I’ve been working pretty hard, battling it out with Gillian McKeith (note how Channel 4 acronyms You Are What You Eat as “yawye”: an appropriate new word for the nonsense-speak she spouts), but sometimes all I want to do is run away from the computer into real world of our lovely kitchen and create something (in other words, “sigl”, Sometimes I Get Lazy).
With our dear sailor from France in situ for the while, we have the privilege of looking forward to some confit de canard tomorrow evening – and not just that, but potatoes fried in the can of goose fat he brought along in addition. It promises to be decadent.
Decadence only really calls for more decadence, so I’ve been scheming about something I can do for dessert – hopefully something slow that I can make today which can sit and mature till tomorrow. I’m not sure if I can top the Castle Milk Stout ice cream we concocted the other day (man! think of the head of a glass of Guinness, as ice cream). I’m not sure if I can think of anything at all, but I did find a recipe I used to love as a child (it’s not appropriate to follow crispy duck, but worth sharing nevertheless):
Why did I scratch out that important reminder?? Clearly I had big ideas as a child:
And look, I even used to drink Fanta.
I am no wiser about what to concoct for tomorrow, if anything. But I have had one mystery solved. I’ve been following Jamie Oliver on Twitter (because I can!), but all the while sceptical of whose tweets I was really following. Until this morning:
There you go. He’s the real deal. (I’ve named this picture “Jamie twit”, though perhaps just “twits” is more accurate? Put a man in front of a screen and that somehow proves he doesn’t have a ghostwriter? What gullible fools we’ve all become, so desperate for the real deal that we’ll believe anything).