Anderson - Twochubbycubs The Cookbook: 100 Tried and Tested Slimming Recipes

100 Tried and Tested Slimming Recipes

James Anderson & Paul Anderson

www.yellowkitebooks.co.uk

First published in Great Britain in 2020 by Yellow Kite

An imprint of Hodder & Stoughton

An Hachette UK company

Copyright James Anderson and Paul Anderson 2020

Photography by Haarala Hamilton Hodder and Stoughton 2020

The right of James Anderson and Paul Anderson to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

The information and references contained herein are for informational purposes only. They are designed to support, not replace, any ongoing medical advice given by a healthcare professional and should not be construed as the giving of medical advice nor relied on as a basis for any decision or action.

Readers should consult their doctors before altering their diet, particularly if they are on a set diet prescribed by their doctor or dietitian

eBook ISBN 9781529398021

Hardback ISBN 9781529398038

Hodder & Stoughton Ltd

Carmelite House

50 Victoria Embankment

London EC4Y 0DZ

www.yellowkitebooks.co.uk

This book would have been impossible were it not for the work of one woman. My mum. If she hadnt enjoyed one too many beer garden snakebites on a lusty summer night back in 1984, I wouldnt have been here at all. (Ill give you a moment while you imagine the blandness of a world without me in it ... )

However, Ive shown my gratitude for her snatch game many times over, through petrol station flowers and loan repayments, so while shes important, shes not the one this book is dedicated to. No, that dubious honour belongs to my nana. Long since turned to lavender-scented ash and thrown to the wind to trouble the emphysema of her mourning friends, my nana was an absolute hero of mine. If this was a fancy book, Id tell you all about how she used to pick raspberries for my sister and me, us all laughing gaily as we burst their scarlet beads all over our cherubic faces, talking about adventures and ginger beer and the war.

But it isnt. My teenage (when I knew better) experiences with my nana involved consistently pushing Trex-laden pastry out of her hands, refusing the ton of off-brand Werthers Originals that she would proffer from her tissue-strewn pockets, and desperately trying to solve why there was always half a potato sitting in a jug of water on the worktop. She died before I ever worked that mystery out, and I cant say in all honesty that Ive ever quite forgiven her.

However, she was always there for me growing up, and supported me in whatever I wanted to do: drop out of school (Youre too good for that posh place, with all those bastards in their fancy cars); marry a bloke (But who is the woman?); or grow my hair so long I could sit on it (You look as though youd sell me pegs and read my fortune). Nothing fazed her.

She came to our civil partnership and then proudly told everyone at the Womens Institute that Id finally found a husband. I was twenty-two. Imagine the scandal that caused among people for whom modern values were a distant concept. Still, theyre all dead, so whos laughing now?

But what does this sepia-tinted memory have to do with Twochubbycubs? Its because of her that it even exists. I was trying to show her how to use an iPad and I took a photo, which we turned into a comic strip using an app. Well, she thought that was tremendous, and it planted a seed that the same app could be used to make recipe cards. We gave it a go, stuck a recipe online for some awful curry loaf (a much-improved version can be found in this book) and never looked back.

Paul and I would go over and excitedly tell her that we had forty followers, a hundred, a thousand. She assumed we had joined a cult and offered to pray for us I didnt have the heart or the patience to tell her that nothing could save my soul. When we made our first ten pounds from advertising she was absolutely cock-a-hoop, not least because she saw a future where she would get more than a box of jellied fruits for Christmas (not that she would let you buy her anything, of course).

Then, just as the blog began to really take shape, so did a bowel obstruction, and after a brief couple of days where we awkwardly stood around her hospital bed hoping she would manage a crap and be fine, she decided to nick off and see what my grandad was doing up in the clouds. (I might hold a seance and ask her if she can send me some of my old nudes from the cloud, actually. I lost them in the great Apple password leak of 2013, and damn those were the days when everything stood firm.)

We cremated her, scattered her down the West Road (accidentally, my mum dropped the urn trying to light a cigarette and a good half of her blew straight into the brushes of a roadsweeper), and all moved on. Not a week goes by without me thinking about her, and if she could see this now, and how terrifically exciting it all is, she would be proud and amazed. For about five minutes, that is. Then it would be time for Coronation Street at a volume that would crack concrete.

This ones for you, Dorothy B.

James

THIS ONES FOR YOU, DOROTHY B.

James has covered the schmaltz side of things, but lets not forget why we are really here: all the hundreds and thousands of people who follow us and make it all worthwhile. All the people who wanted something different from yet another boring old recipe blog; who wanted to laugh their way through a diet rather than sob into an egg-and-sweetener cake.

We would write and post even if the only person reading our blog was the Google Indexing machine (and he never calls or writes, the bastard), but knowing that there are folks out there taking the time to scroll through our nonsense means the absolute world. We never set out to make a difference, but the sheer amount of comments, positive feedback and nudes puts a whole new spin on it. Seriously though, ladies, stop sending us fuzzy shots of your bajingos were not for turning.

Weve had some amazing stories; our favourite is a young lad with a heart condition hi David! who has his mum reading our nonsense to him in his hospital bed (I presume she leaves out the dirty jokes) and who has been inspired to cook as a result. The amount of people who have said this is the first time theyve ever stuck to losing weight because they realize it doesnt have to be tiresome and tasteless. Ladies and gentlemen who have stopped caring what everyone else thinks of their bodies and embraced a new lease of life, away from feeling shy and judged. Its incredible. We wake up daily to such amazing stories and comments and it just makes it all the sweeter that we love what we do.

With all that in mind, our second dedication is to everyone out there who has followed us and made what we do so enjoyable, so fun and so lucrative. Youve made us smile, cry and travel the world. This is just the start we have our eye on an American road trip, after all. James and I hope you enjoy the book and that it helps you on your slimming journey, but even if it doesnt, at least you have a nice weighty tome to kill spiders with.