Текст песни Arakin 3rd year - Three men in a boat
Исполнитель: Arakin 3rd year
Название песни: Three men in a boat
Дата добавления: 11.06.2020 | 12:50:08
Название песни: Three men in a boat
Дата добавления: 11.06.2020 | 12:50:08
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We roamed about sweet Sonning for an hour or so, and then, it being too late to push on past Reading, we decided to go back to one of the Shiplake islands, and put up there for the night. It was still early when we got settled, and George said that, as we had plenty of time, it would be a splendid opportunity to try a good, slap-up supper. He said he would show us what could be done up the river in the way of cooking, and suggested that, with the vegetables and the remains of the cold beef and general odds and ends, we should make an Irish stew.
It seemed a fascinating idea. George gathered wood and made a fire, and Harris and I started to peel the potatoes. I should never have thought that peeling potatoes was such an undertaking. The job turned out to be the biggest thing of its kind that I had ever been in. We began cheerfully, one might almost say skittishly, but our light-heartedness was gone by the time the first potato was finished. The more we peeled, the more peel there seemed to be left on; by the time we had got all the peel off and all the eyes out, there was no potato left – at least none worth speaking of. George came and had a look at it – it was about the size of a pea-nut. He said:
“Oh, that won’t do! You’re wasting them. You must scrape them.”
So we scraped them, and that was harder work than peeling. They are such an extraordinary shape, potatoes – all bumps and warts and hollows. We worked steadily for five-and-twenty minutes, and did four potatoes. Then we struck. We said we should require the rest of the evening for scraping ourselves.
I never saw such a thing as potato-scraping for making a fellow in a mess. It seemed difficult to believe that the potato-scrapings in which Harris and I stood, half smothered, could have come off four potatoes. It shows you what can be done with economy and care.
George said it was absurd to have only four potatoes in an Irish stew, so we washed half-a-dozen or so more, and put them in without peeling. We also put in a cabbage and about half a peck of peas. George stirred it all up, and then he said that there seemed to be a lot of room to spare, so we overhauled both the hampers, and picked out all the odds and ends and the remnants, and added them to the stew. There were half a pork pie and a bit of cold boiled bacon left, and we put them in. Then George found half a tin of potted salmon, and he emptied that into the pot.
He said that was the advantage of Irish stew: you got rid of such a lot of things. I fished out a couple of eggs that had got cracked, and put those in. George said they would thicken the gravy.
I forget the other ingredients, but I know nothing was wasted; and I remember that, towards the end, Montmorency, who had evinced great interest in the proceedings throughout, strolled away with an earnest and thoughtful air, reappearing, a few minutes afterwards, with a dead water- rat in his mouth, which he evidently wished to present as his contribution to the dinner; whether in a sarcastic spirit, or with a genuine desire to assist, I cannot say.
We had a discussion as to whether the rat should go in or not. Harris said that he thought it would be all right, mixed up with the other things, and that every little helped; but George stood up for precedent. He said he had never heard of water-rats in Irish stew, and he would rather be on the safe side, and not try experiments.
Harris said:
“If you never try a new thing, how can you tell what it’s like? It’s men such as you that hamper the world’s progress. Think of the man who first tried German sausage!”
It was a great success, that Irish stew. I don’t think I ever enjoyed a meal more. There was something so fresh and piquant about it. One’s palate gets so tired of the old hackneyed things: here was a dish with a new flavour, with a taste like nothing else on earth.
And it was nourishing, too. As George said, there was good stuff in it. The peas and potatoes might have been a bit softer, but we all had good teeth, so that did not matter much: and as for the gravy, it was a poem – a little too rich, perhaps, for a weak stomach, but nutritious. У нас была дискуссия о том, должна ли крыса войти или нет. Харрис сказал, что он думал, что все будет хорошо, перепутано с другими вещами, и что каждое маленькое помогло; но Джордж встал на прецедент. Он сказал, что никогда не слышал о водяных крысах в ирландском рагу, и он предпочел бы быть в безопасности и не пытаться экспериментировать.
Харрис сказал:
«Если вы никогда не пробуете что-то новое, как вы можете сказать, на что это похоже? Именно такие люди, как вы, препятствуют прогрессу в мире. Подумай о человеке, который первым попробовал немецкую колбасу! »
Это был большой успех, это ирландское рагу. Я не думаю, что когда-либо получал удовольствие от еды. В этом было что-то свежее и пикантное. У кого-то так устали от старых избитых вещей: это было блюдо с новым вкусом, со вкусом, не похожим ни на что другое.
И это тоже было сытно. Как сказал Джордж, в этом было что-то хорошее. Горох и картошка могли бы быть немного мягче, но у всех нас были хорошие зубы, так что это не имело большого значения: а для соуса это было стихотворение - слишком богатое, возможно, для слабого желудка, но питательное ,
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