The days of my mam’s fa­mous burg­ers are now over, sadly for my other half

Bray People - - THE NOTEBOOK - Jus­tine O'Ma­hony

IRE­ALLY don't un­der­stand what all the fuss is about re­gard­ing the de­tec­tion of horse­meat in burg­ers re­cently. I've eaten far worse than horse meat - my cook­ing in gen­eral is pretty grue­some, and it's never done me any harm! I went through a phase when I was in col­lege of lov­ing steak and kid­ney pies and God only knows what's in them!

OK so on a se­ri­ous note, the burg­ers in ques­tion weren't la­belled as con­tain­ing horse­meat but in fair­ness if you're buy­ing burg­ers you can't really ex­pect to be get­ting your best fil­let now can you? Ev­ery­body knows that it's the crap that's left on the an­i­mal af­ter the good bits are cut up, that goes into cheap frozen burg­ers.

Him­self is very par­tial to his burg­ers. Par­tic­u­larly my mother’s burg­ers. When I say my mother's burg­ers, she doesn't ac­tu­ally make them her­self, she buys them in Pet­tit’s, her lo­cal su­per­mar­ket, but by God they're good burg­ers. Nice and juicy and full of meat that ac­tu­ally tastes like beef, they are truly a culi­nary de­light.

We joke about my mother and the burg­ers. Ev­ery time we come to visit, she'll have the burg­ers out on the counter top ready to cook when Him­self comes in. We'll be driv­ing down to my par­ents house and half way there Him­self will say ‘I won­der will Carmel have the burg­ers on yet?’

Last Sun­day in an­tic­i­pa­tion of one (or even two maybe) of my mother's burg­ers, Him­self had a very mod­est break­fast of por­ridge and brown bread in lieu of his usual week­end fry. I was too busy shov­el­ling dog poo out of the run to no­tice but if I had I'd have warned him there wasn't likely to be any burg­ers this week­end.

See, like many my par­ents gen­er­a­tion, they take the Six O'Clock news as gospel. So if Brian Dob­son says horse meat has been found in burg­ers, so be it. It doesn't mat­ter that it was only a small batch of spe­cific burg­ers. Dobo said there was horse meat in burg­ers. End Of.

S O LAST Sun­day, Him­self ar­rived in to my par­ents house full of the joys of spring, hug­ging my mother and sniff­ing the air for the aroma of burg­ers siz­zling on a pan. There wasn't any. He waited for my mother to get up and do her thing.

My­self and the oul fella opened a bot­tle of wine. Him­self had a cup of tea and a few gin­ger nuts, still think­ing the burg­ers were on their way.

Af­ter an hour and a half had passed, he couldn't con­tain him­self any longer. ‘ Je­sus Carmel, I'm starv­ing here. Any chance of a burger?’ She looked at him in hor­ror. ‘You wouldn't eat a burger would you? There's horse­meat in them,’ she said, shocked to the core, that he would even men­tion the word.

‘Carmel I'd eat the feckin' horse if you put him in front of me right now,’ quipped my Other Half, still hold­ing out for a burger.

‘ There'll be no more burg­ers in this house I can tell you,” an­nounced my mother in that no-non­sense tone she usu­ally saves for telling me my hair is a show and my skirt too tight.

Need­less to say Brian Dob­son won't be in­vited for din­ner to our house any­time soon!

Newspapers in English

Newspapers from Ireland

© PressReader. All rights reserved.