I enjoy cooking.
It’s just as well as I can’t let Herself near the cooker. I have learned from bitter experience that she likes to throw weird and not so digestible items into the pot. Put two of her pals in with her and you have a full blown scene from Macbeth.
I made one of my various stews last night. I have a few stew recipes and last night was the turn of the brown stew. It’s one of the quickest to prepare and it’s one of my favourites.
It is simplicity itself. All you have to do is cut a pound or so of red meat into little pieces and fry the fuck out of them. Any red meat will do – cow, bull, horse, giant panda; whatever happens to be lying around.
While the meat is frying, make a two-and-a-half-pint pot of oxtail soup. I use the old packet for that as I like to keep life simple.
When the meat is of the colour and consistency of the gravel on the front garden path, toss it into the soup, along with a good teaspoon of hot curry powder. Chuck in three or four sliced carrots, three or four sliced parsnips, a chopped up large Spanish onion and a fistful of chopped spuds and the job is done. Just let it simmer for an hour or two.
It is fucking delicious.
Not only is it delicious, but it is the gift that keeps on giving, because the full effect is felt the following morning. Herself has been stuck in the jax for the last couple of hours, moaning softly and praying loudly. I don’t call it my Dynorod stew for nothing.
It would shift a fucking mountain.