Now it’s just possible if you’ve been reading my blog for a while you may have picked up some subtle hints that I don’t like cooking. Although I’ve plenty of interest in eating I’ve as much interest in cooking as Barry White had performing in leotards.
I have been trying lately though. (Well, I’m trying most days) But I meant trying at cooking. On Tuesday I made beef stew. I didn’t quite around to the dumplings but I thought the mothballs made an easy substitute and no one seemed to notice the difference! Yesterday, I was even more daring and made fish pie!
I know you're interested in my culinary genuis so here’s how I did it;
Well, I used fish. (Obviously) Now I had some frozen white fish. It may even have been a brand like Cod or Haddock but I’m not sure. (Btw that IS a joke. Just in case you thought I really was that stupid. Yeah okay…don’t challenge me on that will you?) Anyway, it was white fish selected on the basis that the packaging looked pretty. (Well as much as two dead fish with bulging eyes can look pretty photographed next to some strategically placed plastic parsley.) I also had some fresh salmon because on Sunday I went to Costco which is one of those massive cut price places where you can only buy huge quantities of stuff so I came away with a salmon the size of a whale. I was slightly concerned about the green spots, yellow fins and the two rotating heads but what the hell it was cheap.
Going slightly off track for a moment; I never go over board at such supermarkets because I’m always thinking if I buy 48 rolls of loo paper just where am I going to put them? I couldn’t stack them by the loo because with 4 males in the house my 48 rolls of pristine white loo rolls would soon be a lovely shade of yellow.
I suppose I could put the loo rolls in the loft but that would be a bit impractical because that’s a long way to dash with my knickers round my ankles when I’ve found I’ve forgotten to replace the last roll. Or there’s under Master Benedict’s bed but that’s a dangerous proposition because it wouldn’t be long before he attempted to construct some weird flying machine out of the loo rolls with the aid of his glue stick, cardboard boxes and sellotape and thrown himself out his window on a thermal uplift.
Don’t believe me eh?
This is what Master Ben made last night;
Can you see the intricate sellotape work? The unique design? The multi coloured paperwork? Now what exactly is it, I hear you ask?
It’s a Jack in the Box.
Yes, that’s right. A Jack in the Box. I know -where’s the Jack? Well you see the yellow tag? That’s where Master Benedict opens the bottom of the box and inserts his head. No wait a minute, it's the other way round....
Yes, so anyway Master Benedict IS The Jack in the Box. Creative eh?
And this is what he did to his remote controlled car;
Again, some intricate sellotape work…. Btw that’s wooden kindling taped to it (and one odd pen.)
Obviously Master Benedict will be exhibiting at The Tate by the time he’s 12. And I look forward to it cos let’s face it nothing he produces is as riduculous as that Tracey Enema stuff.
Anyway, back to the fish pie.
So, I microwaved the fish and then what I usually do is mix it with some ready-to-make parsley sauce (You know where you add milk and stir.) But horror, horror, there is none left... This means I have to face the prospect of driving to the supermarket, making it myself or using my initiative…….. So luckily I found some savoury white sauce mix! Unfortunately, no fresh parsley… but I did some have some Mediterranean herbs circa 2005. Excellent, excellent…… so I stirred it all together and topped it with mash potato. Now my mash was much, much better than last week's disastrous attempt at a Shepherd's pie where I couldn’t be bothered to mash the potatoes immediately so they congealed into one massive globule that even I couldn’t salvage. Anyway, the mash this week was good. So feeling slightly pleased I’d rescued the situation I spooned it over the fish…
Unfortunately, I quickly realised the benefits of measuring jugs as it might have been a good idea if I’d used one to measure the milk…because now I had too much sauce and not enough mash…. Ah well, I thought, perhaps it would “dry out” a little when I baked it.
Regrettably it didn’t. It turned into a sort of thick fish soup……with some burnt bits round the edges…..
But full credit to Master Jacob who had seconds. Master Sam and Master Ben had what I call “strategic” amounts but Master Jacob said it was “Yummy!” Blimey, I love that boy; he may even get some birthday prezzies this year.
Anyway, I must also recount Master Jacob’s latest cooking experience…
Unlike Master Sam who only told me about school cookery lessons approximately 10 mins before the bus came Master Jacob told me the night before that he needed plain flour, sugar, an egg and chocolate chips for his chocolate chip cookies. My immediate thought was;
Do I have some plain flour?
This was quickly followed by the thought;
Do I have ANY flour?
Well yes, I did. It was that extra strong stuff especially for breadmakers. (Another one of Mr T’s thrilling gifts.) And I had sugar and an egg! Whoppee! No chocolate chips though…. How bizarre! But I did have some dark cooking chocolate, you know the type you have to take a chisel to… So all was well and Master Jacob came home the next day with his plain biscuits.... (No chisel available at school.)
“Would you like one of my biscuits Mummy?”
Master Jacob lays out his biscuits on the kitchen counter
“Of course Master Jacob.”
“Which one would you like?”
Mrs T surveys the scene…..
And turns them over…..
“Um… Master Jacob? They look a bit…. brown.”
Master Jacob smiles at Mrs T in a knowing fashion....
“I made them crispy just the way you like them Mummy.”
Mrs T stifles gagging sounds, puts her arm round Master Jacob…
“What a clever boy! Now let’s not forget to save one for Daddy…..”
Hmmm...now what shall I cook tonight? Any suggestions?
Copyright Jane Turley 2009
Ps You can find my latest short story here at The View From Here. It's a war story, so if you're squeamish stay tuned to the silly stuff here at The Witty Ways of a Wayward Wife.
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