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So Tuesday nights are yoga nights, and people come back here after for supper. It's not exactly a show-off dinner party, but I do get to play a little.

Last night I made a Tunisian tagine, which is not in any sense the kind of Moroccan stew you're thinking of. In Tunisia it's all it's all about baking meats with eggs and cheese into a kind of frittata - sometimes, as last night, wrapped in filo pastry to make a crunchy cake of it.

Cue the expected anxiety, as of course it didn't cook in the time or at the temperature cited (why do published, presumably tested books get these things sometimes so very wrong?). Eventually, though, it did; and was yummy, and possibly the best of the season so far. And there's nothing left over, no leftovers.

Except that I now have mint and cilantro in my fridge, needing using: and any man in possession of mint and cilantro must be in want of a curry, say I. Mutton for preference, but I haven't sourced a supplier yet, so I'm hopefully shopping for goat.
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desperance

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