My friends often ask me if I still cook when I go home after working all day in a kitchen, or if I still cook when I’m drunk… or getting drunk… or just had a drink or two. To the first question I reply, “Why yes I do. I love cooking and cooking loves me, so yes, I go home and cook”. To the second question I have no true reply for it is a mythical question, which I have invented in my mind just now because yes, I am drunk. But I shall be cooking tonight for sure.
A premise to the story if I may.
I came home today from work with every intention of sanding and polishing our verandah. Jennee had got hold of a you-beaut floor sander from the hire shop and I, with the absence of wife, children and mind, would set about sanding our verandah. No worries… and then the fucking thing blows a gasket and dies in the ass. Prick of a fucking sander. Those things are built to carve roads through mountains, yet the effing thing (I’m calming down a little now) is kaput. Sanding only half done. Repair bill imminent. Not going to tell Jennee because she’s away and I don’t want to ruin her holiday… or maybe I’m just scared.
Anyway, I am drinking myself through the problem right now and, after a few other minor incidents to top off my day, I have decided I shall find redemption in the only church I know. The church of food.
I have spatchcocked (cut in half through the breast and back bone) the chicken that I was saving for the boys and I tomorrow, cut a few potatoes (they are to be roasted in my rendition of the good ol’ classic from Red Rooster/Chicken Treat; “the half chicken and chips”), slapped up a salad any CWA mum would be proud of (although I did dress it with clothes… no…. I mean, lemon juice and olive oil. The CWA mums would’ve been prouder if I used “Kraft French Dressing”) and smashed a mayo together in less than two minutes. I still got my food mojo, even in these times of great disaster, and that shall be what sees me through… that and a heap of booze…
This is me asleep on the couch.
Future me can tell you, before I went to sleep I ate roast chicken, chips and salad. Future me might think we made it like this;
Roast half chicken, chips and salad
Hi. I’m future me. I am a lot more… no… nothing really, but I shall share with you the recipe… or what I think it was…
½ a chicken, free range and looking good
salt and pepper
rosemary or thyme if you can get your tipsy ass out to the garden
1 tablespoon olive oil
2-3 potatoes, cut how you think chips should look
what ever salad you can be bothered whipping up
a heap, and I mean a heap, of beer
• Drink a lot of the beer
• Right now you should probably stay away from sharp objects, but it’s time to get your ass into the kitchen
• Rub the ½ chook with oil (don’t get too excited about it though) and season with salt, pepper and herbs. Roast in a preheated oven, 200C for 20 minutes
• Add your chips to the pan and roast for another 20 minutes
• The chicken should be done by now so put that in a warm spot to rest. Put the chips back into the oven for another 10 minutes to get crispy
• I hope you remembered to make a salad
• Plate it all up and eat it on the couch while watching “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas”
• Pass out
Welcome to Australia.