Being under the weather I couldn’t face cooking – odd I’m
not nauseous or not hungry, but I am hellaciously exhausted.
Which is a problem – because there’s WANTING to eat, yet not being able to cook and facing… Beloved’s offer to cook instead.
There follows the sudden moment when I desperately try to
think of what is in the freezer – surely there must be something ready made?
Something I’ve already cooked that Beloved just needs to defrost and warm up?
Something he can’t ruin too much? Maybe…
It’s like a scene from a horror movie where the
protagonist is desperately trying to remember if they’ve locked all the doors,
or think of a way out or where there’s a weapon and in a panic they just can’t
remember and the monster – the horrific ghastly monster – is just getting
closer!
And I have to remember exactly what I’ve frozen – I mean,
I know I HAVE frozen meals because I always do… but if I say “yes I fancy
lasagne” and it turns out that I haven’t frozen a lasagne, Beloved will then
attempt to make a lasagne. The very idea makes me want to cower in terror.
I could say “go see what I’ve frozen because you cannot cook and will kill us all if you try!” but then he will INSIST on cooking to prove that he CAN cook and then he will EAT whatever he cooks and declare it delicious even though it’s a complete and utter lie and the toxic slop can’t even be fed to the cat without us being arrested for animal cruelty. Then I go without food and have to put up with Beloved making himself ill.
So I declare I will cook. A creative lie helps allay
suspicion – cooking helps me relax, cooking will take my mind off things,
cooking will be good for me! Ha - better for me than poisoning at any rate
Except exhaustion means I don’t do the sensible thing and
go rooting in the freezer early enough to defrost and I eventually roll into
the kitchen only when too hungry to do anything else (and Beloved was making
threatening moves in that direction).
I could have ordered take away, but Beloved lived on it while we were away and looked faintly green at the suggestion.
So… cheese. Screw it, cheese, crackers, fruit and bread
(that which is still fresh). We always have immense amounts of cheese lurking
in the bottom of the fridge, in the salad crisper to make sure anything green
and leafy and healthy is aware that this is a calorie loving household and not
to get too comfortable.
Ok not the most involved of meals but we love cheese and eating up some of the vast stock isn’t a bad thing. Except... the brie
I don’t know where this brie comes from but we always have
this massive wheel of brie. Now I’m not against brie, we both quite like brie.
A little brie now and then is a good thing. A little – so why do we always have
this huge great wheel of cheese that could feed half of France? I would accuse
Beloved but I can’t see him getting enthusiastic enough about brie to buy this –
if it were cheddar or wensleydale, yes – but not brie. Maybe we have a crafty
cheesemonger who can manipulate him into inundating us with unwanted French
cheese? Beloved swears it’s not him and I know it’s not me – so if no-one is
buying brie where does it keep coming from? Do we have a secret brie mine? The brie
elves visit? Or maybe it’s breeding….
Then there’s the eternal stilton. Now this, I do know where
the Eternal Stilton comes from. My uncle – who has given us out own bodyweight
in stilton every damn Christmas ever. He does the same with everyone, I don’t
think he has ever given anyone a gift that wasn’t a metric fuckton of stilton. His
kids first birthday? Stilton. Wife’s anniversary? Stilton. Daughter’s wedding? Stilton!
I think he must have shares in the dairy.
Sure it’s nice in a few recipes – but how much strong
blue cheese can you just eat? It’s not like you can put it in sandwiches!
Even if we liked stilton, this package is too much.
No-one likes stilton this much. It’s not actually possible to like stilton this
much. Eating this much stilton would actually kill someone. It doesn’t help
that it’s in a ceramic container so doesn’t rot and reach a point where it can
be thrown away – especially since, as it’s blue cheese, it doesn’t really go
off anyway
But it does get more… pungent. It is now locked in its
little ceramic box and… we dare not open it. And if we dare not open it, we
cannot check it to see if it is time to throw it away. But the ceramic lid fits
really tightly. It’s sealed, I think.
So it remains, in the cheese drawer. Tightly sealed. Watching. Waiting. One day it plans to escape.
And then may the gods have mercy on us all.
