I'm going to take this opportunity to dredge up this
classic:
Quote:
Harry Redkanpp’s Lunch:
I’ve got up this morning and her indoors has left a note saying she’s gone up the shops and I’d better have made the lunch by the time she gets back or else. She says she wants spaghetti bolognaise.
Opened up the fridge. Jesus Christ, have you seen what she’s left me with? I’m down to the bare bones and no mistake.
There’s spaghetti, a tub of pasta sauce, some minced beef, fresh herbs, some parmesan cheese, a bottle of Baron Philippe de Rothschild Opus One Napa Valley 1987 red wine and Claudia Roden’s ‘Simple Mediterranean Cookery’ book! Bloody amateur hour, I’m telling you. How the hell am I supposed to make spaghetti bolognaise with that little lot? I thought there’d be some top, top ingredients in there.
Whoever’s bought that from the supermarket should be ashamed of themself. It’s a mish-mash of lopsided ingredients. The whole recipe has been badly constructed. It’s scary, I’m telling you.
I’m just standing there swearing and muttering to meself when the phone rings. It’s Jeff Powell phoning up to say how brilliant I am and that I’m one of the best cooks of my time and that I could have cooked for England. I have to cut him off though because I’ve got Brian Woolnough on the other line saying I’m one of the Blackburn’s great characters and it’s a bloody miracle how many meals I’ve made out of literally nothing. They’re saying I’m like a Cockney Jesus, the way I’ve managed to feed the five thousand with the tiny amount I’ve had to spend in the supermarket and just my wheeler-dealer know-how.
I need some better ingredients and fast. When I saw the wife come home from the shops yesterday with some spaghetti, a tub of pasta sauce, some minced beef, fresh herbs, some parmesan cheese, a bottle of Baron Philippe de Rothschild Opus One Napa Valley 1987 red wine and Claudia Roden’s ‘Simple Mediterranean Cookery’ book, I had no idea that’s what would be in the fridge when she asked me to make spaghetti bolognaise.
It’s a hard job I’ve got on here this lunchtime believe me. If I can even get anything into a pan it’ll be a massive achievement and I know Jeff and Woolly would agree with me. Trouble is the wife can’t take criticism. Too precious these days, women. That’s the trouble. I’m short of people with the right character in this house.
When you’re as stretched as I am, a lunch is a massive distraction from the really important meal: dinner. I think I’m just going to have to serve up the pot of pasta sauce with some tap water and just hope for the best. If I can pull this mess round it’ll be amazing really.
