Comic Timing

Comedy, cricket and cooking all rely on timing and in the last few days, I've got one meal spot on and the other horribly, wastefully wrong. Remember that rib of Welsh black beef? I incinerated it. How did I do it? By trusting a cookbook, some scales and some mental arithmetic rather than my own eyes and experience. The theory said it would be rare after about an hour and a half. After 55 minutes it was already too late. The fact the beef was utterly delicious made me feel even worse. Poor cow, it deserved better than that.

I redeemed myself with some whole pigeons on Monday night. A quick hot sear then eleven minutes in the oven. The meat was beautifully, evenly rare and that deep, bloody crimson colour that lifts the heart of any cook when he or she starts to carve and knows they have got it absolutely spot on.