Image Credit: The Guardian

My sole contribution to cooking in this house is eating the results. Yet this Christmas we’re having no fewer that 12 people round to dinner, and I’m somehow expected to morph into a Sous-chef under Craigy. To make matters worse, Craig and I have a sort of unwritten rule never to work together in any way whatsoever. In fact, part of what makes our relationship so strong is the fact we have so little do with each other!

So we’ve come to a sort of uneasy agreement where I’ll crack on with the vegetables, and he’ll bast, stuff, massage and whatever else you do to a turkey to make it edible, and make his world’s famous pigs in blankets. Little does he know, I plan on doing most of my cooking using our shiny new microwave oven.

Yep, unbeknown to Craig, I’ve made friends with the microwave. I know how to turn him on, pause him mid-flow, and get him to produce something vaguely attractive. I’ve also been secretly road-testing Aunt Bessie’s finest and hiding the evidence in our second freezer in the garage. Whilst I wouldn’t dare serve any of my dishes to the fastidious panel on MasterChef, I think I can fool my family that they’re more of a labour-a-love than they actually are.

Without further ado, here’s how to spend more time playing with Mega Blox, and less time sweating over parsnips on Christmas Day!

Potatoes & parsnips

My dad has advised me to peel and parboil these the night before, bung them in the fridge submerged them in water, and simply shove these on a roasting tray the next day. Sounds simple enough, but I actually had to Google parboil.

Nope, I’ll be making a secret trip to the garage and getting out the frozen roasties. I’ll then tactically call Craig to the lounge to do a round of bum changes, and secretly deposit them into the oven with a sprinkle of rosemary and chopped onion to disguise their plastic bag provenance. Sshhh - don’t tell anyone!

Sprouts, carrots & other veg

If I had it my way, I’d buy one of those colourful bags from a Tesco freezer chest and pass the work off as my own, but I figure this won’t be Christmassy enough to fool my guests.

Having consulted with the goddess that is Delia and read a good few online “Cheat’s Guides”, the consensus seems to be that the smart chef will whack as many vegetables in together as her boiling pan will allow to save faffing about. So I’m doing what any clever mum would do and recruiting my nearly-three-year-old to help prepare them. The idea is, that if they look rubbish, are incorrectly peeled or chopped, everyone will still coo over them given Dexter had a hand in it - genius.

Trimmings

I’ve found a cool artisan supplier online to lovingly prepare my cranberry sauce - this looks nice and chunky and suitably homemade. I’ll pop this in a dish and dump the evidence in the recycle bin the night before so Craig is none-the-wiser.

The one thing I am prepared to make, is the brandy butter - purely because it’s a fabulous excuse to buy rum and brandy and get suitably squiffy before the yawn-fest that is Her Majesty’s speech. I’ll mix in a couple of glugs to crème fraîche and icing sugar then bung it in a dish for serving. Simple enough.

Laying the Table

As if I’m doing this! You mean to tell me we have 8 guests to dinner and they sit on their butts making towers with my children all afternoon? Nope, I’ll run on the sport for 30 seconds to work up a sweat & smear a bit of ketchup on my apron (so I look a bit worn out and panicked) then dump everything on the table an hour before dinner and ask them to prettify it. Job done.

That’s it! My contribution to a Christmas feast over in less than 15 minutes! Do you have any other cheats for the world’s laziest chef? Leave them below and I’ll give them a go!