A Kitchen Nightmare

Both myself and Mrs Dad-To-Be are culinary fans. Not in an over-the-top, over-zealous, poncey kind of way, but in an enthusiastic, semi-able way.

Well, I am. I have followed a recipe for an authentic Tiramisu (and made way too much, but that's another story), I have done a mean fillet steak and oven roasted balsamic shallots, and my mash is smashing in the proper meaning of the word.

Mrs Dad-To-Be is a cracking chef de cuisine, who can turn her hand to anything whatsoever. She has shown my dad what proper gravy tastes like (much to the irritation of my mum), she creates the most luxurious tiffin (sadly it's incredibly bad for you), her lasagne is superb (if somewhat disproportionate to the number of people she's looking to dish up to) and she has even cooked broccolli that my dad liked (again, to my mirth and my mum's dismay).

So it's no surprise that we both sit down on a Tuesday night to watch Gordon Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares. It was billed as a new series, where he revisited restaurants he has previously help in the preceeding series. Except it's not. It's 55 minutes of the preceeding show and a 5 minute return-to-the-scene-of-the-crime a year or so later to see how they're doing.

Its bloody annoying, having to watch the same show you've already seen (more than once in fact, seeing as they've been repeated on a plethora of satellite channels over the last year), all for the last 5 minutes. It's like having to buy a DVD just to see the alternative ending of a film you've already seen - I mean you wouldn't, would you?

So tonight, we've seen the Spanish episode again, with the Donkey kebab and the poo on the terrace.

On a related note, we are planning to make our own baby food, to a greater or lesser degree. It's a bit like The Good Life, only we don't have a veggie patch. Anyone got any recipes?