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Abrie Bruwer
Super Juicy with Miss Lucy
As human beings we were not made to drink slowly. All this gentle restrained slurping and bird-like sipping of liquid is not what the Big Guy had in mind when he put us on earth. No. We were meant to get down on all fours next to the stream or lake and quench that thirst pretty damn quick before a sabre-tooth lion takes you from behind – as it were – or some prick from another tribe deploys his stone axe on that skull for dragging his hairy, shrieking woman to your cave.
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Springfield Wines and a Taste of the Exotic
Do not look a beached whale in the mouth. Instead, walk around its head to the bulky girth and cut yourself a steak or two. Forget beef from beer-fed wagyu or grass-reared Angus cows. Those Japanese kobe numbers who listen to opera, slurp organic egg-nog and get one massage per day plus a weekly hand-job? No way. Whale meat out-performs all these on the MeatOmeter as far as taste, texture and more-ishness goes.
Of course, whale meat is a bit tricky to come by. Forty years ago you could pick the stuff up, dirt cheap, at a butchery in Long Street, Cape Town. But today it is far easier to score heroin in Long Street than it is to get a grip on a piece of Southern Right sashimi.
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