I’m quite eager to get my arse back into cooking things. It feels like forever since I’ve really had some quality time in the kitchen. It’s been a good few weeks since I’ve made bread, and even longer since I’ve made anything more complicated than that. So yes, I definitely want to get back into the kitchen doing stuff.
Yesterday – in what turned out to be psychic levels of forethought – I made a massive macaroni cheese for tonight’s delectation. And tomorrow’s. And for as long as it lasts. I say it was forethought as I ended up at work all day today, so would have had no time to make it had I not done so yesterday.
So, yaay me.
And all day I have been looking forward to it. It’s one of my favourite meals anyway, and I love the one that I make. Both because it’s tasty and because, self-deprecating aside for once, it’s fricking delicious. So all day I have been thinking about a huge portion of cheesy-tubey goodness.
And then I got a shift for 7.30. I already had shifts up until 5pm.
Noooooooooooooo! I would have no time for macaroni cheese.
I wouldn’t have time to leave, get home and get back filled with delicious goodness.
I started formulating plans.
In one plan, Carole came home from work and cooked it. She fed herself. She then did me a portion, warmed it in the microwave to get in nice and hot and drove like the wind to town and I would sit at the game desk and eat it. And then apologise to the customers for the smell of tasty macaroni cheese but that I HAD TO HAVE IT!
Plan two, though, saw me preparing everything for my evening shift some four hours before it was due to start. I set the room up, and got everything in place for the game. I would then finish the game I was running, tidy that room up and get home as quickly as possibly. If everything aligned, I would have about an hour or so at home during which time I could consume my delicious pasta treat. And then Carole could run me back in to town in time for my game.
I mean, that alone is against everything the universe normally has in store for me, but I’m not going to knock it.
Because every single mouthful was absolutely worth it.
It was worth Carole constantly checking her watch to make sure we had enough time. It was worth the slightly guilty feeling as I left work pre-food with not everything squared away properly (I’d be back, relax!). It was even worth the extra £2.50 in bus fares I had to shell out for this whole experience.
Might go for the same thing with a lasagne next time…