Minor fail

Breaking habits is not easy. This week’s attempt at eating less meat was neither a resounding success nor an overwhelming failure. I guess we ate a bit less, but not as much less as I had hoped. In all we consumed a chicken breast apiece, plus a couple of sausages on another day. Where it really went wrong was when we spotted some of Donaldson’s Haggis-stuffed Beef Olives in the local shop and they somehow leaped into our basket. We are having those today and I intend to slow braise them in red wine with plenty of onions. Clapshot and broccoli on the side. That being so, we skipped the Sunday bacon brunch and settled for porridge with Maple Syrup.

To compensate for the beef, I plan a big pan of polenta tomorrow. I shall cool it  in a tin and cut it into squares for later baking or frying. Some will go in the freezer and be available to grab should we go off in Brunhilde. It’s a useful standby for breakfast or dinner.

I became curious when thinking about the polenta – just what is the difference between Italian Polenta and American Grits – they sound pretty much the same to me. What am I missing?

I must try a little harder to get into town this week. The paucity of interesting veg is inhibiting my kitchen enthusiasm.

Some very good baguettes emerged from the oven yesterday and I fear that they shall turn into pork and stuffing sandwiches.

Must try harder all round, I think. Tesco were kind enough to send me a £1 off voucher for Halloumi, so if I do get to town that will be on the menu later this week with couscous – one of our favourite lunches.

I would like to get some photos printed this week if I do go to Kirkwall. I’m hoping to sort out which ones later today.

The window finally went in yesterday but we shall need to buy a new drill bit before the last window can be fitted. I failed to get to the bonfire, which was disappointing. Hugo made little progress yesterday and no spinning was done – again, disappointing. It was just one of those days – minor fail all round, I reckon.

Mr L is outside with the pressure washer – it is that time of year when venturing forth becomes hazardous until we take action. I have emptied and stacked the dishwasher and washed up the non-dishwasher stuff. The somewhat sad and limp broccoli that I was able to buy at the shop is refreshing in iced water and cat trays are cleaned and rubbish bags ready for collection tomorrow. It’s time for me to pull out my knitting for an hour. Perhaps I’ll catch up with Masterchef on the iPlayer as I knit.

Recently, at the: Crooked House

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