Nouvelle Cuisine

I was the child everyone loves — a very fussy eater with a long list of foods I would not countenance trying.

My pickiness began to backfire in my late teens, when I went off to college. Crisis point was reached when I was invited to a ‘dinner party’ — a novel concept in Shepherds Bush — by a potential girlfriend.

‘It’s spaghetti bolognese,’ she said breezily.

“Great,” I said, as my heart sank to my boots.

“See you at eight then?”

“Look forward to it.”

Behind my frozen smile was inner turmoil.

I will never be able to eat that!

My dread increased as the dinner date approached. Of course I’d never tried spaghetti bolognese but I knew enough about it to panic. I worried about the soft squidgy texture, about the weird business with the spoon and fork, about being overwhelmed with nausea.

Then I had a brainwave.

I would bring a bottle of HP sauce to the meal. People brought red wine, didn’t they? Why not brown sauce? This, I reasoned, would smother the taste.

So while my fellow guests were delicately sprinkling Parmesan cheese into their pasta bowls I casually pulled my secret ingredient from my jacket pocket.

“It goes well with everything,” I announced to the dumbstruck table.

Following this social calamity, I quickly wised up —and got Delia, as it were. I learned to tolerate spag bol — as we sophisticates called it — to cook it even. I took the plunge with other fashionable foods familiar to my classmates. I began sprinkling mixed herbs on everything.

Subconsciously, I was climbing up the culinary ladder to where the smarter people lived. Before a slap-up at a Berni Inn was my dream banquet. Now I turned my nose up at frozen peas and crinkly cut chips. I walked away from the all-you-can-eat salad bar.

Such snobbery was harmless enough — until I tried to spread my new gospel to those who had not yet heard its message.

Back in London, my father was still applying his old school methods to food preparation. Meat got a roasting it wouldn’t forget. Vegetables from the agreed list — potatoes, cauliflower, carrots — were boiled into submission. No sauce under any circumstances.

Now Dad and I had long before come to an unspoken deal. We agreed to differ on what constituted fine dining. He cooked his meals and I cooked mine. It was an arrangement that had worked well for years. It wasn’t broke and didn’t need fixing.

I thought I knew better. One morning I seized control of the kitchen before he got up. By the time he entered, the sausages and bacon had already had their light grilling. There were tomatoes alongside them.

My father looked in, pulled a face and shrugged. His standard response to any unfamiliar food was, “What’s that dollop?”

Then I said, “I’m doing you breakfast, Dad. Sit down and I’ll bring it in to you.”

The colour drained from his face. “What?”

“I’m cooking,” I said. “You sit down and put your feet up. Relax.”

He glared at me and then at the sausages. “Stick them back under the grill,” he ordered. “They’re not half done. And what the hell are you doing with those mushrooms?”

“I’m chopping them!” I said, my tone now crisper than the bacon. “That’s what you do.”

“NO, IT IS NOT!”

Of course, a chef of my status was not going to take that. I threw down my hat and stomped upstairs.

Ten minutes later hunger forced a retreat. Still scowling, I slunk down the stairs again.

“I’ll have mine,” I mumbled into the dining room. “You can put your’s back under the grill after if you want.”

“Okay, thanks,” he said, in a conciliatory tone.

And with that we resumed our old arrangement, our variant on the deal between China and Hong Kong: one kitchen, two cooks. This happy compromise continued for the rest of his life.

More from my memoir 8 Davisville Road here

Related posts:

I suppose the very first time i started gambling, the first time i started gambling was when i was 15 years old and i created a William hill account under my mothers name and deposited £100. I…

When LeBron James decided to take his talents to South Beach, the ramifications for the NBA went beyond the formation of a new super team. His decision as the top dog in the NBA to leave the city he…

A friend is helping out with a community project and asked for some laptops. I rustled up some old kit and gave it a refresh. You can too! Many old machines can enjoy a new lease of life, even if…