I went to Seville on the weekend. It is a very hot place. Plenty of lovely things but mostly very hot. Churros are delicious. They can also be very hot.
Apparently it’s a good time to harvest honey. Da is a hobby beekeeper. Sometimes it can look a little suspect as him and the other bee men huddle around the hives in the bushes but the honey it produces is deadly. I mean it. It’s weapons grade stuff. I’ve actually started to beelieve his conspiracy theories on foot of tasting some. He claims that a lot of commercially produced honey is just coloured glucose syrup. I now think he may bee right.
So this week has no recipe. I’ve decided to bee skinny again by the way. It’s day two and I’m feeling vaguely optimistic. But yeah, no recipe beecause as per usual I’m tired and broken.
I did exercise (again) yesterday. Your man made us do these weird lungey things while holding weights. My left arse started cramping. I thought I may need to ask him to help – hadn’t worked out what that might entail – but luckily something else inside me started hurting more than my arse and so I forgot about the cramp.
Back to this week’s post. Here follows a short and entirely unhelpful interpretation on bee milking.
We also had two nieces and a nephew to help beecause the job wasn’t quite sticky enough without them.
Remove bees from hive thing by scaring them with a ridiculous outfit and smoke.
Stare them out of it to make sure they’re gone.
Use a nit comb to remove the waxy bit that holds the honey captive.
Place wooden things with trapped honey into large beer keg thing.
Turn the wheel as fast as you can to centrifuge the honey into submission.
Set up a sieve thing.
Open tap and sit, mesmerized by the ooze.
Bat children away from dipping their manky fingers in.
Sit in mesmerization some more.
Pour into jar.
Make toast and be amazed by the burn of real honey.
Good choice of hobby Da.