Thing 272 Polish Food for the Day

Now that there is a whole table full of stuff that looks like food. It looks like food because it is, but it's not the kind of food that you'd be used to if you're from Ireland. With the greatest of respect to my Polish friends and their lovely traditions, Polish food is utterly horrendous.

At the best of times I don't like changing my food habits. I wouldn't be the world's biggest fan of change. I like my routine and my home comforts. For snacking I like Nutella, or beans on toast or cereal, you know, the classics. I do not like whatever was in that little tin on the right there. Paste of some description...

It's as much to do with the abnormality of it, as it is about the taste...
At this point I'd like to offer a serious two-fingers to The Frenchman. The idea for the Thing came from chatting with some Polish mates, and constantly walking past the Polish store and wondering what's going on inside...

So, pop in and find out, and while I'm at it, pick up some grub. In fact, spend the day eating only the Polish grub. The Frenchman decides that to make it interesting, he's going to select one thing from the shelf in the store, and no matter what it is, I have to eat it. He selected a tub of grey. Yep. A tub of grey stuff. I put it on toast. I've never eaten dog food (and no, don't suggest it as a Thing, I'm not doing it), but I imagine this is what dog food would taste like.

Nom nom, dog food on toast. Who doesn't love that? No? Me either (The Thief questions the grammatical accuracy of that statement. I care not at all).

So lunch was grey on toast. Delicious. Time for dinner.

Pierogi it is. Anyone unfamiliar with this, and I assume that's most people, it's a dumpling of unleavened dough stuffed with what I assume was mince meat. In fairness and with the greatest respect to Polish food, I probably cooked it wrong. I'm sure it was supposed to be tasty, and maybe if done correctly it would be. Sadly, it was pure muck. Pony Boy and The Frenchman laughed their asses off as we all attempted to fill up on the crap that I'd boiled the absolute nonsense out of.

Never again, unless someone Polish offers to cook it properly for me. And here I thought I was a reasonable chef. I guess you're always more comfortable with the stuff you know.