Carrout

You know when you need some carrots for something you’re making, but you don’t have any because the supermarket order you did the other day delivered ones that were all brown and squishy?

That was the situation I found myself in today. I needed a staggering 100g of carrots – I kid you not – to go into the lasagne I was making. Now, fair enough, I do normally heap in a few more carrots than that but even then, against everything else that was in it – including the already increased amount of celery and pancetta – would anyone actually notice if there were no carrots in it?

Exactly.

That’s what I figured.

Part of me couldn’t be arsed to go and get carrots, and the other half of me decided that there was so little carrot to everything else that we’d only really be getting a microscopic dose per portion anyway. Sort of homeopathic carrots. Except I would have actually known there was a carrot in there.

My laziness won out.

Although given how long it took to cook the component parts and assemble the lasagne I’m not sure laziness is really the word for it. I didn’t have time to spare, really, for trudging off to Tesco Express and hoping that they actually had carrots and that they weren’t too exotic or niche for the store. Because some things that you really think they should have are considered too specialist to have in stock.

And also I’m really enjoying not going to Tesco Express. I haven’t been for ages. And I’m happier for it. Not having to fight my way past people in tracksuits squeezing all the bread, or people buying vodka before nine in the morning. It’s nice.

I came clean to Carole about the carrots before we ate said lasagne. I wish I hadn’t. It would have been fun to see if she even noticed. I don’t think she would have, at all. I could have got away with it. I wouldn’t have had her judging me for not wanting to mooch down the road to get far more carrots than we needed. I could have just pretended that my portion had loads of carrot in it.

Sometimes I’m too honest for my own good.