Friday Pie Returns – or My Peas Won’t Mush!

One way and another it’s been an expensive month. So expensive, in fact that I’ve been avoiding doing large supermarket shops and using up the contents of the cupboards and freezer. That’s ok when there’s only the two of us to think about  but my plan came a cropper when B announced that  C, Ol and the baby were coming for tea.

“Righto”, I said. “CRAAAAP’, I thought, as I mentally listed what delicious and nutritious goodness I could make from the ingredients at my disposal. I have to admit the list was woefully short.

Spuds – always good

Pasta – bugger all to put with it

Ah ha!!  There’s some fish in the freezer, I’ll make that with some mushy peas and mashed potatoes – sounds like a plan!

Yup. It sounded like a plan, how wrong can you be.

I put the dried split peas on to soak.

Taking the aforementioned fish out of the freezer I discovered that instead of four pieces as I thought there was only one (NEIL!!!!!!!!)  No worries – here’s another box. Damn it! Again only one fish residing in it. No one ever eats the fish – we must be getting low on stocks.  From the bowels of the freezer I unearthed two miserable, anorexic looking salmon steaks. Ha!  ‘That’ll do for me and C, the chaps can have the battered stuff.

In an attempt to make the salmon look a bit more plumptious I liberally slathered red pesto all over it.

The appointed time   for food came- and went. The fish which had been cooked to perfection got dryer and dryer as we waited for the family to arrive. All the time I was stirring and pummelling the mushy peas with the back of a wooden spoon wondering why they weren’t turning into the gorgeous, thick, unctuous consistency I was expecting. Far from it – they remained like little hard green pellets in the pan not looking the least bit appetising.

Taking the fish out of the oven It occurred to me that Ol has the appetite of a shire horse, I needed more food.

Well, you know times are desperate when you resort to opening the tin of haggis that has been lurking in the back of the cupboard.  I blew the dust off it, opened it and hacked the solid lump of haggis out of the tin, warming it gently in  a pan and explaining to C what a wonderful taste sensation she was about to experience – mingled among the various cooking smells one could faintly detect the smell of *sniff sniff*  Oh yes, bullshit.

By this time I’d completely lost the plot so C’s request for beans rather than peas was forgotten as I served up mash, haggis, various species of fish and mushy peas.  At this point N wandered into the kitchen and casually said, “you did remember to put bicarb in when you soaked those peas, didn’t you?’  “Er……um… bicarb?” Was my mumbled reply as I cursed under my breath.

Ah yes, Friday pie returns.

The salmon, already suffering from anorexia, had turned into wizened, brown lumps of thickish cardboard. The peas were like bullets, the mash was tasteless but the surprise star of the whole sorry mess was the haggis which was declared a hit.

Ol really enjoyed the haggis, at one point asking me what was in it.  You know, sometimes it’s really better not to know so  I avoided the question, moving the conversation on quickly to other topics.

Ten minutes later he and C were in the kitchen, he decided to pick up the empty haggis tin and take a look for himself at the ingredients.  I heard a loud “Eeeeeewwwww”  coming from the kitchen as he read out,’ sheeps lungs’  Even I went a bit queasy.

As I said. Sometimes it’s better not to know.

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