MACEY INSPIRATION

25 Nov

So….

Wasn’t going to post today, it being Turkey day and all. Right now we are up to our necks in coffee and Jack Daniels, accompanied by bacon and cheese and onion toast. This is a recipe which my Mississippian wife decided to steal from me and improve. Which school boy in England hasn’t gone to school with a sandwich box filled with cheese and onion? The recipe is deadly simple. Chop an onion, mix with grated cheese, add mayonnaise and spread liberally on bread.

 FANTASTIC!

Ramsey wasn't going to be happy with Johnny's souflet!

Ramsey was going to be pissed with Johnny’s souflet!

 Not only a satisfying lunch but something which the whole school can enjoy for the rest of the day as the student body gets to sample your breath at every opportunity. Anyway, Robyn decided to take this ancient English delicacy and Southern-a-fi  it. She toasted it and put it under the broiler!

 BRILLIANT!

Three thousand years of history and culture and the simple application of heat to this nursery delicacy  changed it beyond all recognition. And they wonder why the whole world hates America. Destroying a traditional English dish and making it better! The sheer temerity of it all. What next?

Whilst wiping the crumbs of my mouth and feeling relatively thankful, we decide to turn on TV and watch the Macey’s Day parade. I don’t know about you however if its giant, inflatable, and bright yellow, then I’m a fan. There is nothing like thousands of marching bands with myriad cheerleaders to put a smile on my face. Not sure if it’s the high kicks, the woolen scarves, gloves, earmuffs or wooly stockings. Anyway it does it for me!

After watching several traditional American floats including McDonalds, Burger King, CTV, Fox news and The Food Network, all the corporate institutions which made America great, New York finally caught my attention. An understated float with a small band including a drummer, a guitarist, a key board player, and…. wait for it, a fiddle player.

What is it with fiddle players? The objective is simple. It’s a string instrument that in the hands of an accomplished practitioner is a joy to hear. It seems that as soon as you shine a spot light on one of these individuals or point a camera in their general direction they become an accomplished martial artist. The kicks are mind blowing the arm movements beyond the ability of most humans. The fiddle is suddenly a blurred weapon of death in their hands. The blinding silver streak as the bow whips back and forth in tempo with the crashing cowboy boots. Despite the fact that the enlightened–one is limited to four square feet of mobile float the largest of life fills Broadway with his personality and over the top performance. Spectators in the crowd actually move back from the barrier to give the fiddler more room to reveal his craft.

Corky was happy with his new guitar!

 Corky was happy with his new guitar!

For some reasons these acolytes of the strings are always approaching their fifties with long stringy blonded grey hair which they can’t help but swing about their heads as though they were in a prime time shampoo advert. How come the hair never gets caught in the strings or tangled in the bow? How does the aged youth not rip out every single strand with every extrication of the bow….one carefully quaffed hair at a time? And the smile? Have you ever tried to hold a smile on your face for that long? Seriously this man is a guru, a multi-talented center staged wana- be who is seizing the moment and racing at full steam towards unrequited stardom. Oh you master of the strings, you master fiddler, you bator of the stained wood, I stand in awe.

I have decided to resign fiddlers to the wheelie bin along with bus conductors and park attendants. The world would be a better place if you get my meaning…….?

Anyway back to the cheese toast.

Colin fell asleep on the couch clutching his ball.

 

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