It seems Spring has also arrived in Italy.
My father-in-law has told us twice, first my husband, and then me, about the tiny daffodils that have come up again on their balcony, four years after I first gave them as a gift.
Their delicate yellow faces are always a surprise and every year we have to google the word daffodil to find its italian sister: giunchiglia or trombone. For some reason we never remember it.
Although I do remember the day I found them, on display at Carrefour, far too expensive, but irresistible to a foreign girl far away from home and missing her English spring.
Monday, 28 February 2011
Thursday, 24 February 2011
It worked!
Yesterday's shy daffodils have opened and there is pale butter sunlight spread everywhere.
To celebrate I discover a new recipe. I wrap last night's left over pasta with broccoli, in a velvet blanket of bechemel sauce, thick with parmesan and warm it, like spring, under the grill.
To celebrate I discover a new recipe. I wrap last night's left over pasta with broccoli, in a velvet blanket of bechemel sauce, thick with parmesan and warm it, like spring, under the grill.
Wednesday, 23 February 2011
How to bring spring
I decide to buy daffodils.
I spring clean the fridge.
I empty the vegetable drawer, old garlic skins scattering like paper thin petals.
I make a clean green soup, bright and bitter with watercress and spring onions.
I let myself think about something that scares me and resolve that I will pursue it anyway.
I spring clean the fridge.
I empty the vegetable drawer, old garlic skins scattering like paper thin petals.
I make a clean green soup, bright and bitter with watercress and spring onions.
I let myself think about something that scares me and resolve that I will pursue it anyway.
The Leaning Tower Of Cake
It reminds me of one of those party games that need concentration and nerve:
who can dismantle a wooden tower piece by piece without it toppling?
who can slice away a cake of flour without disturbing the silver coin of a cherry on top?
who can pick up a stick so that the others don’t notice,don’t shiver, don’t scatter?
Defying gravity, the left over leaning tower of cake, layered in lime green and eye brightening orange, lets us cut squidgy slices one by one and doesn’t subside.
Guess the ingredients? Carrot is obvious, courgette is elusive. Lime and lemon and orange tease the tongue and cream cheese, sweet white cement, holds it all together.
This miracle of colour and resistance is the creation of my wonderful rebellious aunt who never quite sticks to a recipe although I have often followed hers faithfully. I’m sure I will add this one to my collection as it’s the perfect solution to the abundance of vegetables, regularly brought home by my husband in bursting bags, from the reduced shelves of Tesco, his very own urban allotment.
who can dismantle a wooden tower piece by piece without it toppling?
who can slice away a cake of flour without disturbing the silver coin of a cherry on top?
who can pick up a stick so that the others don’t notice,don’t shiver, don’t scatter?
Defying gravity, the left over leaning tower of cake, layered in lime green and eye brightening orange, lets us cut squidgy slices one by one and doesn’t subside.
Guess the ingredients? Carrot is obvious, courgette is elusive. Lime and lemon and orange tease the tongue and cream cheese, sweet white cement, holds it all together.
This miracle of colour and resistance is the creation of my wonderful rebellious aunt who never quite sticks to a recipe although I have often followed hers faithfully. I’m sure I will add this one to my collection as it’s the perfect solution to the abundance of vegetables, regularly brought home by my husband in bursting bags, from the reduced shelves of Tesco, his very own urban allotment.
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