That weren't no DJ, that was hazy cosmic jive

Pollo del Awesome

Long promised, and finally here. It is my distinct pleasure to present a bit of a dinner photo.


Now, I realise that chicken is not supposed to turn out black, and so this picture may indeed be a “turn off.” It shouldn’t be so. This thing was so bloomin’ tasty, such a harmonious symphony of sweet hotness, I would happily raze an entire village of hobbits just to have it one more time.

The recipe was largely made up on the fly, that’s my problem with effectively repeating it. Roughly, I mixed up a spicy breading of jerk (quite a bit), thyme, ground ginger, sesame seeds, paprika, black pepper, a pinch of naga jolokia (super hot) and fine breadcrumbs. Then, wisked an egg, dipped the chicken breast in aforementioned wisked egg, coated it in the breading (pressing a few whole peppercorns in there for the fun of it), and then pan-fried it in sesame oil at a searing heat for two or three minutes. Then it was bunged in an oven-friendly tray with pomodoro cherry tomatoes, and a glug of orange juice, lemon juice, soy sauce, and a couple of dots of butter. Baked for 20 minutes or so. The juice in the tray thickens into a goo you can drizzle over it, and the tomatoes collapse into succulent globs of heaven itself. Jesus, the lord, almighty, hallelujah, jamon. Very simple, but when the balance of spices is just right, wow. It’s neat.

Also featuring on plate, a double-carb extravaganza! Jollof rice and peas, and boiled-then-grilled corn with butter and garlic pepper. Not South Beach friendly, perhaps, but nor am I. In fact, I even had a beer with it, making this a true multigrain meal. Surely that’s supposed to be healthy, according to someone?

Thanks all. Also, for your advance knowledge, I’ll soon be posting some other news which, while equally redundant, it’s hopefully (at least in my view) much more exciting than even this chicken breast. Suspense. Uncontainable.

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Recently, for breakfast…

It’s dangerous work taking photographs of hot food with a mobile phone. You never know whether or not evaporating oils are going to cake onto the little lens, or whether a sudden text message might startle the thing out of my hand, and into the saucy repast.

But I’m a risk taker. That means I dive headfirst into risky business.

Doubly-risky this weekend, I decided to snap a shot of breakfast, instead of the usual dinner. Morning is not when I’m at my steadiest. But, what choice did I have? We’re talking about eggs, hash browns, baked beans (with a bit of balsamic vinegar and Worcestershire sauce: a totally bean-changing experience) and my favourite thing to cook in the world – mushrooms in garlic, spinach and a bit of tomato juice, and almost every spice I have at my disposal. Cumin, sesames, paprika, jollof, oregano, coriander, and black pepper for sure. They appear disturbingly blackish and sausage-like in the photo, but blame the funky poloroidish effect of the picture-taking machine. I assure you, it’s mushrooms.

It was just too yummers.


p.s. – thanks for the traffic, friends – this breakfast photograph is brought to you (belatedly) by the blog’s 6,000th hit. Keep on chewin’!

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The night of 5,000 pancakes

Can you feel the excitement of the pancake? An excitement so gooey, yet at the same time, so crispy? A flat, warm kind of excitement?

It is, after all, Mardi Gras. Otherwise known as Fat Tuesday. Or Shrove Tuesday. Or, as they tend to say in the UK, Pancake Day.

Sadly, I am otherwise engaged on Tuesday nights,* so we had to do the pancake social on Sunday. It was a good chance for me to learn the difference between English pancakes and Scotch pancakes.

Scotch pancakes are (the Canadian in me would say) real pancakes. Thicker, fluffier, spongier, and good with syrup, butter, and blueberries, and that’s it. English pancakes, though, are basically crèpes. Very thin, using a super milky batter, and then used as a sweetish kind of wrap, within which you may stuff sugar and lemon juice, raspberries, nutella, bananas, ham, mustard, green chillies, dill pickles, marshmallows, crumbled bacon, cabbage, mince meat, tripes, boiled yams, Rochefort, cherry tomatoes, almond butter, pickled eggs, kiwis, anchovies, or Korean beondegi.

We were doing it English style, which I realised a little late was remarkably hard. The line between raw and carbonised is nearly as thin as the crèpe itself. It was a fun night – but, on balance, perhaps one should practice the fine art of English pancake making before one hosts a crowd of friends to eat them. They are a very forgiving crew. I chiselled off a good few blackened strips of prospective pancake from the pan, but was soon rescued by my better half who actually knows how to do it, and she did it rather well. So what if we inhaled lots of carbon smoke along the way? All part of the experience!

Anyhow, the photo above is one of my efforts in situ, and the posting of dinner photos on Polygonic usually indicates a milestone of some sort. 5,000 hits as of today – that’s nearly as exciting as the sweet icky deliciousness of the pancake itself.

Happy Mardi Gras, and stay out of trouble.

* I can’t say what I do on Tuesdays. I wish I could offer up a hint, but it’s just against the rules. Let’s just say it involves helicopters, laser beams, and night goggles. It’s not impossible that I might be called upon once in a while to pilot a robot spy-fish into the murk of Lake Ladoga. But I really couldn’t say.

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Hot lamb! It’s time to do poems

As I write, Polygonic’s now finishing up its 20th week online, which is the age some babies start teething. So, look out! My moaning and wailing can only get worse.

Coincidentally, I’m happy to note we’ve passed 3,000 hits this week. Merci buckets 🙂

I’m a man of fierce tradition, and so while a couple of days late, I’m commemorating the milestone as usual with a photo of my dinner. I’ve developed a recent dependence on fish cakes, but thankfully I was able to burst out of that breaded cage on Thursday when I did a lamb steak. Check it peeps – marinaded in OJ, lemons, cumin and powderednaga jolokia peppers (holy mother), then grilled. Joined on the plate are roasted mushrooms, spinach and garlic, and if you squint you can also see some peas. Wowsers.

And I’ll tell you something. Maybe it was the phase of moon, or something about those bloomin’ hot peppers, but Thursday night led me away from the normal desire to bloggify. It even led me away from my attempts at fiction. No, I entered instead into a surreal dreamscape of free-form poetry. I was loose, like a soul loosened. Like a loosened lock. I was full of metaphor and simile, as if I were a full glass, or some other type of full thing.

I will share with you the fruits of my journey into the post-sub-id here below. I can’t promise you this will be the last of its kind. Enjoy…

“The Fursting”

light rain tinkles on umbrellas, unfurled.
squirrels have none
is that why they cry?
eat your nuts
suck it up

green is my heart
like a verdant field
resplendent farm in harvest
a heart-growing farm
livers too
kinda scary

owlets warble in derelict barns
i smell a barbecue
how distracting

bubble, river! torrent, rage, flow o’er jostling pebbles
and tires
why are there tires in rivers
do they like it
having a bath
I would

Thank you

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Let’s 2000

Oops, I did it again. ♫ I played with your heart. ♫ With another photo of my dinner.

The occasion? We’ve passed the 2,000 hit mark on Polygonic, taking three months to get here. Thanks friends! (and enemies) It’s clicks like yours that keep me flying high as a weather balloon.

Anyway – I’d planned this stir-fry, but delayed it a few days due to working late or going to birthday drinks – resulting in the chicken being marinated for three days! OJ, soy sauce, star anise, tarragon, salt, pepper, lemon and ginger. Then chucked in the wok with other bits and bobs.

So tasty, angels wept – for they were unable to get out of Heaven to come try some.

Thanks again all – keep on visiting!

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Of course I’m referring to a new blog milestone. Thanks, you thousand people! (or, you twenty multiple viewers).

In celebration, here’s another (long-awaited, surely) photo of my dinner – a fantastic mid-week decision to go for halloumi salad. Squeaks ahoy!

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Much to my delight and surprise, I’ve actually been writing in this blog. And people, to some degree, have actually been clicking onto it. The internet is indeed a magical place.

Polygonic‘s been going for exactly a month and a day now, and it’s just received its 500th hit. Yay! Thanks to everyone who’s tuning in, and my apologies if you might be coming on here looking for a post about Stephen Harper, only to find one about Nick Clegg, and vice versa. That’s my fault for being such a transatlantic maple-hating traitor who cavorts with snobby, brandy-sipping Europeans back in the Olde Worlde. (Sorry).

Remember, please feel free to leave comments on anything here, go ahead and subscribe to the blog, and generally make yourselves known. Banter’s always welcome.

I’ll now commemorate this occasion with a photo of my dinner, which I promised when I first started this thing. Tuna grilled rare with spinach and rocket. Taste sensation!

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March 2020

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