff. The cranberries had a pickled feel. Suspension in dairy produce I can handle, but pickles are another kettle of fish entirely.

Kerrie
The Stilton went prior to the 20th, along with all the port. I feast on that combo like sexy Nu Vampires suck up teen girl adoration.

fairyhedgehog said...

Thanks, Whirl. I've always been on the skinny side but there is a definite bulge these days which is much worse since Christmas. The problem is, trousers are so expensive. I need to fit back into mine.

I've never been called svelte before. Nice word.

Whirlochre said...

As is 'trousers'.

Mother (Re)produces. said...

Cranberries? What a tragic waste of Wensleydale.

Bernita said...

Un-oh, I still have some stilton w/apple and pear in the fridge...

Whirlochre said...

Hoorah!

Mother (Re)Produces!

And you're right, of course.

As for the Stilton & apples & pears, Bernita, as long as you're not using cockney rhyming slang to describe the last half of that combo, it actually sounds delicious.

Scarlet Blue said...

I have something in the fridge that is covered with silver foil.
I'm too scared to look.
Sx

fairyhedgehog said...

Scarlet, that reminds me of a Simpsons catchphrase: "it's funny because it's true".

Whirlochre said...

Scarlet
That'll teach you to go out walking on Dartmoor with a shotgun and an insatiable lust for bagging the Widdecombe yeti.

Hoggo Ephemero
Reminds me not to go digging around in her SMEG without police backup and plenty of plastic bags.

Robin S. said...

said WwC was encased in thick red wax like an avant garde Egyptian mummy...

Gorgeous visuals, in a weird, weird way! Love it, Whirl.

Whirlochre said...

Could be the vogue for 2010...

stacy said...

I can relate. I think I took in more calories over Christmas break than I did all last semester.

Whirlochre said...

That settles it. I'm advocating giant underground hamster wheels, to be manned by the post-Christmas corpulent, as a means of killing two birds with one stone. Weight loss meets saving the environment in one fell swoop. And if the birds are turkeys, we can save them up for later on in the year...

fairyhedgehog said...

It sounds like you've got it all wrapped up.

Whirlochre said...

Hoggathy Poggathy Poo
Wish I could say the same about everything else...

McKoala said...

Still got heaps of food here too. Just an excuse for another party, really. Had two this week. Still got food. The wine's going down awfully fast, though.

Whirlochre said...

So — Queen of the Shindig with the plonk as well as the fangs, huh?

writtenwyrdd said...

I solve the holiday stuffed fridge problem by taking it all to work to feed the masses of starving 20-something guys (about fifty of them). They'll eat ANYTHING, lol.

I've never heard of that cheese, but I'd be willign to try it, with our without cranberries.

Whirlochre said...

If only I had hordes of ravenous underlings...

writtenwyrdd said...

Well, they aren't my underthings (Oh! you said underLINGS! Sorry. My bad.) but they are rather like... No, I just can't say it. They are rather fond of food. Yeah. That's what I was going to say.