Mark Watson: ‘I can't stand eggs. I don't like the taste or smell'

Daily Mail​

3 days ago

My first food memory was at nursery school in Bristol, aged about four. I remember having to eat leeks, and telling the teacher I didn't like them. She said 'tough' and I was outraged. I even went home and told my parents about this injustice. And these formative moments have a long-term effect on your taste. I still don't like leeks, and avoid them wherever possible.
My mum did most of the cooking growing up. But we [Mark has twin sisters, Emma and Lucy, and a brother, Paul] would go to my grandmother's house every Sunday for a roast after church. It always struck me as a lot of effort, so much chopping and peeling and making sure all those components came together. When I started going round to other people's houses, I was amazed when they weren't having a Sunday roast. I thought it was compulsory.
Secondary school food wasn't bad. There were two queues: one for burgers and chips and one for parent-friendly stuff. My dad would give me £1 every day and it was then a kind of moral reckoning whether I'd go for the chips or proper food.
On Fridays there was always a dish called Kentish sausage, which was basically meatballs. I loved it and used to associate it with the freedom of the coming weekend. I imagined I'd have this a lot in adult life, but I never encountered it again.
I can't stand eggs. I don't like the taste or smell. My mum would put eggs covertly in things like mashed potato. That made me all the more resistant.
We used to have a chocolate bar on Sundays after the roast. And when we started getting pocket money, we'd go to Woolworths and get pick 'n' mix. With no Woolworths around now, I do worry that a generation of kids may be missing out. We never ate them in front of our mum, because she was worried about our teeth. Now we're all in middle age, we've done OK, teeth-wise. So she can relax. But even now, if I ate a Mars bar in front of her, she'd worry.
At Cambridge, I prided myself on spending as little money as possible on food. Even by student standards, my diet wasn't great. I had a microwave in my room and would just do baked potatoes or pasta with stir-in sauce. My second-year roommate, Bennett, was an ambitious cook and would make curries and hotpots. His parents would record Jamie Oliver shows on VHS, send them to him and he would replicate the dishes. I scrounged off his culinary abilities and ate royally. Afterwards, when I was living on my own again, it was back to the jacket potatoes.
My hangover cure is a fry-up. But as I've got older, the hangovers have become less extreme. Either I've got better at drinking strategically or the body's just given up.
My partner [comedy producer Lianne Coop] is a good cook and plans two or three meals ahead, so our fridge is always well stocked. But there has to be a big pot of yogurt. Some people wake up in the middle of the night for a glass of water. I wake up craving yogurt.
My comfort food is sausage and mash. My mum cooked it when I was under the weather.
I would probably choose sausage and mash for my last supper. But not if I was on Death Row in America because I'm not sure if I'd trust them to do it well. Otherwise, I would mark the occasion with an enormous curry and all possible sides. That would be my final act of defiance.
Mark Watson's latest novel, One Minute Away, will be published on 17 July by HarperCollins, £16.99. To preorder a copy for £14.44 until 27 July, go to mailshop.co.uk/books or call 020 3176 2937. Free UK P&P on orders over £25.
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