I was shambling home from work yesterday when I passed, for the umpteenth time, a neat little café near the station. I've never eaten there, and out of curiosity I happened to pause at the blackboard advertising their £5 special outside. My first thought was that this was rather good value.
Struck with sudden doubt and disbelief, I turned around, and checked the sign again. My second thought was that it might be very bad value indeed.
The main feature of the deal was a dish called Coq au Vim.
Ah, Vim! The jaunty livery of that daddy of all scouring powders - which still ruled the roost, or at least the grotty parts of the kitchen, in my early childhood - still has the power to unleash a surprising flood of nostalgic associations in its train. But its alternative kitchen use as a budget marinade for chicken is one of which I was previously unaware. And since I no longer possess the cast-iron guts of youth, I reluctantly decided that this was one nostalgia trip for which I would not, after all, be buying my ticket.
Nature's Bounty - (This poem is brought to you courtesy of one too many forage enthusiasts being Wrong on the Internet about the merits of nomming on random bits of black ni...
1 year ago