EVERYTHING OF ORGANIC ORIGIN
I more than tolerate religious exemptions and associated dietary eccentricity, even thought I hold to no such limitations myself.
Even Buddhists and Jains. Wild, but okay.
Self-anointed vegans and glutenphobes, however, can go fly a kite.
I am only marginally better with the anti-gmo and organic crowd.
They too are a bunch of pretentious and special dickwads.
Fortunately the places where I eat do not cater to those people.
"Bacon and cheese gluten."
"It's shrimp, bloody beef, mushrooms, and blue cheese, lovingly garnished with peanuts, onions, chili peppers, and strips of fried egg.
Bacon is optional, honey-mustard glaze is not."
Veal, pâté de foie gras, and smoked horsemeat.
What I wanted tonight was either pizza or roast duck. But what I had was bacon, finger sausages, egg, and toasted sourdough bread. I did not feel like complicated cooking. The kitchen smells rich and very porkesque at present, and I think I will follow dinner with some delicious frozen dairy dessert. Oh yum.
The only thing missing was hotsauce.
Sometimes the sheer rich goodness of the ingredients and that old-timey flavour need to stand on their own to be appreciated.
I already had hotsauce earlier today.
On a dolphin-salad sandwich.
Oh sorry, it was tuna.
Yes. Tuna ...
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