Sometimes a girl’s just gotta be
tough strict uncompromising hard inflexible compelling governessy!
Not everything is black and white.
My mouse is acting up, so my posts might be erratic for a while. : (
"The Ultimate One Pot Meal"
That’s what they say, but it’s a lie. One pot? No. The meal might be served out of one pot, but it takes plenty of pots (and pans) to prepare! If you have the time (and plenty of pots) do it the traditional French way. Do it. I had the time, the traditional recipe, the pots, the pans
even with plenty of time and pots and pans, I only had three cooked drumsticks, a couple of pork sausages — all left overs — and packet of fatty Thrifty’s bacon (that I’d been avoiding because it usually renders more fat than meat) in the fridge
the recipe I had called for lamb!
I love lamb.
I love lamb with mint jelly, not so much with chicken, pork and beans, but seeing that I didn’t have any lamb that didn’t really matter.
I scratched around the kitchen and found a tin of cannelloni beans, a tin that I’d taken off the boat, a tin brought back from the French isles, Iles des Saintes, it still looked good soI took it as a sign.
with more recently acquired tomatoes, onions, garlic and a bay leaf (this meal was meant to be) I cheated with store-bought broth and a sprinkle of herbs de province,
it was with the bottle of dry white wine that I conquered the cassoulet!
the gratin is the easiest part. It’s just a topping of bread crumbs and parsley over which I drizzled that extra bacon fat. It bubbled and oozed and then crisped up just like crackling. I pressed the crust down back into the liquid and then put it back in the oven to form a second crust. I love the crust, but it’s all about the beans. The beans are plump and juicy once they’ve sucked up all the fatty flavours.
I just eat the beans and the sauce, more beans and more sauce.
then pray like mad that Robb offers to do the washing up.
I just found this photograph on my phone and I can’t remember why I took it in the first place. And I’m quite perturbed that it’s blurred. And what is The Remarkable Life of Julia Child doing amongst the intrepid sailors and spies? These are not book-club books, although I used to belong to a book club where we drank too many books!
Ah! That’s why it’s blurred.
It’s still cold. Bully for the mushrooms.
The same as last year, a photograph I took in 2010.
Sunshine and Oranges
No, let me rephrase that title. Make it oranges. Just oranges.
It was raining and although the rain made the green leaves glisten, they were still dark. Dark green. Dark, dark green. The whole forest was dark. Wet and dark. Oh. And dank.
Dank is now a colour.
I thought of orange again. Not a bright Dutch orange like their soccer player’s jerseys, but an orange I could taste.
I peeled the mandarins and removed as much of the pith as possible. They say pith causes constipation. (I suppose we’d need to eat a lot of pith to get really blocked, but let’s not go there, not now.)
Then I boiled 2 cups of sugar and 2 cups of water, gently and just long enough to make a sticky syrup. I popped the mandarins into the pot and let it cool. Next, I took them out of said pot and grilled them, just a little, and placed them on a plate. It was then that I thought of Cointreau. So,
drizzled drowned them in Cointreau. And dished them up with ice cream. Oh. I added more Cointreau.
I started to paint and then THIS painting made itself known and whispered.” I am the in the desert”. I stopped because never has a painting made itself know to me like this before. Then it whispered ” finish me”. Now I am freaked out and am trying to work out how to honour this request. True story.
I am related to THIS. True story.