Who Ate All The Pies?

Forgive me, dear reader, I cannot tell a lie - 'twas I. Rather unexpectedly, it turned out to be a bit of a gourmet weekend round at Rhino75 Towers. Delicious, but it won't help me get into my Hedi Slimane Santa Suit, that's for sure. It all started with those rather rustic-looking pies on the left. I was having a bit of a medieval afternoon, getting all hot and bothered trying to roll out sticky pastry on the (well protected) stone floor of my bijou kitchen when MFM (my favourite Muse) rang, and we decided to make dinner together. Minutes later, I was down at the greengrocers, when my eye fell on a punnet of orange and yellow girolles mushrooms, singing out to me like a sort of fungal Circe. When MFM came round (with drummer/ Heidegger expert and Brook in tow), after a quick glass of champers, she took charge of the situation and whipped up a truly mouthwatering girolles risotto, while I threw some rocket in a bowl and the American boys played barmen and generally added a U.S. vibe. There was even a power cut in the middle, which we all agreed somehow seemed to help the whole thing along. And afterwards we watched a little porn on cable and compared handwriting. Marvellous. Girolles were on the menu again when Mr. and Mrs. LOG had a whole gang of us round for Sunday lunch - Mr. LOG's special chicken and girolles fricassee with new potatoes, asparagus, a yummy saint-nectaire cheese, and Rhino's pies, which went down very well, if I say so myself. And about a gallon and a half of red wine. Each. Post-prandial viewing was a little more "daytime" though - the first feature-length episode of "Dallas". That hair, those clothes. And that was just me. BTW, the lovely Miss FVE (end photo) has a new show - "L'Envers des Corps" - opening this week at the gallery where she works and spent most of Saturday afternoon dusting a golden skeleton in the name of art, so I urge the Parisians among you to go along. There. Now pass the Rennies, I've got indigestion.