Tag: lemons

Russian Roulette Sunday: 7 Reasons To Borrow One Of The 7 Reasons Team

Good morning Sunday. Usually on Sunday we rid ourselves of the strict seven reasons framework and let it all hang out. Today is slightly different. Without request, bargaining or bribery, former (and future) guest writer Richard O’Hagan decided to be nice to us. Now, 50% of the 7 Reasons team don’t go in for all this self-loving egotistical narcissism that is so prevalent on the internet. The other 50% can’t get enough. And because he is in charge this Sunday he has decided to share the nice things Richard said about us with you. For reasons best known to himself – though he did cite our week of cat flap/flat cap/flat cat borrowing – Richard has thoughtfully provided the world with seven reasons as to why one of you should borrow one of us. And here they are:

1. Technical Skills (IT). It must be obvious to anyone that the 7 Reasons team are technical geniuses when it comes to computer related stuff. Every now and then a post appears which is so laden with computer-speak that it is the written equivalent of being audible only to dogs, ergo they must know a lot more about this stuff than you or I. So the next time that your office computers crash, don’t wait for some numpty in Prague or Mumbai to diagnose your problem, simply borrow a 7 Reasons member to sort it out for you

2. Technical Skills (DIY). Look at that sofa! Isn’t it a work of genius? How much talent must be bottled up in these two guys, that they can produce something so seamless that you can hardly see the join (apart from the change in colour and style, obviously). Here are men so talented with a saw, screwdriver and hammer that the likes of Tommy Walsh weep in their presence (presumably). There is simply no reason to employ someone else to put up your shelves or build your decking when you can go to the very best and borrow Marc or Jon

3. Geographical Convenience. Better still, with one of them (Marc) being Oop North, and the other (Jon, by a process of elimination) Dahn Sarf, you can guarantee that a 7 Reasons expert is only minutes away (as even hours can be measured in minutes, too), thereby making them far more likely to show up and fix your problem than any other so-called expert

4. Lemons. One of my wife’s frequent complaints is that whenever I buy fish, I forget to buy a lemon for her to squeeze over it. 7 Reasons practically runs on the things, so why not borrow a 7 Reasons-er to do your shopping for you and avoid citrus-related domestic grief forever (unless your wife wanted limes. Or oranges)

5. Cats. Have you ever tried getting a cat sitter? It is almost impossible to find one for less than the cost of the holiday you were going on in the first place. And catterys cost even more. So why not borrow Marc, a self confessed tolerator of felines, to look after your cats whilst you are gone. There’s at least a 50% chance that he won’t try and feed them on lemons.

6. Empathy. At least one of the 7 Reasons boys is colour blind. At least one is married. If, like me, you are both colour blind and married you can really do with having someone to empathise with as your wife yet again complains that your shirt and trousers clash with one another. Borrow the 7 Reasons team and you have an instant set of shoulders (four, in fact) to cry on.

7. 7 Bespoke Reasons. You just know that the 7 Reasons team spend all day, every day, wandering around in a highly-developed comedic haze, every fibre twitching to find the source of the next 7 Reasons post. If you borrow one of them, you will find that it is your life that 7 Reasons becomes based upon. Which, frankly, is even better than writing 7 of them for yourself.

So there you have it. Well, almost. Due to the success of Thursday’s poll – which was won handsomely by “Fnuduhuh!” – we thought we’d give your fingers another chance to click on something. In line with today’s revelations, we are asking …

[poll id=”3″]

March 20, 2011
7 Reasons That the Hot Toddy is THE Winter Drink

The hot toddy is the winter drink. Here are seven reasons why.

1. They’re Warming. Hot toddies are hot. The winter is cold. Therefore, when you arrive home after any time outdoors, you are probably cold. Given that the temperature differential between the toddy and your body* is going to be quite substantial, the taking of the toddy will be beneficial to your body temperature and innate sense of wellbeing.

2. They’re Medicinal. Given that it’s winter, you’re probably suffering from some sort of cold/flu/sniffle/sinus-block-green-stuff-induced-torpor. The hot toddy contains cloves, which help you breathe more easily (if you embed them in the lemon properly). If you don’t, you may accidentally get one caught in your throat and choke to death. Still, fear of imminent death makes drinking a hot toddy far more interesting than drinking a cup of tea.

3. They’re Convenient. Don’t have the necessary ingredients for a hot toddy to hand? Well, firstly, sack your housekeeper. Secondly, relax. The hot toddy recipe isn’t some hideously rigid formula that must be adhered to, it’s more a rough guide to creating your own drink: Hot toddy making is an art rather than a science. If you don’t have any whisky handy, you can use pretty much any other dark or oak-aged spirit; whiskey, brandy, grappa, rum are all acceptable (individually, don’t go mad) and bring a different flavour to proceedings. You can also – should you find that you’re out of honey – substitute dark sugar, syrup or treacle. My favourite alternative is maple syrup, which is from Canada, where they have weird canoes and they milk trees.

4. They’re Healthy. Most hot toddy recipes suggest that you use a slice of lemon. They are wrong. If you use a quarter of a lemon and squeeze it before putting it in the mug (squeezing the juice into the mug, obviously, don’t just dribble it over the worktop or onto a passing cat) the toddy is much better. Firstly it uses up a greater quantity of lemon – which is always desirable – and secondly, it puts more lemon juice into the drinker. Not only does this give you vitamin C, it probably counts as one of your recommended five portions of fruit and vegetables per day so, disregarding clove-choking incidents, you’ll be healthier too and may live for ever.***

5. They’re Even Healthier. One of the things you need to do to fight those wintry ailments is to make sure your blood sugar levels are high. This will give you the energy you need to carry on regardless/lie down and complain that you are dying (delete as appropriate, based on sex). This is why they give ill people Lucozade, and this is why you should drink a hot toddy, either preventative or medicinal. That and they don’t taste of Lucozade.

6. They’re Even More Convenient. You might be thinking that the last thing you want to be doing is messing about with spirits, cloves and lemons every time you want a hot drink, but the good news is that you don’t have to. Because you can pre-make your hot toddies. Just put all the ingredients, minus the hot water, into a mug and put it in the fridge (in our kitchen, we have a walk-in refrigerator that we call “the kitchen”). You can put as many as you want in there. You might also consider adding a note that says “in case of emergency, add boiling water, stir, bring upstairs to me” or some such. Your partner/housemates/parents/children/pets/imaginary friend will doubtless appreciate that.

7. They Taste Good. I seem to have forgotten to mention that they taste bloody marvellous. Plus, the flavour is so strong, that even with a cold, it is still apparent. And they smell so nice that other people will follow you around the house as you drink one and attempt to steal it, despite having declined your kind offer of one only ten minutes previously. That always happens.

*Don’t panic, I know it rhymes. I shan’t attempt to turn that line into the start of a song.**

**Well, I’ll try to resist it.

***If you fail to live for ever after switching to the hot toddy as your winter drink of choice, feel free to email your complaint to us.

As a special bonus, here’s the recipe:

Some whisky: Maybe a little bit more. A tiny bit more. Oh, fuck it, another splash won’t hurt me.

Two teaspoons of honey.

A quarter of a lemon (squeezed, if you are at all health-conscious)

Some cloves (4-8). Embed them in the lemon or you will die.

Hot water.

Combine all the ingredients in a mug, then fill with hot water and stir. Remove teaspoon. Drink.

(You can also add a cinnamon stick if you like cinnamon or sticks).

January 20, 2011
Russian Roulette Sunday: A Recipe

Hi, Marc here. It’s Sunday and half of the 7 Reasons team is unwell. Sadly, its the half that’s writing today’s post; so I’m sorry if you’ve been clicking refresh on the homepage for the last few hours waiting expectantly for this to appear. Anyway, here it is.

A glass of mulled wine contains several of your five a day. Probably.

We’ve brought you recipes before of course. I’ve given you a recipe for SPAM on a plank, and Jon’s shown you how to remove something from the freezer. Badly. But it occurred to me that we’ve never given you a recipe for something you might conceivably like to consume. And it’s the time of year for it, so here’s my epic recipe for mulled wine that I’ve been inflicting on house-guests every winter since…well…before we had a house. Or guests. Anyway, here are the ingredients that you will need:

2 Bottles of red wine: It doesn’t matter how many people that you are going to give mulled wine too, the correct quantity is always two bottles. Don’t just use the cheapest wine that you can find as, if you do, your mulled-wine will be mulled-cheap-wine, and no one will like it. You don’t need to spend very much though, an inexpensive Aussie Shiraz-Cabernet will have enough strong fruit notes and body to support the ingredients, or a cheap Tempranillo. Just don’t use anything too light of body like a Pinot Noir or a Beaujolais, as it will be overpowered by the other ingredients.

2 Lemons (quartered).

2 Oranges (quartered).

4 Cloves.

5 Tablespoons of honey.

1 Cinnamon stick.

2 Teaspoons of ground ginger.

Put all of the ingredients into a pan. Put the pan on the hob. Turn the hob on (to a low heat). Stir constantly until the mulled-wine is near boiling point but importantly DO NOT LET THE MULLED-WINE BOIL! When it boils the alcohol escapes, and you need that in order to suffer your house-guests, (or they will need it to suffer you, in my case). While it is warming, taste frequently and add any random thing you can think of to improve the flavour. Last New Year’s Eve, I added a quartered and squeezed satsuma, half a cup of brandy, half a cup of triple sec, a big splash of orange juice and a tsunami of dark rum*. All of these things work very well in it. When everything’s in and it’s near boiling point turn the hob off and ladle your mulled-wine into cups, mugs or glasses (glasses without handles will be too hot to hold so only give those to guests you dislike). You may then drink the mulled-wine. And as you’re the person that made the delicious, warming, tasty beverage that they enjoyed so, everyone will briefly love you and will happily tolerate you for the remainder of the evening.

Right, I’m off to mull my way back to health. 7 Reasons will be back tomorrow with seven reasons…for something.

*Several hours after drinking this mulled-wine when we were cracking open the Champagne, we all realised that we were really quite drunk, and were surprised because we’d only consumed a bit of mulled-wine and three or four beers over the course of the evening. I think I’ve just solved the mystery.

December 19, 2010
Russian Roulette Sunday: One Year In Numbers!

Wednesday 27th October 2010 marks the first birthday of 7 Reasons. In the past year we have written approximately 2,000 reasons. Which, thinking about it, is 1,993 more than we should have done. We have also had countless guest writers and hundreds upon hundreds of comments. Some good, mostly anti-Jon. All in all, it’s been pretty good. Hopefully year two will be even better. Maybe a book? Maybe a panel show? Maybe we’ll finally appear in Esquire? Who knows. But that’s the future. Today, I want to concentrate on what we’ve achieved.

Right, now that’s done, we can move on. Oh, but before we do, can we just say thank you to everyone who has read 7 Reasons over the last year. And give an even bigger thank you to those who have commented on and/or shared 7 Reasons posts. And then there needs to be an even bigger thank you to all those who have written for us. Saturdays wouldn’t be the same without you. Now let’s hug. Okay, that’s long enough. Someone’s lemon is pressing into my thigh.

October 24, 2010
7 Reasons That Oranges are Rubbish

Oranges. They’re a really, really poor fruit. Here’s a film which explains why.

7 Reasons That Oranges are Rubbish

October 5, 2010
Russian Roulette Sunday: The Words Behind The Words Behind The Reasons 2.

Hello, it’s a Jon week. In terms of Russian Roulette Sunday anyway. In terms of general living, every week is a Jon week. If it wasn’t I’d be dead or something. And no one wants that. Especially Marc. All the reasons and all the lemons would drive him insane. So, anyway, back to today. If you were with us in January, you may remember we took a look at some of the words Marc and I have exchanged with each other in the making of 7 Reasons. Have a read here if you were washing your hair that day. Not only was it funny, it was very easy to write. Which is basically our ideal kind of post. So we’ve decided to do it again. Right here. Right now. Enjoy.

“I think it’s fairly obvious, I’m a spaceman.”

“I haven’t done the same, that would be lazy and unhelpful.”

“I am now hungover and not writing furiously about lemons.”

“I may have something sensible to say later.”

“I think camp bingo is like gay bingo. But in a field.”

“Ouch.”

“It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.”

“Canasta.”

“Well done on the lemons.”

“7 Reasons Guy Fawkes Should Have Been Called Lady Spoons?”

“I’d like to point out that a man in Russia found your socks and sandals piece yesterday.”

“If I take the name of York’s most famous son (his birthplace is a four minute walk from here) in vain, an angry mob will probably form outside my door.”

“I shall have an Alka-Seltzer and some lemon juice.”

“That’s £22.50 each per month that we’re not making now. That’s progress.”

“In hindsight, I probably shouldn’t have put it straight in. That’s ovens for you though.”

“I’m back! Did you miss me?”

“Would you be totally insulted if I said I didn’t?”

“I was writing about dough balls. It does happen occasionally.”

“The only thing I liked about it was the end. A bit like when my parents used to listen to the Archers at dinner.”

“How about a cat hoverboard?”

“Oh, and Esquire magazine bought David Baddiel lunch today. Have they said anything about buying us lunch?”

“Excuse me a minute, I have a Jehovah Witness shaped problem.”

“I’m not sure it’s totally necessary, but it looks pretty. A bit like Kate Moss.”

“Let me know if you need a lemon.”

“Nice lemon on the sofa. Very funny.”

“Marc. Spiffing. Jon.”

“I have added my thoughts in curly lines that look like sperm.”

“I’ve never liked the French.”

“I tried to write a piece about beards once.”

“I’m like the world’s slowest genius.”

“We are like the tortoise and the tortoise.”

“Something went wrong. I think I shut it too tightly.”

“Photoshopping top trumps cards is more time consuming than I imagined.”

“I’m off to visit the shed.”

“I’m off to the greenhouse of neurosis.”

“I’ve tried shouting at it and that isn’t working.”

“A boy just fell off his bike. I’m laughing. Shall I go and pick him up?”

“That’s like liking Hitler more than Atilla The Hun and New Kids On The Block.”

“Ken, when in doubt, pretend to be a grown-up. It never fails.”

“I don’t have an issue with it. It’s probably the sadist in me. Or the beer.”

“I don’t think you’ve said Zara enough.”

“I hadn’t forgotten that you’re going to Rome, as in my mind it’s a tiramisu-related-event.”

“Bollocks.”

“Is it a cow?”

“It looked funny and I googled it.”

October 3, 2010
7 Reasons It Must Be Tough Being A Shark

I don’t know about you, but I’ve never been a shark. I guess it’s just something I’ve never found the time to do. Thankfully, for 7 Reasons purposes, it doesn’t stop me imagining what it must be like. So that is what I’ve done for the last forty-five minutes. I have imagined what it would be like being a shark. And after much deliberation – and the gruesome devouring of two pirates – I have decided it must be tough. Here’s why.

1. Reputation. They have a bad name do sharks. And by that I don’t mean names like Jason or Cliff, which are abominations of names, I just mean their reputations proceed them. And it’s not a good one. Jaws writer Peter Benchley and that film guy, Steven Spielberg, have a lot to answer for. They have made sharks appear to us as killers. Which actually only applies to about four of the 440 species of shark. I imagine it must feel as I would if someone suggested there was a bit of the French about me.

2. Sleep. I am 27 years-old. I expect no applause for this, but if you did clap your hands, many thanks. In my 27 years, I believe I have sleep-walked only once. And even then it wasn’t a very exciting sleep-walk, I just went looking for the bathroom in the lounge.* I could not imagine doing that every night though. Which is what a shark has to do. Apart from it swims instead of walking. And it rarely ends up in my lounge. No, I couldn’t swim all night. Whilst asleep. A shark has to though. Otherwise it’ll sink. And drown. And die.

3. Hammerhead Shark. Whether this species evolved after a normal-looking sleeping shark swam straight into the underside of a ship, is anyone’s guess, but it’s an ugly looking thing. As a teenager I was spotty, spectacled and slimy haired, but even then I looked better than a Hammerhead. Just. Poor git.

4. Recession. Yes, the economic downturn has had a negative effect on sharks. There just aren’t as many people going to the beach these days. Less people = less food.

5. Skills. Recent research (according to wikipedia) indicates that sharks actually posses powerful problem solving skills and excellent social abilities. Well what the bloody hell is the use in that if you’re a shark? You can’t get your fins around a sudoku puzzle book or log into facebook can you? It’s a bit like me having the ability to beat up a Tyrannosaurus Rex. Pointless.

6. Lemons. The 7 Reasons team know a lot about lemons. At least 50% of the team has been sharing their house with them for the past few weeks and the other 50% has been forming something of an irrational fear of them as a result. It’s probably a Yin-Yang thing.** What neither of us expected was that Lemon also lends it’s name to a shark. We were quite surprised. Which is probably a very different reaction to the shark’s. “What sort of shark am I father? A Great White? A Tiger? A Hammerhead? A Mako? A Bull?”.”No son, you’re a lemon.”

7. Australians. I am not sure if you would have expected anything else, but as Australians are incapable of doing anything properly (losing to England, beating Scotland, admiring Her Majesty The Queen, marmite), they also do fish and chips wrong. Especially in Victoria. In Victoria, they don’t offer you cod or plaice or haddock, oh no, their delicacy is shark and chips. Seriously. Imagine being a shark and knowing that one day you’re going to end up next to a portion of fried potatoes. You’d be gutted.

*As I expect you are wondering what happened, I will tell you. I didn’t find it.

**You may decide who is Yin. Yang will follow.

September 29, 2010
Russian Roulette Sunday: Killing Three Lemons With One Cat

Hello! It’s me, Jon (the one with the ginger moustache and no feet if you’ve just been looking at our ‘About Us’ page). It’s Sunday and for a second Sunday in a row I am in charge of Sundays. Marc has taken the day off to be in charge of lemons. The more observant of you will have noticed a new category at the header of the site. ‘Top Posts’. As the name suggests, this category features our best posts. These have been determined by a number of factors, such as number of views, but it is in no way a definitive list. This is where you come in. In October, 7 Reasons will be celebrating its first birthday. We are already making plans and the lemon drizzle cake is only surpassed by the lemonade. On our birthday we would like to announce the greatest 7 Reasons post ever. As voted by you, our loyal, not so loyal and ‘how-the-hell-did-I-end-up-on-this-site’ readers. Our first aim is to create a shortlist of ten posts. And that, you’ll be pleased to hear, is your responsibility. Please feel free to check the Top Posts (and, if you are inclined, the rest of the site) and let us know which of the posts you loved/liked/thought were bearable. Then all you have to do is check back in two weeks time, when one of us (hopefully Marc) will have worked out how the hell we do a poll on this site. Thanks for your help!

Oh, and one lucky voter will win a signed lemon. Or two. Or ten.

September 12, 2010
7 Reasons That I’m Sick Of The Lemons

On Monday, I started my bank holiday project: A batch of limoncello. It’s a simple enough liqueur to make, requiring a couple of litres of vodka, some sugar and lemon zest. A lot of lemon zest. The zest of twenty-four lemons. Here are seven reasons that I’m now sick of the lemons.

1. Peeling Them. Ever peeled a lemon? It’s the second dullest activity known to man (or woman). You have to be careful not to get any of the pith with the zest, so it takes a long time. I peeled twenty-four of the things. I have no idea exactly how long I was in the kitchen, but I do know that I had a ginger beard when I emerged from it. I had one when I went in too, but I was definitely in there for a very long time. Peeling lemons.

2. Poor Planning. “Errrr. Ummm. Errrr. Have a lemon, darling.” That’s what I said when my wife – not unreasonably – enquired what I was going to do with twenty-four peeled lemons. This is because, caught up in my enthusiasm for making the limoncello, I had forgotten that a by-product of lemon zest is lemons. Lots of lemons. I decided to put them in the fridge, certain that we would be able to use them.

3. Juice. Our fridge was already quite full. So full, in fact, that I had to remove several jars of jam, a bag of onions that pre-dated the internet, and all – except for two – bottles of beer, to fit the large, overflowing bowl of peeled lemons in. Eventually, two days later, desperate to free up fridge space for more beer, I had a brainwave. Lemon juice. I would juice half of the lemons. This would free up space in the fridge and enable me to put beer in there. Ever juiced twelve lemons? It’s the dullest activity known to man (or woman). After what seemed like a fortnight of squeezing lemons, I put the (surprisingly still quite full) bowl – now containing half the original number of lemons – back into the fridge. Then I had to remove the remaining bottles of beer in order to make room for the two bottles of lemon juice. Brilliant.

4. Drinks. As there was now no cold beer in the house, and many, many lemons, I decided to have a cocktail week. The things that I have drunk at home in cocktail week have included: lemon drop martinis, gin fizzes, whisky sours and tom collinseseseses. Hic. All of these cocktails contain lemon juice, of which there is still a lot. Probably enough to keep Amy Winehouse in lemon-based cocktails for several months. Still, one of the benefits of having had lemon-based cocktails all week is that they’re a perfect match for…

5. Our Food. The meals that we’ve eaten in the past four days have been (in no particular order): pancakes with sugar and lemon juice, linguine in lemon cream sauce with smoked salmon, fish finger sandwiches with tartar sauce and lemon, and home-made bread and lemon summer soup. I have no idea what we’re having for tea this evening, but I sense that it may involve a lemon. And I don’t want to eat any more lemons. I think I may be turning yellow. And then there’s…

6. The Smell. The fridge smells of lemons. The kitchen smells of lemons. I smell of lemons. My wife smells of lemons. The entire ground floor of the house smells of lemons. Our cat now lives in the garden because of the smell of lemons. Our neighbours have been looking at us strangely all week, presumably because of the smell of lemons emanating from our house. If you were to send a letter to:

The house that smells of lemons,

York.

We would probably receive it. Please do not send any circulars. Or lemons.

7. The Lemons Are Seemingly Infinite. Despite having consumed so many lemons that my blood is now 29% citric acid; despite having reduced half of their number to juice; despite having made my wife consume so many lemons that she could possibly use it as grounds for divorce – “Being married to him was horrible, m’lud. He filled the kitchen with bicycles and forced me to eat lemons.” – there are still many, many bloody lemons in the fridge. At the current rate of consumption, they will probably last for about three months…

…which is when the limoncello will be ready. Will this lemon-hell never end?

September 3, 2010