It was our 17th wedding anniversary yesterday, and we chose to celebrate quietly at home, with a nice home-cooked meal.
This is the sort of cooking I absolutely adore.
It feels as though you’re restoring a direct link between the present day and that almost mystical point in our ancient past, when our species first harnessed fire.
Strip away the modern magic, and you’re back to square one, the bare essentials so to speak, letting the elemental forces of heat and time transform the crude and near inedible into the utterly delicious and ethereal.
Crafty use of leftovers? Check!
Discovery of a new vegetable assortment in the freezer section of local supermarket? Check!
Steak? SPROUTS?!! Checkety, check, check, check!!!1!
Every cook has a dish they make that someone else really loves, and yet are completely unable to replicate, no matter how hard they try.
Nigel Slater’s “Toast“, for example, details his attempts to crack his stepmother’s lemon meringue pie recipe, utilising subterfuge, espionage, and inspired guesswork.
We used to live in Brussels – Paleovirtus Jr. was born there.
As a city it quite simply defies concise, neat descriptions. No guidebook produced could ever do it justice. It may sound like a hippy-esque cliché, but it’s still true – this city has to be experienced to be believed. Even the simple act of buying a piece of fruit could easily and rapidly become a surreal encounter that would still have you scratching your head in disbelief over 15 years later.