Am I the only person who wears food prep gloves when cooking?
I will with peppers, mainly, but that's because I have to handle the dog's food.
In the sixties there was a burger chain in UK called Wimpy (I guess the name comes from Popeye's money borrowing mate). I remember the bun was toasted and it tasted OK although I was only in my teens with very little else to compare at that time. I'd never heard of McDonald's or Burger King.
I've eaten at Wimpy's in the UK in the 1990's. Wimpy's also shows up in one of my all-time favorite films, Bedazzled, with Peter Cook and Dudley Moore.
I had an altercation with my wife a few nights ago. She said "we are lucky that we have sufficient money" to buy a few items that we bought recently. I reminded her that we didn't win the lottery, I worked hard and saved wisely to accumulate the money that we do have. No luck involved.
I've had this conversation with people many times over the years, usually regarding vacations we take: "Must be lucky to be able to go to Europe every year!"
I point out that's it's not luck, it's planning.
I honestly haven't a clue what you mean - maybe the UK offering is different?
I simply mean that everything that's going on in a McD's - the hot grease, the coffee brewing, the sickly-sweet smell of the soft serve machine, the toilets (yes, even the toilets) - all that combines to create this totally individual "master smell" that cannot be compared to anything else.
When I walk onto an Underground platform, I can smell the hydraulics, and I can say, "That smells a bit like my uncle's repair shop." When I walk in a McD's and encounter their smell, I can't say that it smells remotely like anything else. It just smells...like McD's, and as soon as it hits the brain, brain screams "BIG MAC!! FRIES!!! QUARTER-POUNDER!!! MORE FRIES!!!"
We have that very well covered in Texas. I am okay eating them, but I don't ever find myself craving a plate of bull balls.
CD
I know I've mentioned the story of my wife having "Calf Fries" at the Texas Folklife Festival; they had food from all kinds of different cultures and cuisines, and she asked me what calf fries were, and I wasn't thinking too much about it and said, "I don't know, California fries? Like fried avocado strips or something?"
So she ordered them, couldn't figure out from the texture, and asked the guy at the booth, and he said, "Well, ma'am, they come from a bull."
She said, "Ok...it's really chewy...what part?"
"The part the makes him a bull."
She spit them out, half-chewed, right on the booth counter.