When watching television cooks create a wonderful something in a very short time, there is an underlying message that this is always possible. Not only possible, but an absolute delight to prepare, and so much better for you than anything else. As and when I have time to watch these pieces of wonder emerge in fifteen to thirty minutes, I nod approvingly and make a pact with myself to go down that route, when said situation arises, glass of wine in hand, nonchalantly throwing together something delicious.
What they don’t ever seem to mention is that you may have spent the whole day on your feet, running around, merrily accomplishing your daily life and all that this entails. So by the time you are home, bags unpacked, minimal household jobs facilitated, you have lost any inkling of culinary desire, and the very thought of throwing anything together seems enormous. Except for, perhaps, tea and toast. Not only that, but any idea of foodstuffs which may go together, vanishes from consciousness completely.
And it is at this precise moment when all you can think of is something pre-prepared by someone else, to put into the oven. Which is what happened today.
So, after a day doing, I manage to rustle up pizza and wedges. I say I, they were bought from the shop and stuffed into our oven which doesn’t really have enough shelves to accommodate more than one pizza and a tray of wedges, so I ended up doing some fancy moves with baking trays, oven gloves and a near miss disaster of dropping the whole lot whilst rearranging three things on two shelves. Which is another thing the television cooks never have. A small oven.
However, we see it as a treat. Obviously not a special treat. That entails eating the same meal, but on our laps in the living room.
Oh yes, we know how to live.