Well, hello there: ginger beef noodles may sound like the nickname you may give an ex-lover but no, fear not, it’s just another delicious dish from us, the two fat blokes who occasionally trouble your inbox. If you want the recipe then scroll straight to the pictures, because as ever, we have a bit of admin and an update for you.
Firstly, have you pre-ordered our new cookbook yet? Because if you have, then we must insist you take part in our competition for a chance to win £250 towards your food shop this Christmas. Just send an email with a copy of your pre-order or what have you to fastandfilling@hodder.co.uk to be in with a chance of winning. Not ordered your copy yet? Preorder yours here! I know it’s an obvious thing to say but honestly, we’re even prouder of this book than our last! 100 more slimming recipes and our usual nonsense. Go!
So, how are we? Well. You know when people say it never rains but it pours? Turns out that it doesn’t just apply to your liberal touch with the gravy boat, young lady.
No, 2020 wasn’t quite done with us just yet. After being forced to spend three weeks apart due to various self-isolation dramas, we finally got back together. Hooray: back to catty asides and me staring disdainfully at Paul as he struggles to put his shoes on of a morning. We had decided to try for a weekend away because what greater joy is there than exploring a desolated high street in a different city before enjoying a meal surrounded by plexiglass? I ask you.
Only, of course, that didn’t happen. Paul got a notification to say he had been around someone who had tested positive for COVID and so off we went for tests. Paul’s came back positive. Mine came back negative. We’re living in a hotel at the moment and so the staff – who have been absolutely wonderful – squirreled me into a different hotel room right next door. That was eight days ago, and two waiting games begun:
Paul to see how bad his infection would be and to ride it out (10 days); and
me to see if I became symptomatic (14 days)
So, by way of update: Paul has been incredibly lethargic, a terrible sense of taste and gets out of breath easily, and then to contract COVID on top of that has been a shock. Jokes aside, he’s done absolutely fine – each day seems to have brought a new symptom, but he’s just getting on with it. Which doesn’t surprise me, he’s an incredibly stoic person when it comes to stuff like this. He’s not just my rock because he weighs a tonne and smells of sulphur, you know. Hopefully he’ll be on the mend soon, although it’s going to be a while before I go back into our shared room without fretting he’s accidentally left a thin sheen of spittle on everything. I’ve seen him eating: it’s inevitable.
For me, well: I have health anxiety and have been trying really hard to minimise my COVID risk, so I thought I’d spiral and go completely doolally, but actually, save for a minor wobble at the start, I’ve been fine! Worst part has been the self-isolation and not being able to go outside: I find myself pressing up against the hotel window and gazing longingly at the folks outside – which given I haven’t worn clothes for a good seven days now must look like an especially obese starfish pressed up against the walls of its tank.
I still don’t understand how I didn’t catch it from Wobbles McGee given I shared a bed with him for a full week and had many a car trip with him coughing and spluttering away, but I suppose there’s still time yet. Part of me thinks I may have already had it back in February, but who can say? Anyway: wish us both luck!
Now, let’s not keep you for a moment more: our next recipe is here – ginger beef noodles!
It’s ginger beef noodles, but honestly, this works well with pork and lamb too.
Only 1.5 syns for a massive portion of ginger beef noodles.
Now that’s proper scran and make no mistake. Ginger beef noodles on the plate in twenty minutes!
This makes enough for two large servings, but it's an easy enough recipe to double up if you need to. Or stretch the ginger beef noodles out by adding more vegetables. You do you!
Hey guess what, yes, it's another Hello Fresh recipe. Don't worry, we aren't being sponsored or owt like that, we're just very satisfied customers using 'em during a difficult period, and hoping that if we praise them enough they won't bollock us for sharing their recipes. We've modified this slightly to make it lower in calories and a few of the ingredients to ones you're more likely to find in your local supermarket, but it tastes just as good. If you want in on the action, you can use this link to get £20 off your first box, and you slip £20 our way n'all. Win win, eh?
Ingredients
500g lean beef mince
160g green beans
2 peppers
1 lime
1 tbsp of ginger paste
3 garlic cloves, minced
2 tbsp soy sauce
2 tbsp hoisin sauce (3 syns)
1 tbsp oyster sauce
250g dried egg noodles
1 bunch of coriander (optional)
Instructions
trim the green beans and chop into thirds (or rinse under lukewarm water to defrost if you're using frozen), then set aside
halve the peppers and discard the seeds and core, and slice into thin strips
zest and quarter the lime
roughly chop the coriander (if using)
fill a large pan with water and bring to the boil
meanwhile, spray a large frying pan with a little oil and place over a medium-high heat
add the mince and cook until browned (about 6-8 minutes), then scoop out the pan into a large bowl and stir in the hoisin and oyster sauce and half of the soy sauce and set aside
when the water is boiling, add the noodles and cook for 4 minutes, then drain and rinse with cold water
return the frying pan to the heat and spray with a bit more oil
add the sliced peppers and runner beans to the pan and stir fry for a few minutes
add the ginger and garlic to the pan and cook for another minute
add the remaining soy sauce to the pan and stir
add the mince back to the pan along with the noodles and cook for 2-3 minutes, stirring continuously
remove the pan from the heat and stir in the lime zest, juice of half the lime and half of the chopped coriander
serve into bowls and sprinkle over the remaining coriander and remaining wedges of lime
Notes
Recipe
frozen or tinned runner beans are absolutely fine in this, no need to get fancy
any colour peppers will do, it doesn't really matter
don't be put off by oyster sauce - it doesn't taste like you think it would, and gives a lovely, rich taste. Try it!
either light or dark soy sauce is fine in this, use whatever you have
Books
OUR BRAND NEW COOKBOOK IS COMING OUT SOON! You thought the last one was good? It was, but this sequel is even better - it'll be coming out just in time for the new year! Preorder yours here!
our first slimming cookbook can be ordered online now – full of 100+ slimming recipes, and bloody amazing, with over 3000 5* reviews – even if we do say so ourselves: click here to order
our new diet planner is out now and utterly brilliant – you can order it here – thank you to everyone so far for the positive feedbacks
Tools
finely mince that garlic and ginger with ease - get a Microplane grater and you’ll use it every day!
Come for the cheesy bubble and squeak fritters, stay for the lengthy polemic about free school dinners. Now, some of you on our Facebook might have seen the condensed version of this already, and some of you might have no time for some fat bloke pontificating about the hungry when all you want to do is read a few knob jokes and see what to do with leftover mash, and that’s fine. You just scroll down to the pictures and crack on. Everyone else though: a subject that is close to my heart (because it involves food) and one I, James, wanted to write a little more fully on.
Last week saw our wonderful Government vote against the proposal for kids to receive free meals. These MPs, who have more than likely never missed a meal in their lives and certainly don’t go without these days, directly voted against supporting hungry kids during a time when so many families don’t know where their next meal is coming from. When you read the reports online, the comments are littered with folks in agreement, including such cheering philosophies as ‘don’t breed them if you can’t feed them’. Fuck off.
I’ve previously mentioned that I used to work for a homeless charity, and if I’m speaking honestly, I started out with so many misconceptions about the homeless and the struggling – misconceptions I still see bandied about by others now – that people who were struggling just weren’t trying hard enough, that benefits were spunked up the wall on fripperies and fancies, all that tired rhetoric. But the longer I spent there, the more my eyes were opened to the reality of what is actually happening out there. And mind, this was before the massive austerity cuts and COVID, so it won’t have got any better.
I remember one father who came in – dressed like he was going for an interview with a bank, well-spoken and clean shaven – and because I was a shameless slut back in the day I took him in for an interview. He explained that his wife had been diagnosed with MS and had to give up work. They’d struggled and then he lost his job too, and suddenly they were faced with bills and a mortgage they couldn’t pay. Children don’t stop needing food and uniform and days out and entertainment and medicine just because you’ve received a P45 after all. Imagine that these days with unemployment absolutely rocketing and costs of living giving chase and then ask yourself what a family like that is supposed to do? If anyone out there has an answer that doesn’t extend to applying for Universal Credit – which takes weeks to process and offers scant difference when put up against cost of living increases – then do let me know. These people didn’t plan to be faced with stark choices between heating and eating, they didn’t have children with the expectation someone else would pay for them. Circumstances forced their hand and the truth is, nobody knows what is coming down the line and never more so than during these COVID times. Of course there are chancers who abuse the system, but they’re few and far between. Why not vent your ire at the MPs who pocket £300 a day to sit and kip in the Houses of Parliament rather than someone getting an extra £20 to feed their kids? What’s the alternative? Let them starve in the name of teaching them a lesson about having fiscal responsibility in a system where all the cards are stacked against them?
It’s easy to kvetch about ‘wasting taxpayer money’ as though we’re talking about delays on building a bypass or cobbling together a fancy garden bridge, but we’re talking about starving children and broken families. To dismiss that as ‘hyperbole’ or ‘emotional manipulation’ does nothing but show the person thinking that as the selfish, myopic prick that they are. If they can piss away £156,000,000 on contracts for PPE that doesn’t work, £87,000,000 on contracts for ferry companies with no fucking ferries, why can’t they help families out during these unprecedented times? It’s an absolute disgrace and make no mistake, none of the MPs who voted against the bill will face the consequences of their actions. They’ll never fret about sending their kids to school with empty bellies, after all.
Some of the MPs who voted against have come out since to wring their hands and say that it’s better to cure the need for this sort of ‘charity’ rather than putting a sticking-plaster over it. Think that through. If you tear your leg open on a nail sticking out of a fence, of course you’ll want the fence fixed so it doesn’t happen again, but you wouldn’t expect to go to the doctors and have them say they won’t bother dressing your wound because it’s better they fix the fence. It’s a short-sighted, piss-weak argument and one made even worse by the fact they’ve caused the bloody need for the plaster in the first place. Much fuss has been made about the fact that the Government has given extra to local councils to meet the shortfall, but councils have been cut to the quick by funding cuts after funding cuts and what has been given back – a veritable crumb off the banqueting table – doesn’t touch the sides. And why do they do this? So the Government can turn around and put the blame at the door of local councils when things go tits-up. Kids going hungry in your constituency? It’s the council’s fault now. They did it with social services – stripped the support bare and then stand looking anguished at the fact that families are falling apart – and now they’re doing it with feeding hungry kids.
You know what fucks me off most of all? There is ZERO accountability. One of our local MPs has been asked repeatedly over and over why she voted no – on Twitter, on Facebook, via letters – and she hasn’t deigned to reply to a single one that I can see. She’s retweeted the odd tweet blowing smoke up her arse, because of course she has, but people with genuine questions asked politely about a situation that any decent person would deal with? Nah. Happy to claim almost £60,000 in expenses though, and I very much look forward to seeing her face adorning the sides of the A1 when it comes to election time, because lord knows I need another reason to wonder what would happen if I put the handbrake on at 70mph. Doesn’t matter though: she’ll be a shoo-in for re-election because people round here have short memories or deep pockets.
And honestly, I think it takes a special type of cold-hearted shit to endorse a government that can hand-wave feeding children away as ‘not our responsibility’. It bloody well is. Homelessness is rocketing, food bank use is off the scale, and if anyone honestly thinks things are going to get any easier for the poor and the disadvantaged and the struggling over the next few months, you should hang your head.
Paul and I both came from families where if someone dropped a pound it would land on the back of their heads – never had a lot (though never went without) and in Paul’s case certainly, often went to bed hungry. He’s certainly made up for this struggle since, preferring to go to bed only when there’s a real and distinct chance his belly-button is going to blow out like a party popper, but neither of us would want what we went through for anyone else. And that’s what I don’t understand. You see people on Facebook – nearly all of a certain age mind you, and nearly always looking as though the last time they went hungry was back when Thatcher was mulling over the Falklands – saying stuff like ‘well when I was young I used to eat gravel and my mother would go out and work 25 hours a day just to get enough moisture in her mouth to fill the tin-bath with spit so I don’t see why parents these days can’t do the same‘.
What sort of argument is that? Why wouldn’t you want kids to avoid that? It’s not a character-building exercise, living in squalor and poverty, but these people seem to think it should be endured because ‘they had to do it’. Mind, I got into an argument with someone along those lines on Facebook which quickly turned into her telling me how COVID was just a ‘plandemic’ (and if ever there was a portmanteau which made my shit itch, it’s that) and how she had survived many a pandemic in her seventy years. When I enquired which ones she replied ‘scarlet fever’ and then went absolutely spare when I pointed out the last scarlet fever pandemic was in the nineteenth century. She did look good for a foaming gas-bag knocking over 200 years old, though. Same as those people who’ll suggest that parents should get their ‘priorities straight’ and sell their TVs and mobile phones. You need a mobile phone and internet access to apply for jobs now – selling your phone might get you £100, but it’ll mean you can fuck right off when it comes to trying to get a job. But that doesn’t matter, because it’s just another stick to beat the poor with. Maybe there’s no reasoning with these people, content as they are to live in their bubbles of superiority shouting at the clouds to do better. Fuck ’em.
We’re all in this together, after all. Except when, you know, we’re not. But just remember all of this next time. Remember how your MP voted. Remember the absolute contempt they have for the poor and those who elected them on the misguided belief those MPs gave a shiny-shite about anyone other than themselves and their pals with their hands in the till. In the meantime, try and do something to help, whether it’s donating to a food bank or raising awareness.
And, if you need support, if you’re struggling, there’s help out there from decent folk and you should feel fuck-all shame in asking for help in whatever form you need it. Don’t let the media, and the parasitic arseholes who comment on it, tell you otherwise. The country is full of decent, kind folk who will give you whatever they can, and you’ve only got to look at the businesses currently rallying around to try and give away meals in order to prove that. They are the people to focus on and celebrate, not the vainglorious, self-serving shitheads in Parliament who wouldn’t give you the steam off their piss unless they could claim it back afterwards.
You know what worries me though? The very same MPs will look at the help that has been offered and claim the whole thing as a success as it proves extra money wasn’t needed.
The full list of MPs who voted against – remember their names and DO something about it when you can – call out your MP, make your voice heard
And that’s me done. If this post is anything like the Black Lives Matter post I did a while ago, it’ll attract some good discussion and comments and, more than likely, more than a few comments telling me I’m a leftie do-gooder. You know what though? If do-gooder is the worst someone can call me, then that’s a hill I’m willing to die on. Far better to be known for doing good than doing nothing.
Right: cheesy bubble and squeak fritters then!
See? These cheesy bubble and squeak fritters are the bollocks with the sauce added!
You could eschew the sauce if you want to save a couple of syns, but let’s be honest, you’re not going to – and rightfully so!
These are an absolute piece of piss to make - if you have leftover cabbage or spring greens to go with your leftover mash, then even better, but even if you have to buy the ingredients in fresh it is a worthwhile cook. They freeze well, and I'm serving them with a cheesy sauce to dip in. Because I'm a whore.
We've worked out the syns - with sauce - as 3.5 for four large hot fritters each. Treat yourself!
This is another recipe inspired from Hello Fresh - we've tinkered with it a little to make it lower in syns for you. We aren't getting paid to promote Hello Fresh, we're just using it whilst our house is rebuilt. We love it, and you probably will too! Click here if you want to give them a go, you'll get £20 off your first box. We also get £20, because damn it someone needs to pay for Paul's extra-wide shoes.
Ingredients
400g of mash (or 400g of tatties cooked through and mashed)
six or eight or even ninety bacon medallions
bunch of chives
160g of spring greens
30g of panko (5 syns)
50g of Philadelphia Lightest (swap for Quark if saving syns) (but also have a bloody word with yourself, you loon (2 syns)
40g of extra mature lighter cheddar
lighter cheddar? I did yes, but she blew it out after and we've since made up
enough black pepper and salt to suggest you need to talk to Frank
Instructions
chop up your bacon medallions and fry them in a little oil, along with your spring greens, until the greens have softened and the bacon is crispy and you feel really proud of yourself
in a big bowl mix the mash with the panko breadcrumbs, grated cheddar cheese, spring greens, crispy bacon and all the vim and vigour you can muster
season to taste by eating about half of it
tell your husband there wasn't as much mash as you thought there was
offer to make him a sandwich as a conciliatory gesture only for him to turn it down because he's got a tittylip on because you apparently can read minds and should have guessed that he had forgotten to take his lunch to work and was starving
have a blazing row where fourteen years of angst and indiscretions come tumbling out so he leaves in a huff and you get to eat the rest which you cook by...
heating a flat frying pan to a medium heat and spraying with just a little squizzle of oil
form the mash mix into burger shapes and pop them in to almost dry fry
serve when they are a bit crunchy on the outside and drizzle with the sauce
The sauce, such as it is, is Philadelphia heated ever so slightly with some chopped chives and black pepper mixed in. Drizzle over rather than drown your fritters.
Notes
Recipe
the panko is worth it because the dryness of the crumb help soak up some of the 'moistness' - you could just blitz a breadbun but honestly, it's worth getting some panko – most major supermarkets stock it and you can stick them in an airtight jar and use them wherever - see the recipe list below for more ideas
the stronger the cheese, the better these are
these make a great little snack for taking to taster nights - stack them on top of each other with a slip of greaseproof paper betwixt them
Books
OUR BRAND NEW COOKBOOK IS COMING OUT SOON! You thought the last one was good? It was, but this sequel is even better - it'll be coming out just in time for the new year! Preorder yours here!
our first slimming cookbook can be ordered online now – full of 100+ slimming recipes, and bloody amazing, with over 3000 5* reviews – even if we do say so ourselves: click here to order
our new diet planner is out now and utterly brilliant – you can order it here – thank you to everyone so far for the positive feedbacks
Just a quick email to you all to draw your attention to our latest competition – this time to win an Instant Pot Vortex! If you’re on Instagram, simply click on the post below, follow the rules and be in with a chance to win.
It’s £99 worth of kit and it goes without saying but we bloody love Instant Pot – they’re perfect for if you’re trying to lose weight and/or save money, because the things they can do with a slab of cheap meat would make even you blush. The Vortex is their take on an air-fryer so you can do your chips and roasties in there, and of course there’s a whole load of recipes available online. You can take a look at their website right here!
We are trying to organise as many competitions as we can at the moment to try and give back a little – plus we can’t very well have an Instant Pot in our tiny little hotel room, we’ve barely got enough room to wrestle as it is. They already think we’re quarrelling as I have the beginnings of a black eye and naturally when asked about it I’ve taken to saying that Paul and I are fighting as I’ve taken another lover into the marital bed. In reality, I’ve got a sore eyelid, but that’s not quite as salacious now is it?
Good luck everyone!
Want some Instant Pot recipes? No bother cock – fill yer boots:
LAMB PILAF? On a bloody Slimming World blog? Yes, and it’s quick lamb pilaf too, and it tastes good, so calm your boobs Susan and read on. As ever with our blog, the recipe is right at the bottom – if you’re in a rush, just scroll right down to the photos and the quick lamb pilaf will be waiting for you. However, fans of the writing, there’s a cracking post to follow, so pop your cankles up, lock the kids/dogs in the cupboard under the stairs and I’ll be right with you.
Oh! Though. Two bits of very quick news:
our new cookbook – Two Chubby Cubs: Fast and Filling – is now due for delivery on December 31 2020 – meaning you can start the New Year with all good intentions! Preorder it now and you’ll get the Amazon price guarantee, so you’ll always pay the lowest price. If you loved our last cookbook then I promise this keeps up the pace and there are some genuinely bloody amazing recipes in this one. You think the last book was colourful? This improves on it in every single way; and
we had a minor blip with our Facebook group – but it’s back online now – feel free to join!
Well, hasn’t this been a long three weeks? Maybe not for you – maybe you’ve spent your weeks with your ankles up by your ears picking the fluff out of your toenails, or perhaps you’ve been toiling so hard that you’ve barely had time to swipe the shine off your foof. But all of that must pale in comparison when you realise that I’ve had three weeks without Paul, and as a direct result I’ve had to make my own coffee and meals several times over. I know: we all have a cross to bear, but even so.
You know when circumstances just conspire against you in fun and unexpected ways? That’s me. I set off to Liverpool in the back of September to stay for a couple of days with mates (support bubble mates, before anyone writes a letter). Readers with a long memory may remember passing references to Paul 2 or Limited Edition Paul, but for this article, he shall be known as Tall Paul (as he is 6ft 4″, whereas my homunculus husband is a trifling 5ft 7″). I had planned to stay for four or five days to play cribbage and agonise over what should be done with the way of the world and then return home, triumphant and whistling from the rear, to the arms of my beloved.
However, just as I was packing away my forty seven t-shirts, various tchotchkes and as many lighters as I dared lift from every conceivable surface, catastrophe struck: my Paul received a warning that he had to self-isolate as he’d been near someone who had tested positive for COVID. I was as surprised as you are: Paul isn’t exactly known for his gadabouting and his idea of being social is opening the curtains on his day off, so how could this be? We’re still living in a hotel so chances are it was someone just passing through, but doesn’t matter: he had to bunker down for ten days.
Now, perhaps you’re thinking, surely I must have dashed to my car and drove back to mop his brow and tend to his every whim? Well you’d be wrong, I was in the middle of watching an Agatha Christie and although watching any programme at my friends’ house is an exercise in trying to make out anything remotely distinctive through the fog of smoke and cacophony of shrieking and lament, I was eager to find out who did it. Turns out the murderer was in us all along.
No, it’s because we’re living in a one-bedroom hotel room that we both – jointly – decided I must stay away for the sake of our marriage. Paul and I rarely argue but that’s because in between his working and my flights of fancy, we are together approximately eighteen minutes a day. This works, because it gives us enough time for a cuddle, bum and a blistering critique of his technique after. On holiday we are amazing and can spend weeks together without complaint, but that’s normally because we have new things to distract us from the cruelty in each other’s eyes.
But cooped up together in a one-bedroom flat without the possibility of leaving? We’d genuinely kill each other. Between Paul’s stunning ability to pull facts from eight years ago out of his arse and my propensity towards the melodramatic, it would only take a mild disagreement about who gets the firm pillow before it spilled over into bitter recriminations and me trying to post his head through the toaster. So, for ten days more, I was to stay in Liverpool whilst Paul locked down in Newcastle.
And you know, it was just fine. Paul, confined to what was effectively a fancy jail cell, built some Lego, scratched his bum and availed himself of all the naughty things in my bedside drawer that I tell him not to play with. I had a gay old time – the days flew by – and within the week had grown accustomed to the mild film of spittle that was being left on my face every time I asked someone especially Scouse for directions. Not every vowel needs strangling, just sayin’. I’m kidding, I love the Scouse accent and Liverpool is a terrific city.
However, with two days to go, my friend also gets a self-isolation warning on the app. You couldn’t write the script, could you? Common decency and the fact I’d been using Tall Paul’s toothbrush to ped-egg my feet in the bath meant that I couldn’t risk travelling back to my Paul in case my lungs were full of excitement. This meant a further stay whilst we anxiously waited to see if my lips would turn blue with something other than the effort of doing my shirt buttons, but thankfully no and, after a total of 22 days, I was able to come home and back into the flabby, comforting arms of my husband.
Here’s the thing: for all that I endlessly rag on Paul via this blog, for all that I tease and make him out to be a crabby, contumacious old sort, he’s alright really, and not being able to see him when I wanted was very much a trouble I hadn’t anticipated. Those that know me say that I suffer with contrarianism, that is, as soon as I can’t do something I very much want to do it. You may disagree with that analysis, but that’s fine, because then I’ll deliberately disagree with you and that proves me right. It’s why things like lockdown rankle with me (though I stick to the rules rigidly, because The Greater Good) – I can merrily sit on my bum for days on end and never see anyone but the instant I can’t do it, I’m arranging things left, right and centre and then going Max Tittylip that my plans are out.
And, you know, I really, really missed him. My hosts were truly amazing, each and all, and you must understand that I’m alway glad of an opportunity to sit on someone else’s sofa, but there’s a lot to be said for coming back and burying my nose in the hay-scented fleshpile that is Paul. I missed his innate skill of being able to recall some random quote from a Changing Rooms episode from way back when and reduce me to laughing tears with some naff catchphrase. I like the way his tongue appears at the corner of his mouth when he’s trying to concentrate in spite of my endless prodding. He’s the kindest, most selfless, most considerate barrel of fat you’ll ever meet, and by God he doesn’t get the credit he deserves on here.
It’s not all roses – and that’s mainly because the fat bastard eats them before I get a chance – for example, I don’t like that sometimes when he’s watching TV his jaw slackens and he looks like his mother, the Waltzers Queen of Peterborough. Plus he messes up his personal pronouns in a way that makes my shoulders lock into my ears with annoyance. He gives me a hard time for accidentally piddling around the toilet in the bathroom but has no shame in leaving the pan looking like someone hurled a tin of uncooked brownie mix in from a moving car.
But yeah, I missed him. A couple of times when I sat in front of the Mersey, listening to my Billie Eilish tapes, looking over the river to the hills beyond and knowing he was only a three hour drive away (actually more like seven, given my tendency to stop and get something down on paper at every service station on the way) was a bit of a wrench. We reunited last night in a blur of knock-off Doritos (clearly he hadn’t missed me enough to get name-brand) and The Cube and it was tremendous. Lovely. But that’s to be expected, as I do love him dearly. I mean look what a power couple we are.
Anyway, look, that’s quite enough of that mush. I’ll be back to calling him all sorts and tampering with the brakes on his Smart car lickety-split, I promise. Actually, given the Smart car’s brakes extend to nothing more than pushing a carrier bag out of the window at speed so it acts as a makeshift parachute, that bit will be easy!
The super quick lamb pilaf, then. You’ve waited long enough and endured all of my nonsense, and for that I’m grateful. As grateful as you will be for this delicious quick lamb pilaf? Abso-friggin-lutely. Let’s do this!
Turns out that despite being a delicious dinner to make, the quick lamb pilaf doesn’t photograph too well. Ah well. Bear with.
Serve the quick lamb pilaf with naan breads. Which translates as bread bread, fact-fans.
Just to add to our woes, the quick lamb pilaf photo here went all washed out. But you know what, you’re turning it into poop, let’s not fret too much about the looks.
Lamb mince doesn't get nearly half as much love as it should. It's so much more tastier than beef mince, and is dead easy to cook. Try and get the lean stuff if you can, if you can't find it in the supermarkets a local butcher is a good bet. You slip someone enough spare change and you'd be amazed what they can do with a mincer.
This makes enough for two very large portions. Maybe a bit more for your lunchbox.
This is another recipe inspired from Hello Fresh - we've made a couple of changes to slim it down. We've been customers for a few months while our house gets rebuilt, and, I won't lie, writing a cookbook totally bloody drains you. We love it, and you probably will too! Click here if you want to give them a go, you'll get £20 off your first box. We also get £20, because damn it.
Ingredients
400g lean lamb mince (4 syns)
2 red onions
1½ tbsp ras-en-hanout (you can buy this in all supermarkets, it's not rare, it'll be with the spices)
1 tbsp turmeric
300g basmati rice
600ml chicken stock
2 garlic cloves
20ish mint leaves
half a lemon
400g tin brown lentils
3 handfuls of baby spinach
150g fat free natural yoghurt
Instructions
spray a saucepan with a little oil and place over a high heat
add the lamb mince and cook for 5-6 minutes, until browned
meanwhile, peel and thinly slice the red onion
add half of the onion to the mince and cook for another 5 minutes
add the ras-el-hanout and half of the turmeric, and cook for another minute
add the rice to the pan and stir, then add the stock and stir again
reduce the heat to medium and cook for ten minutes, covered, then remove from the heat and set aside for another ten minutes
as the pilaf is cooking, peel and mince the garlic, finely chop the minute leaves and drain and rinse the lentils in a colander
spray a frying pan with a little oil and place over a medium heat
add the remaining onion and cook until softened, about five minutes
add the spinach and cook for another couple of minutes until wilted, then add the garlic and lentils
cook for 1-2 minutes until the lentils have warmed through, then set aside
in a bowl, mix together the yoghurt with half of the mint and remaining turmeric
remove the lid from the pilaf and stir and fluff up
gently stir in the lentil mixture, remaining mint and a squeeze of lemon juice
serve in bowls, with a dollop of minty yoghurt
Notes
The dish
ras-el-hanout is a fantastic spice mix, if you get it you will love it. You'll find it nearly all spice bits in supermarket, but if you really are struggling you can use garam masala or curry powder
lean lamb mince will taste best in this, but beef mince works well too - cook in the same way.
can't be arsed to track down a mint plant? Use a tbsp of mint sauce in the yoghurt instead and a tbsp in the pilaf, we'll never tell
The books
OUR BRAND NEW COOKBOOK can be pre-ordered from Amazon right now! It's rammed with recipes which are both FAST and FILLING. We called it FAST AND FILLING. I know, we're geniuses. But it's really banging. It'll be coming out just in time for the new year! Preorder yours here!
our first slimming cookbook can be ordered online now – full of 100+ slimming recipes, and bloody amazing, with over 3000 5* reviews – even if we do say so ourselves: click here to order
our new diet planner is out now and utterly brilliant – you can order it here – thank you to everyone so far for the positive feedback!
Tools
a microplane grater will make quick work of the garlic in this. It's probably our most favourite kitchen gadget! Get one here and never look back
Coursesdinner
Cuisinecurry
What? You want more curry and spicy ideas? Of course you do. You love having a bumhole that looks like a frightened emoji. Here we go then:
Oh goodness me, I’m out of breath using all those exclamation marks. Don’t worry, it won’t happen again. And yes, James will sulk that I used all caps.
And if you’re there, why not preorder our next cookbook? Two Chubby Cubs: Fast and Filling is due for release just after Christmas. Preorder it now and you’ll get the Amazon price guarantee, so you’ll always pay the lowest price. We’re so chuffed with this. If you bought our first one and loved it, you’ll love this one even more, I promise!
Thanks to everyone for their love and support recently, we love you all. Keep save Cubettes! See you soon.
Here for the sticky teriyaki mince? Naturally: it’s quick, it’s sweet and it it is terribly good for you. I mean, what more could you want? Of course, as it’s us, we’re going to bore you with waffle and flimflam first as is our way. So, if you are wanting the sticky teriyaki mince, just scroll down past the pictures to be taken straight there. Fair warning, it IS a long way down because boy howdy, do I have a lot to say. The sticky teriyaki mince is worth it though!
Secondly, in the antepenultimate blog entry to this one, I was chuntering on about a weekend away with my better half, Paul. You may recall him from such memories past as The Time He Was Bitten On The Head By A Horse and James, We Need To Talk 89. In my usual rash approach to using eight hundred words per sentence I’d tipped the blog entry into a 2,000 word behemoth and we’d barely climbed out of the car. So: we’re going to be succinct this time, I swear.
The morning was sent doing two further escape rooms – a Hotel Heist and a World War II themed room. They were both terrific but honestly, if I write about escape rooms anymore I think my eyes will permanently glaze over. That is, I adore doing them, but they’re bloody hard to write about without giving away spoilers. The World War II room had a worrying moment where we had a few minutes left to assemble a four piece object. Sounds easy, but you’re talking to someone who fumbles getting his knob out for an urgent piss and ends up with wet legs. I can’t cope under pressure! Luckily Paul, with a manual dexterity that betrays the fact his eyes can see into both his immediate future and distant past at once, managed to throw it together and out we sauntered.
We decided to celebrate saving the world by having lunch in a vegan place. I can’t all in all honesty say it would have been my first pick, but it was delicious. I had smashed avocado served on toast that attended a poetry circle on a weekend, washed down with tea. I’m always thrown off by the bewildering array of not-milks offered and start to panic. Oat? Rice? Almond? Soya? Hemp? Coconut? Watered down brilliant white gloss from Wickes? Pea milk? How the fuck do you milk a pea? I knew I had to decide quickly because the lady serving looked as though the effort of clicking her waitress’ pen might necessitate a lie down to regain her strength, so chose a black tea and regretted my choice immediately. I have tried with non-dairy milk, I swear I have, but it’s the look and the consistency that put me off: they all, to a fault, look like samples being sent away from a GUM clinic. Food was terrific though!
Buzzing our tits off with the introduction of fresh vitamins into our otherwise grey diet, we decided to drive onto our next stop, The Bear’s Paw hotel. How could we not? Paul hand-waved my offer of helping with putting it into the Sat Nav and off we set, with Captain Death at the wheel driving the car like the police were chasing him. We pulled up an hour or so later, Paul just glad to be getting away from me gently singing my way through every song that came up on Spotify (does he know how lucky he is to have a husband who can switch from Lady Gaga to Madonna to John Denver in a blink of an eye – sometimes I wonder) and went to check into our room.
Except, we couldn’t. We were told by the charming madam behind the bar that “we don’t do rooms, and we never have“. The never have was said with a touch too much malice for my liking, as though Paul’s Smart car was capable of time-travel and we were gonna sneak back two weeks previous and catch her out on her lies. I thanked her for her effusive, warm welcome and went back to the car. Now, as a humble, caring husband I acknowledge that people make mistakes and so resisted the urge to smile smugly at Paul and tell him how silly he had been, but by the time I had closed the passenger door that had worn off and terse words were exchanged.
The drive to the actual hotel was done in fair silence, though as this afforded me a chance to doze and only wake to clutch dramatically at the door handle as Paul careered around sharp corners on what felt like two wheels, I was happy enough. We checked to the proper Bears Paw Inn in Sandbach and it was truly lovely. My standards are low when it comes to hotels – as long as the bed is comfortable and there’s a decent number of men tramping through the corridors who look as though they could put their fist through my jaw, I sleep well. I can’t be one of those absolute knobbers on programmes like Four In A Bed who will go into a hotel room with their prissy white gloves on, start dismantling the sinktrap and then feign utter disgust that there’s a smear of toothpaste in there. In fact, I’m like the reverse of The Hotel Inspector, in that I’ll walk into a spotless room and immediately start shedding pubes all over the floor.
Faced with the prospect of having to talk to each other, we decided to drive yet further into Chester and do another two escape rooms: Legacy and Roman at Escapism. They were brilliant, especially the Legacy room which featured a load of different locks and puzzles. Unfortunately, I was up against a friend’s time and lost by minutes, but it balances out nicely because we beat his time in a room in Las Vegas. Plus, Paul and I smell significantly better. In the Roman room you are split up as you go in and have to rely on shouting at each other to relay the clues you have in your individual rooms. Not going to lie, it did give me a moment of pause when Paul yelled through the bars that he was checking his helmet for clues. I’n not saying muscle memory kicked in but I’d already got my hand-drill out and was putting a hole in the partition before I realised. Excellent room though, and the staff were just the very best.
Now, we’re tipping into long blog post territory again so I’m going to jump forward to the next day when, in a fit of whimsy, we decided to go to Liverpool because there were two things there Paul had always wanted to do: a nuclear bunker and a safari park. Me, as an obliging and kind husband and also a fan of irradiated wastelands, agreed to go to Liverpool to honour those requests.
Hack Green Bunker, then: you may know it from all the signage on the motorway advertising ‘SECRET NUCLEAR BUNKER‘, which seems like a bit of a misnomer to me, but hey, I’m not in charge. Thank fuck: I’m just clumsy and spiteful enough to set off a nuclear bomb accidentally by falling on it or lighting a cigarette off the fuse-wire. Speaking of highly explosive fat-boys with a short fuse, Paul was in his element. He adores stuff like this and can cheerfully spend an age looking at old bits of communication whilst I smile wanly and wish for death. Don’t get me wrong, I love a museum, but only if it has buttons to push and children to knock down the stairs in my haste to get to the gift-shop to buy a giant pencil. I’m doing the place a disservice in the name of a funnier blog entry, it actually was pretty decent.
One ‘interactive’ part involved going into a ‘fallout shelter’ to experience what it was like to be hiding from the bombs as they fell. Lots of flashing lights and scary noises and terrifying smells. The sign on the door explained that the simulation would loop every ten minutes and as we took a seat in the pitch black room, we realised we must have just missed it so had to sit and wait for it to start again.
And wait, we did. Twenty five minutes we sat in that inky blackness before someone must have spotted us on the infrared camera and came in to explain the exhibit was closed because they couldn’t have people sitting in close proximity to one another. Made sense, but I was furious that she had interrupted my nap. I begged Paul to go on ahead and leave me in there but he was having none of it, the poor sport. We made sure to take lots of photos that we would naturally never look at again and came to a small theatre where The War Game was playing. Fuck me: it’s hard to have an upbeat day when you’re watching someone’s skin melt off in black and white. Fallout? We almost did when Paul wanted to watch it over again. I explained that my tolerance for death and destruction had reached its peak and I think he saw from the glow in my eyes that I meant business. We went to the giftshop, bought a terrific amount of tat (no giant pencil, but a snowglobe with a burnt-out city on the bottom and the snow flying around representing fall-out – we’re saving that cheery little number for a Christmas decoration) and went on our way to Knowesley Safari Park.
Now, of course, Paul had decided that we would spend eight hours at Hack Green and therefore had booked our tickets for the safari park for 4pm, which meant spending an hour in some awful business park trying not to swear at one another and browsing the tat in B&Ms. Side question: why is everything grey and crushed diamonds all of a sudden? What’s that about: why would you want your living room to look like a side-of-the-motorway-stripper show? I ask you.
4pm rolled around, and after we had driven up to the entrance and then driven all the way back to the business park so Paul could have an emergency poop, we were in. I’ll say this: I’m not a fan of zoos and wouldn’t normally go, but if we have to have them then a safari park is probably the kindest option. Can’t say I felt especially safe though – not because the safety protocols weren’t up to scratch because they absolutely were – but because we were sat in a Smart car going through a rhino enclosure. Again, a Smart car: a car that is at genuine risk of tipping over if I get out of the passenger seat before Paul gets out. I’d have felt safer mincing through in a bikini made of Bacofoil with a side of bacon hanging out my cheeks. Nevertheless, it was all very interesting and we took some great photos which I shan’t bore you with.
Highlight of the trip was the baboon enclosure which was preceded for about half a mile by signs warning you that if you choose to drive through, they will possibly damage your car. That gets upgraded to ‘YOUR CAR WILL BE DAMAGED’ as you get closer, and then as you enter there’s a rough Scouse bird shouting ‘ROWLL YER FUCKIN’ WINDIZZ UP LAAAAA‘ as you drive over the cattle grid. Paul, naturally, ignored all of these warnings and turned to me, with that infuriating sage face he pulls when I’m just being silly, and explained that baboons aren’t likely to go for a Smart car, as though they’re sitting there perusing What Car waiting for a flash BMW to shit all over.
We were no sooner in the enclosure before the Chief Baboon came bounding over, sat on the bonnet and gave us a look that guaranteed mischief. Firstly, have you ever seen a baboon’s arse up close? I had to check Paul hadn’t got out to change the windscreen wiper fluid but no, he was right next to me shrieking. Very conscious of the fact we had a 200 mile drive home in the rain, we could ill afford any damage to the car. The baboon fixed us with a stare and immediately started wrenching away at the windscreen wipers. Of course I went full Chris Hargensen in Carrie and demanded Paul put his foot down and floor it, but Paul’s altogether more compassionate and instead threw the car speakers on. Turns out that (You Drive Me) Crazy by Britney has no effect on a hungry baboon, though he did move away from taking off the wipers and instead bent down, grabbed the washer jets and pulled them both out with his teeth. The little fucker even had the cheek to roll them around his mouth like they were Mint Imperials before spitting them into the grass. Luckily, a smug looking family in a flash BMW came in and the baboon fucked off – Paul was right!
We decided there and then that this was altogether too much drama for one day, and plus, knowing we had to get back to Newcastle without the ability to wash our bloody car windows, we had to act fast. Luckily, it was a British summer, so we had rain from leaving Liverpool to arriving back in Newcastle. Paul paid £50 to get the jets fixed and I promise I didn’t rag on him too much for his many errors.
And that, readers, was our little weekend away. I’ll say this, too: it was fantastic to get away with him and not have to worry about all the crap currently going on. We felt safe in every place we went to, everyone seemed chipper and I’ll simply never tire of paying over-the-odds for any British experience. I’d forgotten, almost, what a brilliant travel companion he is: always willing to entertain my nonsense, never complains when I litter the bottom of his car with eight hundred empty packets of crisps or when I pick fitfully at his sleeve when there’s a chance I might have to get my wallet out. The best part of this twochubbycubs show is that we’ve been able to travel to all sorts of places and have mischief, and although COVID has temporarily put a stopper on international travel, it’s reassuring to know we can still enjoy ourselves here. Even if he was wrong about:
driving in the rain
the hotel we stopped at
driving through a baboon enclosure
most of the clues in all of the escape rooms
his inability to pack for more than one weather condition
but I don’t like to cause a scene.
Right! Shall we do the sticky teriyaki mince? Of course we should. Without any more pause…
Well hello there Sticky teriyaki mince! How you doing?
For a proper quick dinner, the sticky teriyaki mince does the job!
This makes enough for two huge portions - and certainly enough mince for four.
This is another recipe inspired by one we've had from Hello Fresh recently. They aren't sponsoring us or owt, we're just normal customers, but their stuff is good! If you want to give it a try, use this link and get £20 off your first box. We'll also get £20 so you'll be sharing the love! We've adapted this one to make it more slimming and more twochubbycubs friendly. Trust us, this will become a new favourite in your house. It's sweet, it's saucy, it's tasty, it's sticky. And we know you love all of that. Give it a try!
Ingredients
500g beef mince
4 garlic cloves
2" piece of ginger
2 spring onions
zest of 1 lime
300g jasmine rice (see notes)
1 tbsp sesame seeds (2 syns)
4 tbsp soy sauce (see notes)
1 tsp sugar (see notes) (2 syns)
Instructions
bring a pan of 600ml water to the boil with a pinch of salt, and stir in the rice
reduce the heat to medium and cover with a lid, then leave to cook for ten minutes
after ten minutes, remove from the heat (still covered) and leave for another ten minutes to finish cooking. DON'T TAKE OFF THE LID!
meanwhile, peel and mince the garlic and the ginger, then thinly slice the spring onions
heat a small saucepan over a medium high heat and spray with a little oil
add the ginger and garlic to the pan and cook for 1 minute, then add the soy sauce
bring to a simmer, then stir in the sugar, and cook for 1 more minute, stirring continuously
remove from the heat and set aside, stirring occasionally
next, heat a large frying pan over a medium-high heat (no oil!) and add the sesame seeds. Gently toss for 3-4 minutes until they start to turn golden. Pour the seeds into a small bowl and place the pan back over the heat, and spray with a little oil
add the mince and cook for 4-5 minutes, stirring occasionally, until browned
pour in the soy sauce mixture along with half of the spring onions and cook for 1-2 minutes, adding a splash of water if needed
fluff the rice and stir in the lime zest
divide between bowls and top with the mince
sprinkle over the remaining spring onion and sesame seeds
eat
Notes
The dish
we're getting right into jasmine rice and we think you should too. It's like normal rice but stickier. It's lovely, try it. If you don't have any, normal rice will work just as well, including the microwave stuff.
any soy sauce will work fine here, but if you can, use the dark stuff. It's thicker and sweeter and not as salty, but the light stuff will be fine too!
don't you dare miss out that sugar, now. I mean it. It's worth it.
The books
OUR BRAND NEW COOKBOOK can be pre-ordered from Amazon right now! It's rammed with recipes which are both FAST and FILLING. We called it FAST AND FILLING. I know, we're geniuses. But it's really banging. It'll be coming out just in time for the new year! Preorder yours here!
our first slimming cookbook can be ordered online now – full of 100+ slimming recipes, and bloody amazing, with over 3000 5* reviews – even if we do say so ourselves: click here to order
our new diet planner is out now and utterly brilliant – you can order it here – thank you to everyone so far for the positive feedback!
Tools
a microplane grater will make quick work of the garlic and ginger in this. It's probably our most favourite kitchen gadget! Get one here and never look back
You have no idea how long we’ve been waiting to announce this! Following the massive (and totally unexpected) success of our first cookbook earlier in the year, we can FINALLY announce…
Our new cookbook is coming and is available to pre-order now! Even better: it is released on 31 December 2020 so this time round, we’ll be there right with you from day one of 2021!
Let me tell you a bit about this book: we’ve taken all the best parts of the last book and built on them, whilst listening to the feedback we received as to other things you may want! So:
there’s 100 more (in fact, there’s about 120 when you include all the little extra recipes!) low calorie meals – all under 500 calories this time – that don’t taste like diet food but just amazing food you want to eat
you know our food, you know it works, you know it’s tasty and we don’t use random ingredients – this is easy cooking that tastes bloody fantastic
this isn’t ‘fancy’ food but delicious recipes to serve the whole family – that was the best feedback we received from the last one, and we’ve kept that in mind
all the recipes are designed to save you time – whether they cook quickly, or are easy to batch cook, or freeze for later – they are all accompanied by a clear key showing which recipes do what
cooking times are included for each recipe (because whoops, we forgot last time!)
it is ABSOLUTELY UTTERLY GORGEOUS: you think the last book was colourful – you ain’t seen nothing yet!
all the recipes come with our usual style of writing and sass and I kid you not, arrogant it may be, we think it’s funnier than the last book
plenty of veggie recipes in there and we’ve made sure to make clear which recipes are suitable for those with allergies and intolerances
We are genuinely excited: we’ve seen the finished result and hand-on-heart, absolutely love it. It’s just so very, very us and we know if you liked the first book, you’re going to adore this one! And let us say one more thing and then you can get back to picking your bum. All of this, all our books, recipes and nonsense, would never have amounted to a hill of beans if you guys hadn’t got behind us to support what we do. Your support means the world to us – always has and always will – and I hope you trust us that we will give you the absolute very best book we can possibly can. To every single person who bought our last book and planner, to those who share our recipes, who read our blog, to those who whisper our names in Slimming World circles: the biggest, most heartfelt thank you you can ever imagine. Without you lot, we’d be nothing, and this is us giving back the only way we can without breaking up your marriages.
Afternoon all! Here for the sticky bacon meatballs? That’s fine, I can see from the spittle around your mouth that you’re ready for your dinner, but I must apologise: today’s blog entry is a long travel story and you might be here a while. Now, back in the day of the longer entries – when we were able to travel to new and exciting places – we used to provide you the courtesy of a button that would take you straight to the recipe so you could skip all those tricksy things like words. But I’m lazy and we have a lot of writing to get through before we get to the sticky bacon meatballs in their fancy redcurrant and onion gravy, so for this occasion, just scroll until you see the food. So, before we do the sticky bacon meatballs, here’s some words and all that.
OH! Actually: before I do that. If you’re not following us on Instagram or Facebook, make sure you dig us out – search for @twochubbycubs on Instagram or Facebook. We have some big news coming next week!
So: Paul and I haven’t had a break in months, and we were forever jetting away on budget airlines such as easyJet and NevaCrash and Ryanair, and it’s been awful not being able to do so. I’ve become so accustomed to ratching about Europe that I’ve started counting at least two of the airport security staff as fuckbuddies, given they’ve pawed at my genitals with their shovel-hands so often. They’re after my very own sticky bacon meatballs. However, coronavirus has put paid to random travelling and as much as I do live for danger sometimes, I don’t fancy heaving my lungs up through my mouth because of a short flight to Krakow. So, for now, Europe is out. We’re told by that walking blonde wheelie-bin in charge to holiday in the UK and to make the most of summer and that’s all well and good as long as you’re happy paying £18,050 for a weekend in Rhyl (rising to £20,000 if you stop for a service station sandwich on the way), but we’re not. What to do? In the end, my hands were tied by Paul coming home early and casually mentioning that he had the rest of the week off. With the terrifying thought of having to look at his haunted face staring at Judge Judy re-runs for a solid three days, I nipped onto Google, booked a couple of things, threw eighteen changes of clothes for me and the same selection of bus-driver shirts he always wears into a suitcase, and we were away.
First stop: a drive to Kanyu Escape rooms in York. Regular readers will know that I am not a gracious passenger and would therefore normally hire a car or take mine rather than let Captain Death and his Fisher Price car drive us anywhere, but my driving licence is with The Powers That Be because I was caught speeding. I know, I’m a horror. In my defence, I was too busy texting mates and trying not to drop my can of Monster to notice the speedometer shrieking. In my further defence, that’s a joke – I was just over the limit and hold my hands up about it: eight years I’ve been driving and that was my first genuine error. So it was that we had to take Paul’s Smart car and I could do no driving on this little break. I’ll say it now: it nearly killed me.
To give you an example of how fractious things get when Paul drives and I drive from the passenger seat – about a week or so before he was driving us to ASDA and I ever so politely asked him to slow it down a shade as light was beginning to warp around the bonnet. He took such umbrage that he did a full emergency stop (in a Smart car, that’s just opening the petrol cap and sticking your hand out of the window) and told me in no uncertain terms that if I criticised his driving ability one more time I’d be walking home. Me, full of spite and knowing there was a cruising ground about half a mile down the road, got out and started walking.
I was out for an hour before I had to text him to pick me up because I was cold – and he was equally as contrite because turns out I had his wallet and he didn’t have enough fuel to get home or money to pay for more. Don’t worry, we laugh about it now as it enters the ‘endlessly mentioned in heated arguments’ rota.
So yes: I’m not a good passenger. Paul isn’t a good driver, given he tends to drive like he’s stolen the car and will come out with reassuring little things like ‘I wish my eyes pointed in the same direction’ and ‘I should probably wear my glasses’ and ‘I don’t need to indicate on this roundabout’, and as such it’s always a heated combination. But I’ll say this: despite the weather being absolutely horrendous, he got us there with minutes to spare and only three of my fingernails embedded in the passenger door handle. A quick primer on escape rooms for those that don’t know: you’re locked in a sealed room and through the process of solving puzzles and riddles, have to escape. We’re huge fans and have been doing them for years, though it’s been a while (thanks COVID) since I did one with my husband. Kanyu Escape is in a curious location on the centre of a roundabout and I was alarmed/excited to see an ambulance on standby outside. I’m always ready for some gas, air and scenes of mild peril, after all.
The chap who met us was brilliant: slightly eccentric and very accommodating and we were in the room in no time. If you have concerns about doing escape rooms in this time of peril, don’t: the good rooms take your temperature on arrival, disinfect the room fully after you leave and make sure there’s sanitiser everywhere. I’m a slight hypochondriac and I felt absolutely safe at all the venues we ended up. The room was based on discovering a new source of electricity and was themed around an old secret laboratory and we absolutely loved it. Some escape rooms are franchises and can feel rather rote in what they offer: you can start undoing a lot of the familiar puzzles straight away. Not this one, he’d designed it himself and though it looked a tad rough and ready, it was terrific. All too often these rooms give you too much help or make the puzzles simple enough for everyone to do, but this one was taxing and we felt like we’d actually accomplished something at the end.
That said, those bank-vault locks where you have to spin the correct number, then spin another number, and then another, all the while making sure you turn the right amount and in the right direction? They can fuck right off. I have enough trouble trying to get my eyes to blink in unison, nevermind something as complicated as that. We lost a bit of time, but still escaped with moments to spare. We’ll be going back to do his other rooms, one of which is an outdoors escape room which I love the sound of. Though I confess, it will be a novelty to be tramping around in the woods and for me not to be pulling my knickers off. I do hope muscle memory doesn’t kick in.
Paul drove us down into Leeds entirely without incident and we stayed over at a Premier Inn next to a TGI Fridays, which as salubrious locations go is up there with having your dinner next to a GUM clinic. I don’t like TGI Fridays: we had a good meal there once and have forever been chasing that high since. I don’t get the appeal: it’s like someone did a trolley dash around Iceland, microwaved everything for one minute less than the instructions suggest and then serve it to you with a forced smile that suggests they’ve got a gun held to the back of their heads. That gun may be smothered in BBQ sauce though, because everything is at TGIs. Anyway, we weren’t going to eat there so it’s all irrelevant, I just wanted a dig. We checked in, with Paul reminded once again of my ability to talk to literally everyone I meet: I spent ten minutes chatting to the chap behind the counter whilst Paul danced in the doorway out of sight trying to communicate to me that he needed to get to the room immediately for a gentleman’s sit-down adventure. Classic. I spotted his anguished movements and wrapped up my conversation over a leisurely few more minutes, and Paul made it with moments to spare.
The room was comfortable as ever, though I was reminded of one thing: when you sleep with Paul you wake in a room entirely disorientated and unsure of where you are for a good few minutes until you realise he’s taken the duvet out out of the cover, polluted the air to such a degree that it’s almost edible and has star-fished his way across the bed. At home I’m used to such chicanery but throw in unfamiliar surroundings and it really can take a while before the fog clears.
Waking the next day refreshed and full of pep, we chose not to bother with the Premier Inn breakfast and instead wander into Leeds to pick breakfast up before our next escape room. A quick bagel with salad and a frank discussion on where things had all gone wrong in our breakfast choices and we were off to the next escape room – but first, spotted! It doesn’t happen an awful lot but you can always tell when someone recognises us because they look, try and work out whether we are the cubs off the Internet and whether they should say hello. Normally by the time they’ve decided to go for it, I’ve got my phone to my ear to pretend I’m on a call or I’ve pushed Paul in front of a bus to cause a distraction but I wasn’t quick enough this time. Mind, she was lovely, although because I’m mean I answered ‘are you the guys with the food blog‘ with ‘absolutely not‘ and pretended to walk on, before apologising profusely. I can’t resist it. We’d have people spotting us twice more that day and please, if you see us, do come say hello. You can delight in how incredibly socially awkward we are.
Now, look at the time. I’ve waffled on as is my way, and here we find ourselves 2000 words in and barely out of the door. So on that note, I’ll revisit this in the next entry. To the sticky bacon meatballs!
Sticky bacon meatballs served with cheesy mash and broccoli.
I mean, as sticky bacon meatballs go, they’re lovely!
Syn wise, these sticky bacon meatballs clock in at a shade over 2 syns per portion, but I can't be buggered with the quarter syns. The gravy is delicious and worth digging out the redcurrant jelly, but don't shit the bed if you can't find it.
Just a note on this recipe: whilst Chubby Towers is out of action and our kitchen is a no-no, we are using Hello Fresh for our meals and have been doing so for the last six weeks or so. We are not paid to promote them or anything like that, and we have taken this recipe and adjusted it slightly for Slimming World.
That said, honest review time (again, we aren't being paid to promote): we bloody love Hello Fresh. We haven't had a bad meal yet and the lack of food waste is brilliant for us. We only have a tiny kitchen to cook in at the moment and absolutely make do. They're not the cheapest, but we're fans. They do a 'Low Calorie' plan which is spot on if you're counting and we've found it works well with SW. But anyway, no matter what you're after we're sure you'll love it. If you use our referral link you'll get £20 off too!
Ingredients
900g potatoes
1 tbsp mixed herbs
30g panko (5 syns) (optional but worth it)
250g lean pork mince
250g lean beef mince
1 red onion
60g reduced-fat cheddar, grated (use your healthy extra)
120g bacon medallions
250ml vegetable stock
400g broccoli florets
2 tbsp redcurrant jelly (see notes) (4 syns)
Instructions
preheat the oven to 200 degrees
bring a large saucepan of water to the boil over a high heat, and add 1 tsp salt
dice the potatoes into 2cm chunks, and plop into the water. Bring back to the boil, then reduce to a simmer and cook for 15-20 minutes
halve any large broccoli florets and spread out onto a baking sheet, spraying with a little oil
roast the broccoli in the oven for 15-20 minutes
put the mixed herbs, panko and 2 tbsp of water into a mixing bowl and mix with a spoon
add the beef and the pork mince to the bowl and mix well
divide and roll the mixture into twenty balls and set aside
place a large non-stick frying pan over a medium-high heat and spray with a little oil
add the meatballs to the pan and cook until browned all over, about 6-7 minutes, turning occasionally
meanwhile, halve and thinly slice the red onion, and dice the medallions into small pieces
gently remove the meatballs from the pan to a plate and set aside
add the onion and bacon to the same pan and cook for 3-4 minutes, stirring frequently
add the meatballs back onto the pan and pour over the vegetable stock
reduce the heat to low and cover the pan with a lid, and cook for 7-8 minutes
meanwhile, drain the potatoes and mash with the grated cheese, and season with salt and pepper
once the meatballs have finished cooking, remove the lid and increase the heat to medium-high again
gently stir in the jelly until the mixture is thickened and glossy
serve the broccoli and mash, and spoon over the meatballs and gravy
Notes
The dish
can't find/can't be arsed to find redcurrant jelly? We've used cranberry sauce instead and couldn't tell the difference, just use that! If you're really stuck just leave it out
consider the panko optional but it's definitely worth it. Lean mince can sometimes make meatballs dry. Panko helps to retain some moisture, but also add a 'crunchy' texture. You'll find panko in the 'world food' aisles of most supermarkets
The books
our slimming cookbook can be ordered online now – full of 100+ slimming recipes, and bloody amazing, with over 3000 5* reviews – even if we do say so ourselves: click here to order
our new diet planner is out now and utterly brilliant – you can order it here – thank you to everyone so far for the positive feedback!
Crunchy munchy wraps. Listen, cut me some slack, I can’t think of a better name (and if I’m entirely honest, I’m sure I’ve used that name before somewhere and it’s bugging me enough to make my forehead furrows appear but not enough for me to get off my fat arse and check) and avocado smash wraps makes us sound like dicks. Regular readers will know that we’re fans of the avocado here – despite Slimming World’s nonsense approach – but even I’m sick of seeing it on menus now). Mind, it’s not as bad as people pretending a portobello mushroom is a sound swap for a burger bun or, worse, sliced cauliflower is a substitute for a steak. In what world is that acceptable? I’d sooner eat the stuffing out of my writing chair, and I know how toxic my south-mouth can be.
Perhaps I’m just feeling a bit curmudgeonly because of the heat, though. Perhaps I ought to do some deep breathing and calm down. But see, summer means that when I breathe deeply, I’m rewarded with lungfuls of flower ejaculate that immediately sets about clagging up my nostrils and making my eyes itchy. I also burn ridiculously easily so, although I do currently have a nice golden tan (almost like I’ve been standing next to a wood fire), I know that if I misjudge it my skin will rebel, turn shiny pink and send me scuttling inside to hide in the shadows again. At least with wind and rain you know where you are – pop a coat on if it’s wet, extra layer if it’s cold: not like I can just take my tits off to go outside when it’s sweltering. I genuinely hate summer. Remember in the Teletubbies when they’d wake up and the sun would come out to play, with a creepy baby in the middle gurgling away? That’s my life, only the sun is a drunken Nicki French shouting obscenities at me and calling me fat. Raging, hun.
And I think, if I may, that because I always have the low level irritant of being:
too hot to function without a shiny patina forming on my forehead; and
achingly conscious of the fact that now I’m always in a t-shirt, every time I sit down it’ll ride up and show my arse-crack to the world
that every other little annoyance that may have once glanced over me really hits home.
Even polite gestures are vexing me. We’re still in Chubby Towers Adjacent and there honestly hasn’t been another guest in this hotel who hasn’t been a delight to talk to. One thing I’ve come to realise is that people who smoke are far more interesting than their counterparts (aye, but you non-smokers always have the edge when it comes to blowing up party balloons) given some of the wonderful conversations I’ve been having outside with all and sundry whilst we work on our COPD. Everyone has a story to tell and I’m proper enjoying listening. Didn’t know I could! But what this does mean is that there’s many a time when they’ll do something lovely like holding the lift door open, meaning I have to then waddle-jog over and politely refuse because of the one-household-rule. This then creates that awkward ten seconds where you’re waiting for the lift door to shut so they disappear and you can press the button, and doesn’t that ten seconds feel like a lifetime, having to alternately stare at your shoes, smile wanly at them and going ‘oh ho ho, I’ll get the next one’. Yes, here at this hotel, I cosplay as Santa.
Linked to my mention of hayfever earlier, whilst we’re here, can we have a permanent abeyance on people saying ‘bless you’ after each sneeze? Once is fine – I mean, I can do without it full-stop because I’m fairly confident my sniffles is pollen related and not the fucking plague – but you do you. This wouldn’t ordinarily be so bad save for the fact that when I get going, I’ll sneeze a good six or seven times, which then leads to the person invariably clicking on that they’re going to be there a while and thus ought to go full ham. Bless you! BLESS YOU! BLESS YOU HAHA. BLESS YOU. OOOH DO YOU RECKON YOU COULD DO A FEW MORE BLESS YOU. BLESS YOU. OOOH ONEMOREANDYOU’LLORGASMBLESS YOOOU.
I know you mean well but I’ve had that schtick all my life. Next time it happens I’m going to pull an almighty cum-face and pop a mayonnaise sachet in my pocket. Just one bless you and be gone, thot.
Anyway, that’s quite enough misery. We’ve got something wonderful in the form of these wraps – they’re just something we threw together a few weeks ago for tea to use up all the shite in our cupboard. As ever with our recipes and doubly so with these wraps – fill them with whatever you like. And that’s that. To the crunchy munchy wraps.
Stuff the crunchy munchy wraps how you like. Stuff them with lettuce, herbs, onion, or stuff them up your arse. Either or.
This makes enough for four wraps, or eight halves. Obviously. Lovely and summery these.
Up to you if you syn avocado - Slimming World syn it as something ridiculous and if you're following the plan, you ought to do the same. However, if you're like us, you won't syn it at all and then these are syn free...
Ingredients
one large avocado (14 syns) (hmmm)
a big packet of wafer thin turkey
a selection of small peppers chopped into strips
one small can of chickpeas, drained
pinch of curry powder
juice of one lime
a tablespoon or two of yoghurt
whatever wraps you're allowed
Instructions
mash the avocado with a good pinch of salt and the lime juice
mash your chickpeas with the yoghurt and curry powder
layer your wrap - chickpeas on the bottom, peppers, wafer thin turkey and then avocado
wrap up and eat
Notes
The dish
swap out the turkey for ham and add cheese
we tend not to toast our wraps because we're too fat to wait to eat, but these done in a griddle pan would be superb
roll these up and wrap in tin foil - they're good for lunch if made in the morning
The books
our slimming cookbook can be ordered online now – full of 100+ slimming recipes, and bloody amazing, with over 2400 5* reviews – even if we do say so ourselves: click here to order
our new diet planner is out now and utterly brilliant – you can order it here – thank you to everyone so far for the positive feedback!
Bacon and tomato rigatoni – it’s a quick meal to throw together with the added bonus of some aubergine in there so you can ‘get your speed’ and all that pap. Full confession: this is inspired by a Hello Fresh meal we had. We’re trying out Hello Fresh whilst we’re stuck at Chubby Towers Adjacent because there’s not much of a kitchen here and it was getting to the point where we were on first name terms with the entire roster of the Just Eat delivery drivers. It sounds amazing eating takeaway every day but once Paul’s lips had turned blue from the effort of shaking the drips off after a piss, we needed to change. We aren’t being paid by Hello Fresh – indeed, somehow, Paul managed to be the only person in the entire world to pay full price for his first box – but we will keep you informed as to how we go. So far, so good! Don’t you fret, though, the meals on here will always be Slimming World friendly, and this bacon and tomato rigatoni is a good example of that! Take a look:
Oh, and this bacon and tomato rigatoni is excellent for lunches!
Anyway. How are you all coping with the kids being at home during these difficult times? Because, frankly, it must be bloody awful for you. I have made no secret on here that I am terrible with children. They can’t tell good jokes, they’re rubbish at fetching things and they command your attention all the time. I’ve already got myself for that. Babies get angry and poo all the time (and seem destined to get troubling maladies like cradle cap – a friend of mine had a baby recently and I genuinely thought she had popped out a giant rice crispie), toddlers bump into things and shout, children need clothes and feeding and teenagers – from my own experience – are whirlwinds of emotions and Lynx Africa. Nope.
The reason I mention children is that I overheard an absolute belter this morning. A very prim and proper looking family (you know the type surely, Dad will be an accountant in a failing regional firm, mum will spend her evening writing lengthy diatribes about perceived supermarket injustices on Mumsnet) were in front of me when I went to collect breakfast. There was ever so much noise as you’d expect with two children in tow, with the youngest shouting Mummy over and over again and being largely ignored save by me who tutted and made a show of turning up the volume on my earbuds*. This went on for at least five hateful minutes before he shouted MUUUUUUMMY one last time and then loudly declared that he ‘needed a big shit’. Well: they are looked mortified and I had to feign a good old corona-cough into my elbow to mask my laughter. If I had a child, that’s the kind of kid I want.
* nothing makes me feel older and in the way than trying to change songs on my Samsung Earbuds. You have to tap three times to move back a song, and double tap to move forward. I just can’t get the hang of the tapping, and as a result I’m left walking down the street swearing furiously to myself whilst tap-tap-tapping at my ears like a fucking woodpecker. Honestly, I long for the days of my JAMP3 player where I had to agonise over which twelve Limp Bizkit songs to put on it and then cut about town holding what looked like a radon detector in my hands.
Children is something that will never happen, though. Can you imagine the resulting mess that would come about from Paul and I blurting into a test-tube together and getting it fertilised? If we were lucky we’d end up with a child who inherited my humour and height together with Paul’s fabulous eyebrows and exhaustive intellect but readers, we’re not lucky. The little bugger would get my “designed by Frank Gehry” nose, Paul’s pig-trotter feet, my total irrationality and some bizarre combination of the very worst of all our features. In short, our child would look like a badly-faxed photo of Ann Widdecombe, and that’s something this world doesn’t need.
I’ll concede on one aspect of having children around that I would like: taking them to magical places like Disney. I bet that’s an amazing feeling seeing their faces light up with joy and wonder. But see, that feeling would soon sour when we left them in the car with the window down whilst we went shrieking round the teacups. It’s just too much responsibility for a man for whom keeping a basil plant alive for two weeks is his crowning achievement in fatherhood.
Luckily, I have a nephew who I can deign to visit on occasion, and he’s really not bad for a mewling bespectacled hellion, though I’m reminded that I made the correct life choices within four minutes of being in his presence. If children came with an off button I’d be far more inclined to consider one, but the endless volume is really too much for my old ears.
Anyway. That’s quite enough chatter for now. Shall we get to the bacon and tomato rigatoni? We ought to: it’s really very good.
If you’re not a fan of bacon in the bacon and tomato rigatoni, swap it out for chorizo!
You can all sorts of vegetables into the bacon and tomato rigatoni, but this works jut fine as it is for Slimming World.
We seem to have hit a bit of a run with pasta recipes here at twochubbycubs but I shan't apologise for it. No no. See, quick meals you can throw together with whatever shite you have in the fridge is our raison d'être and frankly, this bacon and tomato rigatoni is very much one of those. We have, of course, tweaked it slightly for Slimming World. But damn does it taste good!
Ingredients
2 aubergines
1 medium onion
2 garlic cloves
300g plum tomatoes, halved
80g reduced fat feta cheese, crumbled (use your HEA!)
400g dried rigatoni
120g bacon medallions, diced
400g tin chopped tomatoes
1/2 tsp dried crushed chillis
Instructions
first, preheat your grill to high and bring a large pan of salted water to the boil
as those are heating up, halve your aubergines lengthways, then slice slice each half into centimetre long strips, then slice the other way for cute little 1cm cubes
spread the aubergine cubes out onto a baking sheet into a single layer and spray with a little oil, and sprinkle with a little bit of salt
place under the grill and cook for about 10 minutes, then turn and cook for another ten minutes
as that's going on, cook the pasta according to the instructions
meanwhile, spray a large frying pan with a bit of oil and place over a high heat
add the bacon and cook for 5-6 minutes, until crispy
reduce the heat to medium high and add the onion, and cook until soft (about 4 minutes, stirring frequently)
add the garlic and the chilli flakes to the pan, stir, and cook for another minute
add the tin of chopped tomatoes and stir
reduce the heat to medium and simmer for about 8 minutes, stirring occasionally
once the aubergine is cooked, stir it into the pasta sauce
meanwhile, place the cherry tomatoes onto the same tray you used for the aubergine, spray with a bit of oil, and crumble over the feta. Pop under the grill for 4-5 minutes
when the pasta is cooked, drain and add to the tomato sauce with the grilled plum tomatoes, and stir
serve to gasps of amazement
Notes
The dish
diced aubergine really helps to pad this out and make it go further, and tastes bloody lovely
you can swap out the bacon for chorizo if you like
The books
our slimming cookbook can be ordered online now – full of 100+ slimming recipes, and bloody amazing, with over 2400 5* reviews – even if we do say so ourselves: click here to order
our new diet planner is out now and utterly brilliant – you can order it here – thank you to everyone so far for the positive feedback!
Tools
nothing fancy needed for this recipe, but if you need some new lunchboxes for work, the SISTEMA ones we use are currently on sale at time of writing - click here!
Coursesdinner
Cuisinepasta
Tasty stuff! Once you’ve had your fill of syn free bacon and tomato rigatoni, why not spin the wheel on our other pasta dishes? Here’s links to ten syn-free dishes!
