It has been a busy few days. The boys, of which there are three, have had a stomach bug. My brother, who has failed his exams again, arrived requiring safe harbour & much Guinness, until it was safe to return to the family home without fear of castration. The washing machine has died - I repeat, I have three boys. The husband, who happens to be the village pub landlord, is working seven days & nights a week, because we cannot find a chef. Well, that is the current excuse. He smells of Marlboro & chips & Old Speckled Hen. I have a magazine article to finish writing about the problems of parenting in this modern sexualised climate. My eldest son (affectionately known as 'fat-face') has fallen out with his 'girlfriend' (he is eleven!), refuses to remain in class, has kicked out the bannister spindles of the main staircase, & we must go & discuss his future with the headmistress. I am ignoring the bathroom scales, but I know by the waistband on my jeans that the 'Christmas' indulgence has got to stop. It is nearly February.
The situation definitely needs taking in hand. Not the gastric disturbances, or the International Baccalaureate Board of Examiners. Not the ineffective spin cycle & final drain, or the complete absence of microwave operators in the whole of Oxfordshire. Not the British cultural preoccupation with sexual activity, or pre-adolescent heartbreak & its attendant violence. No, there is little I can do about any of these, but my expanding waistline is another matter. I can take that in hand, as it were. (Or should that be 'in handfuls'?) Tomorrow I'll go back to the slimming club. Yes, tomorrow will be the start of my new, healthy, low-fat, anti-chocolate, cheese-free, semi-skimmed life. Tomorrow.
There is only one thing for it. Shepherd's Pie. The children need something soft, that doesn't demand the exhausting effort required to chew. The brother needs something to salve a bruised ego, that doesn't leave his street-cred in tatters & prick the self-contrived bubble of 'cool'. The husband needs a chef, & something, in the style of The Waltons, to remind him just what this family life lark is all about. We all need something familiar, comforting, safe, reassuring. The gastronomic equivalent of a sticking plaster & a 'make-it-better' cuddle. Of course, Shepherd's Pie!
It wasn't really Shepherd's Pie. No shepherds were harmed in the making of this pie. It was really Cottage Pie because it was made with beef mince. (Whatever.*) And green lentils, red wine & apple sauce. And cheese. (On top of the mashed sweet potatoes). I was rather pleased, I have to say. Grunts of approval from the husband, the brother & the sons.
* A note on the use of "whatever":
Culled from the cultural oasis that is 'The Gerry Springer Show'. Implies disinterest, disbelief, dismissal, etc... Most effective when pre-empted by outstretched arm with palm at 90 degree angle facing co-conversationalist, and the words - "Talk to the hand 'coz the face 'aint listening". On no account should the 't' be sounded. Alternative spelling: "wha'evah". My cousin suggests even further vowel-shortening with her variation, "wevvah", and she should know. This is rapidly becoming the preferred version.
The situation definitely needs taking in hand. Not the gastric disturbances, or the International Baccalaureate Board of Examiners. Not the ineffective spin cycle & final drain, or the complete absence of microwave operators in the whole of Oxfordshire. Not the British cultural preoccupation with sexual activity, or pre-adolescent heartbreak & its attendant violence. No, there is little I can do about any of these, but my expanding waistline is another matter. I can take that in hand, as it were. (Or should that be 'in handfuls'?) Tomorrow I'll go back to the slimming club. Yes, tomorrow will be the start of my new, healthy, low-fat, anti-chocolate, cheese-free, semi-skimmed life. Tomorrow.
There is only one thing for it. Shepherd's Pie. The children need something soft, that doesn't demand the exhausting effort required to chew. The brother needs something to salve a bruised ego, that doesn't leave his street-cred in tatters & prick the self-contrived bubble of 'cool'. The husband needs a chef, & something, in the style of The Waltons, to remind him just what this family life lark is all about. We all need something familiar, comforting, safe, reassuring. The gastronomic equivalent of a sticking plaster & a 'make-it-better' cuddle. Of course, Shepherd's Pie!
It wasn't really Shepherd's Pie. No shepherds were harmed in the making of this pie. It was really Cottage Pie because it was made with beef mince. (Whatever.*) And green lentils, red wine & apple sauce. And cheese. (On top of the mashed sweet potatoes). I was rather pleased, I have to say. Grunts of approval from the husband, the brother & the sons.
* A note on the use of "whatever":
Culled from the cultural oasis that is 'The Gerry Springer Show'. Implies disinterest, disbelief, dismissal, etc... Most effective when pre-empted by outstretched arm with palm at 90 degree angle facing co-conversationalist, and the words - "Talk to the hand 'coz the face 'aint listening". On no account should the 't' be sounded. Alternative spelling: "wha'evah". My cousin suggests even further vowel-shortening with her variation, "wevvah", and she should know. This is rapidly becoming the preferred version.
i must say you are very pretty! I think your blog is very cool and I love it! Come see my blog and please post on it as well!.
ReplyDeletehttp://sportsjunkies.blogspot.com/
Mmm, cottage pie. There's nothing like a cottage pie to salve the soul... you sound like an all-round domestic goddess!
ReplyDeleteCan't beat shepherd's pie (or even cottage pie) to keep a man's stomach content. All so easy to cook as well.
ReplyDeleteStephen is going to be cooking cottage pie on Tuesday. He's never cooked it before, so he'll be able to discover for himself whether it's easy to cook. Any food's easy to cook, Stephen, if you sit back and let a woman cook it for you!
ReplyDeleteI don't know whether satisfaction is the right response, but Stephen now knows that Shepherd's pie is not so easy to cook. Not your recipe, his utter lack of basic cookery skill. He is more humble tonight.
ReplyDelete