Summer has finally turned up. The doom-mongers and naysayers had been telling us that due to some spots on the sun we are in fact in the middle of a ten year cycle of damp and windy summers. Well they can all go and sit in a tent. Even though it is Glastonbury weekend, Wimbledon is in full flow and the British F1 Grand Prix is on, the sun has defied the odds and made an appearance.
Which is just as well because we are off to Henley to celebrate my wife’s birthday and her friend’s recent engagement. And I decided I needed to temporarily ditch the diet (have I mentioned I’m on a diet? What only 50 times? Well, I’m on a diet) and hit some cheesecake recipes.
Well, you know, this blogging community thing has kind of got me thinking. I should be more inclusive. Be part of the action. Get out of my ivory tower. It’s all me, me , me. All that jazz. So for this post I sat on my arse and took photos whilst the Mrs made a cake. What fun!
My wife was an excellent cook. She really was. Then I discovered wordpress.com. Decided I was going to start a food blog. She hardly gets in the kitchen anymore. I am a food freak.
However in the interest of sex equality this post is entirely none of my doing.
The Invisible Man had a hand in grating the carrot…
A couple of weeks ago we rescued our gas-fired barbecue from my parents house where it had been settling nicely into a moss covered wall. It had been there, unused, for 2 years; the insides and gone beyond putrefied (fossilised would be a better description) and the grate was fairly rusty.
WWII BBQ found in the Ukraine….honest
So now that I am in my 43rd year thoughts of mortality loom. Eat less. Move more. That’s the secret to a longer life.
But I might be wasting my time. To quote Michael Fitzpatrick (I’m not convinced I can work out who he is but anyway):
“The Japanese eat very little fat and suffer fewer heart attacks than the British or Americans. The French eat a lot of fat and also have fewer heart attacks than the British or Americans.
The Japanese drink very little red wine and suffer fewer heart attacks than the British or Americans. The Italians drink excessive amounts of red wine and also suffer fewer heart attacks than the British or Americans. Conclusion: Eat and drink what you like. What kills you is speaking English”.
With these words in mind I proceeded to create the most decadent dish I could think of – served with vast quantities of red wine:
So this week has been eventful – a few days off in Provence, southern France, enjoying sun, heat and food, courtesy of the in-laws, (A major food discovery in Aix was melon served up by my sister-in-law at their house in Rians, more on that later) and we had two birthdays (me, now 43, and my oldest turning into a teenager).
Aix in early summer – v Nice!