RICHARD ORD: Why no hogs in boob tubes?
There was only one way to end the year of living dangerously and that was to turn the peril level up a notch … so I cooked Christmas dinner.
To be fair, I did do a trial run last year, helping out with the Christmas meal preparations and I was happy to report that I didn’t burn a thing. That said, we ate sushi!
Even I can’t burn sushi.
Rather than be slaves to tradition, last year we opted for a raw fish and cold rice Christmas. Not sure it’ll ever catch on.
Our two fingers up to tradition was more low key this year. I decided to serve Christmas dinner with Yorkshire puddings.
Watch as Sunderland danger driver sips from glass before crashing into lamppost and seriously injuring girlfriend
Sunderland's Roker Hotel put up for sale with £3million price tag as hospitality firm Tavistock 'scales down' after 20 years of management
TRAFFIC UPDATE: A19 northbound near Easington reopens following two vehicle collision
By all accounts this is controversial. The introduction of Yorkshire puddings, in the eyes of traditionalists, serves only to reduce the glorious festive fayre to Sunday dinner level.
But, hey, Subversive is one of my middle names.
To prevent a full-scale riot at chez Ord, some traditions did survive. There was red cabbage and turkey.
Pigs in blankets, however, were kicked out of bed and replaced with ‘Chicks’ in blankets!
‘What devil’s sorcery is this,’ I hear you cry. Not so much sorcery, as shortsightedness. I picked up the wrong packet (Stupid is one of my other middle names). I just went by the picture on the front.
Pigs in blankets is a naming convention that hasn’t really caught on. In reality, pigs in blankets are ground pig wrapped in sliced pig. Admittedly, it doesn’t sound half as cosy.
But why did they stop there?
Why not go the full hog and rename all foods. Here’s a few for starters: A ham sandwich could be the more colourful pigs under duvets.
Oxtail soup sounds more modern being called cows in a Jacuzzi.
Though I’d probably be put off if sausage rolls were renamed hogs in boob tubes. What do you reckon?
The chicks in blankets ended up being ‘chicks in blankets too close to the log fire’ courtesy of me taking my eye off the clock and singeing them, but there was always going to be a setback or two.
In the end, however, the meal was deemed a success.
And by success, I mean the diners survived intact. Much like the red cabbage, which I found in the fridge later… I’d forgotten it!