Self-praise: this is no recommendation, 'k?

So there has been for some indeterminate time a tupperware container in the freezer, conveniently labelled. Its label said "Salty lamb curry - for pilaff?"

It was indisputably in my handwriting. I didn't at all remember the dish, or the occasion, or why I would have made a curry so salty that my only recommendation was that I use it in a whole lot of rice.

But: yay me, for the recommendation. I translated "pilaff" into "biryani", and parboiled some rice without salt, and mixed that with the contents of the tupperware and gave it an hour in a low oven, and y'know what?

Om nom nom, is what. I did make some dal and some raita and curried mushrooms and garlicky broccoli on the side, but nevertheless: om nom nom, I tell 'ee. Om nom nom.

I should continue to trust myself, when I make scribbled suggestions on freezer tape. Even when I can't remember the origin story.

Well, that has rearranged my day

I was supposed to be finishing a story today, for an anthology that closed to subs two days ago (I got an extension) - but I was out early with the coffee club when Karen texted to say my sister had messaged to say my mum was in hospital. They're calling it a small stroke, and they say she should be good to go home in a couple of days, but... Yeah. She's ninety-three. And five thousand miles away.

*twitches*

I think I'm going for a walk.