The last supper

I'm spoiling the end of the story by writing this blog post now and not a month ago like I should've, but anyway, this is the tale of the last group dinner before I went to New York.

We've had more since. I'm not dead like Jesus.

Sorry, non existent.

The beginning:

Well, as usual I accidentally invited round ten people for dinner. My friends are like those strings of Walls' sausages. Very hard to separate. Not that I'd want to, as I like strings of sausages that tumble into the oven together. Oven, or medium sized kitchen with ten people in it talking very loudly about teaching (for some reason) whilst I tried to not rub raw mince into my chilli stinging eyes.

Everyone dipped in (stirred the meatballs, not double dipped) and soon it was ready. Moroccan meatballs with herby cous cous. It was widely commented that this was my best dish yet.

The end:

We finished the main. Polished off orange marmalade upside down cake courtesy of the lovely Alex. Did some group youtubing. Then made heavy hints for everyone to leave so we could go to bed.

A dressing down

Vegelezzas go on loads about how meat is really bad for you because of all the stress hormones the animal contains from seeing their fellow animals getting killed in front of their terrified eyes, but I've recently discovered that salad is much more dangerous!

Look, the dressing cut me!

(the top of the glass was broken)

Toad in the wholesome

After going out most nights on a diet of martinis and shows tunes my Uncle and I were ready to stay in with a nice home cooked meal.

I whipped us up some individual toad in the holes with sweet potato mash, special mushrooms (I never believed that mushrooms not from Tesco basics have "loads of flavour" but they do), gravy, and spinach cooked with a bit of ginger.

As you can see from the photos of my individual TiTHs I've gone SUPERSIZED!

Yellow, is it me you're looking for?

When I was in New York recently my Uncle and I went to the farmer's market and were shamed into buying a dozen eggs for $8. Not noticing the $4 ones on the next stall. Oh well, I think the hippy woman said they were fed on falafel, or alfalfa, or something good for us.

For the first few mornings I tiptoed around them in the kitchen feeling that I couldn't possibly be worth a 75 cent egg for breakfast. At that point I hadn't even worked out which coins made up 75 cents.

However, after some gentle chiding from Robin about wasting the most expensive eggs in the world I took the plunge and ate scrambled eggs for days on end.

Look how bright yellow they were. More than the bananas and my Reiss jumper. They were the yellowest eggs I'd ever found. Shame that everything I make looks a bit like sick.