Recipes for Disaster: Boris Johnson's cheese on toast
4 min read
An expert in guilty pleasures goes to the kitchen...
Was there some clue that he was like this? One of the more enjoyable aspects of Boris Johnson’s time as prime minister was the way that, whenever he behaved in a way that was very precisely in character, a parade of Tory MPs would express horror and surprise. What’s that? He hasn’t done the reading, so he’s come out with something clearly and verifiably untrue? Are you sure? That doesn’t sound like Boris Johnson!
Which brings us to Corridors Of Flour, the cookbook that the Conservative Party published in 2021 as a fundraising effort. It features favourite recipes from party figures old and new. Theresa May offered her mother’s scones. David Cameron contributed Italian Sausage Meat Pasta. Dehenna Davison explained how to make Bacon-and-Wotsit-Topped Mac and Cheese (this is not a book for dieters). But pride of place went to a recipe from the then-prime minister.
Say what you like about Johnson – and I have – he knows a thing or two about self-gratification
If the compilers had hoped that Johnson would explain the secret to the perfect pavlova, or the best way to whip up a quick bolognese for an undisclosed number of kids, they were disappointed. What was the culinary masterpiece that the prime minister delivered? “Cheese on Toast”.
“Cut a large amount of cheese, preferably cheddar, into slices,” the recipe begins. Lesser chefs, your Delias or your Jamies, will give you precise measurements, but not a Boris. This is a recipe for people who really can’t be bothered, written by a man who understands them more perfectly, than anyone else alive.
“Lightly toast some brown bread.” So far, I am managing to keep up. “Spread toast with butter and chutney.” A panic, as I realise that there is only mango chutney in the fridge. Does that count? I decide that scraping the dregs of a month-old jar onto the bread is precisely in the spirit of this recipe.
“Cover toast with slices of cheese.” This would be the point where another food writer – a Nigel, say, or a Nigella – would add a paragraph on the joys of simple food cooked well. But keep in mind that what we’re offering here is the laziest possible option. In a way, the most amazing thing is that Johnson didn’t simply send in a recipe for toast.
“Grill until it gets all nice and golden.” This step takes significantly longer than I feel that it should. It doesn’t help that, unlike other contributors, Johnson hasn’t supplied a photo of the finished product. Would it have been too much effort to actually make the cheese on toast? Apparently, it would.
I have only the penultimate instruction to go on: “Keep grilling until the edges of the cheese have turned brown and perforated and are faintly scabby in appearance and texture.” There at last, we have a sense that this is a subject upon with the former prime minister has firm views.
When it’s finally done, I add a little salad on the side in a nod to health, and tuck in. It is, I have to say, delicious. Say what you like about Johnson – and I have – he knows a thing or two about self-gratification. The chutney is a masterful touch, beautifully offsetting the mature cheddar. I mention this, between bites, to my wife. “Of course it’s delicious,” she replies, pityingly. “It’s cheese on toast.”
It is in Johnson’s final instruction that a light savoury lunch becomes a metaphor for a political career. It’s really more of a serving suggestion, but reading it now, it’s freighted with terrible foreshadowing: “Eat quickly before you are caught.”
