turkey, turkey and more turkey
Cooking with one's parents is always a difficult task, and for me one of the most taxing things about Christmas. I start off with all good intentions abou being a co-operative, silent helper, but the combination of that parental trait to always treat your offspring as though they are five with my generally bolshy kitchen persona is never a comfortable one.
I started off well, replacing any thought of Christmas presents with a basket full of food from London - cheeses from Neal's Yard (where I endured a 20 min long queue - why didn't I order in advance, given my office is literally above the shop?), Pierre Marcolini chocolate from Verde & Co (Jeanette Winterson's shop), coffee from Monmouth, potted shrimps from the market, oranges, pomegranates and sharon fruit from my local Bangladeshi grocers, and my mother's special request - the small furry potato-like vegetables whose name I know not, but which are common to both Bangladeshi and Japanese cooking. I even brought down one silly-but-actually-useful kitchen gadget for them - the mini Koala juicer for which I braved John Lewis on Oxford Street (better than Borough Market, surprisingly!)
But then, of course, I was incapable of doing anything else right. Being charged with helping make the stuffing for the turkey, I first of all took the approach of asking instructions for absolutely everything (how big to chop the onions, how many leeks to use) but even that couldn't protect me from being micro-managed over the production of breadcrumbs in the blender, and ticked off that I hadn't chopped up the apricots fast enough to add them at precisely the right point (not my fault! the crusader inwardly screams - as I had to chop up all the vegetables for HIS batch of stuffing as well).
Then, the next day it was my potato peeling technique that came in for unnecessary scrutiny. Then, I had a go at him for changing the traditional Christmas starter to something that I thought inappropriate and inadequate in quantity (two quails eggs per person, if you please. Two? at Christmas?). By the time that crusade had reached a grumpy truce (after obligatory Christmas door-slamming) it was time to eat...
Since then, the rest of the holiday has (touch wood) gone fairly peacefully as regards kitchen politics. I've basically tried to stay well clear, merely eating myself silly and not commenting on the slightest thing. Not even when he added coriander leaves to stewed mushrooms at dinner today (I have strong feelings about the correct use of coriander) or his (to my mind) over-wasteful trimming of the turkey leftovers.
Two opinionated cooks. One kitchen. Best shut up and keep munching.
I started off well, replacing any thought of Christmas presents with a basket full of food from London - cheeses from Neal's Yard (where I endured a 20 min long queue - why didn't I order in advance, given my office is literally above the shop?), Pierre Marcolini chocolate from Verde & Co (Jeanette Winterson's shop), coffee from Monmouth, potted shrimps from the market, oranges, pomegranates and sharon fruit from my local Bangladeshi grocers, and my mother's special request - the small furry potato-like vegetables whose name I know not, but which are common to both Bangladeshi and Japanese cooking. I even brought down one silly-but-actually-useful kitchen gadget for them - the mini Koala juicer for which I braved John Lewis on Oxford Street (better than Borough Market, surprisingly!)
But then, of course, I was incapable of doing anything else right. Being charged with helping make the stuffing for the turkey, I first of all took the approach of asking instructions for absolutely everything (how big to chop the onions, how many leeks to use) but even that couldn't protect me from being micro-managed over the production of breadcrumbs in the blender, and ticked off that I hadn't chopped up the apricots fast enough to add them at precisely the right point (not my fault! the crusader inwardly screams - as I had to chop up all the vegetables for HIS batch of stuffing as well).
Then, the next day it was my potato peeling technique that came in for unnecessary scrutiny. Then, I had a go at him for changing the traditional Christmas starter to something that I thought inappropriate and inadequate in quantity (two quails eggs per person, if you please. Two? at Christmas?). By the time that crusade had reached a grumpy truce (after obligatory Christmas door-slamming) it was time to eat...
Since then, the rest of the holiday has (touch wood) gone fairly peacefully as regards kitchen politics. I've basically tried to stay well clear, merely eating myself silly and not commenting on the slightest thing. Not even when he added coriander leaves to stewed mushrooms at dinner today (I have strong feelings about the correct use of coriander) or his (to my mind) over-wasteful trimming of the turkey leftovers.
Two opinionated cooks. One kitchen. Best shut up and keep munching.
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