The way into a girls knickers is through her mothers stomach

Apparently. This little nugget of advice was given to me by my first girfriends’ mother, shortly after I narrowly avoided poisoning her daughter with my idea of a romantic dinner. Boil in the bag cod, accompanied by diced frozen vegetables doth not make for relationship nirvana, oddly enough. At least I had a reasonable excuse: I was seventeen years old, and clearly no chef.

Some twenty five years later there have still been no confirmed deaths from my cooking, and it is this feat that has led me to believe that I may have something to share.

Ok, so before we start doing anything even remotely edible there’s something that I need to make perfectly clear. Despite being a bit of a geek, I’m a little new to this whole concept of blogging. You’ll just have to forgive me for being all crap at it. By the time I figure it out I’m hoping you’ll be too interested in the food to care, so here’s hoping!


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