Eva's Wine Cellar

For tonight we are, Eva!
Let's have some Irish stew and wash it down with whatever the Irish drink...

I would guess, Guinness.

Only the good-looking ones (also Calamity).

Or Bailey's, if you prefer!

Bailey's is good too!

Well, a little John Jameson Irish whiskey, neat or with water would also do quite well (Bushmills is for Protestants).

In the roseate glow of pink, twenty five watt, wrinkle friendly, paper lanterns, the walls of the Cellar splendid with reproductions of the more risque paintings from Pompeii and the genre of Gothic symbolisms, slant-eyed doxies of a certain age slinking flittingly to and fro past arthritic old sweats seeking to rekindle the ashes of old fires, one senses the ineffable fragrance of Oriental mysteries, the understated intellectual ambience and the frou-frou of fan-tannery.

Past the bead curtains, ostensibly to protect the ladies, an ice-cream van calls children to their devotions with the introductory bars of Pop Goes The Weasel. It is hot and humid.

Jacques, the oil rag, stands by with ball-point pen and a melancholy mien befitting his namesake in As You Like It and which is a dreadful pun on the word "jakes".

"Number 5," a voice from a dark corner hails in his direction. Jacques vanishes through a swinging door into a maelstrom of clanging pans, motors whirring and shouting to reappear astonishingly rapidly with a tray on which there is plate of sausages and mash covered in a rich onion gravy. And a knife and fork. From a recently vacated table he brings two squeeze-bottles containing brown and red sauces wiping the nozzles with the stained cloth he has fastened into the waistband of his trousers. He is a fastidious fellow.

"Thanks pal," the VDC says, "will things get going later?"

Before Jacques can answer, having only enough time to roll his eyes, a lady interrupts saying "is everything to your satisfaction Sir?"

Gazing steadfastly into the voluptuous cleavage of the leaning enquirer, VDC drawls "It seems not so bad so far my dear."

"You should have tried the Chef's Special," she simpered.

"And what is that Madam? " VDC asked distractedly.

"Okay Yoni Lamb Meat Balls with Water Chestnuts and Chop Suey Surprise," she said raising one eyebrow and tightening up one corner of her mouth in a manner one might be forgiven for thinking is suggesting some mysterious promise associated with subliminal, sensuous succulences suddenly surfacing.

"What number is that? he asked.

"Number 1 of course," she replied, "the Chef's Special is always Number 1.

I liked that ! Truly good, evocative descriptions, and all in keeping with your vseceral obsessions.

However, what or who is "VDC" ?

The voice of a person in a very dark corner. (see starter post).

Squeeze bottles? An ice cream truck? Bad art? Chop Suey Surprise? Ordering by number???

<peers into spendius' glass>

What have you been drinking back in that corner?

It was a Cointreau and Absinthe Snake-Bite.

I'll have another if it isn't too much trouble Madam.

Well, that certainly explains why you're seeing things! I'm surprised you're still standing up. You're unusually pale, too...

I'm sorry, but we won't be able to serve you anything else alcoholic this evening. You've had too much. Please allow me to call you a cab. It's on the house!



(That's right, Jacques. We must get him out of here before he gets sick!)

Ok, then, time for a wee glass o'Powers Three Swallows irish whiskey with ice on the side.

Adds, maybe some toasted bread made by me - Lahey no knead bread with mixed flours and seeds, with some good irish butter for those who like it.

Obviously, I need a drink.. All I think about is work. I'm going to have a baileys, I thought it was VICE DEPUTY CHAIRMAN ~

I didna' know that, George O.

Follow up -

http://www.whiskeysofireland.com/reviews/powers.html

Distilled in County Cork.

I've noticed a strange phenomena lately.

One can say The Amalgamated Union of Sagger Makers Bottom Knockers, AUSMBK, and if one uses the acronym AUSMBK more than five words later one is looked at as if one is an imbecile and required to give an explanation.

I used the shorthand "ccb" the other day on a thread discussing the meaning of the Universe, and how to get the Pope out of our underpants and knickers, five words after I had used the longer version, "culturally conditioned belief", in regard to what time it is. (The hypothesis of the infinitesimal time zone.)

I was not only asked for an explanation but suggestions were offered as to what a "ccb" might be. Which were witless considering the range of possibilities.

It has long been a theory of mine that many people do not read in the sense of comprehending the text they are reading but simple pass their eyes over a succession of words unaware that they are connected to each other in a systematic way.

The literary experiment with "VDC" and "ccb" seems to provide evidence that my theory might contain more water than it is generally thought to do in those social circles to which admission depends on having Majored in English Comprehension.

One has to accept that one should take it as it comes.

I have no idea what you said but you're off the booze for sure!

I am here for a glass red wine, Jaques! Something to nibble on would be nice too....along these lines.

I liked this too.
Joe(juusst the right oddness)Nation

Jaysus, I just swallowed something besides the whiskey in my glass. It could have been a fly though it might have been a raisin, I've been eating some of those lately and I have been absentmindedly dropping them into everything.

Joe(I'll just have another short one, if you please)Nation