What is that, chicken?

Every night it's the fuckin' chicken...

So said the great Alan Arkin in 'Little Miss Sunshine'.

To which his son chides, 'Dad...'.

Then the comeback.

'I'm just sayin'. Could we please have something that isn't the goddamn fuckin' chicken'.

I'm beginning to feel that way about food programs on tv.

Mood food; romantic food; quick food; medicinal food; ethnic food; food, food, food, food, food...

Enough with the food already.

I'm stuffed.

And I want to be sick.

Market Research

Off to St George's this morning with the family for a couple of hours of browsing, buying and the obligatory coffee.

A great market and filled with fresh organic produce. We stocked up on meat (sorry Mr. McCartney, you'll never convert me) and fed our faces on tasty paella.

In the centre a few guys entertained the crowd with some smooth jazz. Nice work men...

It would whet your appetite to have a go yourself. The knack, of course is providing something people want, hopefully that little bit different from everyone else. I love the thought of making people happy, having a bit of banter and so on.

We dropped in later to our very good friends in Holywood and shared the craic over some delicious tarts and more coffee. The two women have their heads well screwed on, whilst us men need ours fixed.

It makes for a great team.