For a woman who doesn’t do much cooking, I seem to spend an awful lot of time watching cookery programmes.
I’m lucky enough to have a hubby who adores concocting all sorts of dishes, which would be great if he remembered to write down the ingredients so we could eat the best ones again.
Sadly, he never does, but it means many meals are a wonderful new adventure.
Anyway, he’s a great cook, loves watching cookery programmes and, if I’m not eating food, I’m just as happy to watch television about it.
You can often find me on the x-trainer at the gym watching somebody serving up plates of pasta. Somehow it spurs me on.
But there are some things I just don’t get. One of the latest fads they all seem to be trying out is cooking in a water bath.
I’m sure it’s far more complex than it sounds, but I’m also pretty sure I was doing that when I was about 14. Except we called it boil in the bag curry and rice.
And what’s with all the “smears” of puree (otherwise known as liquidised), foam (liquidised and frothed) or coulis (sauce)?
I know times are tough, but if I’m paying decent money, I want a decent dollop of honey roasted and curried parsnip puree.
I don’t want to just get a whiff of it and then be forced to lick it off the plate just to see what it tastes like.
Don’t get me wrong, I like my food to look good; I want it to look like somebody lovingly prepared it and didn’t just throw it at the plate.
But if somebody’s put hours of work into producing something, I also want more than half a mouthful. I want to go back and savour it.
Whether it’s roasted sea bass on a bed of hand-picked mussels cooked in gold leaf or a great big, doorstep bacon buttie from the caff, make the portions plentiful – don’t leave me hungry. Unless the puddings are gloriously great, too.