I recently listened to an excellent BBC Food Programme podcast on the topic of food and cult fiction. It was fun listening to all the food stuff from Jack Kerouac’s On The Road, A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole, and a writer I hadn’t heard of before (to my shame, it now seems), Colin MacInnes, who authored a trilogy about London in the mid-20th century, at least one of which apparently contains excellent passages about working class “mods” eating smoked salmon sandwiches while admiring fabulous views of London from some rooftop.
But more fun was the *bonus* bit about the food bits in Withnail and I (if you don’t know this film, you’re probably not old enough to read this blog, and if you do, please refrain from now beginning to recite all the dialogue. Or use your inner voice).
Anyhow, an excellent idea was mentioned on the podcast, which I will now steal in plain sight. It’s a Withnail and I-themed dinner (or rather “supper-club”), which the true author of the idea apparently already has a menu devised for.
But he didn’t share it, and this is my blog (plus Richard and I basically grew up together), so, Signe’s Withnailian menu:
Coffee in a soup bowl
(Intended) pork pie at The Black Cap
Sausages and chips in the bath
Monty’s cauliflower and carrots (“There is, you’ll agree, a certain je ne sais quoi about a firm young carrot”)
Apples in the cottage
Chicken from the farmer in the sack (“It’s alive! … How can we make it die? [Later] Shouldn’t it be more bald than that? … How do we get its feet off?”)
Lamb, with thanks for a delightful weekend in the country
Cake, to soak up the booze. Served with butter drips from crumpets.
(Available with a pairing of the finest wines available to humanity at an additional cost of several quid.)
Who wouldn’t want to have dinner inspired by these two (wet, miserable, marvellous) cats?