Beetroot and British hospitality

A quick post that I felt needed to be made before this significant event becomes so long ago that it is irrelevant. Last week at some point (it may have been Thursday) I attempted to make a bean, fennel and beetroot salad. When I got home, I realised I got the wrong beans (mexican chilli beans instead of broad beans) and the checkout woman, thinking it was limp celery, threw away my rather sad looking fennel without me noticing. I didn't know if these random ingredients would have worked as a salad but I was keen to try and was thwarted by fate. Regardless, the beetroot did make it back to my kitchen and came in a sealed plastic bag. I had never seen it this way, only completely raw or completely preserved in a can - but this was apparently 'fresh' - it required further cooking to unlock all of its beetrooty goodness. The options on the package were - 1) remove from packaging and poach in a pot on a stove top, or 2) pierce repeatedly and poach in the bag in the microwave on high for 3 minutes. I naturally went with the microwave as it involved the least labour.

The result?

CARNAGE. My meal ended up being some disgusting concoction that I'm sure my grandparents were forced to eat during wartime - except perhaps without the Mexican chili beans. I would say it most resembled borscht, but I really have no fucking clue what is in that.

Other than that which occurred last week, this has been a rather lackluster week. I have come to one conlusion, only earlier tonight in fact. And that is that I WILL be a contestant on the British version of 'Come dine with me' at some stage in my London life. For those of you who don't know, 'Come dine with me' is a show where 5 people, over the course of a working week, cook a 3 course meal for one another in their own homes and secretly grade each other during the cab ride home. At the end of the week, the host with the highest cumulative score gets £1000 pounds. Pretty simple premise, but its amazing just how cunty and cut-throat the contestants get. That's the UK for you - cunty and cut-throat. I want to be cunty and cut-throat! So I intend to apply. I will keep you posted on my application, I am far too tired to do it now and its well past my bedtime.