A return to one of A Crust Eaten’s earliest recipes and a guest post from the rumbling belly at the other end of all this: my husband.

There are benefits to getting older − something you have either discovered or which lies around the corner as a pleasant reward for advancing years. Among those I cherish most are the gaining of the confidence to simply leave a party you’re not enjoying because life’s too short, and the acceptance that not knowing what’s number one in the charts is probably a blessing in disguise rather than cause for anguish at being three or four time zones adrift of the zeitgeist.
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