Time passes, we are mortal. Swifty (Derek) was only seven years older than me — but he caught pneumonia not long ago, and that was it. Today was his funeral. Too many people now who have featured on here who have died.
I learned only fairly recently that hummus is not only dead easy to make for oneself but it actually turns out cheaper than buying it ready made in pots. Beyond a bit of olive oil, you see here the entirety of the ingredients. Chuck the peas (rinse them first), the lemon’s juice, a tablespoon of the tahini, a teaspoon of the garlic, some salt and the oil into a food processor. Turn it on, and three minutes later, you’re dipping.
Two decades of working the allotment has proven that fruit is so much easier to handle than vegetables. The plums and the various berries (black, blue, josta, logan) have all been and gone. But here is just a small portion of the last crop of the year. Anyone want some apples? We will have too many.
This was the product of less than an hour’s labour in the garden this morning, and there’s plenty more still up there. I know, global warming, climate change and all that, but I doubt a medieval peasant farmer would have complained about the weather round here in 2025. This has been, without a doubt, the most productive year since we acquired the allotment, thus in more than 20 years.
As it is my birthday tomorrow, with this picture I also reach 14 full years of photographs that document my doings on a daily basis. Meaning, as of today, this blog encompasses exactly one quarter of my life. There have been some times when I have felt the creativity waning, not just on particular, less interesting days but in a broader sense. But there were times like that back in 2014, or 2020, or whatever, just as there sometimes still are now. For now, I will do my best to keep it up.
A rapid return to the theme of purpling plums, but as is often the case in August, we seem to have a lot of them. The pears come from elsewhere than our garden but further ripening is still required.
“If I stare at him in the right way, perhaps some of the food will leap off the plate.” It didn’t work though, Milo. I’m immune. (Well, maybe I gave him a bit later on.)
I have rarely* had cause to complain about the food in the Middle East and the offerings here at the hotel in Dubai are no exception. It is no coincidence that this is the second shot from here to feature food, and in only four pictures thus far — see this similar effort from March 2019.
[*] there was one legendarily bad meal in Jeddah, though — the exception that proves the rule? Either way the memory of a liver-and-banana stew still lives with me.
Truffles have a marvellous flavour and I like cooking with them. But they’re also expensive, of course, so only tend to appear in the kitchen at certain points in the year — like, not long after Christmas, when the pot pictured here was one of my gifts. The grand opening has just taken place. Expect several truffle-flavoured meals in the next few days.
These various beetroot all came out of the ground within a couple of feet of each other. I’m sure they were all from the same pack of seeds…. I like the diversity of colour, also that this shot does imply they had all been in the ground ten minutes before it was taken: which was, more or less, the case. I think some pickling is in order.
My PhD student of the last five years, Sara, passed her viva voce examination today — with only minor corrections, a very good result (for a good thesis, I honestly did think) — and so took me out to dinner at a Turkish restaurant in Manchester. The place’s waiters definitely had an overblown sense of theatrics. Salman, Sara’s son, looks somewhat apprehensively at one of them striding towards us with the kind of flamethrower that, if carried outside, would probably see him arrested for branding an offensive weapon. All this just to put a second or two of extra charring on the spicy meatballs. Food was good, though.
Being 42 