Roast pirouetted me out of the fog on Monday with a medley of boiled new potatoes, cheddar cheese, bacon, and peas. Otherwise known as Nigella's "back from the bar snack". As if she ever goes out. You can't maintain such a glossy body weight by doing anything but standing at the fridge tearing off hunks of cheese for a "bftbs". (yes, something she recommends for this dish. Greedy mouths haven't got time to grate).
And Roast and I certainly didn't have time to slice and fork, when it came to the quadruple chocolate loaf. We ripped off the less boiling hot edges like Natalie Portman's cuticles,
and stuck them in some tupperware to take the the cinema. Kept trapping each others' fingers in the tin as we tried to shut it, so desperate we were for more gooey chocolate pud.
We took the whole meal in a series of tupperware to the cinema to see Black Swan. Concerned that the usher would see that we'd brought our own dinner we ate the menu like popcorn with our fingers. Well, that may just have been me. Roast used a fork. Alex wouldn't eat his as it smelt too strongly.
A radiant meal. We were certainly the only members of the audience giggling through any part of Black Swan.
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