Her latest ad hoc creation, however, was particularly stomach turning, and consisted loosely of a strawberry stuffed into a pot of yogurt with a crumbled up biscuit, a bit of cream and another unknown substance scattered on top.
I turned down her heartfelt offer to try it, and said I'd put it in the fridge and eat it later, knowing that when she'd gone to bed, I could sneak back into the kitchen to throw it away.
Yet after Gordon Brown's pronouncement about not wanting us to waste food, I felt very guilty about doing so.
I do want to to my bit for the environment, really I do, but surely there are other ways, even in the kitchen?
For instance, what about dishwashers?
For years I looked after myself and can cook loads of basic dishes, but I've never enjoyed cooking.
Hence, when four of us shared a house at university for a couple of years, I never made a meal, but instead washed up every night.
Indeed, I got so out of the habit I had one staple dish, chips and boil in the bag cod in parsley sauce, which I always had on the odd days no one else was at home.
It got to the stage where my mates would look in the bin for the cod in parsley sauce box to check whether I had been in while they were away.
But I never minded washing up, and I'd still do it now, so you can throw out the dishwasher as far as I'm concerned.
And the same with the microwave.
I can heat most stuff up in five minutes on the ordinary cooker, so that can go too.
Will that do for you Gordon?
No?
OK, we'll get rid of the dryer as well.
There's something very community spirited, very rallying round in those hard years just after the war, very getting a bit of fresh air about pegging washing out, so I'm prepared to do that again.
I know my old dad would have approved.
When the rough-looking divorced woman next door to us used to peg out her washing, he would delightedly squeal "Eee, t'winds gettin' up a bit today," and make an excuse to sneak out into the garden in the hope a bit of lingerie would be whipped off the washing line and sail over the fence into his sweaty grasp.
Then there's the small portable telly, well that can go as well because I noticed last week the screen's so small you can't see the cricket score in the corner.
So there you are Mr Prime Minister, I've a kitchen that's as green as grass and I've saved a fortune as well.
As long as I don't use the extra money to fly off to Barcelona for the weekend and leave a carbon footprint bigger than Jeremy Clarkson's, I've cracked it.
tony.dawber@halifaxcourier.co.uk