Dog’s Dinner to Dad’s Dinner ©
By
Michael Casey
So we had some beef mince left so I instructed by small daughter to make the stock or whatever word she used to go with the pasta. Pasta in itself is totally bland and tasteless, but with a chef such as I it soon becomes Multo Bello, or whatever the Italians say. Should I bellow about my cooking, we’ll just have to ask Don Camillo when he stops by for a feed on his way home after he checks the still in the woods for Lech, Boris and Gregorgi. He’s such a good priest, he’ll eat my pasta after first checking the still for the boys, then he’ll potter off back to the church to finish watching Coronation Street. This is Old Forge and Singing Anvil community life.
But back to my cooking, my girls assumed I cannot cook, cos I never bothered, and then mother cooked for them, while I carried on with our one family two fridge family cooking. However when I try I am good, ok good enough to feed my small pigs, though now they are both all grown up. So what is the secret to dad cooking? I read the packet, or do as I am told. Then I sit next to the cooker, I watch the food.
REPORT THIS AD
Watching in itself does not improve the cooking, but it does prevent burning or under cooking. I’m not on a phone Whatsapping or taking snaps or making videos of the cat to upload. Totoro has her own WhatsApp, but I think they have lost the password, though the readership increases all the time. If they knew there were Totoro stories as well then they might visit my sites too.
Back to cooking, just stir and lower the gas, pay attention, a burnt dinner is no good, as is a cold dinner, because you were too busy on the tablet, or toilet, some T device anyway. Food should be hot, not burnt or stone cold cold, and it all should be ready at the same time. Dribs and Drabs are not appetising they are just annoying, you are playing juggler with somebody’s mouth and taste buds, let alone patience.
So how to you you make meal magic? You cook things at different times and at different heats, you use all the rings on the oven, you are a ring master. And you know all about turning things over so it is cooked evenly and on both sides. Meal raw on one side and cremated on another does not get you a Michelin star, it just makes the cat puke when nobody else would eat it. Not even the cat, and the cat did try.
If you do use all the crockery then stack them up in size order to make it easier for washer-upper, especially if it’s dad, then it’s quicker and easier to do the washing, or faire la vaiselle if you are French, at least the cooking would be better. Don’t forget to praise your dad as well, he had to sit in the kitchen and watch his broth, or rather make sure the cat did not taste it first. Cat’s whiskers in anything don’t taste too good.
Pudding is produced, it’s from a packet but dad scooped it out and put it into a bowl, a lied convincingly that he made it himself, you all pretend to believe him. There’s this 1975 concert on and you want him to pay for tickets, so you have to butter him up about his puddings, and lie saying his Winnie the Pooh like pudding stomach is not as big as it used to be. So dad pays for the 1975 tickets, which was the year he did his O Levels in, if only the prices were from that year too.
Dad slumps to the armchair to watch Beyond 100 Days, while you do the washing up. You cannot grumbled, he fed you and paid for the 1975 tickets, and at least the dishes are in size order. That makes the washing up quicker to do, as dad screams LIARS at the tv, another dad day in Paradise.
No comments:
Post a Comment