Dad knows best

By Paul Fulford on Mar 16, 08 12:11 PM

It's a standing joke in the Fulford household that I interfere when anyone tries to cook in what I regard as my kitchen. All nonsense, of course. I'm simply there to offer constructive advice.

Imagine my torment last night, then, when I was banished from the room so my son Murray, home from university, could cook us chilli con carne. Uncharitably, I envisaged an over-spiced, sloppy mess probably bulked out with that student staple, baked beans.

I wandered in after two minutes to stir the pan but the withering looks I received from the rest of my family sent me scurrying back to the living room and the television. I didn't even have time to clear up the bits and pieces that had accumulated on the work surface.

A couple of hours passed and an increasingly rich and tempting smell wafted around the house. When Murray wasn't looking, I sneaked back helpfully to stir the pan again and the chilli looked good.

Then the dish was ready and I was trusted to crack open a bottle of southern Italian red and whip together a salad dressing.

You know what? The chilli was excellent - well balanced, rich, very enjoyable. The consensus was that it was better than the ones I cook.

I guess all that helpful advice I've offered over the years has worked. And to think people have told me off for interfering....