Mother’s Day (for me at least) is an opportunity to prove I'm not a complete failure as a son and to thank mummy-dearest for everything she does - which often goes above and beyond the call of duty. And so for Day 24, I devoted my daily adLenture to my Mum. After jumping (or rather collapsing - see Day 23) onto the train back to Hertfordshire, I arrived in time to cook my Mother a big slap-up British Roast for her lunch. I often use food to convey kindness. That probably says a lot about me...
The classic Roast is a staple of British cuisine, and one which I have enjoyed for many years. As far back as I can remember, Sundays revolved around the whole family coming together to eat big slabs of meat, huge quantities of vegetables and generous servings of gravy. I think we just solved the mystery of my overweight adolescence.
So that was Day 24’s new experience. Finally give my long-suffering Mum the opportunity to put her feet up while I take complete control of the kitchen. Now, I’ve obviously cooked before (ready meals count, right?) but I've never dared to assume sole responsibility for putting together a whole Roast dinner and all the trimmings. The closest I've come was Easter 2010 when I was living in France. I invited many of my non-British friends over to enjoy a traditional Roast. Not being able to handle the whole meal on my own, my good intentions quickly went to pot. A definite highlight was setting the whole oven on fire. My guests were understandably shaken and probably less than impressed.
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| Looking a bit worse for wear, but totally in control! |
This time would be different: no longer will I cower away from this culinary challenge. At my mother’s reqeust, we were to be eating Roast Beef with vegetables (carrots, broccoli, leeks, parsnips and of course roast potatoes), Yorkshire puddings and gravy. A walk in the park – unless you're a) incompetent in the kitchen and b) contending with a hangover. The odds were not in my favour.
Time management is crucial when cooking a Roast dinner. With all the various components going at once, it's easy to lose one's cool. Things started smoothly: the beef was seared and in the oven, the vegetables were prepped and the wine was already open (priorities!). And, to my surprise, my cooking carried on in an equally calm fashion. With a small amount of guidance from pretty much every member of my family – it seems backseat driving is not limited to the car – the potatoes and parsnips safely arrived in the oven and the other vegetables were put on to steam. With time to spare, I even decided to get creative, and concocted a parsley and cinnamon butter for the carrots. NOM.
The Yorkshire puddings proved a challenge, but I got through unscathed – so far doing better than Easter 2010 then. It was at the plating up that things got complicated. Suddenly everything was ready all at once. Uh oh… As I frantically tried to serve the greens, I could sense the potatoes getting dangerously crispy and the Yorkshires on the brink of exploding. It was make or break time. One burnt thumb and numerous expletives later, I fortunately managed to take control of the situation. At breakneck speed I threw everything onto dishes and rushed them over to the table. Even the gravy, which had been teetering between watery mess and lumpy goo, turned out OK. Suck on that, Jamie Oliver!
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| Grubs up! |
My family seemed pretty happy with my efforts; the carrots in particular went down a treat. As for me, I was too tired to talk over dinner and probably polished off a whole bottle of wine to calm my nerves. Respect must be paid to those mums who do this day in, day out; they definitely deserve more than one day of thanks. Unfortunately, I'm not sure I could go through this more than once a year… Sorry Mum!
Day Twenty-Four: Cook up a storm all by myself. DONE!
Peace & Love,
Rich xx
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