Thursday, 4 February 2010

Pour l'amour du goût

Food and Love have got to talk.
I just had my heart broken. It's ok, it happens.
When it happened Food and Love stepped out. All food was devoid of flavour and love became a series of old photographs - fixed and past.

Friends and Family eagerly waited for me to start shopping, eating and cooking again.
At Christmas they presented me with more cookery books to add to the collection (currently at 130 and counting) cookery course vouchers and a brace of partridges. Reassured by the account of the partridge, sausage and cider casserole I was producing a collective sigh of relief was heard.
But it wasn't over yet. In the weeks that followed a lot of meals were skipped and an amount of weight was lost. I only have kitchen scales so the amount of weight lost cannot be calculated as yet but lets just say that belt notches have been moved.
I am 25 and I'm cooking Partridge Casserole in my French style kitchen where I now live alone. This (apparently) makes me terribly chic and impresses the opposite sex in a Nigella Lawson sort of way. Personally I look at it as more of a dish made by a portly farmer in his 60s in a moth ridden jumper and green Wellington boots, eaten straight from the pan and shared with a smelly wet sheepdog called Dot.

However you see my Food, my Love, my Life the casserole was delicious and I ate it.

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