Name: Mint sauce.
Age: Introduced to Britain by the Romans, so pretty old.
Appearance: Green, viscous.
How do you make it? You don’t, you just buy it.
But if there were some kind of apocalypse, and you had to concoct it from scratch? It’s not hard – it’s just finely chopped mint leaves mixed with vinegar and a bit of sugar.
Thanks. I can’t have roast lamb without mint sauce! Yeah, lamb, chicken, beef or whatever.
No, not whatever. Just lamb. While it’s true that mint sauce is a traditional accompaniment to lamb, and has been for hundreds of years, lots of people also put it on chicken.
Name one. Killing Eve star Jodie Comer. She posted a picture of herself on Instagram holding up a plate of roast chicken covered in mint sauce.
As much as I enjoyed her whimsical portrayal of a ruthless, psychopathic assassin, Comer is wrong about this. Unfortunately, the facts don’t care about your feelings. Mint sauce “is often served as a condiment for roast lamb, or any other roast meats, or, in some areas, mushy peas”, according to Wikipedia.
Mushy peas? Who is to blame for this torrent of disinformation? Russia? Nottinghamshire, allegedly.
I’d like to see your source on that. My mint source, you mean?
Am I the only person taking this seriously? Rachel Burden agrees with you, at least. “There are just some rules that should never be diverted from,” she said on her 5 live breakfast show.
Quite right, Rachel. The programme was then inundated by texts from people who put mint sauce on almost everything, obliging Burden to express a willingness to think again.
I’m beginning to feel quite faint. Mint sauce misuse is not the only common roast dinner faux pas. A survey conducted before Christmas found that 10% of Britons put ketchup on their roast dinner.
Oh, my days. Twelve per cent prefer mayonnaise, and more than half enjoy stuffing alongside meats that cannot normally be stuffed.
I’ll tell you what: this is not the Brexit I voted for. Surely this country’s future progress lies in allowing everybody the freedom to enjoy their preferred condiment on the foodstuffs of their choice.
If the permanent stagnation of progress is the price to be paid for doing things properly, it’s worth it. How do you feel about baked beans on yorkshire puddings?
I’m this close to challenging you to a duel. Let’s just agree to dine separately.
Do say: “Pass the sriracha please, Nan.”
Don’t say: “I’ve got some mint ice-cream – does that work for you?”