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desperanceOkay. I have been to the farmers' market and bought all the vegetables, all of them. And chocolate.
I have schlepped that-all home, and unpacked; and emptied the dishwasher and filled it again, and run it, and emptied it again.
I have boiled too many chickpeas and made hummus by the traditional method of starting one way and changing my mind halfway through and doing something completely different thereafter. I think it tastes okay; no doubt it has hybrid vigour.
I have invented, via thought-experiment and practice, the pitta crisp; and made a batch, and we will see.
I have pricked the duck all over and left it sitting on top of the oven to dry off a bit, in hopes of crispy skin. [NB - the books, when they speak of this custom, tend to say "prick the duck all over with a fork". Does everybody else sharpen their forks with a stone and a steel, or do they buy better sharper forks ab initio? I have never owned a fork sharp enough to penetrate raw duck. Unless they mean a carving-fork, that might do it: but mostly I use a skewer. Or an instant-read thermometer, they tend towards the sharpish.]
I have picked two oranges and boiled them for two hours, and whizzed them up with almond flour and cocoa and sugar and eggs and such, and that is the batter for the chocolate orange almond cake which is now in the oven. [NB: I love my food processor at times like this, but I am sure I am missing a trick. There must be a way to pour a liquid batter out of a processor-bowl and into a cakepan without either (a) dabbling your fingers in the batter to extract first the lethally-sharp blade, and thereby getting batter everywhere, or (b) leaving the blade in situ and tipping merrily away until it slips off of its own accord and falls into the cakepan with a merry splash, thereby getting batter everywhere and much imperilling my fingers. There must, I say, be a way to do this, a third alternative: but I do not know it and I cannot figure it out.]
I have boiled rice and left it to cool & dry, to be ensaffroned later.
I have picked a mort of fava beans and depodded some of them, for I am taking this part slowly. There will always be more to do, in all my slacker moments.
I have opened a bottle of wine, and drunk my first glassful writing this.
Actually I'd kind of like to stop now, just for a bit. Sit on the couch, read a book, y'know? In fact, I might just do that. There can't be too much more to do till the cake comes out of the oven...
I have schlepped that-all home, and unpacked; and emptied the dishwasher and filled it again, and run it, and emptied it again.
I have boiled too many chickpeas and made hummus by the traditional method of starting one way and changing my mind halfway through and doing something completely different thereafter. I think it tastes okay; no doubt it has hybrid vigour.
I have invented, via thought-experiment and practice, the pitta crisp; and made a batch, and we will see.
I have pricked the duck all over and left it sitting on top of the oven to dry off a bit, in hopes of crispy skin. [NB - the books, when they speak of this custom, tend to say "prick the duck all over with a fork". Does everybody else sharpen their forks with a stone and a steel, or do they buy better sharper forks ab initio? I have never owned a fork sharp enough to penetrate raw duck. Unless they mean a carving-fork, that might do it: but mostly I use a skewer. Or an instant-read thermometer, they tend towards the sharpish.]
I have picked two oranges and boiled them for two hours, and whizzed them up with almond flour and cocoa and sugar and eggs and such, and that is the batter for the chocolate orange almond cake which is now in the oven. [NB: I love my food processor at times like this, but I am sure I am missing a trick. There must be a way to pour a liquid batter out of a processor-bowl and into a cakepan without either (a) dabbling your fingers in the batter to extract first the lethally-sharp blade, and thereby getting batter everywhere, or (b) leaving the blade in situ and tipping merrily away until it slips off of its own accord and falls into the cakepan with a merry splash, thereby getting batter everywhere and much imperilling my fingers. There must, I say, be a way to do this, a third alternative: but I do not know it and I cannot figure it out.]
I have boiled rice and left it to cool & dry, to be ensaffroned later.
I have picked a mort of fava beans and depodded some of them, for I am taking this part slowly. There will always be more to do, in all my slacker moments.
I have opened a bottle of wine, and drunk my first glassful writing this.
Actually I'd kind of like to stop now, just for a bit. Sit on the couch, read a book, y'know? In fact, I might just do that. There can't be too much more to do till the cake comes out of the oven...