Brilliant little poem by my friend Erin Britt, erstwhile mother, student, writer, and wit.
I’m sorry, I wanted so badly to have photos of fab food to show you. But I haven’t. I’ve eaten some surprisingly wonderful things lately, but the circumstances haven’t allowed for the thought processes around taking a picture and writing a post.
My good friend, Angela, gave me a fridge magnet for Christmas. On it was the classic ‘Keep Calm and Carry On’ slogan. That was carefully crossed out and next to it was written ‘Totally freak out and get attention!’
With that wise comment on my personality in mind, I won’t drivel on with details. The car broke down twice and died the second time; Himself was seriously ill; the kitchen floor was … water damaged and sleep was at a premium last week, so this was the food that fueled me:
1. Lentil & Chicken Curry
I made this twice last week! Red lentil spicy dahl, thickly coating dense pieces of marinated chicken breast. Dahl made the usual way, as hot or not as you like it. Chicken dunked in greek yoghurt mixed with oil and curry powder and then oven baked (pretend it’s a tandoor …)
Unctuous, bubbling, orange coloured and hot, hot, hot! Coriander mixed in if you remember. I forgot.
2. Roast Turkey BreastThe New Year turkey had its breast expertly removed by Magpie Mama and was dumped in the freezer until ‘the right time’. That was Friday; Himself’s first proper meal since coming out of hospital. The turkey breast was enormous (the bird was reared by our friend, George, and his granddaughter) and I took it out about 15 minutes before the time/weight said it should. Thus it was moist and fabulous (although a little pink in the middle at one side) with divine, crispy skin on top.
Accompanied by leek sauce (as requested by poorly Himself), mini baked potatoes (can’t be bothered with big ones), and plenty of Evil Broccoli (I love it; he thinks it superfluous to a good meal). Good for the soul, that meal.
3. Black PuddingYep, that solid mass of congealed blood (not in a sausage skin), mixed with chunks of fat and unspecified cereal and sliced into thick rectangles at the Actual Butchers. (You can’t get it like that at the supermarket, not even those that have butchers counters).
It’s one of the most heady flavours of breakfast, as long as it doesn’t contain too much dried thyme. Then it tastes woody, reminiscent of the smell of some food moulds.
Fried black pudding with mushrooms, on brown or granary toast with thick slivers of butter. No condiments.
Welcome to my menu for a hard time. You’ve got to give yourself something to look forward to.
At least the fridge and freezer were defrosted.