The air is still heavy with humidity out there. If the storm broke last night I didn't hear it although there was evidence of a wet night and a cool light air this morning; it didn't last into the afternoon. I did a bit of a road trip to the butcher, town and The Waggoners before settling down with some 80s sounds that I bought on a cheap compilation CD. God there was some shit in the 80s but also a lot of catchy quirky things that took me back to my school days. I've blogged before about the angst and despair of my teenage years. But it was not all bad.
This weekend is dedicated to cooking and relaxing. My sleep continues to not be the best since I returned from Spain. Months of sleeping and sleeping seem over. Tonight I will have a pork chop marinaded with garlic, sage and rapeseed oil. Tomorrow a rare venture into roast beef with my friends Gary and Ali who are coming round. I had hoped to get forerib but it was a bit beyond my price range. But I did find Barolo on offer so we will have fine wine with our lesser beef.
I'm still recalling snippets of Spain. Today it was the sublime rare pork and tuna tartar that we had in Sergovia. In England no one serves rare pork, we all seem to believe the old wives tale about having to cook pork to death; it is a myth. Then the superb marinaded anchovies and garlic mushrooms we had in Toledo. All in a tiny backstreet bar. We also had morcillo con arroz, blood sausage with rice, but that was not to my taste. Dad liked it though.
I hope the weather improves for Ascot on Wednesday. Linen suit, compulsory tie and Panama hat should be order of the day.
I Heard a Voice.
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