Mrs Bailey’s Pan-Fried Brains

“My brain is fried,” he murmured, sliding it onto a plate…

Martian girls are robust little creatures on the whole, and not inclined towards squeamishness. The same is doubly true of Crater School girls, who are very much trained to take their world as it comes. Even some of Mrs Bailey’s charges, though, might draw back if presented with a dish of brains, especially in its raw state.

Should they dare to complain, of course, Mrs B would offer them short shrift, as you may readily imagine. Fortunately, the girls are in no danger, for she is wise in her generation and keeps brains off the dining-hall menu. Like the lamb’s kidneys, she holds them to be a cook’s perk, and shares them with very few.

[As it happens, I myself was raised much like a Martian girl; my childhood was replete with kidneys and liver and lamb’s tongues and, yes, brains. Which I adored, then as now. They are harder to find these days, especially post-BSE in the UK; I do find that Chinese supermarkets tend to stock pig’s brains in the freezer section, though. Pig’s brains are delicious.]

500g brains

Flour, salt and pepper, cayenne

Toast, to serve

First, rinse your brains. Giggle if you wish to; it’s a fine first line. Peel off any…