And now, the eagerly awaited (for at least two hours) gripping sequel to my last post*. The heart wrenching story of a man with a passion for food, a love for good friends and family, a hankering for a nice glass off something with an alcohol content and a strange magnetism toward midget circus freaks.
Here we go.
This is a seaside, old wharf, salty old sea dog feast not be be effed with. You don’t even need to prep anything, unless you’re keen to make your own tartare sauce and coleslaw… but I can condone shop bought varieties for this outing. All you really need is a good purveyor of fresh fish and a dirty old boat shed for your back-drop. Then it is this easy;
- Go into a shop that sells bread and buy yourself a loaf. Compliment the counter chick on how good she is looking while you’re there.
- Go into a shop that sells salad type things. Buy yourself some salad-y type things. This will impress the shit out of your girlfriend and probably increase your chances of another “fish feast” later on.
- Go into a shop that sells fresh fish (This will not work if you are at the road house in the back yard of the county’s biggest sheep station, you really need to be close to the ocean, or a decent sized lake at the very least). Buy yourself some kind of array of fresh and cooked seafood
- Take all of your supplies to the old boat shed and eat like a boss!
*you can see that last post by simply clicking on the button that says just below