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Saturday, 11 December 2010


I cooked dinner last night.
My beloved's back was still very sore, so I volunteered to buy food (our larder was getting low) and cook.
She graciously accepted, so I popped into the supermarket after work.  Now my beloved is a superb cook, in virtually any cooking style, but she excels in Chinese and most Far-Eastern styles, and while I love them, sometimes I would prefer something a bit simpler.  Something planer.  Something British.

So I bought some Lamb Steak, two bunches of Asparagus, a box of new (organic) potatoes from Oamaru and some baby carrots.

After I got home and tidyed up, I grilled the steaks, boiled the spuds and carrots, and used the microwave on the asparagus.  I made a garlic, olive oil, salt and rosemary paste in the mortar and pestle, and used that as a quick marinade for the lamb.  Everything else was cooked simply, and I just added butter to all the vegies just before serving.
I overdid the lamb a bit, and it was a bit tough, but I thought the vegies were great.

Too much butter?  Rubbish
My beloved did not agree.  I had used too much butter on the spuds (I ask you, is it possible to have TOO MUCH BUTTER on new potatoes or asparagus?  I don't think so) The asparagus had been overcooked she said.  I thought it still had a nice crunch, it wasn't overcooked until it was all wobbly.  The carrots were too watery.  I agree.  I hadn't given them time to steam off, nor had I added enough butter.

Oh, don't get me wrong, my beloved was not ungrateful, she was all smiles for my efforts.
Then she made the comment I knew was coming. 
She:  "I still haven't changed your way of looking at food, have I?"
Me:   "What do you mean"?
She:  "You still like these old foods"
Me:  "If you mean simple and plain, well sometimes. Yes"
She:  "I haven't made you think healthy"
Me:  "What"
She:  "You use too much butter"
Me:  (In slightly guilty tones) "Well, maybe.  But we don't do it very often" (ending in whine)
She:  (In an amazing mixture of benign condescension) "Someone has to worry about your health, Dear"
Me: (Defeated, and knowing it) "Yes Dear"
She: "I know you tried Dear, and it was so nice not to have to cook"
Me: "Yes Dear"
She: "I'll be fine by tomorrow, so I'll do the cooking then"
Me: "Yes Dear"
She: "Are you doing the washing up now?"
Me: "Yes Dear"
She: "You seem to have used a lot of pots and pans"
Me: (Through gritted teeth) "Yes Dear"
She: "Have you arranged any dessert?"
Me: "Yes Dear"
She: "That's nice, what will it be?"
Me: (mumbling) "Humble Pie Dear"
She: "What was that you said Dear?"
Me: "Apple Pie Dear, with Custard"
She: "Oh, that'll be nice, but we don't need the custard Dear, it's too high in fats and sugars.  Just pie on it's own will be fine"
Me: "Ffffffff.... Yes Dear"
She: "After you do the washing and drying will be fine Dear"
Me: "Yes Dear";  leaves, going to kitchen, feet dragging, a beaten man

Sometimes I really feel like going out, finding the guy who discovered Cholesterol and shooting him.
Right after I shoot the stupid bastard who invented marriage.


  1. Its a man thing. I very rarely pass the cooking, washing up, ironing, vacuuming, kitchen and bathroom cleaning, gardening, shopping,handiman and household planning tests that my beloved sets for me.

  2. My meals are always well received, though I do tend to make them a bit big.

  3. Yes TC, I've noticed that I very rarely get even a passing grade these days, let alone an excellent. Ah well.

    Richard[of RBB];lucky you. I do notice however that men do tend to make larger portions. Maybe that's why all the great chefs are men. Big = Good.
    My beloved tells me that I'm not a gourmet, I'm a gourmand. Otherwise known as a glutton.

  4. I've given up. Dom't even try!

  5. Strangely I do 95% of the cooking in our house. It's the only thing I get good grades for mind you.

  6. Good on you Alistair. I cook a lot too.


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