THE release of the new Netflix series about my band Take That – the one I’m boss and most talented member of – means it’s time for a celebratory slap-up meal. And that means offal.
You might not know this, but I’m one of the nation’s foremost experts on offal. So join me on a fascinating culinary tour of bucketfuls of bloodcurdling innards.
My love of guts developed early. You’d often find a young Gary rooting around in the bins behind the village butcher’s trying to score a tasty morsel or three. In fact, our band name was inspired by it. Whenever I saw a few pig snouts or lamb brains I’d say ‘I’ll take that’ before gaily skipping home to Mother, my pockets bulging with delicious intestines.
And just because I’m a musical icon and national treasure now doesn’t mean I’ve abandoned this early passion. Put simply – I haven’t met a gizzard or internal organ I wouldn’t gobble down given half a chance. You probably heard me talking about it on The One Show, the episode where Roman Kemp vomited over his cue cards and Alex Jones hid behind the red settee while I talked about eating bull testicles.
When it comes to categorising my miscellaneous meats, I find it’s best to do it by animal. With lamb you have your classic liver, kidney, heart and brains. Or as Jason Orange once called it between rehearsals, ‘a psychopath’s packed lunch’. Oh how I love Jason. I’ll let him live another year. And don’t get me started on sweetbreads! Our tour bus never lacks the lingering scent of fried sheep’s pancreas!
Pigs are next, and you can make all sorts from their trotters, snouts, ears, tails and – working our way inwards – kidneys, intestines and stomachs too. Finally comes the most bounteous beast: cows. They’re an entire buffet of dishes, heart, liver, tongue, tail, and the most delicious delicacy of all – tripe. Boil that bad boy slowly in milk and you’ve got yourself a treat. Don’t rush it though – have a little ’Patience’. That’s where the song comes from.
Yes, got some grub that would make the average person vomit convulsively? Sign me up. If the mood strikes me at midnight and the butchers are closed, you might even find me searching B-roads for fresh carrion. Hedgehog toasties? Badger hot pot? Both Barlow household favourites.
So hopefully you’ve learned something from our discussion, and please remember to support your local butcher. See you next time – I’ve got some pig penises in a clear ziplock bag and they won’t eat themselves!
