'Fortunately I keep my feathers numbered for just such an emergency.' - Foghorn Leghorn
Towards the end of last week I began to hear, far off in the distance, the faint howl of the black dog. There were a few tell-tale signs of imminent disorder in the old brain-box, such as the return of fractured sleep, inchoate fears and unbidden memories.
Well fuck that, thought I. I decided that the strongest weapon in my much depleted armoury was keeping busy. And what better way to busy myself could there be than to clear out the freezer, prior to a much needed defrosting? None that involved so much cooking and eating, so a clear out it was. This mission soon extended to the fridge and thence to the cupboards as well.
Amongst the several items in the freezer were a stuffed lamb's heart and pizza dough - that took care of lunch and dinner on Friday. There were some plums in the fridge so I made a crumble. Also in the freezer was a pheasant - Sunday lunch.
There was some sobrasada leftover from the previous weekend's trip to Brockley Market, the last of a bunch of parsley, some crème fraîche and a punnet of blueberries. And in the cupboards there were the remnants of various packets of nuts and seeds. So, on Saturday, I made croquettes, on Sunday granola and on Monday rice pudding.
All that's left in the freezer now is a duck leg and packets of petit pois and artichoke hearts. I reckon there might be a casserole to be made out of those.
Anyway, for the present at least, the black dog can kiss my wrinkled, hairy nutsack. Here's some recipes: