Categories > TV > Doctor Who
Good Eats
0 ReviewsOf the food they ate and the leftovers they couldn't leave in the diner. Set from 'Rose' to the very end of 'Smith & Jones'.
The silver Frigidaire in the far left corner of the kitchen seemed to be the most touched item in the TARDIS; every occupant since Susan seemed to have a habit of bringing food in for later eating. So it was no surprise when the Doctor - the one from the North with the leather jacket, natch - found himself with a fridge full of greasy bags of intergalactic fast food no one bothered to eat. Not to mention an overabundance of chips, but that was a given, as both Rose and Captain Jack, like co-conspirators in a murder plot, had taken upon themselves the task of collecting different samples of the fried food from every planet possible (with a few satellite varieties for good measure).
Then came the big shift in the crew - out went the omnisexual captain and the leather-clad navigator, in came the pinstriped weed with the Buddy Holly glasses. Quickly the fridge became a miniature patisserie. Every sweet imaginable was stocked to satisfy the Time Lord's sweet tooth: cakes, sweet buns, cream puffs, flan, bon bons, the odd glob of chocolate and starch, cupcakes with edible ball bearings, et cetera. There was, of course, many bags and cardboard trays of chips, with a new preference for those served on a satellite in orbit around Jupiter, cooked in sunflower oil and peppered with tumeric.
And then the fridge was empty, save for a lone bottle of bubbly. It appeared one day and was gone the next. Whether it was due to the disappearance of the blond shop-girl or the short appearance of the cheeky redhead was undecided.
Days later, she came in, ever the curious one, a newcomer to the ways of time travel. Patiently the fridge sat, and dreamed electric dreams of what new edibles Ms Jones would bring.
Then came the big shift in the crew - out went the omnisexual captain and the leather-clad navigator, in came the pinstriped weed with the Buddy Holly glasses. Quickly the fridge became a miniature patisserie. Every sweet imaginable was stocked to satisfy the Time Lord's sweet tooth: cakes, sweet buns, cream puffs, flan, bon bons, the odd glob of chocolate and starch, cupcakes with edible ball bearings, et cetera. There was, of course, many bags and cardboard trays of chips, with a new preference for those served on a satellite in orbit around Jupiter, cooked in sunflower oil and peppered with tumeric.
And then the fridge was empty, save for a lone bottle of bubbly. It appeared one day and was gone the next. Whether it was due to the disappearance of the blond shop-girl or the short appearance of the cheeky redhead was undecided.
Days later, she came in, ever the curious one, a newcomer to the ways of time travel. Patiently the fridge sat, and dreamed electric dreams of what new edibles Ms Jones would bring.
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