Stoled froots iz da sweeetestest.

I was peeling a mango to my breakfast, and Mac was making a great deal of fuss about it. A very great deal of fuss.

I reminded him that he had made the same fuss yesterday, and I gave him a piece, and he wanted it not at all. But that was yesterday - apparently - and this was today, and want want want...

So I gave him a piece. Again. And he spurned it. Again.

So I felt quite confident in leaving the plate of peeled cubed mango on the coffee-table there while I went back into the kitchen for more coffee.

Are you thinking "Chaz, will you never learn?" And if not, why not?

Came back, to find him nom-nom-nomming on a chunk to which he had helped himself. Makes all the difference, apparently. And then I had to fight him off until the plate was empty, and he may very well still be licking off the glaze.

In other news: it's always hard to remember that I do not have to work, that the book is finished; it's generally harder to remember what else I do, those days I do not work. 'Specially when I've made myself a work-sized pot of coffee.

So I shall read through something I have to read, as preparation for a story; and then, because this is the season, actually I do know what I need to do instead of writing. I shall cook, and I shall clean.

It occurs to me that while I shall roast the capon on a bed of veggies this evening - what are these roasting-racks that people talk about? Veggies! Veggies are the only roasting-rack: they lift the meat above the fat, and absorb all those lovely flavours, and flavour the juices, and make soup after - and shall much enjoy gnawing on a freshly-roasted leg tonight, the real reason for the great bird is not, is never this first meal. I cook it for the leftovers: all those soups and sandwiches and curries. I might make a capon-and-ham pie, once I've cooked the ham. It's like that: I just love having quantities of cold flesh in the fridge.

Also, there are boys. They might figure, somewhere in this equation. We can haz capon? (Not if you steal my mango, young man...)

Soooop

That? Is a whole lot of soup. In quantity and intensity both.

For the record: I roasted a raw chicken carcass, chopped into bits; and then chopped-up carrots and butternut squash in the same oil. And then stuck it all in the slow cooker and left it overnight with water to cover.

Just now, I picked the meat off the bones and whizzed everything up in the blender. It is currently heating, with salt and (lots of) pepper and a chunk of ginger tossed in to add extra warmth.

Om nom, if I may say so, nom.


ETA: bacon croutons. Crispy om-noms, hissing as they strike.

*iz ded of nomming*

[I added an extra o to the soooop of the title, just to celebrate the bacon croutons]

An excess of marchpane? I think not...

Y'know, just for a moment there, I nearly said something foolish.

I nearly said "I made too much marzipan."

The truth, of course, is that I misjudged the rolling-out, and was too frugal. Too parsimonious. It was a folly.

Every folly has its consequence; I have a lump of residual marzipan, and the cake is fully enrobed. I could of course just add extra to the top of the cake - but I also have espresso coffee beans to dunk - no, I'm sorry, to enrobe - in chocolate. And, y'know. Marzipan and chocolate. Made in heaven, to my order and explicitly for me. I think I shall spend the afternoon making little sweeties. Oh, yes.

The only question remaining: coffee beans-and-chocolate, and marzipan-and-chocolate - or coffee beans-and-marzipan-and-chocolate...?

Damage report, captain

I am not ready for this; Christmas has come too early for my poor convalescent body. Kneading marzipan makes my thumb hurt; breaking chocolate makes my scar hurt, 'cos it's right over the knuckle there.

But! Please to behold my fortitude! I do not flinch from pain, where food is the issue.

Except I complain on my LJ, of course, that's not very fortitudinous; but you will doubtless excuse this brief display of weakness. I shall be reinfortitu reinforced by watching Stephen Fry in Tom Brown's Schooldays, while I roll coffee beans in chocolate. With or without marzipan. He's good for my fortitude, is Stephen.