I made a roast.....

Yes I did it! Well I should say that my other half guided me through 'the roast' process on Sunday as his roasts are amazeballs and he knows how to cook. Yes, a man that cooks; I've really won jackpot here haven't I!
  Anyway, as I've been trying to adult in different aspects of my life recently (I even bought new wifi earlier this month and got cashback), and as I had roast envy, I thought I needed to acquire the skill of doing 'the roast'.

So with the roast master gone and some leftover pork in the fridge, I decided to take on the very adult challenge of cooking a mini roast for me and mum. Shouldn't be too hard right? Well I had various factors against me here; a lack of extensive foodie knowledge, my ferocious hunger and a tendency to flap about in a swearing fit at the drop of an oven glove. However I push ahead and dive in head first with the potatoes. I chop them up and with some dripping they go in the oven. With that I start the gravy. After that I remember the veg and part boil them. At this precise moment, however a penny drops that I'd not even part boiled the potatoes!!! Shit on stick!! I had unwittingly fell at the first fucking hurdle!!

*calls roast master in a panic*

I'm told, after he managed to contain his laughter, that while I have gone into the process arse-first, it was easily recovered.
As I check the potatoes and chuck them around the dish a bit (I've heard around and about this can give them "texture"....) I question how anyone could ever get genuine enjoyment from doing this? Yes, not everyone is as idiotic as me and they do give it some forethought, but who honestly enjoys stress, clock watching cooking? Not only that, but to then open the door in a hopeful rush and be welcomed by a face full of steam!

By the end of an hour and a half I was at the receiving end of the oven steam hoping that the food on the other side would have made a glittering 'stars in their eyes' transformation.

'C'mon, I need this to save my ego and dinner time' I growl as I flap about getting all the food on the side and prodding it expectantly.

To my relief, everything seemed to be cooked and done in time to all land on the plate at the same time; a true miracle. After elaborately arranging the food on the plate (I thought this might mask the potentially shameful food) I serve it to mum on a tray and mutter "enjoy" nervously under my breath. Here goes!

My mini roast.....look and salivate!

I took a picture of my plate and sent it to the roast master for approval while I tucked in. To my surprise, it was edible and even mum seemed to enjoy it. We emptied our plates and mum took the job of washing up- I may have to cook more often.

A true success or a flipping big fluke, either way I think I'll need a few more mentoring sessions with the roast master before I'm left to go solo again. It's safe to say I feel more at home with my baking. PS: More cakes to come soon!

In other news, Peggy Mitchell has popped off, and may I add that it was shockingly before schedule. (Unless we've been collectively punked and she isn't dead at all? Ooooh, that's low for the BBC!) Outraged, I even had to edit my last post! And as if to add insult to injury, she didn't have half the elaborate EastEnders send off I had expected. Thank god Pat Butcher turned up with her past memories or I would have had to pop off again for 8 months to eat my words!


And with all of that, I leave you again folks! Until next time...