Another Tom choice - have a roast. Last year we got into the habit of having this most quintessential British dish every Sunday. Not only does a roast taste good, but it's also a lovely way of spending your Sunday afternoon/evening - because that's how much time you need to set aside to do a roast properly. We have none of this 'oh it's chicken so we can't have Yorkshire puddings' nonsense; no indeed. So Tom would start the making of the batter in the early afternoon so as to leave it ample resting time in the fridge before use. Also then there's all the preparation of the meat - rubbing it with various flavourings and herbs and spices, resting it at room temperature etc etc. The potatoes - oh the roast potatoes. One of life's true pleasures (but only if done correctly. If done incorrectly, then one of life's true disappointments. I do them correctly). The peeling, the par-boiling, the heating of the oil to extreme temperatures, and then finally the roasting, with several turnings and seasonings throughout. So yeh, a roast takes some time (and I haven't even mentioned all the other trimmings - veg, stuffing, gravy, sauces of various kinds). But we enjoyed spending our Sunday afternoons preparing this feast, our early evenings devouring it, and our late evenings trying to digest it whilst ignoring the huge pile of washing up left festering in the kitchen. (A roast dinner provides an excellent argument in Tom's pro-dishwasher campaign.)
In addition, however, we found that a roast dinner was also a very thrifty and budget-friendly option. We could buy a chicken for, say, £5, or a piece of beef brisket for around £8, and it would do us for a Sunday roast, and then provide us with enough leftovers for two or three additional meals. I am more than happy for you to adopt this revolutionary new budget busting technique yourselves, as long as you always graciously credit me with its conception.
Over the summer, obviously, you don't crave a roast dinner quite as much, and so it wasn't until yesterday that we planned our first one of the new autumn season. This was also our first post-Reuben-moving-in roast dinner. The experience was very different.
Let me tell you, chopping up a leek and washing it, sautéing it in a little butter and then finishing it off in a white sauce is usually an easy and straightforward task. Doing this with a grumpy one year old hanging off your leg is another matter. Although being time-consuming, carving a chicken is not a difficult task, until there is a one year old moaning on the floor at your feet and trying to pull raw potatoes off the veg rack and nibble at them due to his extreme hunger.
Plating up was the hardest bit. We're in a rush to get it done and on the table so that Reuben can be placated with food and a bit of attention at long last, and so there's pots and pans flying everywhere, the boiling hot oven door is wide open, the gravy's splashing on the floor and the leeks are threatening to burn in their saucepan. Not exactly conducive to familial bliss. Ah well.
Finally we sat down and enjoyed a beautiful, yummy roast chicken dinner with all the trimmings (apart from Yorkshire puddings, despite what I mentioned above; I was as disappointed as I'm sure you are). Here it is:
Three minutes later and it was gone, because, a fact of which we are now well aware, we can't sit and enjoy a delicious meal anymore. Instead we scoff our food down as though eating were an Olympic sport and we have a gold medal in sight. The ensuing indigestion is worth it though, compared to the dulcet tones of a Reuben who's been kept in his high chair for too long.
So there we have it - the new Newton family roast experience: completely different but still yummy and I'm sure will remain a weekly fixture over the winter months. Who knew I could write so much about the humble roast.
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