Let’s face it. This isn’t like wartime. We’re not rationing. They didn’t have just eat, dominos or Little Istanbul delivery dropped off between airstrikes in 1942. Unless you live in the absolute middle of nowhere, nearly all of us have access to fresh produce at supermarkets and takeaways (support local, get a Khushboo).
However, a takeaway a day isn’t sustainable. This isn’t the halcyon days of September 2019 where you could do a week of ‘around the world in takeaways’. (Monday: Italy. Tuesday: America. Wednesday: England. Thursday: Mexico, Friday: India. Saturday: China. Sunday: England). You have to go to supermarkets to do a big shop once a week.
Being the massive alpha male I am, I have been braving it and doing the weekly shop. Hunting and gathering. Not sure how many of you have managed to visit a supermarket recently, but wow, what a surreal experience. I love the queuing outside, snaking around the car park like a really shit Alton Towers ride. I love the vacant expression of everyone trying their very hardest not to cough or look like they’ve got a temperature. The doorman operating a one in one out policy, like any good nightclub does (they even didn’t let me in the other day because I was too drunk).
Since the initial twattery of panic buying has subsided, shelves are full and you can prettttty much get anything you could 3 weeks ago (apart from play doh weirdly enough). I was gliding down each aisle like no one’s business, imagining Dale Winton waiting for me at the end shouting “The next time you’re at the checkout and you hear the beep, think of the fun you could be having on Supermarket Sweep!”.
Despite being given an aisle by aisle instruction of what to get, I still forgot loads. As they have a one-way system now, I feel as though I can’t go back on myself (figuratively and metaphorically), so we will be washing our hair with radox and dove soap (I don’t actually see anything wrong with that) this week.
Now as you will have seen, I am someone who takes food seriously. I am not a cuppa soup and Ryvita for lunch kind of guy. If I can, I do lunch correctly. This means proper food (and yes, Rustlers Burger counts as proper) and enjoyment. I think about lunch as soon as I wake up, and specifically do not eat breakfast so I can enjoy lunch more.
Well magnify that by 11x and that is how I feel about dinner. Dinner is a culinary experience for me. Every evening is like an appearance on Masterchef. My fiance is my Torode and my step-daughter is my Wallace (but less egg-like). I take great pride in what I produce and the provenance of the ingredients (which at the moment is not as local as I like).
Well dinner time takes even more importance now. I spend the day agonising over timings, at what point to turn the chicken dippers over, does ketchup go with lasagna (of course it does, it goes with everything). It truly is the little things that get you through the days (stop sniggering at the back).
I’m genuinely interested to know what you all have for dinner, send me pictures – I love that kind of stuff. Here is what I had last night, based on last stuff in fridge before a big tesco shop: