Recipe for disaster.

I’m just sat watching the telly and my lord there is some absolute rubbish on. Every channel has been taken over by endless gameshows, rolling news and worst of all, cookery programmes. Chefs are now practically superstars. All for slinging a few ingredients in a pan and charging rediculous prices which people seem happy to pay.

Paul Hollywood, Gino, Jamie Oliver, Nigella Lawson and of course, Gordon Ramsay. The foul mouthed fella with a face like a scrotum. One of his programmes is called Kitchen Nightmares USA. It’s exactly what it says it is. Gordon walks into a restaurant, orders something, bites into the food then spits it out, his features turning a shade of red. He then walks straight into the kitchen ( surprise, suprise, a camara team just happen to be already in there) and Gordon shakes his head picking up various pieces of food. ” What’s that!” He shouts, picking up a limp piece of broccoli. His face now the colour puce bordering on beetroot. He ends up giving some bloke a bollocking for under cooking the chicken… and all the staff stand and take it, in fact by the end of the show they say thanks and practically kiss his feet. He’s a bit like a culinary Lone Ranger with tourettes, once his work is done he moves on to the next town. HI YO SILVER!

When I was a kid we had Fanny Craddock and Johnny. She was terrifying. Utterly terrifying. She had a stare that would scare a hitman. He had a monocle in his left eye and dressed in a suit and tie. Poor Johnny looked half drunk all the time, mind you I would have been in a permanent drunken stupor married to her.

We also had Farmhouse kitchen. Which was a kitchen…in a farm…Can’t remember much about it but the lady made a pie every week. This pie, that pie any kind of pie. Simple dishes and not Heston Blumenthal with his pan seared tuna covered in chocolate and garlic with a firework sticking out of it.

Having said all that what do I know? When I was younger I had to have a recipe to make toast. Now I can whip up a stew or a spag bol but give me a fried egg sandwich and I’m in heaven….but not one of Heston’s with ice cream and a garnish of tarragon….