You know what? I’m going to stop apologising for a lack of recipes, I’m sure, dearest reader, you don’t chastise me when we end up with a rambling check-in post in lieu of new recipes, at least it let’s you know what’s going on. Keeps you up-to-date on what’s the happy haps, as the purely imaginary “hip” kids are wont be say. I do try to keep these posts to food, or at-least tangentially related to food. I don’t want to alienate my readership, but we all have to enjoy the process. If I’m not enjoying this then you’ll also suffer, no wait! I didn’t mean it like that, I mean your experience will suffer. So, well, if the title screams of obscure reference or gibberish then you might not be getting a recipe. You’ll be getting me! Don’t sigh so mournfully, reader, you’ll break my tender heart.
Some of the golden nugget, pictured above, made it in a basic curry.
I’m still helping with random renovations and still doing my own share of DIY. I managed to make raised feet for my armchair, tall people problems, from old shelf legs, set up a perspex wall protector and lots of little jobs. A hammer-drill was the best investment I ever made. I still have to cook and bake during all of this, I’m mostly doing it in the evening and night time, quick dinners when needed too, still healthy mind. I discovered a new album to listen to while cooking, anything to break the monotony, understanding reader. It’s called Scripted by Icon for Hire. It deals with depression, which is odd to me, I suppose I never thought that music would be a place for that. Not to shun it, I think it’s great. We live and learn. Now if I could only send it to my younger self, but the if and what ifs are better left untyped, unthought about, we’ll live here and now and talk about fun things. The title today comes from a book called: The Long Way To A Small Angry Planet, I only change one word when picking a title, just for fun, the odds of finding another person that shares my interests in every way are, well, I’m not too hopeful. I needed something a bit lighter to read. I finished The Blind Assassin, by Margaret Atwood, and, well, it would’ve made Orwell proud. One of those books that get more depressing the more you think of it. At least Steinbeck just has no hope whatsoever in his books. Thankfully there’s always P.G Wodehouse.
The golden nugget that I harvested last, nineteen mixed squash so far, was a really good one. The flesh on home-grown squash seems to be less watery than the store bought variety. Not surprising I guess. I used dark muscovado sugar for a change. The bread is delicious. I’m going to miss all this fresh squash, I’ve made really good use of it this year. There’s a wealth of squashy goodness in the freezer so I’m good for a few months. I’m still well stocked with pesto too. I grew smart this year, I guess you could say I’ve also grown smarter too, well, you could, if you’d like. Please? Not much else to report, the garden is slowly fading out, the vegetable side at least, the flowers just won’t say die. I’ve been pulling up squash bushes that are dead or dying and composting them. The compost bins have been so handy. There’s so much waste going out of my kitchen that makes great compost. I have some broken down that I’ll scatter on the squash pots and let them break down further over the Winter. That’s it about it for now. I’ll drop by again and I hope you will too.