Mash it up

It's sausage and mash night tonight. Not that we have a special night for sausage and mash, it's just one of my 'can't be arsed' meals, i.e. a meal you cook when you really cannot be bothered will all the flange of proper cooking. Although, I do have Purple Majesty potatoes for purple mash. I got suckered in by the marketing at Sainsbury's you see.

I know to most people the concept of not being arsed to cook manifests itself in the procurement of a take away. A take away meal in our house is like Dolly Parton's husband - rarely seen. I think we've bought one in three years, which was pizza the other week. Actually it wasn't bad, if a tad strange on the topping choices. We had Chinese chicken, pineapple, jalapeños, BBQ sauce and pepperoni. We didn't make it up, it was an actual combination choice on the menu. Methinks the mad professor who works in my staff canteen moonlights at Napoli Pizza in Crystal Palace.

Given the choice of establishments in South London, it's hardly surprising we don't order many take aways. I really want to know what's the unique selling point of Tennessee Fried Chicken vs. Miami Fried Chicken vs. Mississippi Fried Chicken vs. Atlanta Fried Chicken? Apart from the change Southern state or city name that is. The market is literally saturated....in a huge vat of reconstituted deep frying fat!

So, sausage and mash it is with tomato gravy. I know it's not hugely healthy, but the sausages are quality and the mash (the ultimate comfort food, seeing as work has been manic this week) will be soft and buttery......and purple!

So what is your 'can't be arsed' choice?

A lil' bit of Southern style

I have been in a Southern state of mind recently. Maybe it's because I am reading Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, maybe it's because I am making Southern fried chicken tonight or maybe it's because I reminiscing about the road trip that I, Beth and our friends Richard, Sara and Craig took through some of the Southern states three years ago this week?

It was part holiday, part business trip as Beth had been commissioned to write two travel articles on Dollywood and Nashville for Gay Times and Diva magazines. Beth's got a thing for country music you see, primarily Dolly and a lil' bit of Shania thrown in for good measure. Speaking of Shania Twain, have you ever noticed that her and Cheryl Cole look really similar? Perhaps Shania's biological father took a trip to Newcastle and got saucy with a local lass? Seemingly we're not the only people who think this as this Facebook page suggests.

Anyhoo, Beth has got a country music 'thang' going on, which I share when it comes to Dolly and Patsy Cline. Actually, country music has a bona fide out gay woman now, the delectable Chely Wright. I've just read her autobiography, Like Me, which was really quite moving and she's a great spokesperson for the LGBT community. Plus, she's cute as a button.

So, I'm reminiscing about that trip, what we got up to, the food we ate and the multitude of beverages we drank. Here's a rundown:

• Arrive at Atlanta International Airport in a haze of Valium and gin. Consequently unfazed by the fact that it takes two hours to actually get out of the airport.
• Off to Mary Mac's Tea Room in Atlanta for a cliched meal of fried chicken, collard greens and creamed sweetcorn matched with copious amounts of Mint Juleps. Adds an interesting edge to my already Valiumed and gin addled brain.
• Sample the Atlanta gay scene, which has gone Halloween crazy and is good fun. Start on the Seven and Sevens.
• Pile in a monster SUV and climb high up into the Great Smoky Mountains to Moonshine Cabin and enjoy a hot tub at sunset whilst the eagles fly and the beer flows.
• Enter the hallowed gates of Dollywood, where it's not as camp as you would like and we experience some minor indirect homophobia (well the woman was from Arkansas). Plus it's 'dry'!!! Still, I got to see what I would look like superimposed with one of Dolly's wigs on. Maybe they should have a similar tool with Dolly's cleavage...not that I would need it.
• Go back to Moonshine Cabin and meet up with the owners and new friends, Ken and Jerry. Get them gradually drunk and show them how the Brits like to party.
• Hop back in the SUV to Nashville with a killer hangover. Hangover is sated with biscuits and beer at the Loveless Cafe, just outside Nashville
• Arrive in Nashville and head off straight to the gay scene, which is a blast, if a little thin on the ladies. Drink Whisky Sours.
• Make a mental note never to attempt to sing karaoke in a Nashville bar. I haven't got the range....or the talent.
• Enjoy huge slabs of meat and Alabama Slammers at Jimmy Kelly's.
• Country Music Hall of Fame, check, Ryman Auditorium, check, Grand Old Opry, check, RCA Studio B, check, Jack's Bar-B-Que, then Lower Broadway bars, music and beer...check.
• Get complimented on our trendy hair by Nashville tour guide, who surmises we must be European.
• Get gnashed and trashed on the Nash Trash Tour with the Jugg Sisters, in a sea of beer, 'horse doovers' (Southern hour'doves which consist of cheese from a tube on cheesy crackers), fake celebrity spotting and ribald jokes about what it would be like to be a lesbian and in the vicinity of Dolly's boobs. If you ever go to Nashville, you must take this tour!
• Have a panic attack at Nashville airport and so start on the Valium again. Consequently am the only one not freaked out by severe turbulence, plus Beth, Richard and I are the only ones drinking on the plane. What does it say about us?
• Arrive in New York where cab driver takes us to the wrong Hilton hotel. Result, stand up argument with said cab driver in Times Square.
• Sort out temper with pizza and beer at John's Pizzeria in the Village.
• Meet up with two friends from London and find the Cubbyhole bar in the West Village and remain in situ for the evening. You have to love a bar which plays both Dolly and the theme music from the Golden Girls on their jukebox. Richard manages to pick up a guy in what is predominately a girls bar.
• Sample monster sandwiches at Katz's Deli and walk the length and breadth of Manhattan.
• Retreat to the Cubbyhole again with a further two friends from London. I know there are more bars, but the jukebox is too good.
• End the evening sitting around a piano singing show tunes and drinking frozen margaritas at the Monster on Sheridan Sq. Those that know me, know I am in my element.
• Finish trip with cheesecake at Junior's in Brooklyn and more Valium and red wine in order to get on the plane home.

The Come Dine With Me Dream

We were watching Celebrity Come Dine with Me recently and that got us thinking about who we'd love to be dining with if one of us were a celebrity who'd been invited to feature on that show.

Obviously, the ideal fellow contestants are celebrities who are fun, have great conversation, who won't cause an argument and who can cook.

These are the four we were both in agreement on - yes, we know only one of us could be the fifith diner and neither of us are celebrities anyway, but this is just a game:

Stephen Fry - great wit, highly intelligent but not condescending, and we're sure he'd mix a fabulous cocktail.

Dolly Parton - witty, warm, charming, pre and post-dinner entertainment, boob jokes and great southern cooking.

Larry David - funny, potentially heated conversations - Charlotte always worries that she says the wrong thing, but he would undoubtedly eclipse any faux pas she might make, and he loves food even though he may well not be able to cook.

Sue Perkins - another hilarious wit and following her stint on The Supersizers Go, tasting the stomach-churning delicacies of times gone by we know that the foody conversations would be fascinating.

Let us know who you'd choose. We'd love to know.

Dolly Dinners: I Will Forever Hate Rosé

This really has been the week from hell, which is why I've decided to resurrect our Dolly Dinners. Dolly always makes me smile, even when she sings sad songs.

I Will Forever Hate Roses is one of the tracks from Dolly's latest album, Backwoods Barbie, while I Will Forever Hate Rosé is one of the phrases from mine and Charlotte's latest conversations, following the backyard barbie we went to on Sunday.

It all started with the washing machine. It had a funny turn on Sunday morning and after a good hour of twiddling its knobs, we were forced to give up and switch it off in order to get to our friends' place in time for an afternoon of al fresco eating and merriment in the sun. However, if something's broken and needs fixing, it does tend to occupy my thoughts, and perhaps this is largely the reason why the first glass of wine I was given was consumed so quickly - to try and block out all thoughts of our unresolved laundry problems.

If it had been red wine or white wine, things wouldn't have turned out as they did, I'm sure of it. I know my boundaries with those beverages, but the problem with rosé is that it looks so innocent - that delicate blushing hue, it's so bloody deceptive. It's not innnocent at all. Our friends laid on a fantastic, delicious and perfectly cooked spread of barbequed meats and colourful, tasty salads - some had chopped appple and pear in, which I thought worked really well with the meat. The conversation flowed. The afternoon was immensely enjoyable, until I stopped counting the number of glasses I'd consumed. It was quite bizarre that everyone turned up with bottles rosé, us included.

Anyway, to cut a long story short, Charlotte ended up with her head down the toilet and I, slightly less inebriated, managed to walk her home, only to drunkenly slip as I closed the sliding doors of our double wardrobe, so that my hand ended up taking the brunt of the heavy oncoming wood panel. The following morning saw me down the hospital and my hand was in a sling for two days subsequently.

In addition to these disasters, it turns out that the washing machine can't be mended until next week, which means that we're going to have to handwash our smalls - not an easy task with only one working hand. And, completely unconnected (although I'm sure the curse of the rosé is responsible), our phoneline has been severed by the builders outside and I've woken up with a sore throat this morning.

This is why I will forever hate rosé.

Postparton Depression

As a child, did you ever get that wave of sadness come over you after Christmas day?

This is what it's like today after last night's Dolly Parton concert.

She was fantastic - beautiful, charming, witty and she sang beautifully. In addition to the tracks she performed from her Backwoods Barbie album, she also did the old favourites which had everybody up dancing. A surprising, and moving, choice was Shattered Image. This clever song is a clearly heartfelt plea to the media to think twice about some of the cruel remarks they churn out about her. "Stay out of my closet if your own's full of trash," she says.

This weekend the UK failure of Dolly's Imagination Library (launched in Rotherham last year) is plastered all over the news. It's so sad. Dolly, as the figurehead, is being portrayed as the failure when it should be the businesses and the parents in that Yorkshire town who get the blame for caring enough to get behind the scheme. She did mention the Imagination Library last night and every time she referred to its UK arm, the audience cheered and clapped. Clearly I'm not alone in my admiration of a scheme that encourages youngsters to love the English language.

Anyway, I could ramble on for ages about Dolly. If you've ever seen her perform live I'm sure you know what I mean. Talking to other people last night, it's clear that she has a bewitching quality. Once you've seen her, you're totally hooked on the Dolly drug, which is great, apart from the fact that you get horrible withdrawal symptoms, as I have today.

So I think today comfort food is the answer. What comfort food works best for you? Your suggestions will be very welcome.

Dolly Dinners: Applejack

I still have time to talk about the wonders of Applejack before seeing Dolly in the flesh. You see I hate cider, leaves a nasty aftertaste I find, but Applejack, although also made from apples doesn't taste of them. Some may disagree, but to me, it's more like whisky or bourbon, which incidentally I love - my favourite of all tipples. Tennessee bourbon is best.

Unfortunately the bottle of Applejack we had in our stocks has long gone so there's no chance of me downing a drop in honour of Dolly. It's probably just as well though - I want to be sober for later and it's strong stuff.

Dolly Dinners: You Choose

We have so many Dolly Dinners up our sleeves, so we're inviting you to choose from our top ten list:

Jesus and Gravadlax

Why D'ya Come in here Cookin' Like That?

I Will Forever Hate Rosé

Hello Cod

Eagle When she Fries

Smoky Mutton memories

Baby it's Burnin'

Just When I Kneaded You Most

Slushpuppy Love

Love is Like a Butterknife

Let us know which Dolly Dinners you'd like to hear about. Believe it or not, we have a story for each and every one.

Dolly Dinners: Beth's Cup of Ambition

Every morning during the working week I do jump out of bed, stumble to the kitchen and pour myself a cup. Dolly describes my morning ritual perfectly.

Unless I've got a hangover, my cup of ambition is always coffee - it's one of the few things I have every single day. I'm very particular about it too. You see it has to be black (unless it's the weekend) and it has to be proper coffee (no decaf or instant thank you very much). Am I alone or are others as precious about their morning cup as I am?

Anyway, enough about coffee and on to my ambitions. I have to say that my biggest ambition in life has been to find love and happiness and I'm overjoyed to say that I've certainly achieved that. If I never achieve any of my other ambitions in my lifetime it really doesn't matter.

Nevertheless, there's nothing wrong with having dreams, so here they are (in no particular order):

1) See homophobia wiped out totally throughout the world.

2) Help counteract the ever-plummeting levels of illiteracy that I witness every day. You won't believe how wound up I get when I see a rogue apostrophe, or lack of one. I could really get on my high horse but I'm restraining myself. Does anyone else out there feel as passionately as I do? Get in touch, let's form a vigilante group. If you care its you're duty to do something to help secure the English languages surival. AGGGGHHHHH. I'm going to have a sleepless night now that I've written that sentence. Don't be surprised if it's edited out by the morning.

3) Meet Dolly Parton. She is indeed a goddess, and in addition to all the wonderful songs that she sings and writes, I have so much respect for her because she is actually doing something actively to deal with the concerns I've just ranted about above. See here to find out about her Imagination Library.

4) Finish the book I've been writing for the past three years by the end of this year.

5) Get a hairdresser that will always cut my hair the way I want it. Maybe I should follow Dolly's example and start wearing wigs. She's got sense. There's no chance of a bad hair day then.

What do you reckon, will I achieve any of the above, or should I wake up now and smell the coffee?

Dolly Dinners: A cup of ambition

Nine to five

Now I'm not stuck in the rigours of a nine to five routine, my ambition for today was to take myself into town, sample some more culinary delights and spend some time at Mediatheque on the Southbank. Here you can view the BFI's film archives for free and it's great place to spend some spare time, as the archive has over 1000 titles right at your fingertips, including such gems as Abigail's Party, the Wicker Man (original version naturally) and a whole host of gay films and TV programmes.

However, my plans have been thrown into disarray as I have pulled what seems like a nerve in my back, and so am housebound. So, I will throw my energy into consuming the tasty breakfast muffins I made the other day, along with my cup of ambition (pictured) and catching up on viewing my DVD collection.

Speaking of ambition, what are yours? Here's just a few of mine:

1. To take a road trip from Santa Fe to San Francisco, taking in the Grand Canyon, Las Vegas, LA and Highway 1 on the way - My ambition was further quenched by the advertising launch we attended the other day, hosted by Amro Holidays, the gay owned travel company. They've launched a new US campaign on the tube network, specifically at Leicester Sq and Covent Garden stations. Take a look the next time you go up the escalator and maybe do a bit of cruising to see who else is checking it out! We will do the trip in time...just need to stock up on Valium to cope with the flights!

2. Wipe out homophobia - we live in hope, but doesn't it seem to be getting worse?

3. Run my own deli or become a food writer - a long term ambition, but it would be great. All that fine food and being able to talk about it as my job.

4. Write a book - either something set in the Studio 54 days or a wartime lesbian love story.

5. Meet Dolly Parton - What else can I say....she is a goddess!

Dolly Dinners: Touch Your Woman Tuna Sandwich

Touch Your Woman, Dolly Parton

We had a delicious lunch last Sunday after our Sainsbury's shopping spree, which involved making a very special tuna sandwich.

Take two slices of brown or granary bread. It must be brown or granary, white bread just doesn't cut it with a tuna sandwich, unless it's a toasted tuna melt. Actually, I'm a bit anal about which bread goes with what food, i.e. toast with marmite has to be on white bread, but toast with peanut butter has to be on brown. I'm the same with the container from which I drink my tea. It must be a bone china cup. Mugs are only good for soup and coffee.

Anyway....Take two slices of brown bread and do not butter the bread (another thing I am anal about, butter only suits toast). In a bowl mix one tin of tuna with a little mayo, chopped celery, chopped red pepper, gherkin and spring onion. Bind with a little Tabasco sauce and spread over the bread. Slice down the middle and consume.

It certainly has a little bit of bite and a definite kick, guaranteed to touch your woman's taste buds!

Dolly Dinners: Front Porch Punch

My Tennessee Mountain Home, Dolly Parton

Sittin' on the front porch on a summer afternoon...

Chance would be a fine thing. Our front garden is a building site at the moment and since there's a ten foot drop from our front door, we can't enter our home, unless we go round the back.

Hopefully this will explain why we broke our promise to begin talking about our week of Dolly Dinners on Sunday, leaving you with just a couple of pavlova puppies as a teaser. Sometimes, when your home is in upheaval, your life feels that way too, don't you agree? That's why this evening I asked Charlotte to transpose her kitchen creativity onto the TV-stand-cum-drinks-trolley we keep in our dining room and mix me up a cocktail to distract me from the mess outside.

So now I've got a tall glass of red sunset coloured crushed ice. Apparently my drink contains strawberries and mangoes, but I've not been told what spirit. It's rum probably and it's deceptively strong and already doing the trick. I'd better be careful not to enjoy this too much or I might forget and decide to pop out the front door for something later and have a nasty accident.

I look forward to drinking this again when our front porch is finally built and I can sit there on a summer afternoon, imagining that I'm in Dolly's famous song. But do we get junebugs or fireflies in South London?

G-Cups and Sauces

I'm currently counting down to Next Saturday, a big day in our calendar.

Because we're two gay girls living in London you'd assume that I'm referring to the annual Gay Pride celebrations, but no. You see, there's one thing (in fact, you could say two things) forgiveably bigger than Gay Pride for us gay girls, and for those gay boys too.

Dolly Parton. Singing her heart out in venues throughout the UK this week, she'll be performing at the O2 at the weekend and we're going to see her on Saturday night. We saw her in concert last March at Wembley and instantly got hooked on the Dolly drug, ravenously consuming her extensive back catalogue, her film repertoire and her autobiography over the subsequent months. In fact, the hunger was so great that it had us heading to Dollywood and Nashville last autumn. Does this make us sound like obsessive fans? I guess it does, and admittedly at times like this week we probably are.

So, to honour our hunger for all things Dolly and mark the countdown to Dolly Day, Charlotte and I will be having a week full of Dolly Dinners. Will it be pink iced buns toped with glace cherries and big round blancmanges or will it be southern-style barbecue sauces and other delectables from the little lady's own cookbook, Dixie Fixin's? Well, you'll have to wait and see. We're off to Sainsburys now and later today will be munching our way through the first delicious Parton Plate.