Whipped Cream and Duct Tape

Don’t ever visit a sex shop with a full bladder! Seriously, grabbing your Foetus-Canon, crossing your legs and bouncing around looking desperate looks bad enough in Builder’s Warehouse but it is just plain pervy in a sex shop. Matters not a bit whether you’re male or female. I have different, but no less valuable advice for our kids – if anything ever happens to us, please don’t open the safe. Trust me, the most you’ll get out of it is a serious buzz, and it will mentally scar you for life.

My friends are all reading 50 Shades, some of them for the second or third time. I don’t understand why one would engage in reading mediocre literature to get excited about ‘the dark side’ of sexuality, when all you have to do is Google ‘BDSM’ and hey presto – instant gratification, and you didn’t have to read a shitty book to get there. It’s art I tell you!

I got quite excited some years ago when Sir’s ex-wife gave me a playtime hamper one Xmas, which included a can of sexy spray-cream and a (small but gorgeous) leather whip, thinking it was a subtle hint that Sir had some dark naughty fetishes. I promptly rushed out to add a pair of handcuffs to the collection, but sadly, the only thing this collection elicited from Sir was some major Evil Eye and what sounded like a recitation of the “Swearing Dictionary”. So I had to give up all BDSM fantasies and take up swearing instead.

Talking about Builder’s Warehouse……… there’s finally a reason for me to like going there with Sir – printed duct tape!!! I am walking around the house wondering what I can tape, so many choices – wrists
ankles ducts, ducks, stuff!!! Builder’s is great for BDSM enthusiasts – chain, rope, even pink drills. Just saying.

I’m a sick people. No really. Three visits to the doc in two weeks. Sir’s flu got me, other shit got me, and this week we had the Eyeball Incident of 2014. My right pupil descended like a freaky gonad and took on a shape that had actual CORNERS!! I am so not shitting you! Sir brought dinner to a halt so he could EyePic on my Eye-Phone. Next morning at 5am Sir and I were sitting in bed arguing about me going back to the doc again, but my eye was all round and perky again by then so I just didn’t see the need. My throat was also way too sore to endure a drawn-out argument so I relented.

Sir generally has a shitfit that I wait too long to go to the doc when something starts feeling iffy, and I just don’t think it’s always necessary to have every niggle checked out. I think I should just put the doc on retainer and go once a week in case. A dear friend recently turned 40, and sent a message saying “Well at least they say life begins at 40!” I hastened to correct her with “Life AT THE DOCTOR begins at 40!”

So that’s why my blog suffered some neglect recently – my mojo lefto because I was sicko.

Buuuuuuuuuuuuut I’m back. Sir is back to being totally fucking impossible and his latest thrill is hiding everything from remotes to Probiotics (we collect shitloads of the latter when we get sick – just never bother to take them) to socks in my pillowcases everytime I get up to go and have a pee at night. Yes yes OCD…… at least three pee breaks before I turn out the lights at 10….. I’d hate for my sleep to be interrupted by a full bladder. Aaaaaaaaaaaand there we go – full circle back to a full bladder.

And on to my recipe for this post. Chocolate eclairs, and choux fingers with caramel and almonds …….. the latter being insanely moreish!



  • 100g Unsalted Butter
  • 150g Cake Flour, sifted
  • 250 ml Water
  • 1tsp Salt
  • 1tsp Sugar
  • 4 Eggs, lightly beaten


Bring the butter and water just to the boil, and remove the pan from the heat. Add the cake flour with the salt and sugar, and beat. Don’t use your wanky hand for this – balance out the muscle tone.

When the dough is nice and smooth like a Hillbrow hooker, return it to the heat and cook until it forms a ball and pulls away from the sides of the pan like a shy virgin. Now remove from heat, and add the beaten eggs slowly, beating very well after each addition until you have a thick and shiny paste that drops off a spoon when shaken. I will not even try to make a comparison here because I am unable to think of anything that isn’t sexual.

Fill a piping bag with the paste, and pipe 8cm lengths onto a baking sheet (using a 1cm nozzle). Bake at 200⁰C for 20 to 25 minutes. They should be light golden brown. Cool on a wire rack.


For the chocolate eclairs, WHIP cream to stiff peaks (porn right there!). I don’t like sweetened cream, but if that rocks your world, feel free to add whatever you damnwell please right about now. Poke two holes in the bottom ends of the profiteroles, and using a piping bag, fill with the whipped cream. You can add finely chopped nuts, chocolate shavings etc, whatever floats your boat.

For the toppings – melt 100g of chocolate and add about 50g of butter, and dip the eclairs in the chocolate. Shake off the excess and allow to set.

For the almond caramel pastries, fill the fuckers with the whipped cream first, then bring 250g sugar to the boil with 225ml water. Boil over medium high heat, but do not stir, rather swirl it around in the saucepan. When it turns a golden caramel colour, remove from the heat and immediately proceed to dip your pastries into the caramel. You are totally going to burn a finger / a hand / a something at this stage. It’s inevitable. Try as I may to avoid them, burns are totally fucking guaranteed.

Place the pastries back on the cooling rack and sprinkle over some flaked almonds. These are irresistible in a big bad way!

Happy spanking ’till next week!

Go carb yourself

Poor Sir got nailed by the horrible flu doing the rounds, last week. I knew he was really ill because he readily agreed to go to the doc early in the week, and much to my surprise, he decided not to go to the factory on Saturday. GASP! But….. it was like having a hyperactive 10 year old in the house, and by nightfall I was so traumatised I curled up in bed with my ultimate comfort food…. fresh crusty rolls with real butter and a sprinkling of salt, and a glass of Chardonnay. That was supper. Followed by a delightful homemade chocolate éclair.

On Saturday mornings I usually get up at about 5:30, make myself a nice strong cup of coffee and sneak back to bed to watch whatever crap I DVR’d during the week. At the same time I prep our menu for the following week’s dinners, and write a shopping list. By 07:30 I’ve had 3 cups of coffee, and am ready to tidy the room and bathroom and finally to head out to go and do the week’s shopping, getting an early start to miss the crowds. All calm. Tranquil. Then it’s home to pack away groceries, and to read a magazine while I wait for Sir to get home from work so we can go for lunch somewhere nice.

Then…. Saturday 1 March. At 06:00 I was enjoying my coffee in bed, and Sir was cooking up a storm in the kitchen, making huge quantities of tomato pasta sauce to freeze. Then I hear him laugh out loud like Mr. Bean, and shouting odd things like “Whatta ‘appened?!!!” “Yo did you see that?!!!” “Sir you tooooooopid!!” I decided to go and investigate, walked into the kitchen and asked him “What did you break?”. Like a naughty (guilty) child, he explained that he went out to get lots of Basil from the garden earlier, and put it in a glass on the windowsill. He used the scissors to cut a big bunch straight out of the glass, and ……… kinda cut the blind’s cords as well because they were hidden in the bunch of basil. Sigh.

An hour later I was about to make the bed. Up goes the duvet… fluff fluff flap shake, and as I’m about to cover the bed, Sir charges in and dives onto the bed. Under the duvet. I have to start again. Up goes the duvet, fluff fluff flap shake, and doooowwwwnnnn – on top of Sir who’s dived onto the bed again. Like a hyperactive 10 year old. I finally got the bed made. Getting dressed turned into an ordeal. Sir grabbed my pants and tied each leg into a tight unyielding knot. After several minutes of battling to untie the knots I was finally able to put on my pants with horribly creased legs, and went to the bathroom to brush my teeth. In the bedroom, Sir unleashed his inner interior decorator, as he calls it, and he moved plants and ornaments around all over the place. Being slightly OCD, he knew this would drive me batty and I would not be able to function at all until everything had been returned to its correct place.

It’s amazing how much havoc the man can wreak in just a few short minutes. I found my tackies lined up along the passage. Double sigh. Sir said that they’re ‘running’ shoes, so that’s what they were doing – running. In the kitchen I found my sunhat on our giant wooden pepper mill. Sir looked at me defiantly and said “What?! Pepper mill to pepper Mildred…. What’s so wrong with that?”

Fuck. It wasn’t even 09:00 yet. I wondered if it was too early for Chardonnay. We went shopping for accessories for our new phones, and then went to the Wicked Woolies at Nicolway. I did the shopping and Sir went from spot to spot nibbling on the eats that were out on promotion. I think he had a complete lunch between the country loaf, olive oil, cheeses and fish he scoffed. The patient finally went to bed for a good sleep in the afternoon, while I made chocolate eclairs and some almond and caramel cream-filled profiteroles.

I am dieting. Yep believe it. Chocolate eclairs and white breadrolls with generous lashings of butter for dinner? Hell yes I’m dieting. I have found a formula that works for me and I don’t have to put chickpeas in my mouth at all. And fuck slimmer’s bacon. WTF? And as for the high-protein ‘carbs are poison’ brigade….. well, I don’t want to be offensive, but ……. FUCK YOU DOUBLE. Tim Noakes, I cannot take you seriously. I understand and agree that refined carbs IN EXCESS are not a good idea, but people were eating sugar and bread 100 years ago, and will still be eating it 100 years from now. I would rather have half a portion of the good shit, with white bread and normal fatty bacon, than a pile of cardboard bread with some fake ‘spread’ parading as butter and slimmer’s bacon that looks and probably tastes like flattened sundried turds.

On to this week’s recipe. It’s not for the faint-hearted. It is not for dieters either, seriously. It’s something you should only have once a year, and the rest of the day’s meals should consist only of fruits and raw veggies, because…. You need to prepare for the richness of this comfort food from hell. This is adapted from a recipe my mom-in-law uses, but she makes hers with veal. We’ve tweaked it a bit.

You should make this meal in a calm quiet environment and whatever you do, don’t let your body know what’s going into this recipe because your arteries will take off down the road screaming in protest. The end result can only be described as a pile of beige stodge on a plate, but it will make your tastebuds sing and your eyes roll back into your head…… and your arteries toyi-toyi.

Creamy Porcini Pork Loin and Mash

  • 1kg pork loin, deboned, skin removed
  • 5 or 6 thin slices Parma Ham
  • 1,25 ltrs cream
  • ½ Cup dried Porcini mushrooms
  • ½ Onion
  • Salt and pepper to taste
  • 1kg potatoes
  • 2tbsps butter


Wrap the pork loin in the parma ham and tie with string. Sir took my kitchen string and suddenly my kitchen string became his garage string. So I took his funky black string in its funky dispenser, and that is now my funky kitchen string. Black. Unlike refined carbs. Brown the loin in hot olive oil, on all sides. Chop half an onion in the meantime. Then remove the meat from the pot, and brown the onions. In the meantime, reconstitute the mushrooms in boiling water.


Put the meat back into the pot with the onions, add the reconstituted mushrooms and the liquid, and pour in the cream and bring to the boil. Add salt and pepper to taste.

Here’s the fun part – cream has a tendency to froth and bubble and boil over if not kept at the just the right simmering temperature. So you might have to spend some time cleaning up your stovetop if you take your eye off the ball for any period of time. You don’t need to watch it like a hawk…….. just stay nearby and let it simmer very gently, for two hours. Yep, two long hours.

Pass the time by peeling potatoes and making your mash. Instead of milk, use a couple of ladles of the cream from the meat pot and add butter. Mash with a handheld mixer – best mash ever!!!


Pour the liquid off into a liquidizer and blend for a couple of minutes until the cream has thickened slightly. Pour it all back into the pot and remove the meat to rest. Boil the cream mixture rapidly for about 10 minutes. Slice the meat thinly and dump it back into the thick sauce and mix through. There will be lots of crispy bits of parma ham too.


Serve and enjoy. Till next year.


An unoaked Chardonnay, or even a light red such as a Pinot Noir or a Chianti. The last mentioned carries the Italian theme through nicely.