Sunday

Today was a cooking day. That's the way Sundays should be. Sundays are for cheesy movies and cooking. Fiance and house guest took care of the cheesy movies. I laboured for what seemed like hours on Nigel Slater's olive and herb focaccia and had a mild panic when it wouldn't rise, even when placed under the heater (turns out the heater wasn't on). Fiance made homemade pasta sauce which bubbled away on the stove for hours and hours and made the flat smell lovely. Then I made Allegra McEvedy's smoked haddock and leek risotto from the Guardian clickalong sometime ago. I do love following Allegra's recipes, especially when there are gems such as this: When you put it in the bowls it should be pert yet relaxed and soft - a bit like when a woman with big tits is lying on her back. Fantastic.

The house guest was amazed by the whole process. The handmade bread surprised her. The risotto (which was amazing) prompted her to check if I had made it completely from scratch and when I said yes, she followed it up with but not from a packet at all. Which made me think. My cooking is not particularly inventive. I will make other people's inventive dishes but I'm not very creative myself. So all I do really is follow instructions and buy good ingredients. I am confident enough in my skills to follow instructions carefully. That is all. It's not that difficult. Is that what's wrong with this generation? We're too scared to try to cook, just in case it's bad? We need to give ourselves time to cook and have enough confidence to try to cook. Simple. Here's a pic to inspire, taken by the amazed house guest.