Dad food. Anything I can put in the air fryer: sausages, chips, beans. But actual cooking skill comes in the form of mini lessons D used to give me when she had the patience. I can make a nice honey roast gammon that just melts, thrice-cooked wedges, roasted parsnips, and carrots. A Sunday roast.
I used to love baking but fell out of love with that long ago. I wanted to experiment with petit fours, but all my cooking molds got thrown away, might take it up again when I’ve moved into the flat. Yes, the flat. I’m still waiting for them to finish sorting out the electrics. Much to the chagrin of the council who have to pay for my motel expenses to keep me here. That’s a rant for another post.
I can do spaghetti, oh, and I can make an awesome tuna pasta bake with a thick layer of molten cheese. Come to think of it, at one point, I was using the Cookidoo to make decent meals. It took a lot of tinkering at first, but I guess I’ve learned a fair few dishes. S doesn’t like cheese and is particular about texture, so we used to draw up a list of meals she liked and we would all build a menu.
That makes my heart hurt again. Sunday roasts and planning meals. Something I’ll never get to do again. At least not yet. There are plans in motion.
