Wednesday, March 15th, 2006:
Culinary Quirks, Part Three:
Stabbing your burgers in Helsingborg
What I think:
Firstly, I must say how genuinely touched I've been from people commenting on my brief hiatus from Blogland. After only a few days, I'd received quite a few e-mails via my website, some hopeful nudges from people at work, the odd comment here and there on some of the forums I frequent, and one worried reader wondered on my last entry whether the Swedish government had finally done something about me.
My mixed emotions have ranged from wonder, to joy, to nausea (via drunkenness), though to hunger and mental fatigue, turned left at disappointment (at the corner of disenchantment), straight ahead to insomnia, and onto Desolation Boulevard (by the 70's band, Sweet). Then the bus broke down, and I woke up.
OK, nobody really said anything about the absence of the blog entries, except for the comment by KT in the previous entry. But my mother would have called as well (all the way from Montreal!), if I'd actually left a message on the machine when I called her.
In any case, to bring you all up to date, since last week, a good friend of mine has come over for a visit from England. Let's call him Neil. That's what I call him, so why shouldn't you? He's from the town of Kettering in Northamptonshire. He's thinking about moving to Helsingborg. I was wondering why this might be, but when I checked Kettering out, I could sort of imagine that Helsingborg might not be such a bad option.
So I met up with him at the Telegrafen "pub/restaurang" on Saturday, and he was with a mutual Swedish friend. We'll call him Benny; he likes that name. Then "Neil's" other friend shows up. Let's say his name's Roger. Roger sounds like a nice name. Let's preserve his anonymity and just say that his parents agreed with my opinion.
By the way, no person, living or dead, is depicted in my blog (unless you know them, in which case I may have some explaining to do).
When "Roger" arrived and sat down, he declared that he was hungry, and fancied a burger. He went to the bar and came back with a little plastic table-stand number saying "55". While I commended his choice, I joked that I could never eat more than a "40".
When the burger arrived, he attacked it with a knife and fork. It died mercilessly.
When you pick up a burger, you're allowing the juices to run downwards and (consequently) outwards. You have a good 'living' burger.
If you leave it on a plate, stab it, and let the juices saturate the bun underneath, you've lost it. It's not longer a burger; it's a piece of meat on mega-soggy bread. Education is needed. It's time that the Swedish government did something about it. That's what I think.
Firstly, I must say how genuinely touched I've been from people commenting on my brief hiatus from Blogland. After only a few days, I'd received quite a few e-mails via my website, some hopeful nudges from people at work, the odd comment here and there on some of the forums I frequent, and one worried reader wondered on my last entry whether the Swedish government had finally done something about me.
My mixed emotions have ranged from wonder, to joy, to nausea (via drunkenness), though to hunger and mental fatigue, turned left at disappointment (at the corner of disenchantment), straight ahead to insomnia, and onto Desolation Boulevard (by the 70's band, Sweet). Then the bus broke down, and I woke up.
OK, nobody really said anything about the absence of the blog entries, except for the comment by KT in the previous entry. But my mother would have called as well (all the way from Montreal!), if I'd actually left a message on the machine when I called her.
In any case, to bring you all up to date, since last week, a good friend of mine has come over for a visit from England. Let's call him Neil. That's what I call him, so why shouldn't you? He's from the town of Kettering in Northamptonshire. He's thinking about moving to Helsingborg. I was wondering why this might be, but when I checked Kettering out, I could sort of imagine that Helsingborg might not be such a bad option.
So I met up with him at the Telegrafen "pub/restaurang" on Saturday, and he was with a mutual Swedish friend. We'll call him Benny; he likes that name. Then "Neil's" other friend shows up. Let's say his name's Roger. Roger sounds like a nice name. Let's preserve his anonymity and just say that his parents agreed with my opinion.
By the way, no person, living or dead, is depicted in my blog (unless you know them, in which case I may have some explaining to do).
When "Roger" arrived and sat down, he declared that he was hungry, and fancied a burger. He went to the bar and came back with a little plastic table-stand number saying "55". While I commended his choice, I joked that I could never eat more than a "40".
When the burger arrived, he attacked it with a knife and fork. It died mercilessly.
When you pick up a burger, you're allowing the juices to run downwards and (consequently) outwards. You have a good 'living' burger.
If you leave it on a plate, stab it, and let the juices saturate the bun underneath, you've lost it. It's not longer a burger; it's a piece of meat on mega-soggy bread. Education is needed. It's time that the Swedish government did something about it. That's what I think.
posted by Mark Base at 10:24 pm
4 Comments:
Can you please tell me what is up with those stupid, little forks you get with frites, as well? Are french fries supposed to be plucked one by one with a fork?
You know what I think...I think the fork should fork off.
Something else that you may have noticed. In McDonalds and other burger restaurants, all Swedes hold their burgers in paper ie. No burger, skin contact. Pretty sure that we don't do this in the UK. Canada?
The curvature of the fork seems to dictate its most useful side -- the American way. But I'm biased.
Glad you're back.
In honor of St. Patrick's Day, I am leaving limericks on some of my favorite blogs.
Mark Base is one cool cat.
He lives in a Swedish flat.
His blog doesn't rhyme
And I do think it is time
The Swedish government did something about that.
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