My cock has bite.

That title didn’t do heaps good in the “correlation with the actual story stakes”, but it’s still in the same general area (like the pubic area) and titles like that are always going to encourage views from blogland, or as my spellcheck keeps trying to change it to, bogland.

When I was younger there were some things that my brothers and I were not allowed. We were not allowed to poke grandad in the head after the operation. We were not allowed to talk about the accident. We weren’t allowed to use the good scissors, say the f-word or beat each other up (that was definitely “up”) inside the house. And, and this is the clincher for me, we weren’t allowed prawn cocktails when we went to grown up parties. We got party pies and mini hotdogs and, on the odd occasion, little cheesy eggy tarts we found out later were called keesh. Spelled quiche. That’s it. Oh, and a taste of the prawn cocktails the adults would be eating just so we knew what we were missing out on. Cruel powers were at work. They were playing a sadistic game. But we got on with being kids. We threw rocks at each others heads, caught mice and set them on fire and smoked cigarettes made from lawn clippings. And we didn’t think too much of it.

The thing is though, now when I see a prawn cocktail I want one. Or to be completely honest with you, I want at least two, and possibly more if they aren’t über expensive or I’m with respectable company. Who am I kidding… I just meant the one about the expense.

They are something of a nostalgia fix for me. Yeah, I have feelings too. Even if most of them are hidden in the old suitcase under my bed. But that, as I’ve said before, is a story reserved for another time… or maybe just people who get to park in the reserved special parking spaces at your local shopping center.

Just one thing I will ask of the prawn cocktail. It needs to be resting atop a bed (reliving the early 90s right there) of ICEBERG LETTUCE. Don’t even try to put some other kind of fancy lettuce in here. And cress or rocket can kiss my ass right about here too. I made the mistake of making a prawn cocktail with oak leaf and red elk once because I’m a crazy assed locavore and I couldn’t get hold of local iceberg lettuce. I tried to tell myself that it would be OK. But it wasn’t. It was like having sex with an orangutan instead of a boy, er girl, just because they’re pretty closely related. Well you shouldn’t have sex with your relations. And if that isn’t relevant then I think I should move on to a new point… Very quickly. Use iceberg lettuce even if it has to come from the ass of an endangered species of really cute little fluffy animals and you have to kill it and it’s entire herd to get it. Just get the effing iceberg. Clear? I hope so.

PRAWN COCKTAIL with BITE

1 portion homemade mayonnaise (5 or 6 posts back)
1/4 cup tomato sauce (ketchup)
1-2 jalapeño chillis (1 for pussies who think they want a little bit of chilli to make them look tough. Two for people who aren’t pussies and like chilli. Opinionated writing? Not here)
Cooked prawns (don’t be a tight ass. If you can afford it, allow a handful per person. If you can’t afford it eat them all yourself. Do not be tempted to boost them out with seafood-filler-whatever-red-and-white-shit. Just the prawns today baby. Just the prawns)
Avocado
Iceberg lettuce, we spoke about this, yes
Lemon to squeeeeeeze
Rocket flowers look pretty on top… As does your sister

Blitz mayo, tomato sauce and jalepenos together to make the sauce. Layer it all up in some retro glasses (the old bistro wine glasses are defo the wankiest) to show your friends you are still cool enough to go to op shops. Eat at least two in your own face