Domesticity

 Mister E’s incapacity has been accompanied by my own incarceration in an effort to ensure he obeys doctor’s orders and avoids unnecessary stress to his new joint. We’ve had groceries delivered rather than twice weekly shopping trips and I’ve found myself spending more and more time in the kitchen; that centre of the domestic heartland. 

This enforced period of time at home has coincided with a glut of beetroot in the vegetable patch. Firing on all cylinders, I have put my creativity to work and have been cooking all things beetroot. We’ve eaten them boiled and roasted; curried and pickled. We’ve had everything from beetroot and feta on toast to beetroot risotto. Combining them with apples from our tree, I also made a relish. My culinary practice haven’t stopped with savoury dishes; there have been beetroot and vanilla cupcakes one day, beetroot brownies the next. 

I’ve almost convinced myself I could be a Niche Nigella, even if, I concede, it would require sustained effort! Retirement, however, is too short. I’m biting at the bit to get away from the kitchen stove and out into the big wide world again. 

In the meantime, with a bounty of greenhouse produce that is now unlikely to ripen, I’ve idly explored recipes for green tomatoes. The chutney has been made as well as bread loaves and muffins. Tomato and cheese scones next, I think.

A wander around the garden suggests the leeks too are coming into their own. The brain has started to buzz in anticipation. 

Aagh, this has become too much of a habit; space in both fridge and freezer is at a premium; the kitchen looks like a permanent bomb-site. I need to get back to Yoga and Pilates; even a cardio class is going to feel like a rest after this.