Pour some hot custard on that slice of cake... and you've got pudding!
Pour some hot custard on that slice of cake... and you've got pudding!
Yup. same for me. A roast every Sunday. Became a f*cking nightmare.
Dad was extremely authoritarian, amongst his many firmly held views was that you "eat what was on your plate". Unfortunately my sister developed into being a very picky eater. Many a Sunday dinner ended in tears -either my sister or my mum. Mum tried as much as possible to avoid the situation, and would for example give my sister 3 peas on her plate. Which triggered Dad even worse. Many times ended with my sister sitting at the dinner table for hours. Pushing slices of carrots or peas around her plate. The whole Sunday dinner thing just became a stress filled nightmare.
I can't wait for Looper's next food thread - Elevenses.
I recall on one occasion my father and uncle served the same plate of cold, tinned asparagus to my sister who was refusing to eat it. For lunch, then dinner, then breakfast the next day.
What did you have for Elevenses?
Sunday Dinners died out around the millennium in our house, since everybody would too busy coming down off a weekend full of narcotics and all nighters, full of fear for the imminent Monday morning reality check.
Either that or we were out getting pissed.
My 85 year-old mum has taken to calling me on Whatsapp around 6pm in the evenings... and after asking her to take the phone away from her lughole because it's a video call, without fail she always asks what I'm cooking... and if it isn't meat and two veg I can hear an audible sigh. I don't ever recall a pasta meal, rice or vegetarian meal while growing up.
Sounds very familiar... my dad took a back seat with such things but my mum always said, 'you must learn to like it'. No clean plate meant no pudding... and I well remember my sisters pushing sprouts around their plates until the middle of Sunday afternoon. I was lucky, I like my veg... especially peas.
I always had Elevenses on school holidays... sometime late morning around 11am.
It was usually a glass of orange squash and a Lincoln biscuit. My dad always had a tin of Custard Creams but we kids weren't allowed them.
Hit me as well. I was never a big fan of green vegetables until moving here where they are cooked right. But beans, broccoli, asparagus, along with carrots, mushrooms and corn and more were never a problem. But I simply could not get a pea, or lima beans to go down my throat as a kid. Now I was an only child and they were well aware of this. Why in the hell would they serve peas or lima beans knowing all hell was gonna break lose? Especially in that I would eat without a complaint one or more of the other vegetables. This has baffled me to this day.
You have got to push the boat out now and again so tonight's bedtime supper was pan fried salmon.
Rub in salt, pepper and olive oil.
5 minutes skin down on medium heat
and then flip over for 5 more minutes on low heat
serve with hollandaise sauce while perusing the musings on the finest forum available to humanity
The skin is quite yummy as a finale if it has been properly fried to crispiness
That's a very posh supper, Looper. It's so posh it could even be called lunch.
As far as the nomenclature is concerned, breakfast, dinner and tea twas always the way. Out during the long summer holidays playing football and your mum would shout for you to come in about 6pm 'cos "your tea's ready."
It only ever became breakfast, lunch and dinner when I moved abroad and nobody apart from fellow Brits had a scooby what I meant!
Supper was always supper though.
Last edited by hallelujah; 30-07-2021 at 03:58 AM.
My gran used to call it "wog food." I once tricked her into eating an olive though when I told her it was a grape; I can still remember her pained expression as she bit down to this day (possibly only beaten by the time I did a similar thing to my 8 year old sister with a fresh chili)!
Few nights ago I was out drinking and the Mrs ordered some Vietnamese food and asked me to bring it home from town. When the food arrived I paid the lassie to deliver it to my house so I could drink a bit longer.
So When I get home she's pissed cos I'm a bit pissed and presents me with a bowl full of green stuff and some rice paper. I gave her a funny look and made a joke about taking it back to my hutch so she sat and started making up the wee parcels and stuffing them in my mouth. I make another joke, something about feeding me grapes while fanning me with a banana branch. LAST ONE! She says, stuffing the end game into my gob. Parcel full of chillies. Not to be out done I take it like a man, then spent the early hours of the morning rolling around the bed in agony as it made it's way through.
RollerGirl 1 - 0 dirk diggler
Lang may yer lum reek...
A very healthy looking fruit platter for me tonight
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