What the fuck do you even use cider vinegar for, anyway? And why do I still have this puttanesca sauce stuff in my cupboard even though it has anchovies in it and I hate anchovies? And Lloyd Grossman’s smirking maw, judging me for not knowing who would live in a house like this.
I would live in a house like this, Lloyd, because it’s my house. Well, my flat. Well, I rent the flat in the house. And you’re in my cupboard you weird proto-American bastard. You pretend to be able to cook, tell me why you’re sat next to one and a half bottles of cider vinegar.
I mean obviously I could bin it. I could have binned it for a while now, but it was all clearly a plan, carefully executed to allow me to write a blog about being confused by the presence of a sort of vinegar I have never used in my life.
The hilarity: it never ends.
There’s an orange juicer in there too. No idea why. And I can probably bin the ready-made spicy sprinkle stuff for tortillas seeing as it went off in 2011, but where’s the fun in that? BUT DON’T YOU FUCKING TOUCH MY GRAVY.
Anyway, yes, back to cooking dinner OH HE SAID DINNER WHEN HE MEANS LUNCH HA HA WE’RE SOUTHERN fuck yourselves.
Then kill yourselves.