Pasta Like Mamma Used To Make

When this lot arrive home from wherever they've been, their greeting to me tends to be less along the lines of:

'Hello Mum! Have you had a good day?'

and more likely to be something like:

'Is there anything to eat?'

'I'm starving!'

'What's for tea?'

In answer to this last question last night I said:

'Ravioli'.

It wasn't well received.

'RAVIOLI?? No-one likes ravioli. Why did you get ravioli?'

'It was on offer at Tescos. Two packets for £3' (Actually, I had to get four packets for £6, because two packets of anything is never enough to feed this lot). I continued:

'It's not any old ravioli. It's Tesco Finest Minced Beef and Red Wine Ravioli. And I shall make you tomato sauce to go with it. You'll like it. And if you don't like it, tough. There's nothing else'.

And, decked out in my 'Yummy Mummy' apron, I proceeded to fashion out of thin air a tomato sauce the like of which (not wishing to blow my own trumpet here) has probably never been tasted outside of Naples. It was exquisite. Everybody ate it in silence. Even I ate it.....and you know I have absolutely no interest in food whatsoever, so it must have been good.

There is nothing I would like to do more than share my recipe with you.

But I can't.

Unfortunately, during the concoction of this ambrosia-like substance (I mean the food of the gods, not the rice pudding), I was engaged in a somewhat heated discussion with the Father of This Lot regarding the raising of children. And whilst I remember a bit of chopping and slicing, I have absolutely no idea what went into it. I think there might have been some celery, and I have vague memories of a couple of carrots and the basil plant on the kitchen window-sill, but other than that, I can tell you nothing.

You'll just have to take my word for it.

It's roast chicken tonight.

You know where you are with a roast chicken, in my opinion.