Tag Archives: food

The Poisonous Crusts Saga.

Crusts are poisonous. They must be. Kids leave them. Who hasn’t seen a slice of bread like this in the picture below? Crusts are so poisonous kids leave them even if, really, to be perfectly honest, they really like the stuff they’ve left behind on their plates.

Why do kids leave crusts?


perfectly poisonous crust

They do it to get to you, you know. Kids leave crusts behind just so’s they can let you know who’s really in charge here.

In my last Wicked Stepmother post I showed you photos of the poisonous crusts making a regular appearance on my kitchen table each morning. Not to mention the half a jar of Nutella smeared on them. The Nutella saga requires a Chronicle post all of its very own, together with the tomato ketchup one, jars of which get flushed from where it’s been left on the plate down the plughole on a regular basis.

tomato sauce

blobs left on plates

Now, we’re not talking little kids here. Not toddlers. Not primary schoolers. Not anybody who isn’t taller than me.

We’re talking nearly 16 years old, towering over the top of me and so sharp you’d prick your finger if you went to hug him.

I thought I had a cunning plan. Remember? The poisonous Brioche crust story?


brioche crusts with Nutella

Buy Brioche rolls, Wicked Stepmother! They haven’t got crusts, Wicked Stepmother. You can wipe the smile right off his face, Wicked Stepmother, when you present him with something so devilishly delicious he can’t bear to leave even the tiniest morsel.

I found Brioche rolls with added crème fraiche. My mouth watered just looking at them. The aroma from the packet was vanilla and buttery and eggy and crème fraichey.

Not even a saint on hunger strike could have resisted.

crust of brioche

can you believe it?

No. I couldn’t believe it, either. Take a closer look at teenage kid getting one over on me.


I give up!!!

I pretended I hadn’t noticed.

Well, all you Wicked Stepmothers out there. You’ve got to keep face.

Crust Poisoning. By the Wicked Stepmother.

Anything with a crust on it must be dangerous. Isn’t that so? Isn’t that why so many kids don’t eat them?

Well, they come up with all kinds of reasons and excuses for leaving them on their plates. Crust tastes bad. it’s dry. It makes me choke. Etc. etc. You could list all the excuses kids come up with for not finishing off their crusts.

Dangerous crusts

Sandwich  – designed to choke you.

Pie  – no filling left in it so it’s not worth eating.

Pizza  – covered in germs from where you’ve been holding it in your dirty mitts.

Toast  – burnt to hell and just plain nasty. Actually, if it is burnt the kids do have a point. It IS dangerous. It’s carcinogenic.

burnt crust

burnt food is carcinogenic

But burnt food aside, why do kids insist on leaving crusts?

There’s an entertaining website called How To Be A Dad, but it’s just as entertaining for Mums. Andy has coined the phrase Crust Poisoning. I can’t claim any credit for that. (I wish I’d thought of it first!)

Here’s a link to Andy’s post about crusts on the How To Be A Dad website. Hilarious, isn’t it?

And here’s another link to the I Used to Believe website. The top story is brilliant.

the crust man

from the I Used to Believe website

But, here’s the thing. These posts on other websites refer to LITTLE kids. What happens when your enormous 15 year old is still doing it?

Wicked Stepmother took some photographs to demonstrate. There are just the two pictures, but the rest of the week the same thing happens.

Day 1 crust

Monday’s breakfast leavings

Brioche and Nutella crust

Tuesday’s leavings

What we’re looking at here is not burnt. It’s not dry. It isn’t hard or horrible in any way whatsoever. It’s Brioche. Here’s what Wikipedia says about it –

Brioche (/ˈbriʃ/ or /ˈbriɒʃ/French: [bʁi.ɔʃ]) is a pastry of French origin that is akin to a highly enriched bread, and whose high egg and butter content give it a rich and tender crumb.

Hello? Rich and tender crumb.

It’s soft as a baby’s skin.

So why leave so much of it?

Brioche loaf

soft and sweet

A loaf of Brioche is a joy to behold. It’s soft and sweet and buttery-eggy and you could easily suck it down if you didn’t have any teeth.

There is no reason on this earth why anyone would need to leave any of it.

Now then, Wicked Stepmother cannot abide wasting food. Her generation caught this from ancestors who had lived through rationing and hardships today’s kids couldn’t even begin to imagine. Wicked Stepmother’s generation has learned to be economical with resources and it can be quite an affront to see so much food going into the waste bin. On a whim.

But, as you might imagine, Wicked Stepmother has a cunning plan.

She will buy no more loaves of Brioche. Not a single one. Here’s the premise.

You know how there isn’t a crust on a muffin?

muffin no crust

crustless muffin

Nobody ever leaves bits of muffin on their plate. They go round the plate, stabbing with their hungry fingers picking up every last crumb, don’t they? Dab, dab, dab till all the little crumbs are consumed. Till the plate is shiny and empty and there is no waste to go in the bin . . .

(I’m getting a bit excited now at the prospect of putting into operation this cunning plan of mine. Oops, cunning plan of the Wicked Stepmother.)

We shall purchase only Brioche Buns. Crustless Brioche Buns.

Brioche bun

Eggy, buttery and flaky. The answer to this crust dilemma?

Leave me a comment. Go on, I’d love to hear your thoughts.



Market singers

oranges and singers

singers at the French market

Our local French market offers good prices on staple foods. One euro per kilo of juicy oranges. Don’t mention the suck word, though. We’ll start thinking about sexy food again.

So, we turn up to buy our fresh greens and crusty bread as usual and there’s music on the air. What could be nicer on a sunny April morning? Standing outside the town hall there’s a man with an old-fashioned, hand operated barrel organ. His tunes are jolly, toe-tapping melodies. Locals are joining in. Somebody has handed out plastic folders with the words and everybody seems to know the songs. Here’s a snatch.


wood pigeon

wood pigeon – was he listening or waiting for it to stop?

The bird on the wire was not mightily impressed. Maybe he’d been stood up. Maybe his lady love had wandered off to inspect what some other guy was offering. Or maybe he was just waiting for the music to stop so he could begin his calling again.

We listened to the singers for a while, then took our purchases home and had another coffee. We bought some small spring onions. Would you like to see?

Such a shame we couldn’t find any big ones.

French market spring onions

we couldn’t find any large ones?

As I said already – the joys of living in France!


Food, wine and friends

helping hands

helping hands at the Chinese New Year table

I love this picture. I think it sums up the essence of what our Chinese New Year celebration was about.

We had emergency chairs and borrowed chairs. We had guests bringing starters and desserts. We didn’t stop eating till almost eleven pm.

I didn’t write anything all weekend and it doesn’t matter.