Bullgoose eschews the fat as he grizzles about gristle

Tea time for the Piddenses. Wes attacks a steak. Alice is appalled.

What the frying ferrets are you doing to that steak?

Huh?

Are you training to be a vet? A butcher? Mass murderer, perhaps?

Nope, just trimming off the fat and gristle.

Why?

It’s bad enough having to pay for all that debris, let alone eat it.

Oh, here we go!

It’s got no place on a dinner plate. It oughta go into frankfurts, where it belongs, along with the cereal, rubber, tripe, lips and…

Oh, diddums! There’s nothing wrong with a bit of fat and gristle. Makes your hair curly.

I think that’s carrots.

Whatever. Just man up and eat it.

I refuse. Anyhow, I cooked it. It’s not like I’m insulting your cooking.

It’s worse. You’re insulting me by not insulting me.

???

Eat it, Wes, or I’ll tell your Mum.

I’ve been terrorised by experts. You don’t scare me… much. Anyhow, we got through the Coriander Wars alive. Let’s just agree to differ. Grind on all the gristle you want, but let me trim.

Fat is a food. Gristle is a… a spice. Coriander is an abomination.

I heard this podcast. Apparently in America they’ve found cartons of frozen pork bung labelled as “calamari rings”.

Pork bung?

Join the dots, Allie.

What? Eeeyuu!

It’s a scruple-free world. That’s why I refuse to fatten our cattle.

I thought it was because our pastures suck.

There is that, but I want to provide meat, not fat.

What about cream? That’s fat.

Cream is a wellbeing essential.

Oh really?

Mock cream, on the other hand, is wrong. Wronger than fascism.

It’s convenient.

So was the guillotine.

You’re so picky.

Picky? If the Bonalbo CWA served you a jam and cream scone with mock cream, would you eat it?

Mmmm, scones!

Would you?

Probably not. Anyhow, they don’t use mock cream. Margy McFetlock makes them. They’re the best.

But the best caramel tarts in the world come from Old Bonalbo.

Of course.

I think when a girl child is born Mum staples a copy of the Old Bonalbo caramel tart recipe to their birth certificate, so the tradition will live on.

Probably right. What about the boys?

I reckon they bake tarts too. Just won’t admit it.

 Sad.

Mallanganee does good cakes. I’ll give them that. Tabulam’s more of a slice town. Cook a good snag too.

Remember that Chocolate Swiss Roll we got at Mummulgum Hall?

Mmm. Real cream. That’s the secret. What does Drake do good?

Erm… hash cookies?

Oh, that’s a bit harsh, Allie, you naughty thing!

You mean “a bit hash” don’t you?

Wicked! You’re wicked, but we like you.

Now, Urbenville and Woodenbong are good all-rounders, but especially skilled with Corn Flake and Coco Pop recipes.

Agreed, but their cupcakes and muffins are getting a little oversized.

I don’t agree.

And I suppose you like your chocolate chip cookies the size of a dinner plate?

Why ever not?

There’s a worrying preponderance of “Gluten-Free” at some CWA stalls. I mean, by definition, if you’re buying a cake you’re not thinking about your health.

But Big Minch is gluten-intolerant. Do you want your own son to go without?

Go without? He can go without plaster of Paris and vegan sawdust, which seem to be the chief ingredients in a gluten-free recipe. Now, where do you reckon the best tea cake in the world comes from?

Your Mum?

Nope.

Your Gran?

Not even close.

Where?

Not available to the general public.

Huh?

Only firefighters. There’s a woman at the Casino Fire Control Centre who bakes a teacake that will send you on an all-expenses paid luxury return trip to another planet.

What’s her name? I’m RFS. I’ll get her recipe.

I’m sworn to secrecy, Allie. Now, what do you make of Rudd Weatherwax?

What does he bake?

Nothing. He’s dead, but he trained Lassie.

Lassie? Oh, here we go!

His real name was Ruddell Bird Weatherwax. Alarming, but his parents had their reasons, I suppose.

Fascinating.

But here’s the thing. Lassie was a boy dog playing a girl dog. The cameras carefully avoided any dead giveaway regions of his undercarriage, and all that shaggy Collie fur made for handy camouflage.

Were all the Lassies boy dogs?

Can’t swear to it, but they probably stuck with the leg lifters, not to mess with a winning formula.

Yeah.

There’s that old joke. Lassie fronts up to a psychiatrist. The psychiatrist asks Lassie why. Lassie says, ‘Timmy said Get help, Lassie!’

Ha ha. So?

Well, Lassie didn’t seem to have any problems with his/her/ their gender identity. Generations of kids, parents too, seemed cool with it. So, how come trans folks cop it so much?

A lesson to us all.

Bullgoose

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