EGGS IN A DITCH
Ah, this is the one that started it all. Not started this blog, obviously, as this is some weeks in and I don't possess a time machine. No, the first recipe that I came up with years and years ago to be served in my deliberately terrible restaurant designed to fleece rich morons. 3 of your 5 a day. As long as your 5 a day is '5 different things'. So what is eggs in a ditch, I don't hear you ask as you're not in the room with me? (Unless you are, in which case speak up and also get out from under my desk please.) Well the 'ditch' is a Yorkshire pudding cooked in a loaf tin, and the 'eggs' are, err, eggs. Specifically, fried ones. And even more specifically, hen's ones - though I'm sure you could use the ovum output of another bird if you wanted. The theory being that this meal would be an overpriced, stodgy, charmless and bloated lump - a bit like a Rolls Royce, and thus a status symbol for vainglorious dimwits if I charged £300 a pop f