Tag: Food

7 Reasons That Bananas Are Amazing

1. Nutrition. Bananas are very good for you. They’ve got sucrose, glucose, fructose and things that don’t end in ose. There’s fibre, potassium and iron. They have five times more vitamin A content than an apple, they also contain lots of B and C vitamins, and probably some from further along the alphabet too. And, if you live (approximately) a 22.5 minute run from your nearest banana shop you can get all of the energy you need for a run to, and back from, the shop by eating a single banana before you go*.

2. The banana is like the sandwich. That may strike you as odd, but it’s true. There are many varieties of banana, but the one we all know and love; the one that we commonly call the banana is, in fact, called the Cavendish banana. It’s named after William Cavendish, the sixth Duke of Devonshire and the sandwich, as we all know, is named after John Montagu, the fourth Earl of Sandwich. Hence, the banana is like the sandwich. These men didn’t invent or cultivate them, they were merely notable early consumers of their eponymous products. Perhaps, using this system, Twitter will eventually be called Stephen Fry and the iPad will be known as the Git. Who can tell?

3. Flavour. Bananas taste of bananas, which is great. I like bananas, and if they tasted of tomato or houmous they’d be quite disappointing. But as it is, bananas taste like a sort of a wholesome, less rich, version of banana milkshake. Or a less cakey version of banana cake. Or a more banana-y version of not eating a banana. Look, just eat a banana and figure it out for yourself. They’re jolly nice.

4. Ripeness. When bananas aren’t ready to be eaten, they are green. When they are ready to be eaten, they are yellow. Simple. And when they’ve gone off and they shouldn’t be eaten, they’re brown. There aren’t many foods that so obviously and vividly communicate their own state of edibility. I want to describe the bananas inbuilt colour-coding system as awesome but it’s better than that. It hasn’t just provoked some awe in me, it’s provoked much awe. The colour-coding system of the banana is awemuch. It’s so amazing that I’ve invented a word.

5. Portability. Bananas are supremely portable. They require no implement to eat them, no special container to store them in (they already come wrapped in one) and they don’t need to be cooked. When at home, this is my daily breakfast: A banana, a glass of sparkling water and an espresso. That’s three things to carry away from the kitchen. But I only have two hands. Fortunately though, the banana’s innate portability means that it fits perfectly into my trouser pocket. Thus, I avoid making a second journey to-and-from the kitchen. Sadly, this practice is also the source of many a ribald remark, such as:

Wife: Is that a banana in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?

Me: It’s a banana in my pocket.

Or

Houseguest: Is that a banana in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?

Me: It’s a banana in my pocket.

Or:

Houseguest 2: Is that a banana in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?

Me: It’s a banana in my pocket.

Laugh? We nearly…no no, we didn’t. Anyway, the banana can travel anywhere, occasionally without provoking poor innuendo.

6. Prop. You can use it to do all sorts of things. You can make a smile with it – not one an American would like as bananas are yellow, but a smile nonetheless – and you can make an unsmile (what the hell is the opposite of a smile called?).

You can use it as a pretend gun, which is especially useful if people keep enquiring if that’s “…a banana in your pocket…?” You can also pretend it’s a telephone, but then you have to talk into a banana, which makes you look a little bit mad. And you won’t hear anyone talking back. Hopefully.

7. Novelty. Bananas are exotic. Well, unless you’re reading this in Latin America, Africa or Southeast Asia, in which case they probably seem quite humdrum. But in the UK we import all of our bananas. This means that during the Second World War there weren’t any to be had at all; my own father didn’t see his first banana until he was seven years old. Bananas seemed so novel and exotic back then, that during towards the end of WWII people actually advertised their banana flavoured barley pudding mixture(!) by drawing attention to their lack of bananas. Think on that, the next time you’re eating a banana.

*Never eat a married banana.

June 17, 2010
7 Reasons The French Couldn’t Invade The UK

1. Language. A successful French invasion would result in the British speaking French. That’s not happening. The British have about as much interest in learning French as they do in my trousers. They are also incapable of learning something so… well… pointless. (The British I mean, not my trousers. Though, come to think of it, my trousers are fairly incapable in that department too). The fact is, we Brits just wouldn’t turn up to the classes. The French would eventually get fed up and go home. Then they’d find that while they were out for the day we took over. Genius.

2. Beaches. The French have dainty little feet. It’s a well known fact, in my mind, that they spend 56% of their time in the bathroom moisturising their toes. If they try and invade by boat it means making an assault via our beaches. These are made from stone. That’s enough to make them turn around and run out of petrol in the middle of the English Channel. Please note that name. The English Channel. None of this French Chanel No.5 rubbish.

3. Flights. Attempting to invade by plane would be particularly stupid as most of the planes destined for Heathrow get diverted to Charles de Gaulle anyway. Or Luton. Both are pretty horrendous.

4. Time Difference. The French are an hour ahead of the British. Not in common sense, just in time. Supposing the French finish work at 5pm their time. It would take them two hours to get to London. That would be 6pm our time. Rush hour. Told you they didn’t have common sense.

5. Food. There is no point in invading and then going home for tea. We’d just take our country back. The French would actually have to occupy the UK. This would mean eating British food. Well they’re not going to do that are they? Who wants a plate of fish and chips when you can have frog’s legs dipped in snail fluid?

6. Nelson. Horatio still gives the French nightmares. That is why you never see an onion-selling cyclist in Trafalgar Square. Fancy losing a battle to a bloke with one arm and one eye. Do you know how difficult it is steer a ship with one arm and one eye? That’s pretty lame France.

7. Scared. The French are big pansies. In the early 1800’s Nelson had both the French and Spanish fleets blockaded in at Toulon. Instead of fighting back, they slipped through the back entrance. (A nasty habit). Nelson ended up having to chase them all the way to the West Indies. And back again. And they still didn’t bloody engage in battle. If that is their attitude how could they possibly invade the UK? They’d run away crying if the foghorn on the Calais to Dover ferry was a bit too loud.

March 22, 2010
7 Reasons Not to Have a Dinner Party

1. The bad-egg. At any dinner party, at least one person will behave badly and annoy all of the other guests. It’s always a man. Often it’s me.

2. Multi-tasking. Women can multi-task – they demonstrate this by talking during films. This means that they approach both hosting and cooking for a dinner party with confidence, which makes it all the more tragic when your tearful hostess returns from the kitchen bearing a foul-smelling tray containing something black (possibly the charred remains of a flan) and a bowl of something green and unidentifiable (no idea). If you want to see a grown-woman cry, you don’t have to go to a dinner party. You can just hide her chocolate – which is a lot easier.

3. Candles. There are always candles on the table at dinner parties but no one knows why. I don’t want to singe my arm hair every time I pour some wine or pass the salt. Why would you want to put a fire on the table?

4. Wine. Guests always bring wine with them, and it’s always the wrong one – a Barolo when the main course is a delicate fish dish, or a New Zealand sauvignon blanc to go with lamb. Why can’t guests just do something useful and bring dessert with them? Or not come?

5. Cheesecake. A plain, unadorned cheesecake is one of the best desserts ever. I don’t want cheesecake made with Baileys, I don’t want cheesecake made with fruit, nor do I want cheesecake made with chocolate. What I would like is cheesecake made with cheese. And cake. Don’t tell me that I’m getting a cheesecake for dessert and then bring me something made with gooseberries and covered in sauce! Why can no one hosting a dinner party resist cocking up a cheesecake? Is it the law?

6. Children. I was brought up in a house that often hosted dinner parties – at least one a month – but I don’t think that my siblings or I even caught sight of one until we were eighteen years old. No one has ever successfully explained why children are banished from dinner parties to me. Is it because of the candles?

7. Restaurants. There are places where a group of people can sit around a table and eat wonderful food – made to a higher standard than they could manage themselves – they’re called restaurants. The diners don’t have to get up to fetch courses, drinks or cutlery and they don’t end up with candle-wax on their carpet. You can choose what you want to eat and drink rather than have your courses compromised by your friends bizarre and varied dietary requirements, children don’t have to be hidden – they can be taken with you or looked after by a babysitter – and you don’t have to wash-up afterwards. I sincerely hope they catch on.

March 15, 2010