Take Away Love

After a truly rubbish day I'm taking solace in a couple of tins of San Miguel, embarrassingly bad music that I used to love as a kid (care of Spotify) while contemplating a cheeky mid week take away. 


Probably a curry... 


Why is it that take away curry is almost always better in anticipation than when is sits there, a mass of mush on your plate? 


Maybe I'm ordering from the wrong take out place? 


Maybe my wife is right and I just order too much?


Maybe I don't really want a curry.


Last nights dinner, by the way, was sausage and mash with a good gravy. A simple, almost cliched meal, helped into the levels of the spectacular thanks to some very good ingredients.


Proper organic Cumberlands, a butter laden mash with handfuls of herbs running through it and a gravy made from browned onions, mushrooms and thyme, deglazed with wine and then a good wet beef stock reduced down and down and down. 


Finished off with a squeeze of lemon, butter and seasoning (including a pinch of sugar...) It was thick and rich and wonderful and pretty luxurious but it was a mid week dinner party so seemed worth it. 


Now I want mashed potato again. 


And a vodka martini... actually, just the martini.