Root Shoot Marry #20: Which Jennifer would Hugh choose? With, for one week only, a PRIZE!!

Ah, another weekend, another Root Shoot Marry. And, since I'm still on holidays and can't think too hard without bleeding slightly through the ears, I'm very grateful for the inspiration for this week's boys AND girls.

Yes, folks, you can all thank Stomper for this one. And all those other lusty lasses who pined for Hugh Grant in last week's Fops session for RSM.

This week you have three Hughs and three Jennifers. And since one or two or maybe three of them have appeared here before, I searched long and hard to make sure there was a difference in the way they appear this week.

Does everyone remember Sesame Street? And that song:
"One of these things is not like the other
"which one is it
"do you know?
"Tell me which thing is not like the other
"And I'll tell you if it is so!"

So apart from the usual choices of Rooting, Shooting or Marrying, and hot on the heels of the fun we all had with the rebus back there (the responses to which, by the way, my husband has only partially forgiven), this week's RSM comes with a sub-game of working out which picture does not belong with the others. Not compulsory, but maybe fun...

Onwards to the plunder and mayhem!

The Hughs




Hugh Jackman, but in case the Boy from Oz thing throws you off, here's another shot that might just do it for you (also, because it's so kitsch I couldn't resist it).



Hugh Laurie (by special Stomper request)


Hugh Grant (d'you see that fringe, girls? So totally the fop!)


and the Jennifers


Jennifer Aniston (ahem, uncovered, gotta let a little bit slip in this game from time to time)


Jennifer Garner (I have nothing mean to say here: she's just plain gorgeous in every single photo I googled)


Jennifer Lopez (or is it Barbarella? I always get those two crazy chicks mixed up)




To recap: this week the choices are to root, to shoot or to marry one of the Hughs and one of the Jennifers, and, if you like, take a stab at which picture is the odd one out.

And did I mention there is a prize? So be prepared to receive a small and colourful package in the mail if you're the first player with a correct answer to the odd one out.

mtc
Bec

How to bone a lamb. No sheep porn intended. Kiwis, look away.

First take your lamb leg. This one is about 2kg. We'll call it dinner, shall we?

Remove from your mind all memories of Hannibal Lecter.

Make sure your knife is very sharp.

Stick it in at the top of the leg around the boniest part and make a nice long cut down the length of the bone.



With your very sharp knife, slide the blade along the bone carefully to gradually open up the leg with as much meat intact as possible.

Try hard to forget every television autopsy show you've ever seen.



Also, Nip/Tuck. You definitely don't want to be reminiscing about that one episode you saw of Nip/Tuck when you thought it was just a fluffy show about ogling the son of a former Australian Prime Minister.



Keep going, slow and steady, slicing away the meat from the bone.

It would also be advisable not to think about the hospital tents in the American Civil War.

Because pretty soon you should end up with this.



Hold it together.

You've just made your dog happier than she's been since her last chance to roll in cowshit. No. Wait. Happier.



The Pea Princess. She makes the dog happy too.

Next examine the corpse meat. There will be a big thick bit on one side and a thickish bit on the other side.



Make some slices through the thick bit along the grain. It might help to think of the arsehole who stood you up on your birthday that year. The knife is sharp; it should slide through that thick meat like butter.

Ahem.

It will flatten out like so.






Pop it into a coffin suitable container while you make the embalming mix marinade.



My marinade included some of these from the garden...



... and a bottle of Greek Giro mix that's been tickling my fancy half the summer (it usually shows up in tiny lamb meatballs, but on this occasion it hit the big time).

And lemon zest and juice.

And olive oil, of course.

And garlic. LOTS of garlic.



(pictured here: the third addition of garlic to the mix, taking the total to an entire head of cloves).


Rub it into all those lovely crevices, as well as the extra slices you carved into his face the skin side of the lamb earlier.



Marinate in fridge while you get pissed with your friends.

Watch them ooh and ah as you bring it out to cook (actual quote: "Oh my god - WHAT is that?")

Barbeque on a hot hot grill for a few minutes each side to get a nice crusty exterior. Then pop it into a baking tray and sit it on your bbq's plate side, turning off that side's gas while leaving the gas running under the grill... Are you still with me? Close the hood, let it cook on the indirect heat until it feels fleshy rather than squishy when you push down. Squeeze lemon juice over the lamb and the coals as you cook.



sorry folks. I was too busy eating and drinking to get the money shot.

But this is what it looked like much, much later...


Served with: baked jacket potatoes; cherry tomato, capsicum, baby spinach and bocconcini salad; cucumber, yoghurt and mint.

Preceded by: lime and chilli prawn skewers.
Succeeded by: made-from-scratch chocolate cream tart.

When my husband woke this morning the first thing he said to me was : "Hey, great dinner last night".

Which made it seem blogworthy. Gory, but blogworthy.

mtc

Bec

Asterisks

The Pea Princess made a special garden. Plants purchased with pocket money. Soil lugged from back of house to front by bucket. Decorated (although they're under mud in this shot) with gigantic oyster shells from the beach.

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Did anyone else other than Stomper Girl notice what Velcro let slip in her latest Root Shoot Marry entry via comments? You should go check it out - delicious gossip.

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Speaking of RSM, I footled about today with an archive for all the games so far in the sidebar. Since Blogger continues to taunt me with its standing invitation to 'make the switch' and then to deny me access every time I foolishly enter my details, I continue to gaze jealously at the labels gracing all your other blogs. My sidebar archive is the next best thing, and I can't imagine why I didn't think of it before.

It did, however, remind me how painfully in need of pics those first few games were. You have all been terribly patient. And imaginative. Maybe you were sitting there drawing pictures of Mother Teresa and Sean Connery on your doodle pad next to the computer? I like to think so.

















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The slow and satisfying new year is sort of coming together.

The Pea Princess and I played Monopoly between other jobs today: does that count? She's currently whupping my butt, due partly to an early bulk-purchase of railway stations and utilities.

I am making some gains on her now that I have hotels on Todd Street and Smith Street. Yes, you've got it, the two cheapest sites on the board. I've always been a fan of inner city gentrification.

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Entertaining friends tomorrow night and, despite knowing this is not a good idea, I am going to try something new-ish and butterfly a leg of lamb and cook it on the barbeque. Wish me luck. If it looks like working out I'll take pics.

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And finally, the real reason I am still up at this dreadful hour?

I've been threatening the Prof with a full blog post on this issue, but it seems impolite and not conducive to long term married bliss.

So, without giving you an entire post (even though I've composed it, many times, in my head, in the night) let me leave you some visual clues.







mtc

Bec