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.
Life remains unexciting and I doubt this is going to change in the near future. At least lunch was taken somewhere new. The rebellious spark in me wants to just swap a couple of these around. Not rearrange them totally — that would be messy. But, yin-yang style, maybe exchange one of the mayos with one of the ketchups. Doubtless someone would spoil the effect by putting it back: they wouldn’t be able to resist (not if they were anything like Clare, anyway).
Time for the annual update on the plum tree, which shed one of its limbs a couple of weeks ago, though we did save most of the fruit, currently ripening (but obviously not still growing) on windowsills at home. Had I not made efforts to prop up this big branch it would also, surely, have fallen by now, but those efforts seem to have been successful. There are a lot of insects around this year, so we are in a war of attrition as to who gets the bounty first, but we’re working on it.
Took the wife out for dinner. Out of this kitchen came — or going on the time, had already come — a couple of reasonably decent fish dishes. I don’t believe I have yet to meet a chef who looks like the roly-poly stereotype depicted in the cartoon (and that picture is really why I took the shot): I don’t believe most of them have the time to eat enough to get fat, to be honest.
I suppose, to an insect, that the foam layer on top of a glass of beer looks like a solid landing place. But this is one of those risks that if it gets a second chance at it, this will only be because of the benevolence of the putative drinker of said beer, who doesn’t want a mouthful of insect to spoil his enjoyment. Learn the lesson, kid.
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.
Four pounds of blackberries, all foraged from the roadsides within 200 yards of home, have just been combined with four pounds of sugar. Four pounds of sugar is a lot. But, an hour or so later, there were six jars of very nice jam ready to see us through the winter. Making jam may seem a terribly middle-class thing to do but it ain’t hard, y’know.
Today brings up 13 full years of my doing this blog (13 x 365 = 4,745, then add four February 29ths). As Clare (whose hands make a dynamic appearance to top right) is working on the day itself, tomorrow, we did my local birthday celebrations 24 hours early. Only one candle, but I’m sure most of us are well past the point in life where any more than this is either ostentatious or just depressing. Anyway… more age-related introspection tomorrow, no doubt.
The garden doesn’t produce vast amounts of food — believe me, self-sufficiency in vegetables is something we are a long way from achieving (though for a few weeks each summer we manage better with fresh fruit). But when edible products do emerge, they get used. We haven’t had fresh peas and beans for years.
Being 42 