Cook. Seriously. Chicks love food. We all know that, I hear you scoff, what sort of bullshit advice is this? True, but here's a little piece of extra ammunition for all the dudes out there, looking to cook their way towards the ladies.
Franzy's Piece of Advice About Women #2: Cook something with crunchy green vegetables in it. Forget the oysters, the Rohypnol and the Tiger's Dick Stew. Serve up something full of fresh-looking vegies that are green and you will be King of Ladyopolis.
Why? Women love to be healthy, even if they say they don't want to, they really mean that they do (where have I heard that before?). Anyway, they also catch a whole lot of shit about what they eat and so it's quite difficult to be both healthy and to eat properly. So when you come along and serve up your dish of sweet tasty tasty munchy greens, the healthy factor kicks in, the eating kicks in: you're a hero.
What should I serve, O Dealer Of Patronising Rambles? I hear you moan.
Stir fry - good. Make sure it's tasty. Put the greens in towards the end or they won't be crunchy.
But here's a couple of better tummy-fillers to get you going:
Franzy's Incredible Green Pastas for Women:
Pasta 1 - Zucchini Love
1. Oil in saucepan. Medium heat. Throw in crushed garlic. Let it cook a little.
2. Chopped onion, bacon and diced zucchini - into the pan! Heat up! Cook cook! Fry! Let the women smell this happening.
3. Can of tomatoes, splash of white wine and a big squirt of balsamic glaze.
4. Stir it up, little darlin', 'til it bubbles. Turn it down a bit - keep it bubblin'.
5. Give it twenty minutes of bubblin' and a'stirin', then put the pasta on.*
6. Whack the sauce on top. Serve.
7. Soak it up: "Wow! I love the zucchini! So sweet!"
Zing.
Pasta 2 - Green is the Reason for the Season
1. Big pot. Boil water. Throw in a Massel Chicken Stock Cube.
2. In goes the pasta.*
3. When the pasta is almost done, throw in chopped up broccolini (little, sweet broccoli or just plain broccoli)
4. When the pasta is ready, throw a handful of frozen peas into the water! Throw 'em right in! Yay!
5. Pasta's done, pour it into a strainer, save some of the chicken stock water.
6. Same pot. Back on the heat. Big lug of olive oil. Crushed garlic, 2 tablespoons of basil pesto, chopped up avocado, pepper, splash of white wine (or verjuice, if you're a toss-bag) and fry fry stir stir fry! Hot!
7. Strained pasta back into the pot, along with that half a tea cup of the stock you saved from being poured down the sink earlier (or not, if you went a bit crazy with the white wine).
8. Mix it up! Mix it until everything is touching everything else! Green-eyed and groovy!
9. Put in bowls, chuck a few fresh chopped basil leaves on top.
10. Serve it up, cowboy.
Make sure you've got lots of fresh-grated parmesan cheese. That way, if somehow you've managed to fuck either of these up, she can politely smother the taste of burnt tomatoes or white wine with plenty of Milanese Marching Powder.
* This is all based on the assumption that you know how to cook pasta. They say that to assume makes an ass out of u and me, but in this case, if you're still struggling with boiling water and telling the time, then the ass is all u.
***
GTH - 2 points to The Other, other Sam for the Bacon Bling gag and a point each to Kath and River for their stories about high school. And one to Lion for being a sport, unless he can provide a crunchy green Japanese recipe to use on the girl of and in his dreams. Then he will score 2 more points.
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An explanation of The Joy Division Litmus Test
Although it may now be lost in the mysts of thyme, the poll below is still relevant to this blog. In the winter of 2008, Mele and I went to live in Queensland. In order to survive, I bluffed my way into a job at a Coffee Club.
It was quite a reasonable place to work: the hours were regular, the staff were quite nice, it wasn't particularly taxing on my brain.
There were a few downsides: In the six weeks or so that I worked there, there was about a 90% staff turnover (contributed to by my leaving). This wasn't seen as a result of the low pay, the laughability of staff prices or the practice of not distributing tips to staff, rather it was blamed on the lack of work ethic among Bribie Island's youth.
However, one of the stranger aspects of the cultural isolation that touched our lives during our time "up there" was the fact that nobody at my work had heard of the band Joy Division.
The full explanation is available here.
But please, interact a little further and vote in my ongoing poll. The results are slowly mounting up, proving one thing: people read this blog are more well-informed about Joy Division than anyone who works at the Coffee Club on Bribie Island.
It was quite a reasonable place to work: the hours were regular, the staff were quite nice, it wasn't particularly taxing on my brain.
There were a few downsides: In the six weeks or so that I worked there, there was about a 90% staff turnover (contributed to by my leaving). This wasn't seen as a result of the low pay, the laughability of staff prices or the practice of not distributing tips to staff, rather it was blamed on the lack of work ethic among Bribie Island's youth.
However, one of the stranger aspects of the cultural isolation that touched our lives during our time "up there" was the fact that nobody at my work had heard of the band Joy Division.
The full explanation is available here.
But please, interact a little further and vote in my ongoing poll. The results are slowly mounting up, proving one thing: people read this blog are more well-informed about Joy Division than anyone who works at the Coffee Club on Bribie Island.
On my first date ever with the first woman I lived with I cooked dinner for her. It as chops and mashed potato, and maybe something green. I burned the chops. She was from a non-Anglo background and used to excellent, sophisticated food, but on the strength of that experience I'd say even the attempt to cook goes a long way (or did in 1970).
ReplyDeleteI told P- about your tip. She smiled enigmatically, but I think approvingly, and then told me that you should also be advising any men aged 25-35 in search of women to get out of Adelaide: it's the only Australian capital city where women outnumber men, so if they stay there they're at a disadvantage.
I'd like to reproduce, if I may, an article that appeared in The Advertiser on Valentine's Day this year:
ReplyDeleteYou think you're really hot? Well, maybe not
KIM WHEATLEY,
YOUNG Adelaide women have an exaggerated view of their ``hotness'', a leading demographer says.
Bernard Salt's study shows Adelaide men may be fawning over women not because of their appearance but rather because of a ``sheila shortage''.
While Sydney and Melbourne are suffering a man drought, in Adelaide single men substantially outnumber women up to the age of 24 and again in the early 30s.
Mr Salt believes the disparity has led to a unique culture among young Adelaide women because so many men are chasing them.
``They think they're more attractive than they are, when in fact it's simply a matter of numbers,'' he said.
``So, ladies of Adelaide, you need to discount your hotness to allow for the fact there's not an equal number of single men and single women.
``They're chasing you not because you're hot, but because you're the only thing going.''
Nikki Kishi and Amy Keen, both 18, disagree. ``I don't think I'm anything special but all my friends are hot!'' said Amy, of Novar Gardens.
According to Mr Salt's study, neither gender holds a strategic advantage in the mid to late 20s and late 30s. The 2006 Census shows the same story for people in their 40s and 50s.
However, a big change hits the singles market once people reach 60, because men generally die younger than women.
For the first time men hold all the cards, with women outnumbering.
But the man drought is apparently leaving older Adelaide men slightly deluded.
``They fall into this delusion because of this abundance of single women - many being widows,'' Mr Salt said.
``So men are not as angstful about physical decline because even if they're balding and getting fat, they can still pull the birds.''
Comments?
I remember that article, I remember giggling while I read it. Does anyone really care that much about their "hotness" or lack thereof? Aren't they all just going out to meet other people and have fun?
ReplyDeletePasta water:-only one massel chicken cube? I use two. The pre-made massel chicken stock is also excellent, use it to cook rice which is being served with a chicken dish.
GTH:-Franzy eating. Asian greens and bean sprouts? Spinach and pasta? Looks yummy whichever it was.
Is it a photo of the last person you tried to seduce with your cooking?
ReplyDeleteRIVER - I don't think that's Franzy, nowhere NEAR hairy enough...
FRANZY - does that demographic research take into consideration the forces of La Nina, El Nino, and Les Triton?? All are strong factors weighed against mortal Adelaidean men. Makes Your and Trent's feats of marriage all the more impressive!!
PS. I am REALLY enjoying this new-found ability to place a page link on my name here... it is the BALLS!!!
Unlike River I've strangely lost my appetite at seeing whoever it is inhaling their Asian-inspired blokey-will-win-the-girl-with-greens GTH picture.
ReplyDeleteYour advice is spot on Franzy. All you need to add for a dead cert night of lovin' is a bottle of wine. Not a cask or beer, but a bottle. It worked for me.