Recycled Salt

I actually found one of my Mother's favourite Vilroy & Bosh side plates in the oven earlier in the day, and in typical youngest child fashion I left it there.  It wasn't until later, when I checked on a preheating oven did I really get curious. I asked my Dad to tell me exactly how much money he would have saved had he been able to reuse this plate of celery salt he was using as a Ceasar glass rimmer until it was soaked with lemon juice. Apparently he was expecting it to be a rather large sum of money.

A Little Airing

Attempts to remove the smell of lobster from a freshly painted kitchen: an open door, air purifier, and a sandalwood candle.

Squirrels Welcome

My Dad has been feeding the squirrels in the garden so much lately, the roof had to be "squirrel proofed" to the tune of over a thousand dollars. My mother is not happy about it. As a consequence, the neighbourhood squirrels are super friendly and only too happy to help themselves to their favourite treats when the opportunity presents itself. An opportunity, not unlike the one we have here at the moment. My Mum is trying to rid the house of the smell of rusty seawater/my Dad's attempt at lobster bisque (Day 2), by leaving the doors open, running a fan and lighting scented candles. This little guy is looking forward to all-you-can-eat organic walnuts in-the-shell.

The Lobster Bisque

My Dad is working on lobster bisque, following a very particular recipe. First, the leftover lobster shells were boiled down for over 24 hours. Because the stove broke during Christmas dinner, the Boxing Day lobster bisque was moved outside to the barbecue. Yes, that is with the lid off all afternoon while it rained for several hours, and then left outside overnight despite the proximity of bears, squirells and some pretty demanding blue jays. He has just declared it to be rather "lobster like," while also being "a bit watery." It looks and smells like rusty sea water. He is going to be so disappointed when he realizes there isn't a soul in a five mile radius that will takes him up on his offer of some lobster "beesk," sorry Dad. 

Wrapped in Plastic

My Dad finally explained that it would use up too much olive oil to soak these knives by submerging them, so instead he wrapped them with plastic wrap. He argues that it is my mother's fault in the first place for damaging the wooden handles by running them through the dish washer.