HE'S KNOWN FOR HIS DREADFUL BOOKS; books so awful that the entire publishing industry wants to stop him writing any more. The public loathes him and the media take delight in ridiculing him. Newspaper, television and glossy publications have been at pains to highlight all that is wrong with Thomas Corfield. All, that it, except this one. Meals of Food is certain he must have at least one redeeming feature, as no human being can be as dysfunctional as he’s portrayed, without being in an institution. In this issue, we find out if Thomas can redeem himself in a culinary sense at least. He may write manure, but does he cook it too?
Although Thomas was keen for the opportunity, he confessed to not having a kitchen worthy of cooking in. As a result, we arranged to use the world-renowned kitchens of the Soho Hotel, in Soho, where he assured us that he’d create the sort of meals that would leave us wanting to be a plate. He hoped, as did we, that they might go some way to undoing some of the falsities his reputation has become plagued with.
We ask Thomas how the legal proceedings have affected his time in the kitchen. “I don’t spend much time in the kitchen,” he says, “mainly because it doesn’t resemble one anymore. I spent about a month throwing-up in the sink when the case was first brought against me. Not because of the shock that an entire industry would go to these lengths to silence me, but because someone had bothered to read enough of my books to form an opinion. When I did get around to cleaning it, the sick had fossilised into a sort of stratified geology that I neither had the skills or equipment to remove.”
Thomas’ first dish consists of some lemons on a plate, which is one of his favourites because it requires very little preparation yet conveys a sophistication only possible with lemons and plates. One of his tips for the dish, which he calls ‘lemons on a plate’, is to use one that has congealed food upon it, as it helps prevent the lemons rolling about. When asked whether he had any tips about storing lemons, he replies that plates work brilliantly. He then produces a soup, which consists of warm water in a bowl containing congealed food, which he calls, ‘warm water in a bowl containing congealed food’. “The benefit,” he explains, “of making soup this way, besides the simplicity of the dish, is the element of unpredictability in the taste. I make this routinely, and sometimes I'm completely unable to determine its ingredients, which is surprising, considering I was responsible for what was in it a week earlier.” He also points out that this approach is environmentally responsible because it renders washing-up unnecessary. “I consider it a form of recycling,” he says. “I’m a strong advocate for respecting the environment. Well, I have to be, considering how many copies of my books have been burnt recently.”
“Food is over-rated, unless you’re hungry. Cooking is even more over-rated, unless the food is riddled with bacteria.”
When asked whether he had a signature dish, Thomas looks confused and admits that he’s never autographed a plate before, and that he’d presumably need an indelible marker to ensure it doesn’t disappear when washed. He admits further that he's never been asked for an autograph. “Unless signatures on legal statements count,” he says. “In which case I’ve done loads. My barrister is always getting me to sign things. Sometime I pretend he’s my biggest fan, despite the fact that I’ve given him all my money, something which I always thought was supposed to be the other way around.” After explaining the term, we remind Thomas of his tendency to offer sandwiches to the media that accumulate outside his court hearings. “The sandwich aren’t mine,” he says, “but given to me by a guy named Tony, who feels sorry for me because my life has turned into the sort of thing you wouldn’t read about. Also, it’s the only food I get nowadays, because I’m