THE TRUTH

I thought that the readers might not be able to handle a new series given their recent distractions and lack of involvement in what is truly important - blogging - so have decided to pack a few things that came to mind today in this one post.

I'm cooking a Bolognese sauce tonight and will have this with spaghetti topped with Parmesan cheese. I haven't cooked this for quite some time and tonight, as The Old Girl is still in Christchurch can add in the little bit of extras that aren't really supposed to be in a traditional Bolognese sauce. 

If you're wondering what's supposed to be in a traditional Bolognese sauce, and I was. here's what Aunty Google told me:

For the traditional bolognese sauce

1 tbsp olive oil.
4 rashers smoked streaky bacon. finely chopped.
2 medium onions. finely chopped.
2 carrots. trimmed and finely chopped.
2 celery sticks. finely chopped.
2 garlic cloves. finely chopped.
2-3 sprigs rosemary. leaves picked and finely chopped.
500g beef mince.

OK, got that ... or most of it.

Here are my edits:

1 tbsp olive oil. I used a lemon and oregano infused olive oil
4 rashers smoked streaky bacon. finely chopped. I didn't use bacon
2 medium onions. finely chopped. I used one half of a small onion
2 carrots. trimmed and finely chopped. I used a half of a carrot - grated
2 celery sticks. finely chopped. I did not use celery
2 garlic cloves. finely chopped.
2-3 sprigs rosemary. leaves picked and finely chopped. I used  dried rosemary, oregano and thyme
500g beef mince. I used lamb mince

I added a can of Italian tomatoes, some chilli sauce, some Leggo's passata, some piquante peppers, some spring onion and chopped kalamata olives.

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OK, that's the background. While preparing this dish my thoughts wandered back to a guy I met in my career who was a bit of a prat and I thought about him and other odd people I've encountered over my working life. A series, believe me would be a thing and I have enough material to spin it out for some time but, as I said, you readers are slipping a bit in your cognitive abilities so we'll limit my recollections to snapshots.

One

The guy who triggered this was a fat and pompous Englishman. He was an agent for a major UK gin company and I was the brand manager in New Zealand for this. His name was Nigel. This was in the mid 1980s. As I said he was pompous and the few days I had with him on his visit were difficult. Meetings were insufferable and wheeling him out to visit buyers and customers onerous. One evening I and some colleagues took him to an Italian restaurant as he had professed a wish to eat pasta. At the table, after he had ordered spaghetti Bolognese he asked the waiter if he could have a large serviette which the waiter brought him. He rejected this and asked for a tablecloth. Yes, you heard me - a tablecloth! He was a large guy, kind of like a grown up version of Billy Bunter and had all the grace and bluster of an over-privileged public school boy.

We soon saw why he asked for the tablecloth which he stiffed in the top of his shirt, because he ate like a pig and sloshed tomato Bolognese sauce down his front  and across the table much to everyone's embarrassment. I was pleased to see him go at the end of his visit.

Two

In the later 1980s I was on a 'field trip' to London checking out specialty wine and spirit companies to get some ideas for establishing a boutique operation in New Zealand. I was general manager of the fine wines and spirit division of the company I worked for and had been provided with invitations to a couple of premium contacts. After some meetings and discussions I had a day trip around London with one of their company reps. This guy was like something out of a P. G. Wodehouse novel, wearing a three piece suit and a bowler hat like the guy at the right in this photo:

Being London and in the business district he didn't drive  a car but instead we went to the various appointments with his customers - wine and spirit shops, restaurant and a couple of nightclubs - by taxi (London black cab) It was both fun and educational. 

In the early afternoon he proposed that we should have lunch which was a good idea as I was hungry and felt like a sandwich (see earlier post). His idea of lunch though was a slap up meal in a Soho restaurant. He said that he was paying and it was on expenses so I gathered that he didn't often eat like this and was going to make the most of it. We went to a fancy eating place and he proceeded to order, for both of us, a five course meal with beer to start, a couple of bottles of good claret in the middle and cognacs to finish. I was stuffed and smashed combined but he, of the greater girth (at that time of my life) didn't appear to be fazed. I toddled off back to my hotel pleased that I had no dinner commitments that evening. This guy was a joy and, as I said like a Wodehouse or a Evelyn Waugh character.

Three

Hold on ... this is looking like a series after all. Stay posted!