Who the f**k is Alice?

I stood over the sink washing up after devouring this week’s meat. I started to think of what I’ll write about this week, apart from the obvious that is the meat I had just eaten.

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It’s all about ticker!

This has been a hectic and very different week for me.
Not only did I eat something not many people have eaten, but I embarked on two new journeys that saw me jump miles away from my comfort zone and into waters untested. For me.
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One fish Two fish Red fish Heaps of fish

My realisation for this week is this: The earth does not orbit the sun purely in order for me to eat 52 meats in 52 weeks.In case you’re not counting along with me (for I most definitely am), this is week 35. 35 weeks out of an entire year in which I have a different meat each week.

It’s starting to get up there, and as I’ve discussed lately, that means I’m starting to run into a bit of sourcing trouble.

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Hey society- are we a bunch of lazy f**kers or what?!

It dawned on me recently while I was travelling, just some of the ridiculous measures we go to in order to relieve ourselves of a little bit of effort. I think anyone who’s ever been in an airport or a shopping centre will be familiar with the ‘travelator’ or moving walkway; the escalator that runs flat along the ground.

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Just call me James Bond

There seems to be some debate, on the internet anyway, what the correct and proper plural term for ‘Octopus’ is.

I thought it would be ‘Octopi’, and so did many other people as it turns out, however, it is actually ‘Octopuses’.  Perhaps Octopussy is better, certainly for this purpose, as I essentially claimed James Bond status this week by taking down four octopuses in one sitting. Octopussy’s. Whatever…

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Fush ‘n Chups

I get asked many questions about this 52 meats challenge, and frequently. They vary significantly, however, one that has certainly popped up more than most as the weeks have progressed is:

Do you get sick of it?

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Simon says- Shoot that bird!

Today I embark on a very different 52 meats journey. I plan to get this weeks meat by means of shooting it, (and killing it if necessary, if my shot is as bad as I imagine it will be), butchering it, cooking the meat and lastly of course- eating it!

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South American big breaky

I’ve just had a revelation– I am killing it! 2012 is 30 weeks old, which means I have eaten a different meat each week for 30 consecutive weeks! Is this pure stubbornness on my part, or am I determined, focused and thoroughly enjoying, revelling in even, what is a very different, yet horizon expanding challenge?

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