Carvery food

A carvery serves a purpose the odd time. It's a big plate of food covered in salty gravy to take the edge off you after a night hoovering back a dozen pints of stout. It costs fuck all and fills a hole.

It's also handy as a stomach liner if thinking about going back on Uncle Arthur's Magic Medicine for the day.

It isn't Chapter One food I want or am looking for if that is the case.

The same head-the-balls looking down on a carvery are the ones standing outside a chipper at 4 in the morning with kebab sauce all down their shirt and with a piss patch visible on their jeans.

If you'd rather eat at Mcdonalds than a carvery then you've had some baaaaaad carvery food. There's one near me that's fantastic, and they throw plenty of food at you (and I'm a contender for Man vs Food at times)

You gotta love Ireland, in fairness. A place where your considered a snob if:-
a) You go out for lunch a prefer a waiter/waitress to take you order and bring your food
b) Don't consider dissolved brown pellets to be actual coffee
c) Like to spend a few extra quid on wine that won't double as paint stripper
d) Like a decent beer instead of the fizzy, yellow, mass-produced piss that comes out of the only 6 or 7 taps you'll see in most pubs in the country
e) Hope for a bit more from a Sunday lunch than a salty cure for the 8 or 10 pints of that fizzy piss consumed the night before, or as lining for the 6 or 7 pints of the same piss that will surely follow.

Seriously, is there any other country in the world where you'll be told ,"It's far from [insert tasty foodstuff here] you were reared."
Fukk that sh!t. I'm far from a snob. I like a decent burger, curry, lasagna as much as the next person, but I have some standards. One of those standards is that I expect a better standard of food and service when I go out for lunch than I would get from a work canteen. If all I want from my lunch out is that I'll dodge the pots and pans then I' rather go to a take away. It's cheaper, I'll get a better choice, and I know I'll get a seat at my kitchen table.

chopper6 wrote: »

There's an odd sort of dynamic in places like that.

You tend to see distinct sorts of people,hen nights,polish bodybuilders and thier birds plus an inordinate amount of skinny,emaciated blokes leading enormous,bloated warthogs,usually poured into leggings like ten pounds of shiit in a five pound bag.

The blokes sit there,thier spectacles gleaming while the hippopotami endlessly visit the hotplate,sagging and wheezing with each step...unnatural if you ask me.

It's the same with the average Chinese takeaway. People proclaiming that their local one has great food and is far better than the kip further down the road. The same van arrives in with the same pre-packed meat, vegetables and sauces every couple of days. A well-oiled operation. And the Chinese lad that sticks his head out through the hatch cooks your food with utter contempt, hoping to hell that he can make enough money so he can head back to China and have enough to be comfortable.

Before Ireland had many restaurants, every tom dick and harry would pile into the hotels and bars which would have carveries. I like carveries they're excellent and there is always something good to eat

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