I don’t do English food

26 Sep


We have just had a lovely couple over for the weekend. Hence lack of post yesterday.

After a two hour walk in Chislehurst woods,  inclusive of full enetertainment – seeing my husband attempt to relive his childhood days – unsuccessfully. He got stuck up a tree.

Anyway, we come back to a very belated lunch. Rumbling stomachs call for something very Sunday-ish. Warming and English.

‘Bangers and mash’ was batted around. So off to Sainsbury’s we went.

Us girls made ourselves at home in the kitchen whilst the boys played with jump leads and cars (I know) utilising almost every single pan to hand in the way that British cooking seems to require.

You know what? I’d totally forgotten about the delicious warmth that comes with good old English food! i’ve prided myself in welcoming my hubby home to all manner of cuisines. Indian (his roots), Italian, Moroccan (tagine – my favourite), chinese…

Because the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach right?

And the more complicated food – the bigger the love?

But, after knocking up a waist band-groaning lunch of sausage and (leek, garlic & red onion) a field worth of potato, I’ve suddenly realised how tiring it is attempting to be a live-in food artisan.

As a girl who feels that following a recipe is ‘cheating’, i’ve attempted to, most evenings, design my own cullinary surprise. Never of course, being able to replicate it again, and probably (if i’m honest) not quite wanting to admit the odd mixture of store cupboard ingredients it contains.

So, i’ve rediscovered good old English food. And the stuffed lethargy that follows. Now I have that post sunday lunch slog that demands the sofa and constant replays of past episodes of Come Dine With me.

Right now I’m attempt to peel myself up from my horizontal postition and head to church, musing about the week ahead…

My husband has a week of pies, trifles, potatoes and puddings to look forward to.

Me? I look forward to kicking back whilst he battles with the  aftermath – a kitchen full of British washing up.


2 Responses to “I don’t do English food”

  1. DaPoet September 27, 2010 at 9:40 am #

    Whenever my wife makes spaghetti I can’t help but stuff myself as she makes it as good as my Grandmother did in her day and time…

  2. midnitechef September 28, 2010 at 4:23 pm #

    ” a kitchen full of British washing up.” Love that! My husband hardly goes after the dishes, I tend to leave the kitchen in a horrid state after my “chefing”. How do you get him started?

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