There are a couple of things to remember when you are cooking hungover: keep it carb based, include lots of salt, and if you think there is enough cheese you are wrong and should add more. If possible, aforementioned cheese needs to be melted. This is pretty much the same no matter what you have been drinking the night before, with the exception of whiskey because whiskey is an evil drink and you won’t be alive to cook.
In the lead up to date night cooking, you need to take a few things into consideration. First up, establish whether or not the person coming round has any specialist dietary requirements. Whilst I have always been a great advocate of spending a quality, romantic five hours in A&E with the love of your life, it’s advisable to aim for a slightly sexier injury – like a sprained ankle – not a giant lobster face from an allergic reaction.
It’s nearing the end of the month. The money you have earned from closing the tab containing your Twitter account every time your boss walks past is slowly running out. You have just enough packet noodles and Uncle Ben’s rice to last you until pay day when you can go out and spend a third of your money on M&S food, sambuca shots, and a dress that you think could change your life.
There is just £10 in your account. Your mother would tell you to keep it for emergencies, or maybe put it towards that hefty student overdraft you’ve still not paid off, or perhaps put it into your pension fund, or you could restart saving for a mortgage after you spent all that money ‘travelling’.
The hope is that by your early 20’s the spoon/aeroplane method has taken full effect and you are now aware how to put food into your mouth, chew and swallow.
What we are not taught is how to go to Sainsburys regularly enough to make sure there is food in the house when you are hungover and unable to venture out into
the cold, blinding light of the day time. For this I totally blame the aeroplane method, I often look in my fridge, realise there is nothing there and leave it expecting something tasty to zoom through the sky and parachute into my kitchen and/or mouth.