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desperanceMe, I'm cooking. With gas.
The apple-and-pear galette is slowly collapsing in the bottom of the oven, and I don't care; the chicken has just gone in overhead. I have abandoned all thoughts of collard greens, and we are settling for a mushroom/fennel risotto and seared asparagus on the side. I don't have to do anything much about either of those for the next half-hour, while m'wife and our guests are out getting bendy. So I am going to open the wine, and begin to drink it. In front of the TV, because I am addicted to political bean-counting. I have the BBC in the study here, and CNN in the living-room...
[EtA: oops! The collapsing galette spilled all its juices: and as I'd slid it onto a flat baking sheet rather than a tray with a lip, the juices spilled onto the floor of the oven, which is kind of where the flames are. I don't think anything's been extinguished, but the house smells kinda caramelised...]
The apple-and-pear galette is slowly collapsing in the bottom of the oven, and I don't care; the chicken has just gone in overhead. I have abandoned all thoughts of collard greens, and we are settling for a mushroom/fennel risotto and seared asparagus on the side. I don't have to do anything much about either of those for the next half-hour, while m'wife and our guests are out getting bendy. So I am going to open the wine, and begin to drink it. In front of the TV, because I am addicted to political bean-counting. I have the BBC in the study here, and CNN in the living-room...
[EtA: oops! The collapsing galette spilled all its juices: and as I'd slid it onto a flat baking sheet rather than a tray with a lip, the juices spilled onto the floor of the oven, which is kind of where the flames are. I don't think anything's been extinguished, but the house smells kinda caramelised...]