I have been gladly torn away from abusing a broken boiler to cook the birds a slap up dinner. These days I like to see them as my little white lab rats.
This week’s experiment, “Chicken cooked in Sherry vinegar and Tarragon sauce” was delicious although in my view, less of the vinegar and more of the sherry. I do enjoy the odd sherry of a lunch time. . . (is that allowed?)
Alli arrived after the chicken but snacked on boiled quails eggs dipped in crushed cumin seeds and salt, there is something so pleasing about shelling these mini speckled eggs.
Dessert’s “Fried apples with brown sugar and crème fraiche” became apple mush, due to my son objecting to his mother diverting her attentions, but still tasted great.
Today, I’m wondering how I can slip a sherry tasting into forthcoming festivities? And, how long will my family last without becoming a health hazard with no hot water?
The grim reality is terrifying; I may be forced to take part in excercise just to get a shower.
Sorry no pics this week, will try harder next time.