Jacket potato with butter and cheese; soup; yoghurt. (And cake – shh!)

Last time I had a cheesy jacket potato for supper here, afair, it was decent: I seem to remember a small-ish microwaved potato with loads of cheese and butter, pretty much the way I would make it at home if I didn’t have the time to cook the potato properly, nice and slowly in the oven.

That’s certainly what I had in mind when answering the question did I want a jacket potato or sandwiches (or jacket potato AND sandwiches) for supper. I didn’t really need supper at all, at least not so soon after a generous portion of fish and chips, but I knew if I didn’t have something I would wake at around 2am with a grumbling stomach, so I asked for a potato with cheese, soup (gotta get those veggies in, and I like them in drinkable form), and a yoghurt.

What arrived, as you can see, was a super-size ‘tato with loads of butter – yes, that bit on the left is a lump of unmelted butter, although of course it didn’t stay that way for long – and an almost acceptable amount of cheese, which I could supplement from my own stocks. (Followers from the RMHP days will recall that I like my jacket potatoes with so much topping it becomes something of a guess whether there’s a potato under there at all.)

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Sorry, small detour time, prompted by the mention of hospital plates: next week I have an appointment at the Isle of Wight hospital (St Mary’s), where I may finally – hopefully – get confirmation of my diagnosis. That is probably a post in and of itself, but what’s important here is that the first I knew of this appointment was a ‘reminder’ text message, referring me to a letter I had never received. I called Southampton Hospital, as the arrangers of the appointment, and asked them to email the letter to me, which they did within 30 seconds, making me wonder why they didn’t do that in the first place.

I informed the medical staff here of my appointment and asked them to arrange transport for me; as I am an NHS-funded patient here I can take advantage of the patient transport service and all the arrangements will be made for me, which is a relief as I seem to spend a good proportion of my waking hours arranging things atm. When they checked my medical record, though, there was no sign of the appointment: the only evidence it exists at all is the copy of the letter sitting in my inbox.

The point of this little diversion, other than telling you that medical services in this country can’t communicate with each other, which you probably already know, is that my first thought on receiving the initial reminder message¹ was “I hope I have time to go into the hospital restaurant and get some of their food”. I still haven’t forgotten you or the wonders you produce, St Mary’s kitchen!

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Right, sorry, where were we? [That’s not just a bit of styling: my web browser crashed, I got distracted by Facebook, and now I genuinely can’t remember. Hang on while I scroll back up… OK, got it.]

It had also been properly, slowly cooked in the oven – I would guess that the kitchen staff put the potatoes on to cook before leaving for the day – so the skin was dark and crunchy – the best bit of a good jacket potato, imo.

Once loaded up with extra cheese, my new scorpion chilli hot sauce (delicious, but a little bit goes a long way!), and loads of black pepper, supper was ready to eat. It was amazing. But of course it was – it was potato doused in dairy fat and spices. What’s not to love?

The soup was another mystery one – the person on supper duty didn’t tell me what it was, and I didn’t ask – but the flavour was familiar in a way that, irritatingly, continues to elude me. From the colour I would guess that carrots or sweet potatoes (ooh, or maybe butternut squash?) were a key ingredient, but beyond that consider me officially baffled.

Then a yoghurt – apricot and mango tonight (I just tell whoever’s serving to grab me one at random – they only come in three flavours² and I like all of them) – and then, because I hadn’t eaten quite enough to push myself into food coma territory, a slice of the caramel latte cake: I don’t have anywhere to store it properly, and I don’t want it to go off before I can eat it, now do I?

So now I am firmly in food coma territory, aided by the soporific sound of the rain dripping down outside, and I will stop here before I fall aslee… 💤

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1. Can it technically be a reminder if I didn’t know what it was meant to be reminding me of? 🤔 ↩︎
2. Apricot and mango, cherry, or strawberry, if you’re interested. ↩︎