Batchelors Mushy Peas

...mushy peas nice, but somehow Batchelors have done it. They're a lovely radioactive bright green colour (which is largely, in fairness, due to green food colouring. I wouldn't let this worry you, though. A cocktail of chemical additives is almost always good for you) and they taste like a slightly more savoury version of garden peas. The texture is totally different to fresh or dried peas: a lot smoother and less grainy. They're most often served ...
...dinners (I shall thoughtfully include a recipe for the best damn sandwich in the world at the end). If you will insist on cooking things before you eat them you can do it on the hob or in the microwave (best to take them out of the tin for this though. You think people are just being over-cautious when they warn you that microwaves will burst into flames if you put metal in them; turns out the doom-mongers occasionally know what they're talking about).
more

A lot of my truly passionate dislikes were developed in childhood, and most of them I've carefully nurtured right through to adulthood. Some were irrational. For example, I love Sesame Street, but hate Big Bird. He besmirches the good name of all things puppety. You'd spend many happy hours singing the alphabet, or doing a bit of Eastern European accented counting with The Count, only to have Big Bird arrive, unbidden, and say stupid things in an irritating voice. Occasionally I wish that all the other characters would gang up and bludgeon him to death. It'd be somewhat out of keeping with the overall tone of the show, granted, but no-one'd miss him. And, well, all children need to learn about pointless and sickening violence towards birds, don't they? (now, Ciaosters who tend to take yourselves a bit too seriously, that was a joke. I'm not advocating that you should beat birds up. Except magpies. They deserve a bit of a kicking) Whilst I'm thinking about it some of my other pointless hatreds, in no particular order, are: clowns, people who pronounce the word 'safety' so that it has 3 syllables, porcelain dolls, Songs of Praise, chocolate flavoured things and the music of James Last.

None of this is in any way related to the matter at hand, by the way. Don't worry that you'd missed a vital step in my reasoning. It's just that it's always healthy to indulge in random vitriolic outbursts, isn't it?

Anyway, back to stuff I hate. As a child my gran had a vat of vegetable soup on the go pretty much constantly. In fact, I don't think the pot ever left the stove to be washed. She just monitored the levels with beady eyes, occasionally throwing in a bit of carrot or a pint of stock whilst simultaneously maintaining an eerie ability to predict when a six year old would attempt to steal a biscuit:

"I'm going to hang the washing out now, Fiona. Both God and I have counted how many biscuits there are and neither of us will forgive you if there's one fewer when I come back."

Despite doubtlessly teeming with salmonella, the soup was pretty damn tasty. However, this was a soup that had clearly defined strata, and only the uninitiated (or foolhardy) delved down to the bottom. The top layer was tasty watery brothy stuff, the middle layer had carrots and potatoes and occasional bits of chicken in, and the bottom layer was comprised almost entirely of peas.

Now, when I say 'peas', you'll no doubt be thinking of the nice, bright green, sweet and tasty variety. My gran had no truck with these kind of peas. The variety that my gran liked to add to soup were ones that were horticulturally engineered specifically to double as bullets in times of war. They were a dull khaki colour, with a thick, inedible skin and a truly repellent, floury texture. Occasionally, they'd hide behind other vegetables or masquerade as little bits of potato in order to get eaten. Thus, they were both cunning and repulsive: the devil's vegetable, in short.

So, that trauma fresh in my mind, I've never liked peas. Until…I found about mushy peas. Now, I realise that having just told you all about how horrible peas are you'll probably be thinking that the mushifying process is only going to exacerbate the problem. You'd be wrong, though. Mushy peas are ace. And, if you don't believe me, believe the people of Yorkshire. Yorkshire people LOVE mushy peas. And, well, Yorkshire people also love pies, flat caps, whippets, ale, saying 'how do' and ferrets. That's not a bad strike rate.

I don't think anyone really knows or spends too much time wondering about how they make the peas in mushy peas nice, but somehow Batchelors have done it. They're a lovely radioactive bright green colour (which is largely, in fairness, due to green food colouring. I wouldn't let this worry you, though. A cocktail of chemical additives is almost always good for you) and they taste like a slightly more savoury version of garden peas. The texture is totally different to fresh or dried peas: a lot smoother and less grainy. They're most often served with fish and chips, but they go well with most dinners (I shall thoughtfully include a recipe for the best damn sandwich in the world at the end). If you will insist on cooking things before you eat them you can do it on the hob or in the microwave (best to take them out of the tin for this though. You think people are just being over-cautious when they warn you that microwaves will burst into flames if you put metal in them; turns out the doom-mongers occasionally know what they're talking about).

I don't know if you've noticed, but we're rapidly moving towards the bit of the review where conscientious Ciaosters tell you where you can buy the product and how much money you'll have to part with to do so. I can't enlighten you on either of these issues. You'll probably find them if you wander around Tesco's for long enough, though. They'll be in a tin that says 'Mushy Peas' on the front. I don't know the price because I'm not really poor, so I don't look at how much every individual item costs the way poor people do. I imagine it's less than 50pee. Probably more than 10pee, though, so best bring your cash card with you on your mushy peas buying expedition.

Now, having told you more than you deserve about mushy peas, time for a recipe.

You will need:

2 fish fingers
2 slices of bread
A tin of mushy peas

Method:

Empty the mushy peas into a saucepan and warm over a medium heat. While this is going on, grill the fish fingers. When the fish fingers are almost done put the slices of bread on to toast. Remove fish fingers from heat and split in half lengthways. Spread each slice of toast generously with mushy peas, put the fish fingers on top and sandwich it all together.

NB. You may think that adding ketchup will make the best damn sandwich in the world even nicer, but it doesn't. It just ruins it totally. 

...less