Everyone will tell you it was lovely

It's good to be hypercritical of one's own performance. I tell myself this frequently. It makes for better books, d'you see? One tries harder, and works it over again.

It doesn't so much make for better cooks. In a restaurant situation, sure, where you're trying to perfect dishes that you'll serve again and again to paying customers; but in a private house, a meal for friends? Getting stressed and seeing only the flaws in the food does not make for a better experience, for your friends or yourself. *sigh*

I could wish I were not like this, but then, y'know. Books.

So anyway: cooks' playdate yesterday, and Chaz might've got a bit stressy. Might've done. I can blame the oven! ("It's a bit ... irregular. If you want it on 400, I'd set it to 500." "Actually, I'd make that 550." And like that. I had trouble controlling it; some things got burned, some things weren't quite ready yet, and we all know that timing is the essence of a roast dinner. *nods*)

Still: people were lovely even when I wasn't. And there was lots of alcohol, and they say they want to do it again, so. And I did make a good gravy.

Anyway: today I was going to clean the whole house in penance. And then I was going to clean the kitchen in penance. And then I was just too tired to be properly penitent*, so. But at least I did clean a bit of the kitchen. More tomorrow.

And now I am making a lamb and apricot tagine, with the apricots that Katherine dried for me and the lamb that was in the freezer, and a whole slew of spices - berbere and sumac as well as cumin and paprika and a cinnamon stick and a handful of dried lime leaves just to see what they do. I had thought I might want a night off cooking, but nah. Getting back on the horse, me. I'm roasting lamb bones in the oven too, to make a stock overnight; and roasting garlic also, for pickling purposes.


*This just in, breaking news: housework makes me tired. Publish it in the streets of Ashkelon.