By: Blonde Two
Should you ever plan to camp with the Two Blondes, there is one important fact you need to know beforehand. Blonde Two cooks, Blonde One doesn’t.
As we Blondes are the perfect team, we really don’t need two people who can cook, in exactly the same way that we don’t need two people who can drive the minibus. If you have ever spent a weekend with lots of women in one kitchen (I can feel you shuddering), you will understand the phrase, “Two many Blondes can spoil the Bolognese” perfectly. I am pleased to say that I have never witnessed two women trying to drive the same vehicle but am fairly sure that, a) one of them wouldn’t be me, and b) they wouldn’t end up in the right place.
I am a very simple cook but am quite pleased with my credentials to date; Scout camp cooking for a week for thirty (possibly the hardest I have ever worked), catering for sixty at a children’s holiday (a whole catering kitchen to myself), numerous Ten Tors breakfasts and winning a Guide Camp Cookery prize at a very tender age (entirely cooked over a wood fire). Nobody ever went hungry on my watch (the constant availability of bread and butter is the key to this).
Blonde One says that she can’t cook but I have eaten a very nice casserole that she put together and survived the experience. She has a rather odd understanding of the concept and once announced that slicing cheese counted as cooking. Last week, she said, “Look, I have cooked you this.” as she handed me a ham sandwich.
Tomorrow we Two Blondes set off on our Isle of Man Gold DofE trip. Blonde One will drive, I will cook (well the kids will for most of the time). We will, of course, work in perfect harmony. One thing is bothering me though. We have a contingency plan in case Blonde One becomes ill and incapable of driving but may well starve (or get very fed up of ham sandwiches) should I become ill and incapable of cooking!
For once I detect faulty logic (worse: faulty syntax) in one of your posts. It’s well-known that Blonde One is the quieter of the two of you and I am very proud that I once squeezed out a comment from her. It was, as I recall, pithy (and I’m not lisping).
Even so “we really don’t need two people who can cook” contains huge assumptions – that you are indestructible, that you can peel onions suffering from a broken humerus, that your culinary taste is infallible. Perhaps all these things are true but given your profligacy in blogging I reckon I’d’ve heard about this earlier. I’ll make another assumption: you’re being protective towards Blonde One. As Ayrton Senna once said over the intercom while driving at 150 mph through a typhoon: “This is very dangerous.” The French have put their collective finger on this matter with the epigram: Qui s’excuse, s’accuse.. That’s all: I just wanted to get some French into this comment.
The syntactical solecism occurs in: “I am a very simple cook…” I leave you to diagnose the problem and rectify it. You may quote me if you wish: simple you ain’t.
Oh dear! You are in trouble.
Anyway, I also cook simply if that is any comfort.
In my Scout days I was Senior Patrol Leader. At camp we had a patrol rota for cooking, collecting wood, and fetching water. When my patrol was “on cooks” we would have to cook for twenty or more all day, and like you on a wood fire. That was a big responsibility and very stressful for a 14/15 year old. I remember a huge dixie in which we cooked porridge. The scoutmaster had little input and let us muddle on except that he had an exaggerated opinion of his own skill in making steamed puddings, and there always seemed to be one hubbly-bubbling at the other end of the long fire arrangement. I have no memory of the edibility – perhaps they never came to fruition?
Looking forward to hearing about IOM.
Such happy memories. I remember being told to peel the number of potatoes that I thought I would eat for tea at breakfast time. I love potatoes and it took me ages!
A few points Mr R.
1. I am indestructible.
2. I have peeled onions with a broken fibula.
3. I am a goddess so my culinary taste must, by default, be infallible.
4. Simplicity, I believe, is in the eye of the beholder.