Our winter lunch is usually a bowl of hot homemade soup. It is warming, and a good way to consume extra healthy vegetables. Occasionally, though, I will offer my other half his favourite – cheese on toast. I make my own variation of Welsh Rarebit, and it is tasty, but not as healthy as soup.
We have two friends. To preserve their anonimity I will call them Karl and Carla! Karl is a very intelligent, hardworking, high flyer. Carla is similar, but Carla also cooks. Carla cooks well, so Karl has never learnt. Recently Carla had to undergo a stay in hospital and an operation, of course, this meant that Karl needed to be ‘catered for’ during this period. The freezer was suitably stocked with enough meals to feed an army, and Karl was on strict instructions to remove from the freezer tonight, that which he intended to eat tomorrow. Directions were clearly marked on each serving, so for this period of time the microwave was to work overtime.
All went swimmingly until the night before Carla’s discharge. Having mastered the realm of microwave Karl realised that there was ‘nothing’ to this cooking lark. His last night of freedom in the kitchen would be to produce a piece of culinary expertise. He had a yearning for cheese on toast, and nothing would stop him now. Cookery books were removed from shelves, recipes for moules mariniere, beef wellington and jalfrezi chicken were ignored, fingers flicked from page to page, earnestly looking for the recipe he desired. Suddenly he had a light bulb moment! Yes! Of course! Now he knew what to do.
Very carefully he took two slices of bread and buttered them on both sides. With extreme exactitude he sliced Cheddar cheese, just enough to cover both said slices of bread. Arranging them on top he hit upon the piece de resistance, and lovingly spread mustard over the whole.
With equal care he laid the toaster on its side and carefully slid each slice into its individual slot. He pushed the on button and……….
The whole thing exploded!