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Showing posts from November, 2013

Having a laugh. And lunch.

He gave me the post code, saw me putting it into the sat nav, so the third time he asks, Are you sure this is the right way?, I feel like poking him. Instead I say, firmly, You do it then! To be fair to him, the posh woman in the machine does seem to be sending us the very long way round. But at least it's a scenic route: the back lanes of mid Kent on an autumn day bright with blue skies are worth any detour. And as we appear to be heading more or less in the right direction I'm happy to take things slowly. But as we follow instructions to turn left into yet another narrow high-hedged lane Tony's resolve crumbles and he decides to ask for directions. 
There are rules governing the asking of directions. Don't do it in city centres after 7pm: you'll inevitably get the drunk. Don't ask people at bus-stops: they're there because they don't know the way to anywhere independently. If you ask someone and they say, Pardon?, just drive off: they're playing fo…

The reality of disappointment

Three disappointing food things:
cold chipsdiscovering your husband has eaten the custard tart you'd been saving for a snack during Masterchefdragon fruit1. is redeemable: a few minutes in a hot oven. 2. could provoke an argument if you didn't find the bar of chilli flavoured chocolate in the kitchen cupboard while muttering to yourself about 'greedy gits'. But there's nothing you can do about 3. 
Dragon fruit disappoint more deeply because of their vibrant exterior. Then when you slice one open the black seed-speckled bright pinky purple flesh almost makes you gasp. It's like nothing you've ever experienced in your life. 
Google searches throw up descriptions of its wonderful flavour: like a cross between kiwi and pear.But that wasn't my experience in the kitchen this morning: solid pink water is the most complimentary I can be.
The BBC food site offers a reason: Pitaya is widely grown in the tropics and, when eaten near to where it is harvested, is incred…

Forgiveness soup

I'm not going to divulge why I need to make this soup. In fact I tend to be suspicious of other people's confessions, the motives behind them, so I also suspect the motive for my own. 
Even confessions that make it to the printed page sometimes wobble along a a narrow line between confession and exhibitionism. Confessions don't always make for reparation. Sometimes they're just attention seekers. Sometimes they just make the confessor feel better. 
There's a strong argument, on a lot of occasions, for staying quiet, zipping it, putting a lid on it, keeping it to ourselves. This is one of them.
Why does this make a good forgiveness soup? Both as an offering and a receiving? Because it's simple. It's straightforward. It's warming. It has a texture that comforts you whatever side of the forgiveness model you happen to be sitting on. Or waving from, if the event was truly divisive.
You'll feel better after a bowl of this though.

3 leeks, sliced, and 3 carrot…