Saturday, September 22, 2012

The Disco Kitchen Diaries

Sunday 16 September
An excerpt from Nigel Slater’s Kitchen Diaries ii is published in the Observer Food Magazine. I am beyond ecstatic.

Tuesday 18 September
I can’t be the only one breathing a sigh of relief that broad bean season is over. There’s something about those bitter, tough, kidney-shaped pale green beans that come enclosed in jackets reminiscent of a freshly dead caterpillar yet to lose its fur to the invasion of maggots that really gets my goat. They are the emperor’s new clothes of the fashionable food world.

Thursday 20 September
My father and I are in search of something hot, savoury and filling to munch before we go and drink too much house wine in the cheerful hostelry adjacent to the Theatre Royal. There’s a glorious French bakery on the lane opposite the Bath branch of Waitrose, where I enquire about the two fat, golden pasties lounging resplendent under a glass dome on the counter. They are, I’m told, wrought from Salt Marsh lamb, organic Maris Piper potatoes and fresh rosemary, and wrapped in all butter pastry made to an authentic Normandy recipe. They are £4.20 each but can’t be served hot, due to health and safety regulations. We go to Gregg’s instead and buy two jumbo sausage rolls - the sticky, salty, gristly, unctuous filling as hot as volcanic larva, the pastry so flaky it all but fails to do its job at all - for £1.20, and eat them sitting on a bench opposite the Disney Shop.

Friday 21 September
Autumn is softly creeping into our tiny third floor flat, which can only mean one thing: the central heating still doesn’t work properly. In the search for supper, I take a stroll around the larder in the corner of the spare room and stumble across a Fray Bentos pie, bought on a whim several months ago. The tin is dusty, but I’m confident that the contents are nowhere near the end of their seasonal best yet; the pie can happily sit amongst the bottles of mouthwash, boxes of Paxo stuffing and packets of Haribo that thrive in our makeshift store cupboard, waiting for their time to come as they relax in the gentle darkness of a makeshift cupboard next to the cat litter tray. Back in the kitchen, the fridge reveals the remains of last night’s speedy chicken curry (chicken, frozen peas and a jar of Co-op low fat Korma sauce) and two eggs. While the eggs are scrambling, I heat the curry up in the microwave to the exact point where the sauce around the edges of the bowl have turned a crusty dark brown. I serve my eggs on top of two pieces of toast spread with Dairylea cheese. Boo devours the curry with one hand while stroking the cat with the other. He has 4 Cadbury’s Roses for dessert. Later on that evening, he will eat slices of Cathedral City Cheddar with a double whisky.

To be continued...

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