‘A plate of soil with engine oil’, More Revolting Recipes,
Roald Dahl.
I think Roald Dahl might be looking down at me having a
little chuckle, the old devil. I couldn't think of a more appropriate title for a recipe than this one, because a plate
of soil it might as well have been. The
recipe intrigued me, with its lack of eggs, meagre amount of butter, and use of
plain rather than self-raising flour. My
trust in Dahl and childish hopes fuelled me on however, and I carried out the
recipe, only to be bitterly, soggily, lumpily disappointed with the result. My family politely declared that the dish was
something along the lines of ‘an inedible turd’.
Damn, I should have made the ‘hornets stewed in tar’.
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