Ticked off

In Australia, the ticks are vicious little bastards. They send dogs insane and can chew a man’s head off. Because of this, we know that the tick that decided to chew through Bob’s neck must have been from somewhere a little more hospitable. The tick situation only came to light late on when Bob just happened to mention that he had a strange lump on his neck the size of a football. He asked Fiona to look at it.

After she looked, Fiona sprang into Full Nurse Mode (I rather liked the sudden cape), requesting, rather forcefully, latex gloves, tweezers, a full operating theatre and forceps. She forced Bob’s head over the laundry sink then invited the rest of her family to gather around and wonder at the beauty that is nature in tooth and claw.

And tooth and claw it was as the tick refused to give up it’s hold on Bob’s neck.

Fiona then told us that ticks could be enticed out with a bit of alcohol. Rather than conclude the obvious link between me and ticks, I offered to pour some beer on him but Fiona said it had to be strong alcohol. I suggested gin. She nodded seriously, claiming that ticks were serious alcoholics and would really go for a few drops of mother’s ruin.

Oh, before I spend any more valuable time discussing Bob and his pet tick, I need to mention the fact that Fiona managed to drink all the red wine that I had specifically opened for Bob. I’d told him all about this special rioja from 2001. I impressed upon him the delicious and delicate nature of this wine, attempting and possibly succeeding in getting his taste-buds slapping together in riotous anticipation. I really wanted to hear what he thought.

After dinner I asked him for his conclusions, hoping he’d agree with me. He looked a bit lost and rather sad. At first I thought this might have been because of the loss of his tick friend but, as he explained, the wine had all gone down Fiona’s throat long before he had a chance to sample it. (Possibly in order to forget the tick ordeal…I couldn’t say.)

Fortunately I have another bottle. I’ll wait for the Hassells to go back to Oz before opening it. But back to the tick…

Actually, there was a lot of day before the tick as I attempted to cook for 48 hours straight with only beer and wine to keep me going. My Persian feast gradually appeared out of blood, sweat and tears.

At one point, singing along with Jim Morrison, a loud banging at the door gave me pause. It was the Hassells returned from the high seas (and breakfast and lunch at Uncle Petes). I told them that Mirinda and Bob were off walking the dogs, Denise and Jenny were somewhere in London and I was up to my knees in Persian food. They decided to check into the hotel first and I returned to my stove and excessively loud music.

I’d walked Denise and Jenny to the station first thing and, eventually they returned from their day in the bright lights and crowded streets of London High Street full of stories of wonder, crowds and rain. We hadn’t had any rain so it was just a bit of bad luck (and weather). Though, they explained, it didn’t put any kind of dampener on anything. As well as riding the Tube all over London, they also visited Westminster Abbey and almost went to the Tower of London. To be completely accurate, they did go to the Tower of London but will actually go inside later in the week.

Rather than dwell on each and every minute of today I’m going to fast forward to dinner. (#Phew)

I have to say that the slaving had been worth it. I was very pleased with most of the feast (I thought the pork belly was a bit dry) and I received an applause at the presentation.

All the dishes.

Fortunately there was no fish and Denise tucked in like everyone else. Of course I was very ably assisted by my sous chef, Jason and menu writer Lauren who can have permanent jobs at Chez Gaz any time they want one…of two.

The menu

During dinner we heard a lot about the cruise and, in particular, a game that Lauren was particularly good at. Here she is showing us her skills.

It did make me think she’d be pretty good at the Geisha drinking game we watched in Kyoto.

Eventually it was time for the ritual killing of the cake and Fiona did the honours.

Everyone thought it was perfect…which, as always, left me more relieved than anything else. When you cook something in early October but it doesn’t get tasted until December, there’s always a risk. But, not to worry, everything was very well received (Fiona said she preferred the Persian to the Japanese while Jason was more a little more keen on the Japanese).

We had a jolly fun night with lots of noise and eating and drinking. Even Bob’s tick enjoyed the night. After Fiona’s successful extraction of the evil little thing, it was placed in a plastic bag where it slowly drowned in a rapidly shrinking pool of gin.

All you can eat, Persian buffet