The veg box blues
July 12, 2006
I got the veg box blues. Sometimes it creeps up on you. Too many veg that don’t go together. No inspiration to cook but you’ve got to keep on cooking to avoid complete organic overload when the next box arrives. Sometimes it feels like one of those dreams where you’re being chased by a giant courgette, running frantically on the spot and not getting anywhere. We’ve all had that dream, haven’t we? Haven’t we? Oh… just me then…
Tonight, I really wanted to go up the road to the greatest chippy in north London for a plaice and chips and a big carton of luminous mushy peas. Instead, I knuckled down and crow-barred half a cabbage, a kohl-rabi, a handful of sugar-snap peas and half a load of swiss chard in to a stodgy bland stir-fry. Ho-hum. It’s time to delve back into my cookbook library in search of fresh inspiration and surprising culinary tangents.
Yesterday, Kinson, the Horrel and myself went to play pool in the Elbow Rooms in Islington. The menu claimed all the burgers were made from ‘fully traceable beef’. I asked the barman what this meant. He told me it meant that they knew where the meat came from. I said ‘who knows where the meat comes from?’ He wasn’t sure. Maybe the chef knows. I asked if he’d fetch the chef. The chef refused to come out the kitchen to tell me. Apparently he was too busy, even though the bar was empty. So what exactly does ‘fully traceable’ mean? I smell the whiff of pseudo-organic bulls**t.