Virgil Evetts

I’d like to say I’ve always tried to be good. But up until recently this wouldn’t have been true. Even now it’s a bit stop/start. I’d like to tell you I’m remorseful. But I’m not. I’ve had a whale of a time indulging my taste buds, waistline and liver with all manner of things best not ingested at all, let alone infrequently. It’s been great, and quite often still is. Most recently I’ve fallen prey to the flawless pleasures of Lewis Road Creamery ^[1] butter. I’m a sucker for dairy fat at the best of times but this stuff is just obscene. I want to eat it like cheese, by the thick, fragrant and ultimately lethal sliceful.

I like to think I eat a lot of  healthy things too though- lots of plants from my garden and very little processed  food, which must in some way balance out my weakness for so much that is bad. I’ve never smoked because I think it’s a weird, unpleasant habit and while I like a drink of an evening,  it’s fair to say my intake is pretty modest. Usually.

But the fact remains, just about every one of my favourite foods is terribly unhealthy according to most conventional medical opinion. This is probably why I’m such a fan of outmoded medical opinion. Elizabethan physicians were  heroically misguided in this regard. Assuming most people would be dead by 30, they advocated the consumption  of pretty much everything in sufficient quantity to induce gout in pre-teens. Those were the days.  But the thing is, I don’t want to keel over just yet. I quite like being alive and look forward to a protracted decrepitude in which I become an ill-tempered burden to those around me, disapproving of most everything and everyone. I probably don’t have far to go in this latter regard.

So I’ve been trying out random acts of restraint lately. Out of the blue I’ll elect to forgo wine for the evening, or meat, or dessert. Never all at once mind. I’ve also taken up the Japanese (I think) tradition of stopping just short of satiety. Not only does this leave me with fonder feelings for the food, but after 15 minutes or so, when everything has settled, I often find I didn’t really have room for more after all. My best beloved would like to formalise these nights off from Very Bad Things – so we can do it together, solidarity and all – but that’s not for me. I need to control the process rather than being bossed about by the calendar. Or her.  And some nights I just can’t be doing with denial, for whatever reason. Some nights I find my plate crowded with things too delicious to tackle gingerly. These things, for example…

Duck Fat

I’m told it’s mostly unsaturated, but it’s still animal fat and doesn’t half give one’s lips a good greasing. Along with its goosey cousin, duck fat is the enabler of the crunchiest  potatoes and stickiest, most intensely flavoured roast vegetables. Especially carrots. Duck fat-roasted carrots will be the death of me.

Butter

Anyone who tells you butter is bad should be taken out back and drowned in rice bran oil. Butter is not bad at all. Eating a lot of butter, a lot of the time  is pretty iffy though. Just ask my Grandmother. Oh wait you can’t, she pretty much buttered herself to death. To be fair, it took her a good 80 years.  There was a woman who understood the fine art of protracted decrepitude.

Bacon Fat

There is always a sequel to good bacon. Fat, sweet and smoky to be captured for another day. Washing it down the sink would be unthinkable. Such a waste and such a disservice to an already rather hard done by pig.  Mushrooms fried in bacon fat are the business and you can make neither fried green tomatoes ^[2] nor Southern Style corn bread ^[3] without great tides of the stuff. Not if you want me to eat them anyway. It’s pretty fine smeared on piping-hot toast too. Chorizo fat is even better if you can get it. And don’t forget about prosciutto fat, or pancetta fat, lardo (pictured), speck…

Cream

Do I really need to elaborate? Let me just say, if the Many Worlds  theory (parallel universes etc) turns out to be true, I want a prompt vortex to the one where cream has swapped places with water. I’d drink it for sustenance, bathe in it, boil potatoes in it… Life would be so sweet.

Sweetened Condensed Milk

A bit left of field I know, but I simply cannot get enough of this stuff. If it’s in the house I will keep eating it until it’s all gone and I feel as sick as a parrot. I don’t cook with it, by the way but I seem to buy it all the time.

Grappa

My only real alcoholic weakness. I love grappa for its subtle flavours and bone-china fragile bouquet, but I’m consistently floored (once or twice literally) by its monumental alcohol content. I’ve voiced all of my stupidest thoughts and done of all my stupidest deeds in the thrall of grappa. So I try not to keep it in the house. Not very hard though.

Well I’ve ‘fessed-up good and proper now. Your turn. What are your worst food weaknesses? No, I don’t mean ‘naughty’ chocolate bikkies either. I mean very bad things. Things that might be your undoing

Method