Cooking Tips: Leek And Potato Soup

You may not realise this from reading Muppets For Justice, but there are a lot of things I'm not very good at.  I'd be the first to admit that I am completely hopeless at a lot of stuff that normal people take for granted.  But I'm not a quitter.  Lately, I've been going through some self improvement to try and alleviate some of these issues.  The most recent thing I've decided to learn is how to cook properly.

Now I’m a bad cook.  I cook like I make love: quick, greasy and unsatisfying.  I can just about handle microwavable food and meal kits, but anything more intricate would result in serious injury.  Due to this, Mrs Addman does most of the cooking around our house.  Being a modern guy, I wanted to take the pressure off of her and take on some of the culinary duties myself.

The first dish I decided to attempt was leek and potato soup.  I mean, how hard can that be?  Surely you only need a leek and potato.  I searched for a recipe and was immediately proved wrong:

• 1 tbsp virgin olive oil
• 1 onion, sliced
• 225g/8oz potatoes, cubed
• 2 medium leeks,sliced
• 1.2 litres/2 pints vegetable stock
• 150ml/5fl oz double cream or crème fraîche
• salt and freshly ground black pepper

An artist's rendition

That doesn't seem so bad, does it?  I thought I’d be able to handle it, so I set about collecting my ingredients.  Most items were quite easy to procure, but my local supermarket didn’t seem to have any virgin olive oil.  As I explained, my culinary skills aren’t exactly amazing, but I knew that the soup wouldn't taste as great without this vital ingredient.  I figured the nearest substitute would be virgin’s blood.

Tesco didn’t have any of that in bottles.  The shelf stackers just laughed at me when I asked them about it, and suggested that I put an advert on the Internet.  Taking their advice, I headed home and pulled on my typing gloves.

I was initially disappointed at the lack of willing sacrifices there are online and it proved more difficult than I'd hoped to find a suitable virgin.  My adverts on Match.com and OKCupid didn't draw in any replies.  Eventually, I posted the following on Craiglist:

“Wanted:  Pure, nubile, young virgin to help me make soup.  Non smoker preferred.”

I received a response from a lovely Mormon lady named Natalie.  She was 18 and informed me that she’d “never been kissed” as she'd been saving herself, which seemed perfect as she would be clean of other people’s germs.  I understand that food hygiene is a big thing these days.

After I’d drained all the blood from her body (I misread the recipe and didn’t realise I only needed a tablespoon’s worth), I set about making my soup.  I cubed my potatoes and put them in a pan.  I added a finely chopped onion and a leek, then poured in my vegetable stock and bought it to a simmer.  10 minutes later I stirred in my crème fraîche, and seasoned with salt and black pepper.  Then I slapped my hands together and shouted “FUCK!  COME ON BIG BOY!” which, as I understand from watching Gordon Ramsey on telly, makes the food cook faster.

*Walks away shaking head* Fuck!  What a shame....

Then I drizzled in the virgin’s blood.  A thick plume of black smoke shot out of the pan, engulfing my kitchen in a dense mist.  This sent my smoke alarm into a panic as I fumbled my way around the kitchen to open a window.

As I fanned the fumes away, I noticed there was someone standing my kitchen.  I saw his feet first.  Well, when I say feet, I mean cloven hooves.  His goatly appendages were attached to a pair of crimson thighs and a forked tail.  The smoke finally parted to reveal his belt of shrunken skulls, and a pair of ram’s horns adorning his head.  It appeared that I had accidentally summoned up a rather substantial demon.

I’m a bit confused at this point.  I’ve watched plenty of Jamie Oliver’s 30 minute meals and I swear I’ve never seen him call upon banished creatures from the dark plane before.  In fact, most cooking shows seem distinctly devil free, if I remember correctly.

The demon says that I have 7 days in which to reap the souls of the unworthy, lest he cleave my body in twain and banish my ethereal form into purgatory.  He refuses to leave the house until the deadline is up, and has spent all day sitting in my favourite chair and watching his soap operas.  Any efforts to move him are simply “wasting precious mortal time”, apparently.

Does anyone know what I did wrong?  I don’t think cooking is something I’ll ever be good at.

Parent Port

Have you seen something offensive lately?  Something which has offended your sensibilities?  Then you need ParentPort, the one stop shop for hand-wringing harridans the world over.

Bought to you by our gloriously humanoid leader, David "Call me Dave" Cameron has created a virtual latrine for angry parents to flush their collective angry turds into the ether.  If you're feeling impotent (with rage, obviously), you can log on to ParentPort and find out exactly who you need to shout at with righteous fury.  Of course, this will be mainly used by pissy, pedantic parents, pointing and screaming at anything which might suggest sex to or near kids.

In order to take advantage of this wonderful website, I decided I'd take up the role of a concerned father.  I assume the identity of Alan Paige, a worried single dad and all round nice guy who volunteers at a children's hospital.  I found a range of topics to complain about, and then did just that.

First up, I wanted to complain about the way in which magazines are displayed on shelves.  ParentPort directed me to the Press Distribution Forum (PDF):

 Dear Mister/Missus,

I am writing to complain about an incident at my local Spar which occurred last week.  On walking past the magazine rack, I was initially pleased to see that the usual disgusting skin rags were covered by a discreet piece of black plastic that would certainly stop children from peering underneath.  However, I was then horrified to discover that Take A Break (a publication that is usually such a bastion of moralistic, journalistic integrity) included a picture of a hideous creature called a "Katona" wearing a bikini and little else!

In shock, I grabbed my son and tried to cover his eyes.  In doing so, I managed to push his eyeball back into his socket and we had to rush him to A&E as a result.  My poor Bradton was literally blinded by this disgusting, sick filth.  Please sort this out immediately and ban Take A Break, or pay for a bionic eye for my son.

 They respond:

Dear Mr Paige

Thank you for your recent email of 11th October 2011.

The Press Distribution Forum (PDF) are engaged with and supporting the Bailey Review and regularly pass on the retailers guidelines on display of magazines.

We will also pass on to the Professional Publishers Association (PPA) your comments, so that they may make the relevant publishers aware of your comments.

Please pass our best wishes to Bradton for a speedy full recovery.

Kind regards

Dorothy King

Next up, I emailed the British Board of Film Certification about two disgraceful films:

Dear Male/Female,
Recently, I took my recently disabled son, Bradton, to the cinema to see, what sounded like a delightful romp, Hobo With A Shotgun.  

I was anticipating a whimsical adventure in which the main character, Hobo, tries to sit on the front passenger seat of his father's station wagon.  As you rated the film yourselves, I believe you know what happened next.  The resulting bloodbath as a homeless vigilante executes law enforcement officers was enough to make me drop my popcorn bag over Bradton's head in shock.  As he couldn't fight his way free, he almost suffocated in a bag of buttery goodness. 

Even though this film is rated 18, my son is 19, and I don't think this was appropriate for him.  Due to it's frightening content, he was left breathless and in an ambulance, fighting for his life.  Please remove this film from distribution, and sack everyone involved.

Also, I saw a trailer for a film called "Mr Poppers Penguins".  I can't believe you would promote a film in which Jim Carey feeds narcotics to innocent arctic birds.  Please can you ban this too?

The Film Board couldn't have told me to fuck off any nicer:

Thank you for your email. I am sorry to hear about your recent experience.

It was felt that the adults-only certificate of '18' combined with our Consumer Advice for HOBO WITH A SHOTGUN - stating that it contained "strong bloody violence and gore" - would offer most potential viewers a clear indication of the content of the film. We also publish extended classification information (ECI) for every film we classify. ECI provides a fuller account of a film and the issues which contributed to its classification. ECI is published on our main site. We have also launched BBFC Apps this year which allows parents to access this information on their iPhones and Android devices. They are free to download at http://itunes.apple.com/us/app/bbfc/id417274466?mt=8&ls=1 or https://market.android.com/details?id=co.uk.bbfc.android) These free customer information services allow viewers, especially parents, to make informed viewing choices.

While we recognise that some people may find HOBO WITH A SHOTGUN offensive and trivialising, it was judged that its clearly unrealistic and over-the-top violence and unconvincing effects, coupled with its blackly comic and knowing tone, would be self-evident to most audiences for this type of film and mitigated against its impact and strength. There were no legal grounds to refuse to certificate this film.

With regard to your comments about the trailer for MR POPPER'S PENGUINS, we are confident that the penguins were not subject to any mistreatment or cruelty allowing the trailer to be screened in UK cinemas.

Thank you for taking the time and trouble to express your views to us. I hope you son is now recovered and can be encouraged to visit the cinema again soon.

Yours sincerely,

J L Green
Chief Assistant (Policy)

Lastly, I had a complaint to make, but couldn't find an appropriate outlet.  Even ParentPort couldn't provide an appropriate home for my complaint.  In the end, I decided to take my question to the man in charge, and email number 10 with my grievance (if you're interested, this can be done here).  By the way, see if you can spot the pun:

Dear Mammal/Lizard,
I am writing to alert you to the growing problem in the field of sexualised vegetables.  Have you ever noticed how phallic carrots and cucumbers are?  Or that cabbages look like breasts?  Mother Nature obviously wasn't into the business of censorship, so I think it's time we gave her a helping hand.

I propose that we begin the process of cubing everything organic.  Cut aubergines in tiny squares, and suddenly they stop fanning the flames of sexual ardour in our youngsters.  It's hard enough to get kids to eat asparagus without the reminder that it looks like a sexual organ.  Cubing everything resolves this problem instantly.  This can also be applied to meat products, not for reasons of censorship, but to make things easier to swallow.

Please let me know what you think of my proposals.  I would like to take at least 10% of sales from the food industry, and acknowledgement on all packaging.

Unfortunately, the Government seem to too busy trying to destroy the economy than respond to my every whim and desire.  Any future responses will be posted in a future update, as is agreeable with future events.