Totally fake tagine

In this new dispensation, it was fairly clear early on that no yogi were coming to bend last night, so I was only cooking for Karen and myself. Why in the world should this stop me having fun?

Back in the UK, I used to have a tagine. Lovely thing: red-glazed, almost too tall for the oven, with those splendid proportions that allow the conical lid to do its magic drippy thing and steam the food below. I doubt if I used it once a year, but it looked grand on the shelf there.

Out here? No tagine, and I'm not in active pursuit of one, because see above under "once a year". Granted it might be more often here, because I cook more dinners for numbers of people, bendy or otherwise, but even so.

Still, I am fond of tagine-type dishes, Moroccan spicings, that sort of thing: so last night I totally faked it.

Boneless chicken, sizzle-sizzle in olive oil to get some colour on. Chicken out of the pan, sliced onion in, sizzle-sizzle. Garlic, ginger. Ground ginger, cumin, turmeric, cinnamon (less of the cinnamon, because a little is plenty). Fresh mint leaves. Chicken back in, sploosh of chicken stock, squeeze of honey, handful of dried apricots. Simmer simmer. Lots of chopped cilantro, scatter of toasted almonds. Done.

With herby saffron rice and roasted brussels? A feast fit for m'wife.

Now is the time: BVC sale!

I am just sayin', but there's a half-price sale on at Book View Cafe, for one week only. Many many books, very very cheap! Shop early, shop often!

(What's that you say? Why yes, I have four dogs in this race. They're best. All of them. You should buy them all, for everyone you like.)

The young visiter

"Karen?"
"Yes?"
"There's a little baby fledgling bird hanging out on the patio, and I don't know what to do..."



The domestic consensus is that we should do nothing: not interfere, certainly not handle it. It may just be hangin' out after a long flutter. And if it is the child of mockingbirds, then at least one of its parents knows exactly where it is, because the bloody bird has not stopped making a ruckus all around our yard. It even threatened me this morning (tho' I do not think the baby was there this morning; I think I would have noticed), never mind the poor cats who wander through.

I dunno; of course I dunno, what do I know? We'll see. If you want to bubble over with advices, feel free - but as soon as two advisors start contradicting each other, I shall stop listening, because elves.

[Update: and it's gone, five minutes later. Yay! I wish I'd stayed to watch, but alas, I had to post...]