Last night, I made Toad in the Hole. I used the finest plumpest Lincolnshire sausages and sizzled them in a little garlic oil from the sunsoaked vineyards of Tuscany with the sweetest most succuent onions delicately chopped to perfection, infused with gloops of runny golden honey and a splash of midnight dark soy sauce. When they were gently tanned I immersed them in my creamy batter and baked them in a comfortingly hot oven. The batter rose elegantly to mountainous proportions and I served it with perfectly formed baby roast potates, hand picked petit pois and sweet velvety onion gravy. This is not just food, this is my food.
Of course, I did all this after a soothing fragrant bath, dressed in a black silk nightgown, hair and makeup perfect, sipping a glass of Pinot Grigio and served it to a suitably impressed and grateful husband and perfect children who were full of praise. My house was pristine and the kitchen decorated with copious amounts of fairy lights. Even the dog thanked me.
Ok, ok, ok. I know you don't believe me.
In reality I bought ordinary pork sausages and Aunt Bessies Yorkshire puds. The roast potatoes were ready made and the petit pois were frozen. As for the gravy, thank you, Bisto. My house looked as if we had been burgled and husband and children were glued to the television throughout. A mirror cracked when I checked my hair and make-up, I didn't have time to change from my funerial office attire and my feet hurt. The dog looked miserable.
All credit to Nigella. I can't imagine how she does it. Maybe it's something to do with the fabulously rich husband, intellectually superior children and an army of domestic assistants.
I will continue to dream. Everything comes to those who wait, so they say.
2 comments:
Do you do your shopping by taxi? Have you got two fridges, both the size of wardrobes? Have you got a props department to detail your kitchen or a makeup artiste to wipe your fevered brow? Or a personal hairdresser to tidy those errant locks as you bend, seductively, over a pan of deep fried squid?
No, thought not.
But you can still knock out good, heart-warming grub for your family after a hard day's work. Now that's magic.
Thanks again for stopping by SM. I suppost I'm a victim of the "we must have it all" generation. I'm pretty sure though that most of us working women are less happy than our mothers were. They may not have had the material trappings we enjoy, but their lives were more fulfilling and they weren't permanently tired. I wish we lived in gentler times.
Keep up the good work, your posts always raise a smile.
Post a Comment