The Ascendant

Chapter Thirty-Four

I woke in a state of dizzy panic. There was no way I could cook a meal using only raw materials. Even my most imaginative culinary creations had always been through at least one refinery before reaching my clumsy hands and I wouldn't be able to change tack just like that.

I tried to find some leeway within the parameters set out by Dawn, to innovate or simply avoid attempting anything entirely beyond my capabilities. Perhaps I could serve egg mayonnaise sandwiches as a starter followed by fried lamb chops and boiled rice for the main course, with jelly and custard for pudding, desert, afters, whatever.

If only the problem could have be solved so easily. Even that simple menu wouldn’t work: the mayonnaise would have to come out of a jar, and the jelly and custard would also be pre-packaged. In addition to this there was the added complication of Greek being a vegetarian, thereby rendering all three courses redundant. If I could have made my own mayonnaise and custard (if that’s even possible) they might just forgive the jelly as a mere oversight, and I could probably procure some vegetarian version of lamb chops in a supermarket.

Either way my options were severely limited: find somewhere else to live before this evening or buy a cookery book intended for chefs with more thumbs than fingers. I preferred the sound of the second option, though not by much, and decided to get on with it sooner rather than later.

I was amazed at the number of cookbooks available on the market. The range was truly enormous, catering for an astonishing number of cultures and tastes, including what seemed to be a dozen different types of vegetarian. I was sorely tempted to ask one of the staff at the counter for their favourite recipe and simply follow that, but as none of them looked particularly well fed I abandoned the idea and kept looking on my own.

I eventually found what I was looking for: a shelf dedicated entirely to student cooking. Although initially sceptical about the likelihood of recipes consisting of Pringles, Marmite, Pot Noodles or cold baked beans, and fully aware that none of my house mates would find such a menu either amusing or acceptable, I was relieved to find a cookbook which met my requirements perfectly.

The book contained over a hundred recipes and proudly proclaimied that each of them had been “tried and tested by students”. Perhaps significantly, other members of the general public were not mentioned and no flattering quotes decorated the cover, but no matter. The instructions were clear and the pictures looked promising, even if they were only in sketch form.

Next stop was the supermarket. I had identified my menu, having decided on an all vegetarian ensemble to avoid confusion.

I would serve the macaroni, broccoli and tomato soup as a starter. The instructions were straightforward and the recipe sounded fairly delicious, containing many more vegetables than the name would suggest. Among the ingredients deemed unworthy of top billing were celery, onion, butter beans, garlic and a few minor flavourings. Still, it had a certain ring to it: macaroni, broccoli and tomato soup. It suggested a sense of adventure, perhaps even experience.

I would make a housewives’ favourite and all round banker for the main course: lasagne, which simply meant replacing the minced meat and bacon with vegetarian equivalents of a dried-mud texture.

I managed to fight off the urge to bribe my house mates with some expensive ice cream for their desert, and instead decided that if I was going to suffer then I’d be damned if they weren’t going to join me in some small way. It would be a challenge, but the meal would be rounded off with a boring apple pie. I figured it couldn’t be too dissimilar to the lasagne; same technique, just different materials.