I’ve got about twenty horse rugs to go and repair, wrap and ultimately deliver to eager clients whose horses are not naked, but wearing their ‘spares’. The pressure I feel upon my shoulders I have placed there myself, as there are approx 180 in the queue behind these twenty, waiting to be washed, proofed and dried before they join the to repair pile.
Before I rush off to the workshop on the farm here, approximately eighteen steps from my backdoor, I thought we’d make some chicken liver and bacon pa-tey. I guessed you’d not want to be left out because if you’re anything like me, you’ve probably got to this point in the day and not eaten enough. (I haven’t got time to go You-Tubing how to create the cute french accents on this keyboard for pa-tay, so lets do phonetics – what works for Year 1s and 2s in the education system should be good enough for us, right?).
I spotted packets of fresh chicken livers yesterday in Tescos while en-route to the dairy aisle, negotiating other shoppers’ trolleys. We had only gone in for five items but came out with a whole trolleyful; why does that happen? He had control of the trolley and whooshed off to find his gluten-free biscuits in a series of inertia-fuelled journeys, while I made a mental note to return to the veg area having forgotten garlic. Becoming side-tracked is one of my for-tays. Cream, check. Bacon, check. Livers, check. Onion, at home. oooh, look crisps (you don’t need those, but you want them because you’re hungry). Garlic, check. Nothing wrong with my memory I concluded as I juggled armfuls of ingredients, which did not contain crisps, along the middle wide area, searching left and right down each aisle and hoping he wasn’t at one of the ends at the wrong moment, or we’d be there all night. Ah! Spotted him with his head in the freezer cabinet buying three boxes of Vienetta; ‘The Boy likes this and we don’t wanna run out.’ I digress (you don’t say!).
The recipe calls for port ideally, but there is none in the cupboard. Hmmm, what to pop in instead … let’s try this; just a glug. Adds depth of flavour while the specific taste is fizzled out amongst the chopped onions and livers as they gently fry away. What is it about preparing food that is so immersive and relaxing? I simply don’t do it enough. Pants. Forgot the herbs (why don’t you have an area in your garden for herbs? Have you seen my garden? There’s more chance of the mole apocolypse taking place than me ever growing herbs).
Bacon is now crisp enough (for my liking) and lets add it to the mix … no-one will know if I crunch this piece and let the salt tingle at my tastebuds and my molars can crunch on that rind there.
Bacon then added, then cream. How much? Oh, I don’t know; how about the lot (Well that won’t help the waistline and you already need a new costume – dress – for the dinner dance because of all those extra pounds since last year. Thank you for reminding me).
Okay. Now it’s cool enough to whizz. Smells divine by the way (looks awful – I know but remember the sticky toffee pudding? That didn’t look too good either at one point!) On a serious note, if you enjoy looking at well thought-out foodie-based photographs, check out this amazing blogger Cooking without Limits!
Three weeks tomorrow I fly to Portugal. With a horsey-friend; long story which will unfold over some future blogs should you choose to stay around. I am very excited; I love travel and exploring new places. It’s fair to say I come alive and I apologise now if my posts become excitable and written in a frenzied fashion; I shall attempt to maintain ladylike poise at all times (*coughs*) … (That was just the last of that bout of flu; bastard thing).
What do you like with your pa-tay? Toast? Biscuits? Crudit-ays? This morning the pots have set and look quite good if I say so myself (I’ve done the self-esteem course!).
I made five pots. Gave one to my mother, who barely registered its existence before delivering all her bad news in a cloud of smoke.
I shall give one to mother in law later who, by contrast, will share all her previous pa-tay cooking stories from her traditional farmer’s wife life.
My husband appears to have consumed the other three and they’ve been prepared less than 24 hours. I’ll take that as a compliment and make more next time. Sorry there’s none left for you – I only got to smell it myself for the record.
Hope your afternoon (or if you’re reading from the other side of the pond; morning) is filled with vibes of achievement, even small ones.
I’ve written a blog and feel warm that I’m talking to you. Now I can relax and work. Mwah..
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