On Eat Me Magazine
Dear friends, foes, hoes and mo’s,
How are you?
Because if you are HAVE I GOT JUST THE REMEDY FOR YOU!
It’s a brand new food magazine called EAT ME.
Eat Me is funny and informative, beautifully put together, run by a bunch of ambitious young chaps with sound ideas, and best of all yesyouguessedit I’m in it.
Before you do anything else please visit the site at www.eatmemagazine. That way you get to order a free copy.
Next, here’s a preak sneaview of my monthly column, entitled Funny Aftertaste:
I don’t know about you – we’ve never met – but I love to eat. I eat all the time, everyday if I can, and it gives me great pleasure. It also gives me terrible indigestion, so I carry a strip of Rennies around with me. Sometimes if I’m hungry I’ll eat an entire packet. You wouldn’t think you could get indigestion from eating too many Rennies, but you can.
My life as a career glutton began at birth. I was a born chomper. Whether gumming on a rusk, nibbling on a nip or nomming on a ‘nana, my mouth was always full. According to family folklore my first word was “hamburger”. That’s three syllables in case you hadn’t realised.
When I was a child I used to express my mental toughness through food. Instructing my mum to make me mustard sandwiches, I would consume them in full view of the prettiest girls in the playground, hoping they would swoon for my granite-like taste buds. This never did come to pass, though I learnt a valuable lesson: better to give a girl a daisy chain than try and make her fall in love with you through the conduit of a sandwich.
As I grew up my tastes broadened: I ate a lot of curries, lobsters and quails eggs – and that was just for breakfast. I had a father with a rich palate and an experimental bent. It was haute cuisine in our house every day. The only foodstuff I wouldn’t touch was butter. I think I may have been scarred by an early exposure to the film Last Tango in Paris.
By the time my adolescence began to poke through, so to speak, I was a connoisseur of the good and bad. Sure, I would consume two Big Macs every time I visited McDonalds but at home I knew that I was being fed the best stuff. Strangely, the more I ate the thinner I became. Clearly I was expending too much energy on my table manners.
Then came university and the requirement to feed myself. Luckily I lived very close to a take-away that did a tremendous line in doner meat and chips, extra chilli sauce please. Latterly my flatmate took me under his wing and by the time I left not only had I mastered the four-egg omelette, I could also heat up tins of meatballs – sometimes at the same time. Straight out of uni I moved to Brighton to busk with my cousin. I learnt very little on the food front whilst in Brighton. Whenever I see my cousin he reminds that I used to buy my potatoes in tins.
But now, my friends, I am a fully signed up member of the cooking classes. What you after? Italian, Moroccan, Thai, traditional? I can do the lot. Just ask my girlfriend about the tagine I made for us last night. Oh hold on, she’s being sick…
I hope you enjoyed the column. The mag is great so tell everyone you know, like, lick or work with about it.
That’s it. Thanks for coming. See you all again soon on the internet: Where The Fun Never Ends.