It has been a while, dear readers, since I have been sat down and writing. Much has happened in ‘lockdown’ which I won’t get into right now.* Yes, I prefer the term ‘lockdown’ to ‘self-isolation’. Like, I’m not self-isolating. I haven’t chosen to isolate myself. I’m not isolating because I’m not by myself. ‘Self-isolation’ is a very confusing term. We are, according to public health advice, limiting our interactions with people outside of our core home unit to the absolute essentials. What do we call that?** It’s definitely not ‘self-isolation’ in my book.
‘Lockdown’ is far more sexy and intimates some kind of purpose or goal, maybe. If you say it the right way. You can’t say it in a sad or whiny tone. You have to say it with authority, possibly with your eyes slightly wider than usual, giving you a bit of a crazy look. Practice in the mirror.
We started ‘lockdown’ gloriously. Well, I think I did. I spent hours in the kitchen making wonderful exotic dinners for the family.*** I’ve since lost count of the cheese toasts and teas I’ve consumed. Unfortunately my waistline insists on bearing evidence.****
We have managed to avoid the whole artisan, bread starter craze but only because I’ve been there and done that. That ish is worse than caring for a baby. It gets everywhere and becomes all-consuming. The only excuse you’ll ever have for keeping a live starter is if you’re baking for your neighbourhood. Don’t bother, otherwise.***** We did build an open fire pit in the garden so we’ve reverted back to the African way of cooking over the open fire a bit. That has been particularly enjoyable. Possibly have gone feral making pallet furniture. Yet to be completed.
On the food note, I decided to sign up to a cooking newsletter on email.****** First edition just arrived. Full of soup recipes. Soup. Even the word: soup. Say it. The mouthfeel of the word soup is not even satisfactory. If soup is not accompanied by a nice big fat plate of toasted sandwich with everything in them (preferably snackwich style for dunking), it’s not worth it. I don’t know how I feel about drinking my food. Never got into the juicing craze. Smoothies need to be thick enough to eat with a spoon.*******
I also have just realised thanks to the red underline that snackwich is probably not a well known term. South Africans call toasted sandwiches with the sealed edges from the home toasting machine a snackwich does in fact have a good mouthfeel when you say it. Far more satisfactory than soup.
Cooking newsletter did not just seem to put soup on a pedestal. It advocated biscuit making with lard. Yeah yeah to the pros. I get it. Crispy biscuits. Ireland has spoiled me for life. Butter is queen. Lard is not. I love bacon, don’t get me wrong. But knowing the fat from the abdomen of a pig is inside my delicious crispy biscuit is just not a great feeling at all. Similar to handling raw chicken. It makes me want to scrub, violently, with soap and hot water. At least I won’t catch corona in my kitchen.
‘Til next time.
*Suffice to say, I cackle every time I see a man saying we’re all inadequate if we haven’t learned a new skill, blah blah.
**Being A Responsible Human?
***Didn’t last a week.
****Trying not to bare the evidence…definitely not a bikini ready summer, lads.
******Feels like 1999 again.
*******Smoothies count as food only when fruit to liquid (yoghurt) ratio is correct.