I had a cold last week. And I don’t get sick. Like ever. So although you might expect the infrequency of illness to rouse some sympathy from the hungry belly party of this get-up (aka Rhys), it doesn’t. I still had to cook dinner. All week. Even though he had the week off and I had to work. And I was sick. Did I mention that I was sick?
In this, the season of pumpkins, it would be a shame not to post at least one pumpkin recipe. But why we only seem to be able to appreciate the gastronomic clout of these orange beauties for one month a year is beyond me.
I have been a bit hit and miss with my Meatless Monday posts the last couple weeks – apologies. I have the next two lined up though, so don’t fear. And yep, you guessed it: they’re both soups. Well, tis the season and all that.
What better to do when you have a surplus of summer veg than make soup au pistou? Freshness is the key here. In fact, there isn’t even any chicken stock in this recipe, just water added to bring out every last drop of the vegetables’ summer essence.
I think there might be something wrong with me. I eat things like this salad, and I do enjoy them – no really, I do – but ten minutes later I feel that familiar pang. I know that it should fill me up, it’s full of vegetables and it makes me feel good to eat it, but on the longevity side it’s not coming up trumps.
This past week has been a bit of a washout cooking wise. We had the big birthday party and with it overnight guests and the obligatory sore heads the next day and then a wedding which seems to have eaten up the entire weekend − although I can’t think of many better ways to lose a weekend than in celebrating the union of two very special people. The result of all this is that I didn’t make any meatless dishes this week worthy of the blog, so I’m rehashing a previous vegetarian dish that I posted before I started the weekly Meatless Monday series.
Baked beans are a British institution. They’re served on toast, on baked (or to give them their proper English name: jacket) potatoes and, of course, they are a vital part of the one meal no Brit can live without: the full English breakfast. By why should they be bland and full of preservatives? Why shouldn’t they be coated in a thick, rich sauce full of spice and smoke? I think they should.
Sometimes I make a list of what we’re going to eat throughout the week; sometimes we abide by the list, and sometimes we don’t. On this particular day we failed to plan for our planned dinner and had to make due with what was available, which turned out to be sweet potatoes, onions and eggs.