Today we are going to make traditional Shepherd's Pie.
Turn on oven to preheat.
Turn off oven. Ring up husband on the telephone, to expostulate about Mr Muscle which has not been wiped out. Extract promise of immediate return.
Peel potatoes. While peeling, listen to audiobook. Shout abuse at person reading audiobook: It's fucking CONSCIOUS, you bloody moron. He was CONSCIOUS. Not fucking CONSCIENCE. You stupid bitch.
Put potatoes on to boil.
|Les Pommes de Terre qui se bouillent|
|Le martini! Le excellent!|
Drink martini and read some Agatha Christie.
Drain and mash potatoes, with various crap. Milk, butter, salt, pepper.
Ring husband again to demand his immediate presence re oven.
Listen as husband relates his adventures while cleaning the oven. He has rescued a lady in distress and her autistic daughter. Congratulate self once again on Getting a Good Husband, which my mother said I would never be able to do, because of having a Heavy Hand with Pastry, and being a bitch.
Brown meat. The recipe calls for 750 grams and I only have 600 grams. Meh.
Realise that have forgotten to prepare vegetables. Panic when cannot find capsicum. Accuse husband of stealing it.
Apologise to husband.
Chop onion and capsicum, crush garlic and add to meat.
Cook for some time, while reminding husband what a Domestic Goddess I am and how lucky he is to have me (in case he has forgotten).
|The mixture. Take as directed.|
Let dogs in from the garden.
Recipe says 'drain off fat'. I wish! Pour some wine instead.
Reduce heat and add other ingredients. All kinds of shite. Who cares? Shove it all in. Pour more wine.
|Now with added shite!|
Recipe says spoon into pie dish. Bullshit. Tip it in straight from the frying pan.
Layer the mashed potatoes on top. Sprinkle with paprika.
|Ready to go in the oven.|
Oven it. Heave sigh of relief.
|It was good. I think it could have done with a shade less thyme.|