This weekend I was taken out by flu. Every time I thought I was well enough to leave the house, my body would remind me forcibly that it was unwell and I should stay put in my pajamas, read, watch movies and try not to move too much. I mostly complied. I broke the rules to go to the library to fetch Rachel Roddy’s Five Quarters (more on that soon), to eat breakfast at Annie’s, and to visit the Park Market to buy a croissant and some killer chili and lime hummus. We also slow roasted a leg of lamb on Friday, inspired by the 8-hour lamb in What Katie Ate.
I read though – The Gourmand, almost cover to cover, and Nightbird by Alice Hoffman. Nightbird was just wonderful – a quick read, full of magic and mystery and coming-of-age innocence. It is set in a fictional town in Massachusetts. I’m not sure what it is about writing set here, but I find myself longing to live in a small American town, not far from Boston, where I will have a bakery and an orchard and a walled kitchen garden. (Having only been to Boston twice, and to the wider areas of Massachusetts once, I am not sure where this idea/longing actually comes from. Far too many books of magic and witchcraft perhaps?) And I watched the conclusion of The Night Manager (soooo stressful to watch!) And Jane Eyre, seeing as how next month is the bicentenary of Charlotte’s birth.
If you’re in London on April 10th, go and partake in Disco Soup. And if you’re around April 21st/22nd, this pop-up sounds awesome. I’m biased, because I did some recipe testing for Emiko’s new book, Florentine.
The trials and risk of making ganache.
The reassurance of childhood books, reread as an adult.