Sunday roast

I am very fortunate to have an English friend in Copenhagen who can cook a good Sunday roast. Yesterday, whilst I marvelled at the sight of a succulent leg of lamb being carved and served to six greedy eyes, I realised that plus-or-minus the mint sauce, it had been literally years since I had experienced this.

I suppose our impatient cooking habits and our obsession with convenience means that people rarely delve into the kitchen for longer than a stir-fry. I’m told its only a matter of timing, but perhaps that is the trouble afterall, that premeditation and diligence is required to keep things running smoothly.

Fortunately nostalgia calls, especially for a dedicated Briton. If living abroad, the Sunday roast along with an English breakfast and a cup of tea are among the things that would be most missed, according to one survey of Brit’s.

Even in Commonwealth countries such as New Zealand where I come from, the hearty roast and yorkshire pudding still prevails, along with a few homegrown variations on the side. The heat of summer is no deterrant either, New Zealander’s still lavish in heavy rich Christmas puddings to celebrate the festive season, despite an impending heat wave.

Has anyone seen the cranberry sauce?

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