Whole salmon over smoke and coals to please Thor…

I think it is clear to anyone that knows me that I am of Viking descent. It is also clearly represented in history books with geographical maps written by important people with grey moustaches and clever looking glasses that the origin of my fore fathers is ancient Scandinavia. Thus this night was chosen to thank Thor and the makers (of the movie) with a feast of Nordic delights. Or what I felt inside could be considered Nordic delights… and I did gain a little inspiration from my real life Uncle Rob, who married a Danish princess of his very own, and has frequented these countries like the pensioner frequents the pet food isle in the local supermarket, or the retired priest frequents the children’s playground, or the dog’s tongue frequents its own genitalia, or absolute bollocks frequents the pages of this blog.

I suggest really delving deep into character for this feast. What better way to do that then to cover your genitalia with nothing but the still bloody skin of your neighbour’s cat, drink a four litre cask of cheap wine (not one of those really expensive four litre boxes…) and drink it really quickly. REALLY QUICKLY. Now if you can still walk, wander into your neighbour’s yard and do a bit of raping and pillaging. Let’s face it, you’re probably going to be fined by the RSPCA for performing indecent acts with a cocker spaniel, and have to return your neighbour’s stash of netball championship medals… less said about that the better.

With all of that out of the way it’s time to cook dinner.

“Get some more dill in there”, was the advice Rob gave me, so dill it was. He also sent me a few links to some awesome looking desserts. But as I was making this feast to appease Thor, no pussy assed dessert would be included. We shalt only finish our meal by suppling on the ample bosom of the buxom wench (the ones with the blond plaited piggy tails, yeah), and quite possibly another plate of salmon.

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The fish was stuffed with dill, parsley and lemon and the cooked over a very low fire in a fish grilling holder thing. What an invention. I think it could’ve been given a slightly more creative name though… after three hours of being gently licked (or indecently assaulted) by wisps of smoke from the amber coals, our new found best friend “the salmon” was ready.

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On the table with pickled beetroot and onion salad, cucumber, sour cream and dill salad, potato, egg and dill salad, pickled cucumbers and a loaf of rye bread I had made earlier that day (no joke. I have been baking the daily loaf lately and loving it. Jesus would be proud). A meal fit for Nordic god and Icelandic princess alike, and would happily be stolen from them by a Viking who would have loved it just the same!

The end.

beer mini dego 4th course – Graeme


So it’s left upon my shoulders to complete this epic saga that has been ‘the beer diaries’. I’m kinda sad that it is ending…. I’m sure I’ll get over it though. Don’t need to call the helpline or anything…

I am going to start with a small history lesson.
My nan is from Germany (although she does call herself a proud Australian with an amazing German accent). That’s about it for the history lesson. I did say it was going to be small didn’t I? Hehe… that just reminded me of a conversation I had with a girl once…

German’s are renowned the world around for their love of beer, perhaps even more than us Aussies. They even have a festival dedicated purely to the drinking of this god sent drink. Maybe that’s just because they are a little more enthusiastic than us? A little less lazy? Whatevs…

So I will pay homage to my German heritage. I shall take my nana’s recipe for German donuts, I sure they would’ve dunked them in beer back in the fatherland anyway, and bastardise them into what shall be the final course of our beer mini dego.

Serve with frankfurters and sauerkraut, while wearing lederhosen, with a buxom wench with her hair in piggy tails at your side, drinking heaps of beer from what can only be described as a small fish tank with a handle on it, while singing oompah songs. There, I think I got all of the stereotypes in that sentence.

So simple but soooo good.

Photo will go here a little later on. Possibly when I try it out.

Fry my pretties... Fry.
I said HEAPS of icing sugar

2 cup plain flour
1 small (330ml-ish) beer, one of those fruity little boutique beers that you think might be kinda nice to have with a meal but no way in hell could you sit down with a coupla six packs and get jolly like the scurvy ol’ sea dog
1 lg bottle of beer that you like
½ C castor sugar
¼ C currants
3 drops pure vanilla
zest ½ lemon
·         Mix all ingredients together to make a thick batter. Rest in a warm spot for 30 minutes so the yeast can activate
·         Drink the beer that you do like
·         Heat oil in a deep fryer or pot
·         Drop spoon-fulls of the batter into your oil from a great height, or do it gently and close to the oil if you don’t want it to splash and ruin your pretty face
·         Roll around through the oil (the donuts, not you!) so they cook evenly. It should take 2-3 minutes
·         Remove from hot oil with your fingers, or a slotted spoon if you ever want to play the piano accordion again
·         Drain on paper towel
·         Plate up and dust with heaps of icing sugar. Heaps of icing sugar
·         Don’t forget the sides