Hoops

2016...it hasn't really been the best of years so far, has it? Two-thirds of the way through and already I'm not looking forward to the "Year in Review" articles in the papers and news bulletins when December draws to a close. Terrorist attacks, mass shootings, Brexit and its aftermath, the inexplicable rise of Trump... If he makes it into the White House I think it will may be the worst year ever. Possibly.

On top of all that, it feels this year as if we have lost an inproportionate number of well-known faces from the entertainment world: Victoria Wood (as mentioned in a previous post), Prince, Alan Rickman, David Bowie, the legend of the airwaves that was Terry Wogan, and only this week the unforgettable Gene Wilder. One star whose passing fell more or less under the radar at the end of June, probably due to the blanket coverage of Brexit in the news at the time, was the writer and actress Caroline Aherne, at the age of just 52. 

Caroline rose to fame in the 90s through her appearances in sketches in The Fast Show - most memorably as the supermarket checkout girl who loves to comment on people's shopping, and the Spanish weather presenter for whom the sun is always shining and it's always "Scorchio!". Equally brilliant was her wonderfully tongue-in-cheek turn as a septuagenarian chat-show host in The Mrs Merton Show, who never shied away from firing the questions we all wanted asked to her celebrity guests - "So, Debbie McGee, what first attracted you to the millionaire Paul Daniels?"


Her greatest creation though was undoubtedly The Royle Family, a hyper-realistic look into the life of a family living in a Manchester council house. Set almost entirely in their living room, the family spend most of their time sat talking while watching the television, just like those of us watching them, and no doubt most of the rest of the country too. At a time when audiences were still used to plot-driven sitcoms with a laughter track, this was something very different indeed - the humour is incredibly subtle rather than trying to be laugh-out-loud funny, with the little action that does occur taking place largely in real time. Through this closely observational style of writing, examining the day-to-day mundanity of life, we learned a huge amount about the family,  growing to know and love them despite all their faults.

The title for laziest member of the family was a tough call between Jim, the swearing, farting, string-vest-wearing father of the family, and Denise, his daughter, played by Caroline. She appeared to show little desire to do with anything involving housework, or playing a hands-on role when it came to bringing up her own son, and her skills in the kitchen were particularly limited. One of my favourite exchanges from one of the earlier episodes, which I immediately thought of when I heard the news was this one between Denise and her mother, Barbara:

"What did you have for your tea, Denise?"
"Spaghetti."
"Oooh, bolognese?"
"No, hoops."

Having had a tin of spaghetti hoops in my cupboard for a while, I could think of no better opportunity therefore to crack it open in tribute to the creator of this wonderful programme.

To be fair though I probably needed to use it anyway - as you can see, it was more than little bit dented. Quite what happened to it to cause such a dent I can only guess - dropped from a great height, perhaps? It had subsequently been reduced from 50p to 25p, which doesn't really seem that generous given the state it was in.

Of course I could have just heated up the contents of the tin as Denise Royle would have done (if she'd bothered heating it at all, that is). I decided however that I would turn to some recipes instead - from a book written with people in mind who possess a similarly limited a range of culinary skills. This was another book I had found on eBay - A Man, A Can, A Plan. Published by lifestyle magazine Men's Health, it promises "50 Great Guy Meals even YOU can make", all of which involve at least one tinned product. Amusingly, it is printed on thick board rather than paper, giving it the air of a children's book rather than cookbook aimed at adults.

That said, the introduction to the book is written very much in the laddish, somewhat misogynistic style you might expect of a mens' magazine:

"We've been charring giant slabs of meat ever since we discovered fire. The difference now is that we have better things to do. Why slave over a hot stove when we could be cooking up plans for a golf outing? Or warming up at the gym? Or making things sizzle in the bedroom?"

It does include some sentiments which, as a tin cannoisseur, I wholeheartedly agree with:

"Sometimes you want a decent homecooked meal. Not worth it, you say? It is if you use the can. The can is fast. The can is healthy....The can holds the secret to every great guy meal."

But also a few assertions which I am a little dubious of:

"This food does everything from prevent heart disease and prostate cancer to boost your immune system and energy levels. And it tastes damn fine, too."

The author concludes by saying that "you don't need a culinary degree" to make the recipes - "just a can opener and an appetite" - but the recipe instructions that follow seem to be written with those in mind who have little interest in cooking, let alone any actual proficiency :

"Slop an equal amount of the mixture onto the tortillas"

"Dump into a microwaveable bowl. Nuke on high for 1 minute"

"Manhandle the bag of corn chips to crush 'em all up"

I particularly enjoyed the recipe for "Drunken Corn", which requires mixing a tin of sweetcorn, half a can of beer, heating it up "while drinking the other half of the beer" and then stirring in some butter. Worth a try some time, perhaps.

The book includes several recipes using Spaghetti-O's, which, made by the Campbell's company, are pretty much the US equivalent of my tin of hoops. While originally marketed to parents as being less messy than long spaghetti, Spaghetti-O's had a long running advertising campaign in which things would go wrong while children were eating them - someone walking away from the dinner table with the tablecloth tucked into their shirt like a napkin, for example, taking all the plates with them - with the tagline "Uh-Oh, Spaghetti-O's!" I like to think that whoever it was who dropped and dented my tin of hoops might have exclaimed that at the time too. Or maybe "Spaghetti - oops!" instead. But they probably didn't.

Anyway - I decided to go for the recipe entitled "Eggs 'n' O's", essentially an omelette with the spaghetti added in to the mix. What could possibly go wrong?

"Preheat the broiler. In a bowl, beat together the eggs, cheese, milk and garlic powder. Dump in the SpaghettiOs and pour into a non-stick skillet."

 

  

"Cook over a medium heat until the egg mixture is almost firm. Run under the broiler for 5 minutes."

"Allow to set for 5 minutes, then cut into wedges."

...and that's where things came a little unstuck. Well, it was me who came unstuck. The "Eggs n O's" sadly didn't:

So I ended up with something that looked more like scrambled eggs than an omelette. The book's tagline of "50 Great Guy Meals even YOU can make" clearly wasn't being said to me. "Uh-oh, Spaghetti-O's!", on the other hand, felt like it was. Maybe it's time for a new non-stick pan.

Sadface

Still, all was not lost - add some asparagus on the side and a garnish of parsley, and anyone would think that's how it's supposed to look.

And taste-wise, it wasn't bad at all. While it looked like scrambled egg, it tasted a bit like a cheesy-tomatoey quiche without the crust. But with spaghetti hoops in it. Even turned out neatly from the pan and cut into wedges, it probably wouldn't be the sort of dish to try to to 'wow' people with if they come over for dinner, but as a quick fix for a weeknight snack you could do a lot worse.

I had only used half the tin for the recipe, but rather than trying another one from the book, I decided to do my own thing with the leftovers the next day. I'd had a bit of a hankering for pizza all week, but was only really in need of something small that evening. So I made a kind of approximation of a pizza, continuing the hoops theme by taking a bagel - the most ring-like of breads - splitting it in half, spreading some of the tomato sauce on it and then adding the remaining spaghetti and some feta, which was the only cheese I had left in the fridge. At the risk of sounding like a recipe from the book, this was then 'whacked in the oven' to heat through and reduce the sauce down to a thicker, more pizza-topping-style paste. Some sliced black olives would have been good if I'd had them, as they would have been hoop-shaped too. Or some tinned pineapple rings, for a Hawaiian flavour.

 

Again, it made for a very quick, easy and tasty enough meal - though I suspect Denise Royle would probably still favour just ordering in a pizza and eating it in front of the telly. Not sure I blame her - pasta on a pizza probably isn't ever really going to take off. But  it would at least be a good choice for indecisive people when they eat at Italian restaurants.