Culinary advice to a daughter

My drinking companions and I are all single men (more or less) and it should not surprise anyone that, as well as discussing women and the price of beer, football and politics, our deliberations often focus on cookery.

There's a lot of argument - is a chicken kebab a well-balanced meal; competition - who's found the best bargain this week; co-operation - I taught a friend how to make his own yogurt and he repaid the favour with a recipe for haslet. There are stories of failure - my attempt to make gin from a marrow was not a success.

Personally I come in for a lot of mockery because of the allegedly odd combinations of ingredients that I produce. I was actually beginning to doubt whether trout is an appropriate companion to macaroni cheese, when I came across the Arnold Bennett omelet, which reassured me.

These are my culinary principles:

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  Delia Smith is the true domestic goddess, not Nigella Lawson. The Word of Delia is what guides the true believer. But I must confess that I have been tempted to stray. I once watched Nigella stuffing a chicken, then smearing butter over its plump naked carcass, and sucking her fingers clean. I was seduced and for a while I was unfaithful, but I always come home to Delia.


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  Buy cheap and buy in bulk. Supermarkets. Own brand goods only. Bent tins and dodgy sell-by dates. If you want fresh vegetables, go to a market at 4pm on a Saturday afternoon. A freezer is an essential and has unexpected benefits. Imagine the thrill of finding a packet of crumpets and a brie under all those jars of mushroom soup you made last year.


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  Cook in bulk. This saves on energy and means that you only have to cook once a week. Admittedly eating cottage pie every day for a week can become monotonous, but use your initiative. Curry? Thank God for the microwave cooker.


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  Never throw anything away. A stew covers a multitude of leftovers.


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  Beans on toast is for wimps. Add onions, garlic and tomatoes to your beans and put it all on a jacket potato.


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  Percentages: 50% stodge (pasta, rice, tates); 25% veg; 25% meat, fish etc. This assumes you're starting with a basis of onions, garlic tomatoes and mushrooms.


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  Colours - there should three distinct colours on the plate.


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  Avoid sardines (unless they come in a tin, and then follow the guidelines for beans above).

My avoidance of sardines stems from a recent unfortunate experience. True to my principles I had a mountain of mashed potato to use up and a kilo of 'fresh' sardines in the freezer. Ever inventive, I thought 'Fish cakes'.

By the time the sardines had thawed the kitchen was already reeking and I had discovered the fish need gutting, a skill I do not possess. For this operation, according to Delia, I would need a sharp knife, an implement I do no possess either. But I persevered and soon the kitchen table was running with blood, some of it mine. My own guts were threatening to join those of the fish on the kitchen floor. The smell by now could justly be called a stink and ten minutes of grilling the sardines did nothing to improve it. I removed the withered and wrinkled creatures from the oven and realised most of the bones were still there. Oh dear, I thought to myself.

But, nil desperandum. I began picking and scraping and my efforts were rewarded with a return of approximately three ounces of fish.

I remembered another cooking principle, coined by W C Fields: 'If at first you don't succeed, give up - there's no point in making a damn fool of yourself.'

So, fish in the bin and bubble and squeak.

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  Final principle: treat yourself to a Chinese once in a while. You're worth it.

When I was a boy of fourteen my father was so ignorant that I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be 21, I was astonished at how much he had learned in 7 years.

Mark Twain.