>examples:
Bacon and cabbage
Stew (this is meat and any random left over vegetables thrown into a pot and stewed in juices from the meat)
*me* 'my mom made me a rank Irish mammy dinner last night!'
*friend* 'really? What was it? Haha!'
*me* 'stew.. It made me feel sick looking at it!'
Bacon and cabbage
Stew (this is meat and any random left over vegetables thrown into a pot and stewed in juices from the meat)
*me* 'my mom made me a rank Irish mammy dinner last night!'
*friend* 'really? What was it? Haha!'
*me* 'stew.. It made me feel sick looking at it!'
by Quite disgusted! January 26, 2012
by CircumstantialSasquatch December 07, 2023
by Doom_42069 May 12, 2022
by Lunariasi January 13, 2023
by dihhh August 07, 2018
From the vantage point of a rational human with functioning gustatory papillae, a lamb dinner is the gastronomic equivalent of getting kicked in the testicles (some people find it enjoyable, but I cannot for the life of me understand why).
Imagine, if you will, meat that tastes like it’s been marinated in dirty old sweaters, perfumed with a hint of petting zoo, and garnished with the toxic secretions of a cane toad. The consumption of lamb is less a meal and more an elaborate prank gone wrong.
The texture? A true paradox. Somehow it is both sinewy and gelatinous, as though the animal was full of despair and sadness before its untimely demise. And the smell, how in tarnation can it smell that foul? The stench wafts through a home like the ghost of livestock past, assaulting the olfactory senses of every poor soul who is in the vicinity.
Supposed connoisseurs will wax poetic about its “earthy richness” or “rich, robust, and well-balanced flavor” which, when translated to honest English, means “sweaty mutton disguised as fine dining”. It is not “rich,” it is despicable; it is not “robust,” but a belligerent assault on the taste buds.
Lamb should only be served if your guests have wronged you terribly or if you have lost all hope in the potential of food bringing you, or others, joy.
In conclusion, lamb as a dish is best served NEVER. It is a betrayal of the palate, a disgrace to the kitchen, and a compelling argument for vegetarianism.
Imagine, if you will, meat that tastes like it’s been marinated in dirty old sweaters, perfumed with a hint of petting zoo, and garnished with the toxic secretions of a cane toad. The consumption of lamb is less a meal and more an elaborate prank gone wrong.
The texture? A true paradox. Somehow it is both sinewy and gelatinous, as though the animal was full of despair and sadness before its untimely demise. And the smell, how in tarnation can it smell that foul? The stench wafts through a home like the ghost of livestock past, assaulting the olfactory senses of every poor soul who is in the vicinity.
Supposed connoisseurs will wax poetic about its “earthy richness” or “rich, robust, and well-balanced flavor” which, when translated to honest English, means “sweaty mutton disguised as fine dining”. It is not “rich,” it is despicable; it is not “robust,” but a belligerent assault on the taste buds.
Lamb should only be served if your guests have wronged you terribly or if you have lost all hope in the potential of food bringing you, or others, joy.
In conclusion, lamb as a dish is best served NEVER. It is a betrayal of the palate, a disgrace to the kitchen, and a compelling argument for vegetarianism.
Jacob: You should come over for dinner tonight.
Patricia: That sounds lovely, what are we having?
Jacob: A lamb dinner, I was thinking a roast leg of lamb.
Patricia: I just threw up in my mouth.
Jacob: Lamb Souvlaki?
Patricia: I would rather starve.
Jacob: Lamb chops?
Patricia: Que distinguida.
Jacob: Lamb kofta?
Patricia: Que feo.
Jacob: Lamb Shank Ragu?
Patricia: Ohhhh, you know what? I just remembered, I am busy tonight, sorry.
Patricia: That sounds lovely, what are we having?
Jacob: A lamb dinner, I was thinking a roast leg of lamb.
Patricia: I just threw up in my mouth.
Jacob: Lamb Souvlaki?
Patricia: I would rather starve.
Jacob: Lamb chops?
Patricia: Que distinguida.
Jacob: Lamb kofta?
Patricia: Que feo.
Jacob: Lamb Shank Ragu?
Patricia: Ohhhh, you know what? I just remembered, I am busy tonight, sorry.
by Volando Con El Viento April 21, 2025
From the vantage point of a rational human with functioning gustatory papillae, the lamb meat in all forms is the gastronomic equivalent of getting kicked in the testicles.
Imagine, if you will, meat that tastes like it’s been marinated in dirty old sweaters, perfumed with a hint of petting zoo after a spring rain, and garnished with the toxic secretions of a cane toad. The consumption of lamb is less a meal and more an elaborate prank gone wrong.
The texture? A true paradox. Somehow it is both sinewy and gelatinous, as though the animal was full of despair and sadness before its untimely demise. And the smell, how in tarnation can it smell that foul? The stench wafts through a home like the ghost of livestock past, clinging to drapes, walls, and assaulting the olfactory senses of every poor soul who is in the vicinity.
Supposed connoisseurs will wax poetic about its “earthy richness” or “rich, robust, and well-balanced flavor” which, when translated from nonsense speak to to honest English, means “sweaty mutton disguised as fine dining”. It is not “delicate,” it is despicable; it is not “robust,” but a belligerent assault on the taste buds.
Lamb should only be served if your guests have wronged you terribly or if you have lost all hope in the potential of food bringing you, or others, joy.
In conclusion, a lamb as a dish is best served NEVER. It is a betrayal of the palate, a disgrace to the kitchen, and a compelling argument for vegetarianism.
Imagine, if you will, meat that tastes like it’s been marinated in dirty old sweaters, perfumed with a hint of petting zoo after a spring rain, and garnished with the toxic secretions of a cane toad. The consumption of lamb is less a meal and more an elaborate prank gone wrong.
The texture? A true paradox. Somehow it is both sinewy and gelatinous, as though the animal was full of despair and sadness before its untimely demise. And the smell, how in tarnation can it smell that foul? The stench wafts through a home like the ghost of livestock past, clinging to drapes, walls, and assaulting the olfactory senses of every poor soul who is in the vicinity.
Supposed connoisseurs will wax poetic about its “earthy richness” or “rich, robust, and well-balanced flavor” which, when translated from nonsense speak to to honest English, means “sweaty mutton disguised as fine dining”. It is not “delicate,” it is despicable; it is not “robust,” but a belligerent assault on the taste buds.
Lamb should only be served if your guests have wronged you terribly or if you have lost all hope in the potential of food bringing you, or others, joy.
In conclusion, a lamb as a dish is best served NEVER. It is a betrayal of the palate, a disgrace to the kitchen, and a compelling argument for vegetarianism.
Jacob: You should come over for dinner tonight.
Patricia: That sounds lovely, what are we having?
Jacob: A lamb dinner, I was thinking a roast leg of lamb.
Patricia: I just threw up in my mouth.
Jacob: Lamb Souvlaki?
Patricia: I would rather starve.
Jacob: Lamb chops?
Patricia: Que distinguida.
Jacob: Lamb kofta?
Patricia: Que feo.
Jacob: Lamb Shank Ragu?
Patricia: Ohhhh, you know what? I just remembered, I am busy tonight, sorry.
-----------------------------------
Fact: There is literally no version of lamb that is not completely disgusting
Patricia: That sounds lovely, what are we having?
Jacob: A lamb dinner, I was thinking a roast leg of lamb.
Patricia: I just threw up in my mouth.
Jacob: Lamb Souvlaki?
Patricia: I would rather starve.
Jacob: Lamb chops?
Patricia: Que distinguida.
Jacob: Lamb kofta?
Patricia: Que feo.
Jacob: Lamb Shank Ragu?
Patricia: Ohhhh, you know what? I just remembered, I am busy tonight, sorry.
-----------------------------------
Fact: There is literally no version of lamb that is not completely disgusting
by Volando Con El Viento April 21, 2025