Tuesday, 27 March 2012

A Suprise Suckling Pig

Sats night saw me (Andrews), Snake, Grace and Lawrence hit Clerkenwell to dine at the Zetter Hotel for Lozzas birthday..... Or did we....

In actual fact the Zetter was a decoy on my behalf ("got us discount through work innit") to make Loz think that's where we were going when actually we were headed to St John. Just as well really as St John was all Loz banged on about in the car on the way there #sucklingpig #bonemarrow to replies of "urgh sick.... sounds rank". Good bit of acting hey?!

We 'trotted' into St John under the guise of 'checking the joint out' and even after Loz's friends shouted SURPRISE he was still none the wiser #slow.
Anyway down to business...The food.

Before we start - BOAR off veggies (a.k.a. Lesser People), the following is for pig lovers only.
To start, celariac and mussell salad. Amazing.

Once we'd filled our chops with that it was onto bone marrow on toast.

As i'm not big on meat I would have preferred peanut butter but couldn't find it on the menu...

Next the piece de la resistance (or whatevs) ....
Suckling pig.

Here piggy piggy!!

Oink oink

Major LOLZ

The outofthisworld pig came served with the most amazing stuffing I've ever eaten (modelled by Athene and Jake).

Nope this wasn't your ordinary paxo, it was onions, apple, apricots, lungs, liver and brain. SOW good. And I don't even like meat that much. A revelation.

As if we hadn't pigged out enough
then came dessert in the form of best apple crumble ever- admittedly I hogged the custard.

And er... Christmas pudding with butterscotch sauce

Lots of red swine (sorry, wine) later, the table looked like a pig sty and we left with doggy bag fit for a pack of Alsatians. Amazing.

Happy birthday Lawrence!!!!
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  1. Great write up andrews and thanks for your role in the decoy mission! An awesome night! Xxx

  2. You will be able to compare that with the one you are having in Italia for my 60th birthday bash.

  3. Wow. Sounds A MAZE ING. So is that what we'll be chomping on Nov. 24th? Fingers crossed. . . X x