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For all those playing at home, I don’t have red hair and a beard and I’m not G-bags Mcfilthy mouth… no, I am not the father of this blog, I’m perhaps best described as this blogs estranged brother that likes to drop by unannounced and expects every thing that’s great about writing a blog whilst having no responsibility at all… yes that is me in a delicious nut shell, I’m simply a man called Paul who has a shit load to say about food and anything even slightly related to it, like travel, drinking and eating of said food.

I’m a chef that has been cooking for overs 20 years all over the place and I have been extremely fortunate to have known G-bags for all of that time. We share a love of food, swearing and most importantly telling the whole fucking world about it, so a blog seemed inevitable. I’m honoured he allows my scribbling’s to be part of foodisthebestshitever and I hope you enjoy them just as much as we love bacon, but lets face it that’s asking quite a lot. P

Life’s good

I’m not even going to bother to try and explain why I’ve been so shit at writing lately, I could try to spin some elaborate yarn about my fingers being temporarily paralysed or my eyes not functioning correctly… but lets face it, you haven’t even missed me at all, not one person has written to us saying “where the fuck is that charming man from Paul’s caul gone?” so as far as I’m concerned you are lucky I’ve come back full stop. I’m not going to lie I’m upset and a little disappointed that I seem to be like the rest of your disposable world. That’s it Paul slag everyone off, that will make them want you more, well it cant make you care any less you emotional vultures, you filthy bunch of love sponges.

Well its with teary eyes and a heavy heart that I dust off my pride and give you all one last chance, if I’d don’t get actual tangible love from at least three people worldwide for this post then that’s it, I’m done… ”What is this tangible love you speak of” I hear you ask… well quite frankly all I need is a like on Facebook or a comment on this blog and my easily inflated ego should be right for several hours at least before I turn to instagram or any other form of instant gratification I can get my filthy attention grabbing hands on.

It is at this point I realize that I have fuck all to actual say, I truly haven’t formulated what I’m about to write, but with my nonsensical style I feel I can wing it and just maybe just get you all up to date with what myself and the lovely Lauren have been up to (yes she is still with me. It’s a shock to me too).

Is that a dolphin between your legs or are you just happy to be on holiday?

Is that a dolphin between your legs or are you just happy to be on holiday?

For those with an incredible memory and the space to store useless information, you will recall that we have been living in the French alps, eating our body weight in fromage washed down with vin rouge and running a chalet in what ever time we have left after said eating and drinking occurs. And just in case you need my former sentence translated I shall try my best to translate it for those not so well travelled… when someone says “fromage and vin rouge” it translates to “I’m a complete wanker who has been in France for five minutes and speak fuck all French but like to big note myself on the internet”. Hopefully Google translate didn’t let me down.

The winter season has now come to a halt and I find myself in Spain eating tapas, drinking and spending time with some amazing friends we met in the mountains, for the purpose of this story we shall call them Rachel and Grant, as that is also by chance their given names. Grant is a seriously good chef, which is great for me to learn from and also eat all his tasty food. But with him around I have to lift my game, so boo to having to lift my game whilst on holiday.

Now I’m not going to sugar coat it, I’m just about as happy as I’ve ever been right now. Of course I’m writing this next to a pool, I’ve just played Dobble whilst drinking and frolicking in said pool after going for a spin on quad bikes around the Spanish desert, so of course I’m fucking content and happy… but I mean proper happy, with my life and all that deeper shit that’s essentially a lot harder to obtain.

Fishing off of Spain somewhere

Fishing off of Spain somewhere

I reckon it’s so unobtainable for most people because lets face it, most of us don’t have any idea what we really want… yes we all want money and shiny things but so do fucking magpies and as far as I can see they are some pretty fucking angry birds. But what I’ve always gauged my happiness on is my general content-ness in the everyday comings and goings of life. In this area presently I’m as rich as I’ve ever dreamed I’d be; beautiful partner, travel shit loads, incredible family and friends worldwide and get to cook my own delicious food (well I think so anyway) that pays my way through all of which I’ve just mentioned.

After just spending 5 months cooking in a very nice chalet in Meribel I have now been offered to be the private chef for a lord in England cooking at his decadent estate in the Peak district. This will entail a summer of living in a Downton Abbey like world of Grouse Shoots and hop knobbing with royalty, all whilst still getting to cook them what ever my heart desires. Amongst this we will also get to travel with the Family around their different properties as Lauren will be running front of house for them as well. So all in all not a bad summer about to occur.

I’m not just telling you all this to rub your noses in it, nor am I trying to say that all you need to do is work hard and love what you and all your dreams will come true… because what you don’t hear when I tell you what I’m up to, is that although I’m happy as a pig in shit doing what I’m doing, it is still extremely hard and very stressful work that doesn’t allow you to rest on your laurels at all. We as chefs are always judged with such harsh criticism as people either like what they taste or not, there isn’t much room for creativity and organization to win over a customer that thinks your food tastes like salty pigs balls. Now what I want you to take from my experience in life is that never stop trying things as your dreams and goals will change and if you are lucky enough you may be in the midst of something before you take a second to sit back and realise that you are living your dream already.

A shit place to stay

A shit place to stay

But I’m bloody close to sounding like a god damn preacher so I shall pull up before I start praise our lord the saviour Christ, instead I shall praise our hosts Paula and Derek of Casa Oasis for their hospitality and tolerance of our incisive laughter and consistent G & T ing (coining the phrase, definition- to drink plentiful amount of gin and tonic) they have also allowed us to take over their extremely clean kitchen for our cooking exploits.

Grant and I are each cooking a big dinner each this week with his dinner tonight and my dinner on Saturday night it will be sure to be getting fiery in the kitchen. His ingredients of choice were Razor clams, octopus, mackerel, little weird sausage balls, mangos and Plantains so I cant wait to see what he comes up with.

I have chosen morcilla, entrecote beef, squid, serrano jamon and watermelon for my menu du jour. I will be sure to document the entire battle royal, with photo’s and recipes. But when this is all occurring whilst on holiday with friends in a villa in the Spanish desert then everyone a winner… although we are both extremely competitive so tears may flow.