Is that a hurling pic you have for your avatar mate? Sorry mate I couldn’t afford the £2.50 for an egg and bacon sarnie.
Maybe you should stay there?
It’s a rare day I get a shop bought sandwich but the O’Brien’s Triple Chrimbo (excuse the name) is fucking gorgeous.
Its actually more like a bap. But they call it a sandwich. It was the size of a small frisbie. Tremendous
Barm cake you twunt
Had to cook for a good few people last night so made a big lasagne,aubergine parmigiana (cheers @Thrawneen), bean and chorizo stew (cheers @Juhniallo), sweet and regular potato wedges, and a salad. Was a bit drunk since lunch while cooking but turned out grand, a good few beers and bottles of wine were out away at dinner too. Kudos to the ravenous thread.
There are moments in life. Moments that matter to a man. Your first drink. Your first woman. Your wedding day. The first time you hold your firstborn. Moments that define you and crystalise in your memory forever.
Last night I cooked my first ham. I’ve cooked ham before but not the ham, not the 12 kilo, bigger-than-a-tennis-racket Christmas ham. Sweating out the christmas party in the dog house while under attack from furious flashbacks is not how it should have happened. I steeped that fucker overnight and spent nearly an hour burying cloves and garlic deep under the fat. I bagged it in a giant turkey bag and slowly poured 3/4 of a can of cider over it, the autumn fizz seeping into each hole. Tied it off and pricked the bag. I let the oven do it’s job, the sweet aroma of cider ham baking filled the house. About 3 1/4 hours later at 11.30, I took it out. Just looking at it, I knew. You could see some of it about to fall away from the bone. Fucking nailed it. Tasted it today. You fucking beauty.
Today I am a better man. A man who can cook a fucking ham. Happy Christmas one and all.
[quote=“Juhniallio, post: 877722, member: 53”]There are moments in life. Moments that matter to a man. Your first drink. Your first woman. Your wedding day. The first time you hold your firstborn. Moments that define you and crystalise in your memory forever.
Last night I cooked my first ham. I’ve cooked ham before but not the ham, not the 12 kilo, bigger-than-a-tennis-racket Christmas ham. Sweating out the christmas party in the dog house while under attack from furious flashbacks is not how it should have happened. I steeped that fucker overnight and spent nearly an hour burying cloves and garlic deep under the fat. I bagged it in a giant turkey bag and slowly poured 3/4 of a can of cider over it, the autumn fizz seeping into each hole. Tied it off and pricked the bag. I let the oven do it’s job, the sweet aroma of cider ham baking filled the house. About 3 1/4 hours later at 11.30, I took it out. Just looking at it, I knew. You could see some of it about to fall away from the bone. Fucking nailed it. Tasted it today. You fucking beauty.
Today I am a better man. A man who can cook a fucking ham. Happy Christmas one and all.[/quote]
Congrats pal…
I’m working from home today and called over the parents for the lunch… had a couple of slices of ham from our own pig. TWas something else
[quote=“Juhniallio, post: 877722, member: 53”]There are moments in life. Moments that matter to a man. Your first drink. Your first woman. Your wedding day. The first time you hold your firstborn. Moments that define you and crystalise in your memory forever.
Last night I cooked my first ham. I’ve cooked ham before but not the ham, not the 12 kilo, bigger-than-a-tennis-racket Christmas ham. Sweating out the christmas party in the dog house while under attack from furious flashbacks is not how it should have happened. I steeped that fucker overnight and spent nearly an hour burying cloves and garlic deep under the fat. I bagged it in a giant turkey bag and slowly poured 3/4 of a can of cider over it, the autumn fizz seeping into each hole. Tied it off and pricked the bag. I let the oven do it’s job, the sweet aroma of cider ham baking filled the house. About 3 1/4 hours later at 11.30, I took it out. Just looking at it, I knew. You could see some of it about to fall away from the bone. Fucking nailed it. Tasted it today. You fucking beauty.
Today I am a better man. A man who can cook a fucking ham. Happy Christmas one and all.[/quote]
That’s a blindingly good post kid.
Congrats pal…
I’m working from home today and called over the parents for the lunch… had a couple of slices of ham from our own pig. TWas something else[/quote]
Leftover ham, lads. What do you do with yours? I usually just lash chunks of it on the frying pan but I’d be interested to try something a bit more adventurous this year.
Fry off a tonne of onions, garlic and mushrooms. Put em in a casserole dish. put in the chunks of ham and/or turkey. Pour in a tin of erin/cambells cream of mushroom soup and some white wine if you have it. Pop it in the oven for a while. Piece of piss and fucking gorgeous. A creamy casserole, perfect for spuds.
Tin of Campbell’s soup? That sounds truly disgusting. Do the same thing with a white sauce maybe. Better is to make a pie with all the leftovers with a pastry or potato topping.
Christmas sandwiches 
I’ll be making a pie shortly.
Soften some onions, add 2 parts cream to one part chicken stock. Soften some mushrooms in a pan with butter and herbs add to sauce along with meat and heat for a few minutes.
Transfer to oven dish and top with mash.
Cook for 30 mins in oven.
[quote=“TreatyStones, post: 878642, member: 1786”]I’ll be making a pie shortly.
Soften some onions, add 2 parts cream to one part chicken stock. Soften some mushrooms in a pan with butter and herbs add to sauce along with meat and heat for a few minutes.
Transfer to oven dish and top with mash.
Cook for 30 mins in oven.[/quote]
A nice creampie for Mrs Runt this evening so.
Arra fuck it. I boiled some spuds, fried up the ham and cracked open a bottle of ale in the middle of it all. Getting your backside back on the couch with a drink > fancy cooking (at Xmas time anyway).
Each to their own glas. This shit rocks.
Cunts using tins of Campbell’s soup. Ffs. What’s wrong with a bit of cream, white wine and stock with a bit of flour to thicken it up.
Nothing, if you’re an oul codger trying to fill your day. Good to have you back fagan.