I am a fan of the potato bake. It's simple and delicious and involves cheese. Yesterday, however, after a rather blah day, I decided to zhoosh it up a little. Mainly because we had other veges in the fridge that need devouring. So it became a potato, pumpkin and eggplant bake. Which probably would have still worked but then I decided to add a layer of sliced tomatoes. And then Kajal asked for a layer of peas and at this point it would have been churlish to say no and green is such a pretty colour anyway, no? So in it all went, over went the cheese sauce and into the oven and we wandered away to watch something trashy on the telly because even really sophisticated women such as ourselves occasionally feel the need to stare aimlessly at a box in the corner of the living room.
Some time later I wandered back to check on my precious and discovered after opening the oven that our three smoke alarms all work very well. The bake was overflowing, the oven was smoking, but even more alarming - the delicious cheese sauce had curdled. It was still edible but only really if you managed to forget how a proper potato bake dances on your palate in a saucy and bewitching manner.
Oh god it was so SAD. I can only blame the tomato. Or the peas? Eggplant? I refuse to blame the potato or pumpkin. They are blameless victims. This is even worse than the time I discovered that hot porridge, milk and a kiwifruit are not a delicious combination because chewy milk is never nice.