One Man's Meat...

In an age when it’s acceptable to be a picky eater— unlike the terrifying olden days, when you had to eat everything put in front of you—I wonder whether other families have, like us, the thing you can have for supper when one family member is out.

- Ysenda Maxtone Graham

When my husband’s out, we have smoked salmon. We love it for its delectable smokeyness heightened by a squeeze of lemon and a vigorous sprinkling of black pepper. My husband can’t stand any kind of fish. He hates the whole idea of it: the cold-bloodedness, the lidless eyes, the slipperiness, the soft flesh, the pointy bones, the smell of a house in which fish has been boiled.

When my eldest son’s out, we have spaghetti bolognese. We agree that if we were told we could only eat one dish ever again, it would probably be that: the glorious, homely, flavoursome concoction of browned onions cooked in a Le Creuset casserole, with mince, a glug of red wine, a tube of tomato purée, a tin or two of chopped tomatoes, two Oxo cubes, a sprig of bay leaves, salt, pepper and a spoonful of sugar. The eldest can’t stand it: he sees it as a revolting, schooly, mincey, tangled heap.