I was in feastive mood today, busy making things for the freezer and Christmas. For me, the most evocative aroma has always strangely been that of Summer berries gently poaching in their own juice, ready to made into Summer Pudding. This is because i don't particularly care for Christmas Pudding. So, while everyone else is busy tucking in i like to be reminded of long golden days and sunshine. Usually my mum gives me some raspberries and the blackberries are picked from the hedgerow by the children and i.
Dinner was a traditional Sunday Dinner of Spaghetti Bolognaise, as the maverick in me would prefer a roast on almost any other day. Years of my mother's splendid roasts have somehow left me with a memory of debilitating lunches, the smell of congealed gravy and dishwasher and an afternoon of best clothes and boredom: I hated Sundays. So now it's a down day and i can be creative once again.
I see you had a large salad with coppa and pecorino. The cheese i know and love but coppa? - no mention in my dictionary so can only suppose it's some kind of salami. I don't think salad really does it for me at this time of year.But i suppose it's a tad warmer in London than here in the highest town in the country. I bought a snow shovel in town yesterday and people stopped me all the way back."Come the snow", I found myself saying to some poor old dear, like an ancient sooth sayer, "there won't be any snow shovels to be found". This happened to me last year and snow lay thick on the ground for about three months as the council refused to spend any money moving it.The year before i had to dig my ex-partner out of a totally dark and empty Goyt valley at midnight with the aid of my trusty Landrover, Archie, - no Chelsea tractors here. So, if i give your salad a miss while i go and dig out my thermals, you'll understand.
Hope you get your appetite back again soon,