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Wednesday, September 19, 2012
It’s that time of year again and the season is changing.
No sooner have we got over what passed for the summer than the temperature drops, the kids go back to school and the roads are busy again because children can no longer walk anywhere.
Well at this time of year I often say a silent prayer of thanks, as I battle through the school run mums, that autumn is on its way.
Not least because the barbecue season has come to an end.
No longer do I have to endure charred meat and a selection of salads – possibly or possibly not accompanied by hideous bought garlic bread, a side dish that defies eating at the best of times – just because it is over 23 degrees.
Now I can look forward to casseroles and mashed potatoes with things, dumplings and of course roasts – just the sort of food I like.
Living alone in my Felixstowe flat isn’t always conducive to healthy eating despite the advantage of sea views (distant).
Crisps often serve as an evening meal and things in tins – cooking is something I always plan to do at some point but never get round to.
This week, however, I surpassed myself and made a toad in the hole as I found some sausages so close to their sell by date they were about to crawl out of the fridge. I managed to resurrect some carrots that were, to be honest, already neatly cut up for me by Mr Tesco.
Potatoes I didn’t bother with as they are a lot of work aren’t they and I haven’t got a deep fat fryer as it seems all you have to do with them is blink and your house burns down.
Anyway after some time messing around in my galley kitchen with wine rack and breakfast bar kneehole I managed to produce a delicious meal thanks to the recipe I followed written down by a Mrs Beeton who was originally from the 17th Century but had the foresight to include microwave times.
Of course after all this exertion and rather too much to eat, I found myself having to have a lie down instead of the evening stroll along the promenade I had half said to myself I ought to do.
And tasty though this meal was it wasn’t quite like my mum’s. I have decided that I much prefer being cooked for, it’s so much easier especially in the winter months.
I mentioned this to my mother Sue who enjoys looking at recipes and experimenting – she once made such a memorable Morrocan Tagine in 2005 and neither me or my sister have been able to cast the experience from our minds.
Anyway I said, as I noticed the cooking apples weighing down the boughs of her apple tree, that I like a roast pork on a Sunday and isn’t the weather cold.
“Oh I haven’t cooked a roast for ages, I can’t remember the last time,” she said.
“Neither can I,” I replied hoping she might take the hint.