He was in a restaurant having a meal with some of his friends one night and he was boasting about how could have done a better job of cooking whatever it was they were eating. “This tastes nasty” he said. He always said that after a few bites in. “Tastes nasty”. It was almost predictable. Whenever they ate out together he always criticised the food and the hapless individual who had produced it.
One of his lady friends piped up “My Scottish Granny used to make a type of dish called Satan’s Tatty – I challenge you to work out what it was and cook it for us. I’ll give you a week. OK?” He looked a bit alarmed. What could he do but pick up the gauntlet and run with it! When he asked for a clue or two she was, to say the least a little cagey. But this attempted assault on his culinary prowess was to fuel his fortitude and trigger the determination within him to show them what a real chef could do. ‘Easy’ he said. But it was not what he actually thought! He would have to try to guess what it was then work out how to best knock it together into something they’d pat him on the back for - hopefully not because he was not choking on it!.
The first thing that occurred to him was ‘tatty’ is the Scottish word for potato, so that was the first thing to go on his selection of ingredients. ‘Satan’ suggested fire, heat and flames. So chilies were added to the list and he thought maybe it was cooked on an open fire. He had this vision of a little old lady sitting in front of a basket of crackling logs in a stone inglenook stirring an iron pot with a devilish grin on her craggy face. Perhaps his imagination was running a bit wild, but at least it helped him think creatively. After a while he had six items to gather, cream and onions, and a few other things. To make it really satanic he decided to double the chilies and give them one hell of a gastronomic experience, the type of feat they would never forget. He would show no mercy!
The day arrived and the friends gathered around hid barbecue in eager anticipation of what was to come. A few minutes later, they all sat red faced and sweating. “Wow” said one of them “Tastes nasty”. Up piped another “Tastes nasty” she said. Then another “Tastes nasty”. He looked quite upset. “What do you mean ‘tastes nasty’” he said looking a bit peeved. “That’s what it is” his challenger said. “Satan’s Tatty – anagram – tastes nasty!”
He never said anything tasted nasty again! I expect you are wondering who he was. Well, I can’t deny it: it was me! One day you must try my specialty. You eat it with jam and cream. It’s quite addictive so I call it I call it ‘sconeitis’. It’s so nice!