Month: September 2009

Down at the butchers, buying meat to make a bollito/stock, I couldn’t resist spending £2.50 on a pigeon as I’d never cooked one. I’m glad I did (though my girls were a little less glad). Here’s what I did:

Took the legs and the breast off (which is dead easy to do) and put them to one side in a bowl with extra virgin olive oil and a crushed clove of garlic while I chopped half a small onion (v small dice, about 2 tbsp). Then got the frying pan nice and hot, sizzle a lump of butter in it and then fry the breasts (I fried the legs as well, but I’m not sure it was worth it).

It only takes a minute or two, though one should add a few minutes to Isa’s portion. When done, remove from pan and keep warm. Throw the onion into the pan and fry fast for a couple of mins then throw in a couple of tablespoons of our apricot brandy (we had a couple of kilos of dried apricots hanging around so, a few months ago, we put them in kilner jars with some cinnamon sticks and covered them with brandy. I tried it for the first time this Saturday as we didn’t have the straight brandy which I was intending to use — absolutely delicious).

Then pour in a little cream, mix well; arrange pigeon breast, sliced, on toast; pour over sauce. Drool, eat, etc.

Then throw the rest of the pigeon carcass into the frying pan and brown before chucking into the stock — it really adds to the stock.

“Giraffe, giraffe, standing on the ocean”.

“Show me the ocean, tra-la-la-la-la!”

Little Nevicosa (or, to use the full Latin name, Nevecatus Nevecatum)
is not a sleepy girl. She is not, to paraphrase Charlie and Lola,
sleepy at seven o’clock, or at eight thirty. Nor is she sleepy at ten
o’clock, 11 o’clock, or even 12 o’clock.

Quite frankly, the idea that you might consider putting her down in
her cot is really rather annoying. The act itself is a mortal insult
which will incurr a forced pennance lasting up to an hour.

Hum. Perhaps I can better afford to make light of it, as it is Isa who
takes the load during the nights. Currently, there is little I can do
to calm Neve when she starts crying. Occasionally, I’ll be lucky but,
more often than not, there’s no respite ubtil she’s in Mummy’s magic
arms