Chops is my favourite child

I normally pop the radio on when I'm making myself something to eat or performing any of the other wonderfully onerous kitchen duties at home. Radio Five takes the drudgery out of laundry but it's a close run thing sometimes. Some of the phone-in debates are so ridiculous I spend more time shouting at the bloody thing than mopping the floor. I mean do we really need a debate about whether the idiotic drivers of a council lorry should be allowed to put a golly doll in the window or not? The answer is of course no, to both questions. But bugger me there is no small amount of finger sniffers, mouth breathers, and general oddities willing to contribute to such a debate. It's like arguing if night follows day!

I shall call you Peter (the pork chop)
and you shall be my favourite

The less-annoying-than-he-used-to-be Richard Bacon had some woman on his show on Monday night telling the nation which of her children she preferred over the rest of her offspring.

Nice.

I mean there is no way that could play on your mind for the rest of your life causing you to eventually move away and cut off all connections to your family etc. Shit mittens for sure! Christmas must be fun in that house, little Frankie-Favourite the golden child plays with his many new and splendiferously shiny things whilst the rest huddle together for warmth in the cupboard under the stairs.

What sort of parent can make a choice like that? It's like choosing your favourite meal, that is to say, impossible! How could anyone really make that sort of choice? I mean there are so many meal combinations to be tried oh and choosing your favourite kid is also difficult. But I suppose parents can favour one child over another for different activities and special events. For example my father favoured me for such chores as collecting wood for the fire and favoured my sister for the washing of dishes. We had a very Hansel and Gretel type childhood. And in the same vein I suppose you can have favourite foods for different occasions.

When I'm sick, proper sick not hangover sick, I prefer the life affirming delights of soup, who doesn't? When I'm suffering the after effects of an evenings libations and am calling all the super best friends to save me from my alcohol induced torment I require, no I insist, on the stomach calming powers of at least two sausage rolls. Later, and I mean much much later, that night I will eat anything from anywhere - curry from the Chinese takeaway, burgers from a McD's, kebabs from a garage - anything. But the next day I will require comfort food, food that makes me feel less deviant and will calm my self loathing. That's when the chops and mash make their quarterly guest appearance on my plate. Nothing scares the heeby jeebies of a hangover away quite like mash potatoes and chops.

Now if I have just completed a twelve hour shift schlepping copious amounts of food and hooch the last thing I would want is pork chops and mash. Post work I seek solace in a bowl of homemade curry or even a spag bol. Takes the pain away nicely. For breakfast my preference is always for something to have made the ultimate sacrifice most likely a pig but the health promotion nazis have got to me with their ceaseless warnings about strokes and heart attacks. So it's now crunchy nut cornflakes and a big dirty cup of tea. I smoke the rest of my breakfast whilst waiting for a taxi.

But is my morning fry up, when I treat myself to one, really better than my chop n mash? Do I love steak more than a bowl of curry? It's just too hard to pick one meal. If I had my way I'd bung them all in a blender and drink them all with a glass of shiraz. I love them all equally. I sometimes picture myself and all the foods of the world running through flowered meadows, skipping and jumping and laughing together. I love all the foods of the world that much. Except beetroot which is of course repugnant, repugnant in the extreme.

I don't know maybe it is possible to choose your favourite child but it's impossible to choose your favourite meal. Isn't it? What say you?