Felicity Cloake

Having come out the other end of my index alive (just), I feel compelled to post again just to reassure myself that I haven’t, in fact, given up – yet (and with only two days to go, and the bacon for Saturday morning’s breakfast already in the fridge, I don’t think it’s tempting to fate to say I smell victory, as well as broccoli, in the air). I haven’t been cooking much in the past fortnight, mostly because I’ve been chewing my own hand off (but not eating it) trying to remember if n comes before or after o and similarly complex issues. Above is the mighty Kappacasein cheese sandwich, with three sorts of allium (count em!) Sharon and I scoffed at Borough last Thursday lunchtime, well away from the heavenly scent of the Brinsida grill – enjoyable, but so overwhelmingly cheesy that next time I think I’ll go halves on one, and have a sausage as well. (Healthy eh?)

On Saturday night, I was confronted by a mighty rib of Dexter beef, brought down by John and Charlotte from their Northamptonshire farm, and expertly cooked by their daughter, my friend Alex, along with some broccoli with hazelnuts and lemon zest, carrots baked with cumin, and anya potatoes. Everyone seemed to enjoy it. I felt quite sad, until I tasted the Sarah Raven spinach, Parmesan and pine nut quiche she’d made me (my heart is welling up at the memory – both because of the effort she’d gone to, and the amount of cream and cheese in the recipe). God it was good. I couldn’t honest regret the beef after tasting it. (Apologies for rubbish phone photos BTW – I’m too greedy to make a good food blogger.)

I cooked Ottolenghi’s grilled aubergines with yoghurt and lentils, except baked with chickpeas instead, earlier in the week to use up the last aubergines from the Sichuan feast, but let’s just say it isn’t the most photogenic of dishes, being mostly brown and textureless, so I’ll leave you to imagine it looking as nice as it tasted.

Last point: we bought some of these babies last weekend, for the simple reason I hadn’t a clue what they were, and the greengrocer didn’t know their English name. I’ve since found out, after eating one raw (ugh) that they’re medlars: sure my mum once made medlar jam, but any other ideas?