Sin in a tin .

I have narrowed it down to just three cookery books , the back catalogue in my head and one in the post . I have bought in the few herbs , spices and oddments that the books suggest and I don't have .

ME: I am the model of efficiency ! A role model to you all ! Aren't you jealous of my competence and the clarity of my vision of the year ?

YOU: Are you on something ?

ME: I don't know what you mean !

YOU: Well , for a start what is that lump on your head ?

ME: Nothing .

YOU: Just a minute there's bruising too .

ME: No there's not .

YOU: YES THERE IS ! Someone has lumped you one - probably for being such a know all . YES , somebody has definitely taken a swing at .....

ME: It was a tin , closely followed by a kilner jar - happy now ?

YOU: What ! You know people who routinely sling tins at you and don't mind lobbing a jar to follow ?

ME: Its a cupboard thing .

YOU: A what ?

Its a cupboard thing . New ingredients at the front in a little box , most likely staples behind .Any bulk buying is taken out and put elsewhere .
Anything I forgot I'd got and doubled up on comes out too . This happens several times what with having access to several good markets and having a wholesalers card  .
In the end there is literally no spare space in the kitchen cupboards and things are so stacked and shoved that things leap out at you if you open the cupboard doors too quickly.

YOU: Ah ! Now we are getting to the lump on the head . And what was that you said about competence and clarity of vision .

ME: Ease off or you will be sitting in the pub on your own tonight .

So there are also wicker baskets full of pasta , noodles , couscous and various flours . The cupboard in the dining room doesn't shut properly because

YOU: Dear God ! How much stuff do you have ? Are you expecting the apocalypse or do you just have a compulsive hoarder thing going on ?

ME: No . Neither .It's just keeping a good table and knowing a real bargain when you see it .

YOU: Oh well .

ME: God , I wish I was a catholic at the moment .

YOU: Why !!!

ME: Well , you get to go to confession and they say  you feel better then.

YOU: OK , we don't want all this coming out in the pub . So what do you want to confess about ?

ME: Tinned tomatoes .

YOU:  Pardon . 
NO !   NO !   I heard you alright .  I'm just boggling about your answer .
Let me get this straight if you had been born to a Roman Catholic family you would be in the confessional right now pestering some poor priest about tinned tomatoes ?

ME: Well yes .

YOU: This has got to stop. Right here , right now - you hear me ?
And just for the record how many tins of tomatoes do you currently own ?

ME: Sixteen .

YOU: IS that it ? Are we done ?

ME: Well we could talk about tinned mackerel , chickpeas , bean sprouts ....

YOU: I don't know what to say to you ! Can't you just donate your spares to a food bank and we talk about something else ?

ME: Yes but the guilt and the feeling that I must have knocked back a stupid pill .

Isn't there anybody else out there with illogical spare , a stash or  emergency supplies  ?
Come on make me feel better - there's a tin of tomatoes in it .

Defiant chameleon .

A couple of years back there was a death in the family . The sort that isn't just the end of an era but the end of something bigger .
 Some people close life down as they get older . They stop seeing and listening . So I guess in their eyes you are the you you were thirty years ago .
 All the stuff that built you and changed you didn't happen for them . There you are before the achievements , without experience and those scars .

So when it happened I needed a bit of space where I thought about something else . The funeral arrangements , paperwork and all the rest that comes at such a time .
We drove to a lively town we like and had a big fat lunch . Then went for a wander round the shops .

Heading round a corner I spotted a new shop . It was pure luxury. Warm , smelt delicious and had rows and rows of jewel like jars , bottles and tubes .
A fancy makeup shop .Seductive balm as I  thought about who I was now .
Now that no one could make me feel that callow girl anymore .

I don't always wear makeup . Think scandanavian minimalism , pared back , stark - you get the picture .
Now, though ,I took one of their little baskets and I bought all the people I wanted to try on .

I bought a lipstick so that I could be the scarlet harlot .
I bought liner and mascara so that I could be left bank .
I bought flame coloured eye shadow so that I could vamp my way into a party .
I bought brushes and rouge so that I could be haughty and aloof with high , high cheekbones .
In short I spent a lot of money and I loved it .

Another day another visit .  Polish for turquoise toe nails .
Another visit for cherry lipped kissing at Christmas .

It was too cold to go where we intended today so we went back to that town again .
 After another big fat lunch , fugitives from the snow , we hit the shopping centre .

Of course I went to "my" shop . Of course I filled up a little basket  . Little boxes and phials to savour later .
I was the only one in the shop and the girls chatted as I browsed . "We are not supposed to say but this branch is shutting in a fortnight ".

I wished them well and left with my shiny stash . I felt sad that the happy habit would end .

Then I realised something .
I have moved on , imperceptibly , in these two years . I have grown - evolved if you like .
I am not a defiant chameleon .
I am happy in my own skin .
Of course I'll paint my eyes from time to time or put on a saucy red lipstick  some Saturday night . But I am glad to realise that is all it is now .

GRAND SALE ANNOUNCED !
lipsticks for sale . All colours available .

Uninhibited with the mustard .

Written Tuesday 13/2

There are seagulls in the white sky . In pairs and singly , their movement is what you see , stark against an opaque background. They look like  olympic ice dancers gliding , soaring , lost in the momentum and their own beauty .
Perhaps they are celebrating the year opening up a bit . I know how they feel .

Sunday found us walking on the beach . Down near the shore line , delighting in the light and the relative warmth .

Yesterday far out along the hythe . Hibernation halted , the estuary mud had the dull gleam of old pitted metal .

Today , the seagulls arrogance - they need no judge  , they already know they all have the perfect ten . And us ?
Heading to the harbour as I write this . Smug in the knowledge that there is a big fat pork pie in the boot to eat in greedy gulps when we get there . Pass the mustard .

Wednesday 14th 

Today I did it again . We did it again .
Its like being sated and rolling away from a much loved lover and rolling straight back and doing it again . 
The seductive landscape is indeed seductive . It's only February and , already , we are entranced .

That's not pretentious or precious .
 There are other people , all ages , both sexes . Away from the shops , away from  the crowds . 
A solitary individual will spot you and grin like a long lost friend .

 It's like we are all in the nightclub , a track comes on and we all get up with no thought , only compulsion , and dance . Uninhibited .

Lay the table .

A lot of stuff happened . Two deaths in the family and three  betrayals  plus the fallout which showed clear daylight on a lot of other people .

So we walked away . A lot of walking got done on solitary beaches . Sometimes together and sometimes alone .
Eventually, though you look up and realise you can now take your umberella down .

So it comes time to savour again the things that ,necessarily , got pushed to the margins .

So what of the kitchen ?  Well , gradually chutney bubbled again and marmalade perfumed the house but what else ?

I grew up on farm house and country house food . Then by observation , osmosis , and intuition cooked it . Not the painting by numbers that the sainted Delia prescribed (and thus knocked any confidence and creativity out of a potential cook ). No , this was more commonsense , resourcefulness ,a bit of skill and a lot of greed .

Now it's different .The postman's bored with hearing me belt down the back stairs to get the latest second hand cookery book . Mind you he often suppresses a grin as I emerge hair half up , half down looking like Bella from the bordello in the saxophonist's dressing gown .
The book's are various and so this week I'm making :

moussaka
a stir fry
dolmades
deep fried squid
and a pineapple crumble with clotted cream custard
and then having a sit down - obviously .

So what I want to know is what are  you cooking and if some of the inspiration comes from a couple of books , what are they ?
I'll show you mine if you show me yours .

Note to self : put less red meat in next week's menu .

Smug and sticky .

Today is the coldest day of the year so far . ( Around here at least .)

Last weekend I finally came upon a stall piled high with blood oranges and fat lemons too .
What better to do then than stay in the warm and make marmalade . I switched on the radio , put an apron on and set too . I'd forgotten how labour intensive it is .Especially paring off the peel and leaving the pith , them slicing the peel into thin , thin , tiny batons .

The whole house is now scented with oranges and my hands sting from the citrusy juices . I am sitting , in solitary splendour , at the table with hot coffee and a cigarette writing this as the marmalade boils .

Cooking is continuity isn't it . Good ingredients , enough skill and there you have it . Simple but perfect in a homemade sort of way . A form of alchemy .

Two people can walk into a kitchen .
 One can have bread and water . The other a pot of tea and some hot buttered toast .
We can always choose which person we want to be .

I'm glad I made marmalade today .