Cold Turkey

Well I won’t be sat here eating my calamari and drinking the local brew this time next week. If the weather reports are correct for the UK I’ll probably have had to have sailed to the office or covered myself in goose fat and swam. I’ll be looking for some form of hot comfort food which in the heart of London is surprisingly difficult. There are hundreds of eateries providing fare from every corner of the world and lovely it is too, but where do you go to find a casserole, spuds and veg or a roast and all the trimmings? Exactly…

You want a Thai? No problem. You want a Mexican? No problem. You want a beautifully prepared award winning meal? Again no problem, but meat, two veg and gravy? Not a hope.

I’ll probably end up sitting in the office breakout munching my Italian melt ciabatta, enjoying it but still wishing it was chicken and asparagus pie, peas and new potatoes. And who will I sit with to discuss the sad decline of British stodge? The calorie counters and carrot dippers? Well they’ll just call me names for putting temptation in their way and shoo me away like an unwanted pest.

The Tupperware toting leftover brigade will just stare into space longingly and the, ‘it must be Pret no matter what’ or the same place, same sandwich regulars will not understand the concept of a cooked meal at lunchtime.

It will have to be the ‘dirty eaters’, the fish and chippers, the stripped pork in a bun with fries and sides massive. These fast food junkies will understand my needs, be attuned to the concept. But it still won’t satisfy the craving, the need for a meat and two veg hit. Forget the cold turkey I want mine hot and steaming and drowning in a sea of gravy. I want syrup sponge pudding. I want jam roly-poly… I want someone to tell me where.