Time to eat my way round world
And it saves Mrs Bob’s yucky broccoli
I began to lose track around weeks four and five . . . or maybe it was five and six? . . . but I think I’m getting the hang of counting the weeks now.
On the down side . . . it’s now the days of the week that I’m struggling with!
They all just seem to run into each other.
And I now wake up every morning thinking that today is the tomorrow I was looking forward to yesterday.
Back in the day, keeping track was a lot simpler.
If you were lying in bed and started hearing bells – you could pretty much put that one down to being a Sunday!
Monday was pub quiz, Tuesday was our live music afternoon . . . and the rest of the week just kind of fell into place.
The days of the week had, well, . .. you know . . . some kind of natural order -
But not any more. Tuesdays could easily be a Friday – Mondays, Wednesdays and Saturdays might as well be a Sunday.
The only days that stick out are a Thursday - when we all go out to the doorstep and give the NHS a well deserved cheer.
Then you go back inside and say: “Was that another Thursday already?”
Which is exactly what you said the previous Thursday . . and the Thursday before that!
Is it just me – or are we all going bonkers?
Mrs Bob has now inadvertently shed some light on the days of the week dilemma by introducing . . . the dinner diary!
Gone are the glory days of just tucking into whatever you fancy.
In a genuinely responsible attempt to stay safe and keep shopping trips to an absolute minimum – she now plots and schemes our meals in advance.
“If we buy a bag of broccoli on a Sunday – we should plan broccoli on a Monday, Wednesday and Friday so none goes to waste,” she says.
Being a man who enjoys the tantalising suspense of never knowing your meals in advance – this is bad karma.
And - a total aversion to broccoli doesn’t help either!
“How about we just don’t buy any broccoli at all – and I guarantee that none will go to waste . . .? is my counter argument.
But this only leads to a situation that endorses and corroborates my long held theory that Mrs Bob doesn’t have real ears – but clever imitations that have been painted on the side of her head!
It’s a lose/ lose situation.
If I get involved in her foodie forward planning, my co- operation implies some kind of tacit approval.
And if I don’t get involved – God knows what I’m going to have stuffed down me for the next seven nights!
This week however, I came up with what might reasonably be called a culinary masterstroke.
Given the probability that we are not going abroad on holiday this summer – I suggested we should devote a week to eating the food we would choose if we WERE on holiday.
And holy guacamole! Mrs Bob loved it!
Half an hour and half a dozen cook books later – the weekly menu was filling up nicely.
A Morrocan lamb tagine, a creamy Italian carbonara, a Greek moussaka, a cassoulet straight from any Carcassonne bistro and my regular favourite – some albondigas – the famous Spanish tapas meatball!
Suddenly, I was on the ball here . . . and decided to run with it . . .
“Er . . . how about I get all the wines from all the countries that would match this food . . . ?” I ventured tentatively.
“Great idea!” said Mrs Bob.
I mean – who IS this Wonder Woman?
And next Friday – sorry Fajita Day – I’m going to unveil my meal plan for the next seven days – it’s Alternative Guest Chef Week, using one of their recipes. On Monday I’ll be Rick Stein – Wednesday, Gino D’Acampo and then Keith Floyd on Friday! Slurp!
I’m hoping Mrs Bob will fill the gaps and maybe go Barefoot Contessa on Tuesday, Pioneer Woman on Thursday and perhaps a pinch of Delia on
Saturday. Yummo! I tell you – things are starting to look up on this lockdown!
Anyone know how many eggs to put in Tarte St. Honore?