Success! Woohoo! I am so happy to be adding HF-W's Sweetcorn Fritters to my repertoire of... not only things I can eat, but things I can cook! These make a nice change from buckwheat pancakes, and almost as quick. Mr H even let me loose with his special tin of spices. I felt like a real chef! Though I may have to rename them...
There can't be many English Juanita's that grew up on the South Coast of about my age, so I'm definitely taking a gamble here by confessing to something I used to do at school that was pretty darn naughty and slightly disgusting...
Some of our school dinners still give me nightmares. So does the warm creamy milk we were pretty much forced to drink every morning. I tried every trick in the book to get rid of it; giving it away, tipping it away, they always sussed me out, the last dregs used to make me gag. Kids who could melt a square of butter on their tongue used to make me gag too... and then there were F R I T T E R S. The very word brings back horrible memories! Not only fritters but S P A M fritters. Good grief, it's a wonder any of us survived. You could squeeze them between your fingers and the fat would drip from them. I feel queasy describing it. The dinner ladies were as vigilant as spies so there was absolutely no chance of leaving them on the plate. If I'm making this sound like the 1940s, it wasn't, I'm talking mid to late 1970s here. Eventually I hit upon the cunning plan to secrete these offensive items between the metal legs of my chair and the plastic seat, one on each side. I got very nervous when the chairs had to be put away and stacked up after lunch in case they fell out. Thankfully I was never found out.
So, you'll understand if I call them sweetcorn 'bhaji's' from now on? Ta :o)
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