Why shepherd’s pie is the Stones’ ultimate satisfaction
What to make of the Rolling Stones’s personalised shepherd’s pie dishes? My first thought concerned the mash-filling ratio: I tend to go for 1:2, but that’s because I’m Irish and, paradoxically, too much potato signals poverty.
My second thought was: how can these old fellers leap about on stage with tummies full of carbs? Then I remembered that, at 74, Keith’s leaping days are behind him, and Ronnie, 71, mostly struts with his face. Not far
behind was the quandary of Charlie, 77, a man of such vampiric pallor. I suspect he survives on human blood.
Mick, who is 74 yet retains the irrepressible libido of a pubescent tomcat, obviously prefers to neck an oyster and wash it down with a pomegranate and dark-chocolate smoothie.
It’s easy to sneer as the band continue to tour the planet with a combined age of 296, but they’re looking well on it. No wonder Keith once refused to go on stage because someone had tucked into his shepherd’s pie and would only oblige after he was served a replacement.
As the lads say themselves, if you start them up, they’ll never stop. But a high-quality performance depends on filling up with premium fuel, and it doesn’t get better than a comforting plateful of shepherd’s pie.