Last night my friend the celebrity garbage thief struck again, this time taking Keira Knightley's rubbish.
He took two bags, but as it was raining and he had to get on a bus, he ditched all the things he couldn't bear to touch (tons of food and tissues and empty boxes of dietary fiber supplements) and hung on to a very handy bag of herbs, spices and (Orlando's?) cologne.
The herbs and spices were:
And the fine fragrance was from the house of Paco Robanne.
The original plan was to use them to make a bunch of dishes with Keira Knightley-themed names, but "Pirates Of The Caribbean Jerk Chicken", "Yoghurt and Atonemint Dressing", "Pride and Breadjudice" and "Bend It Like Beck-Honey-Glazed-Ham" didn't really call for any of the stuff she'd thrown out. And all of that seemed like too much work, so I decided to just add a spoonful of everything (including aftershave) to the simplest recipe I could find in Nigella Lawson's How to be a Domestic Goddess: Madeira Cake (Makeira cake?).
Most of the jars had never been opened and, for some reason, the lids wouldn't come off. So we literally had to hack our way in (which may have been why Keira threw them out and not because she's 'naturally thin' as we'd first suspected).
At first the cake was fairly well received and I was beginning to think that no one would be vomiting on the picture of Keira that I had pre-placed in the toilet bowl.
However, further mastication seemed to unveil hidden veins of awfulness, with talk of "coriander and bug spray" floating around, and after about 30 seconds the room started to look like this:
One taste-tester in particular seemed to be having a little trouble navigating a treacherous garlic salt hot-spot.
In closing, the cake tasted meaner than a flat chested lady with a longbow.