Tonight, in my dreams, I’ve been mostly cooking BBQ pork which ended up too dry, mushrooms which ended up mushy, potato mash, lumpy and without grainy mustard. All under mediocre circumstances in the middle of our barn conversion project, using a 1930’s kitchen as found from the previous owners. A real uphill struggle in terms of equipment and space! I think the fact that Claire Hutchings was helping out in the kitchen, and the guests included our architect, the prime minister, and somebody else of import I forgot, didn’t help to settle my nerves. But, I managed nice bows of cucumber and beetroot for decoration, it was a charity affair after all…
Real life cooking hasn’t been half as exciting, but then, some of the meals prepared in real life actually went according to plan. Without Claire, David Cameron, or the forgotten but equally important person:
Filet of Salmon, steamed under a cover of fennel shavings and dill, served with steamed white rice, and finished with fresh Vanilla ice cream and toffee apples.
A Saturday night affair, starting with essence of tomato shots served with fresh sourdough bread. Starters of grilled peppers stuffed with spicy feta cheese spread and spinach and blue cheese filo parcels, served with a light green salad. A sage-infused juicy roast shoulder of pork, served with apples and rhubarb, and fennel-infused pommes dauphinoise. A fully-blown Black Forest Gateaux for desert.
A chicken and mushroom fricassee, lacking flavour and bite, served with a grainy mustard potato mash lacking said mustard, and leaks, all courtesy of Virgin Atlantic. They claim to serve gourmet food, but they must have located a really strange gourmet to bolster that claim. However, I’ve also eaten a lot worse in aeroplanes.