Is it the finely chopped parsnip, the diced carrot, the shredded French onions, the secret recipe stock, the seasoning, the herbs or the actual cooking process? No idea.
Is it the Bird's Eye waffles, the crispy fish fingers, the three day old mixed bean salad or the bread with a thin scraping of some yellow goo from an anonymous tub or is it the HP brown sauce spattered across the plate in a style reminiscent of Jackson Pollock? No earthly idea.
Is it the microwave apple and raspberry crumble, the week old Ambrosia custard rescued from a dodgy carton or the addition of a good slurp of Tesco evaporated milk? Not a Scoobie.
Is it a three course meal fit for a hungry family? Possibly. Welcome to Scotland, existential and essential tea-time catering in January.
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