Bastard bocconcini

I had plans for making pizza this week, so I bought some lovely, expensive fresh bocconcini from the local wog deli. It sure beats the crap out of the muck you get at Coles. The wogs know their wog cheese.

A few days go by, and my pizza making plans go out the window - mainly because we left the pizza stones behind when we moved house, and I've been unable to find any replacements at our local shops. I moved on to making a tomato and basil and bocconcini salad with mint and basil and thyme and expensive olive oil etc etc. Except that most of my basil in the garden is dead or gone to seed, and the thyme has all died off, and the tomatoes are just crap at the moment. The only thing that is doing well is the mint, and I was not in the mood for a mint salad.

Then I tried one of the lovely little balls of cheese. Bugger. It was off. It was not off enough to give me stomach cramps or the squirts or anything like that, but it was too off for salad.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. The silly sods in the shop had not topped the container up with brine, so instead of the cheese sitting in a lovely brine soup that would retard bacteria growth, it was sitting in a little puddle of brine that did nothing to stop it all from going off.

So we had tomato and mint salad. It was not bad. But it was not what I was after.

I am now going to find the Italian-English dictionary so that I can work out how to say "Please fill the tub up with brine after you have weighed it so that my fucking cheese does not go off".