Monday, 14 April 2014

So Marc said: You sounded intelligent when you talked about food, now you sound like a child.

It's because I was talking about football. I know nothing about football. The trouble is, most men can't quite accept that I mean this; that I know NOTHING. They think I'm being self deprecating; that I have, as most men do, a working knowledge of the game and the current positioning of the Premiership. I don't. Men look at me, blinking with something like annoyance, like I've let the side down. Honestly nothing. I even told my Frank Lampard story: that I met him at a BBC party once and asked him what he did. To be honest, I wouldn't recognise him if I met him again now. Sorry Frank. I'd be able to point out Dave Beckham or that Man U player who the Mock the Week panellists claim sleeps with old ladies and looks like a potato... but almost no one else. So Marc was probably justified in his assertion.

Marc's party had roast onion and goats cheese tart for starters. Mains of rack of spring lamb with crushed peas and broad beans. I backfilled the deal with big creamy portions of potato dauphinoise.

They decided to go for, what henceforth will be known as, the 'Cheers' shot. Marc's on the far right (of the picture, I hasten to add, no idea of his politics).

Pictured below is the lamb and crushed peas & broad beans along the vegetarian option of Yorkshire boats (or coffins) filled with roast veg in a sweet and sour(ish) sauce.

And the onion and goats cheese tart starter. It's not much of a looker, I know.

And the potatoes dauphinoise... afterwards.

Rooney! That was the fellow.

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