Some Amateurish Culinary Thoughts on Yesterday's Matches

Yesterday I made a toast to feeling good all the time and promptly loaded up two illegal streams, one next to each other, of Arsenal v. Celtic and Chelsea v. Sunderland.

My level of concentration on either was dictated by the consistency of the broadcast. As one bowed out on Justin TV, I would switch to the other until the other stream had either righted itself or switched altogether (I won't reveal the source of these magic streams except to point you to the particularly helpful comments section from my last post).

It reminded me a fair bit of cooking. Arsenal Celtic was a match on a good simmer, but needed a bit of something to move it along. Arsene Wenger's strategy seemed simply to be, "ok Mowbray, you might have a secret cunning plan, but you won't be able to exercise it if we pass at the speed of a twelve year-old playing Pro Evo 2009." Things seemed to be working as Celtic overhit passes out of play for the most part.

Normally a goal would have been the perfect solution, but Gallas' cruelly demented outtake of a strike basically collapsed the souffle (pardon my mixed cooking metaphors). So I was more than happy to switch over to the Stadium of Light where Chelsea had gone down 1-0 to a Darren Bent effort.

That game was like an old tried and true recipe; at first you're desperate to pull off something different to impress your guests, but then you freak out because the potatoes are boiling over so you stick to the cookbook. Once Sunderland got their bit in, it was point proven: "We have Steve Bruce, so we'll make you worried Big Four, but not enough to start pulling off upset wins this early in the season thank you very much."

Ballack's equalizer meant the game was as good as done half an hour before serving time. The penalty was stone cold in the middle and Deco's pretty but ultimately banal third goal was like a creme brulee; a pleasant treat, but something you could get at almost every fine restaurant. So far the Premier League has been solid but lacking in spice or variation, and the Champions League thus far is following the recipe to a tee. Maybe we should go out for Indian next time.