Lessons Learnt: How to Make a Hungover Sunday Roast

Still feeling a fair bit sorry for myself after a rather turbulent Friday night Halloween party, on Sunday my boyfriend and I had the brilliant idea to cook us up a roast, and cook it up good. Inevitably, all did not go to plan, and I learned some valuable lessons that day, some of which I’d like to share.

Number 1

With a combination of alarming cockiness and nostalgia for something home cooked and Sunday afternoon-y, we decided on the classic beef, of which there was a joint rattling around in the freezer. However, given my confused state of mind I didn’t even know where to start, and ended up defrosting it in the microwave, resulting in a joint the texture and consistency of a tramp’s pants. Lesson learned – don’t cook when confused by beer induced melancholy.

Number 2

Despite the heady ambitions of a Sunday Roast with all the trimmings, the fragility and insecurity that comes with a two day hangover led to me forgoing my usual approach to gravy, which is generally delicious and which I could cook with no eyes and just the toes on my left foot. Instead, because of a brain that felt like it had been replaced with cauliflower cheese, I decided to play it safe and follow a recipe from the Times no less. The gravy was as bland as cauliflower without the cheese, and who wants it without the cheese right, who wants anything without the cheese. Have faith in your fail-safes.

Number 3

Thinking a glass of wine would solve all of the above, drinking it on top of a thousand cups of tea led to the suspicion I might develop a kidney infection, and the urge to just lie down until the whole thing blew over until it was pub quiz time was quite overwhelming. When faced with the urge to give up and leave the kitchen, resist, and follow point four below.

Number 4

The potato is the saviour of all failed meals. As long as you put it in an oven with some fat and salt for at least an hour, it’ll be fine, you’ll be fine, and you’ll realise that you might just be okay in the end.