I woke up Saturday with an overwhelming urge to cook. At first I wondered if I'd had a personality transplant overnight because mostly I cook for function not for fun. Since the urge didn't go away while I drank my usual morning coffee(s) I decided to roll with it to see how far I'd get before I got bored and wandered away leaving Mr. P to clean up the kitchen.
Everything I touched was pure gold (if I do say so myself) How often does that happen? I started with a triple batch of beef rendang,and 45 minutes later had a spaghetti sauce,a lasagne sauce and a double batch of beef and red wine casserole on the go too.Then I decided to add a double batch of butter chicken because its one of Mr. P's favourite things to eat. Actually food is one of Mr. P's favourite things to eat. Fullstop. Anything. Except beetroot, brussel sprouts, or anything with bits of citrus fruit peel in it.
I also decided to make some jam because Patty Pie sent me home with strawberries last week. I obviously had some inkling with the jam idea because Little P facetimed me about 10 minutes after I started it to let me know there had been an unfortunate accident with his personal jar of Bella Jam where the jar met the floor and the resulting mess looked like a crime scene. He decided to swing on by to help make the jam, probably to ensure he got another jar, because he was afraid Grandpa would eat it all before he got here if he didn't come over immediately.
I fed three hungry men vegetable soup for lunch along with vegemite cheese pastry twists, made by my own little hands. Ok - the soup was out of a can because I was too busy cooking other stuff to be bothered making soup from scratch. Nobody complained. And nobody called me out on canned soup (except Mr. P later in private) so it was all good.
And while all this was going on I was making ciabatta dough for bread which seriously turned out to be the best ciabatta bread I've ever had in my life. Definitely doing that again.
A brief break ensued while Mr. P and Little P played with boys toys and Little P gussied me up by putting flowers in my hair (They are actually weeds but I didn't have the heart to tell him)
|Apparently I couldn't find my hair brush yesterday either...|
My golden run ended with some free form mince tarts because they were shit...I took that as a sign that my period of channeling Nigella was at an end and thanked the cooking gods for their generosity. Looks like dinners for the next week are sorted. Little P and I celebrated with a second attempt at s'mores and called it a day. I packed him off back to his Dad's full of sugar and collapsed on the lounge.
That's my idea of a perfect Saturday. Let's hope today involves a visit from the same motivational place for my sewing efforts. At this stage it's not looking likely since I've been up four hours and have only managed to drink coffee and scoff more ciabatta bread...