Friday is fish night

Not only are we creeping ever closer to Christmas, but it's Friday. And Friday means it's fish night.

I doubt I could ever tire of fish or seafood. To me, they're a beautiful, natural harvest from the sea, and I think it's a huge shame that we've become too greedy and are now endangering the very survival of some fish varieties.

From good old cod through dazzling red mullet to glimmering, silvery oysters, I love them all.

Tonight, though, is particularly special because we're going out to our favourite chippie, and we've pre-ordered lobster. A wonderful treat therefore awaits us - just the right sort of thing to welcome in the Christmas holidays. So - lobster, plus a glass or two of a chilled white, and I'll be ready!

my work colleague

Let me tell you about my work colleague - the one I share my home office with.

She's friendly, generally pretty quiet, and often makes me laugh. She's comforting to have around, and great to talk to. She'll listen to me for any length of time, and never butts in. Oh, and she doesn't seem to object to my taste in music, so I get to choose what CDs we have on during the day.

All in all, it's a wonderfully harmonious relationship. The only thing she ever asks from me is that when I prepare my lunch, I sort something out for her, too.

Not too much to ask, really, is it?

lunchtime luxury

Anybody who knows me will know that I love food. I'm always on the lookout for recipes, and I love trying new restaurants.

And so it was that yesterday I went to one of the Gordon Ramsay stable, The Boxwood Cafe. It's always a treat going out for a good meal, but I always have a special buzz of excitement when going to a restaurant run by a chef whose food I admire hugely. Now, I realise that Gordon isn't in the kitchen much these days, even at his flagship restaurant, but nevertheless, you just know that you can expect a certain standard from one of his places, not least because he seems to install some fantastic executive chefs - in this case, Stuart Gillies.

Well, the Boxwood certainly didn't disappoint. Although we opted simply for the set lunch (a steal at £25 a head), there was nothing remotely 'second best' about it. First, we had a generous serving, for an amuse-bouche, of jerusalem artichoke soup. It was difficult to think how it could be improved.

And then, onto the main action. We started with a seasonal warmer - braised lentils with salsify and chestnuts. This was a dreamily, creamily unctuous dish, topped with delicate, crisp ribbons of parsnip. Lentils never tasted this good before....

Next, we opted for duck leg confit, with braised red cabbage and garlic potato crisps. Confit duck appears on a lot of menus these days, but rarely does it fall of the bone with the ease it did here. And the red cabbage? Well, I'm not usually a big fan, but this was delicious - fruity, without being overbearing, and with just the right amount of tartness, without being acidic or vinegary.

So far, so good - as was the wine, a youngish but ready Rhone, at a reasonable £26 for the bottle.

But now for arguably the sternest test - in my book, at least - dessert. Mmm, what to have? I am always tempted by anything chocolate - but, at a restaurant with a reputation, I like to see if they can surprise me by making something I wouldn't normally drool over into something I would happily eat for the rest of my days.

So, in this case, I opted for the vanilla and ginger cheesecake with a raspberry sorbet. I can't honestly remember the last time I had cheesecake prior to this meal. And as for raspberries and sorbet - well, my foodie dreams aren't usually made of this.

Until now. I'm not a religious type, but dear Lord, this was something else. The cheesecake - a tall disc of a dessert, about two inches high - was as perfect as one might dare to imagine a cheesecake could be. Vanilla and ginger in perfect harmony - vanilla certainly the dominant taste, but with a whiff of ginger running through it to give it a welcome spiciness. And the sorbet? Raspberries haven't tasted like this for, well, many a long year. In fact, I'd all but given up eating raspberries because they always seemed to be a big let-down. But here, the sorbet was positively bursting with that old-fashioned luscious, ever-so-slightly tart, berry-ness. Lovely, lovely, lovely. And a surprisingly successful match with the cheesecake - I thought it would overpower the latter, but no. They complemented each other absolutely perfectly. In fact, this was a dessert so good that I'd rank it amongst the very best I've ever eaten.

To finish, the coffee (a double espresso) was spot on, and the petits fours (a macaroon and chocolate fudge) were delicious, and a faultess finale to a cracking meal.

OK, so this might not have been a 'small thing', or a little wonder, but it was simply delicious, and it gave me a very great deal of pleasure and truly wonderful memory.

Mr Ramsay, Mr Gillies - thank you very much indeed.

beautiful days, beautiful nights

Beautiful, clear, crisp, sunny days are always very welcome during the winter months. There's nothing like that feeling of the sun on your face, or on your back, even in the coldest weather.

Yes, the evenings may be drawing in. But can we really complain when they're marked by fabulous sunsets, bringing as they do the promise of another golden dawn?

the day the veg box cometh

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, and when dinosaurs roamed the earth, I didn't much like vegetables. Spinach, greens, broad beans, cauliflower - you name them, I loathed their appearance on my plate. I would have fed them to the dog, but we didn't have a dog. So I ate them, but only because I wasn't allowed to 'get down' from the table until I did. I'd much rather have had a bag of sweets instead.

Fortunately, as we get older, our palates change and mature. Now I love vegetables. Adore them, even. By contrast, e-numbered confectionery has no place in this house. Dark, rich chocolate with a cocoa content of 70% or over is, however, another story.

Anyhow, I digress.

Some months ago, we decided to trade supermarket, plastic-packaged, air-freighted, and unseasonal vegetables for those straight from the soil and hailing from a farm in Devon. And so it is that these days we enjoy wonderful seasonal, organic English produce at the peak of its condition. With extra mud to garnish.

And so now my favourite day of the week is Wednesday. The day the veg box cometh.

Oh, lovely veg box, come hither....

... and let me see (oh, and eat) your lovely wares.

perfect blue

I've just returned from a weekend away in Hastings. For November, we had unbelievably beautiful weather - it was mild, the sun shone, and the sky positively sparkled.

It was almost completely still, too, so the sea looked like a millpond for the entire time we were there. In fact, it looked pretty much perfect.

Perfect blue.

autumn harvest

This morning, it's looking distinctly wintry outside. It might be 9.20am, but it's dark and very grey. I'm sure it's probably rather cold, too, but I'd rather not venture out just yet to check.

These past few days have brought a mix of sunshine and dull days - the first signs, perhaps, that autumn is passing, and that winter isn't too far away.

No wonder, then, that there have been busy scenes out on the common. Long gone are the heady al fresco parties and barbecues of summer. Now, the only people to be seen are dog owners and joggers.

But the common is still alive with activity. Squirrels are everywhere - darting around trying to find food for their winter stores, and then burying their finds as quickly as they can. It's an all-day task, and no leaf is left unturned.

furry friends

Working at home has its upsides and downsides. For me, the former far outweigh the latter. But there's no denying that, just occasionally, I have moments of feeling a little isolated.

Not for long, though. I'm fortunate enough to have the company of two adorable cats, both of whom have a canny knack of putting a smile on my face the moment they walk into the study. Both very different in their temperament and character, they make for a happy combination, and the fact that they seem to muddle along together reasonably well is an added bonus.

There was a time when I didn't have any pets, and I couldn't imagine having any. Now I have two, it's true to say I can't imagine being without them. Their quirks, their playfulness, their unwavering attentiveness just before mealtimes - it would certainly be a duller life without them. It would also be a good deal easier to get up and down the stairs...

And so it's only right that they get their 15 minutes of fame. So, first, I bring you Norman, a la Warhol.

The other one's waiting in the wings - not so very patiently - for her turn...

fading glory

Well, my lovely lilies are about to be no more. Having lasted over a week, they are finally beyond resuscitation.

But even as they fade, they remain beautiful to the last. Here's one decaying petal. Stripped of its colour and markings now, but with an ethereal, fragile appeal all of its own.

colours of autumn

I must confess to being a fan of summer. The onset of winter, and those cold, dark nights, makes me shiver just thinking about it.

But inbetween the two seasons is autumn, the season of mists and fruitfulness. It's the time when nature produces some of its most spectacular wares and most beautiful sights.

While out walking on the common near me at the weekend, I happened upon a magnificent, flaming tree with leaves as colourful as any artist's palette.


Simply stunning.

oh, lily love

Over the past few days, I and four of my associates have been working hard to finish a project that was first started way back at the end of last year.

With the pressure on to meet our final deadlines, it's all been a bit intense, to say the least. Wednesday was a particularly difficult day, and it's fair to say that we were all feeling a little frayed around the edges by the end of it.

So you can imagine my surprise - and utter delight - when on Thursday I opened the front door to be greeted by a huge bunch of lilies.


One of our number had very thoughtfully sent me these beauties in recognition of all the effort put into the project thus far, and as encouragement to keep going to the finish line.

Needless to say, subsequent days have passed rather more easily. I am soothed at night by the wonderful heady fragrance of these fantastic flowers...

...and during the day, I have them to look at. How could I not be inspired?

I love the shape and structure of lilies. I'm always particularly drawn to their stamens - so prominent and 'out there', but yet so fragile at the same time.

A triumph of botanic engineering!

to brighten a dull day

It's been rather dull here today. Well, for the last three days, actually. Grey, dark, and dull, dull, dull. And a little bit on the nippy side, in the way that autumn signals it's here to stay.

On days like this, I sometimes find myself being thankful for a cosy study, and for being able to stay inside, rather than having to be outside.

But it's also good to inject some brightness into a day like this. Some colour, warmth, and energy.

Oranges do it for me every time. I don't need to eat them - their vibrant colour and zingy citrus smell are enough to bring thoughts of summer rushing back.


And suddenly, the day looks rather sunnier again.

a joyous gerbera

It was my birthday at the weekend.

I'm a big kid when it comes to birthdays. I love them - not just mine, but those of friends and family. All the anticipation, the rustling of wrapping paper, the surprises, the happy faces...

My memories are filled with recollections of very happy birthdays. Luckily for me, despite being well out of my childhood, I find them no less special even now.

This particular birthday was another lovely day, summed up best, perhaps, by these gerberas.

Gerberas have always struck me as 'true' flowers. They have a simple structure, and come in the most glorious, bold and cheerful colours.

How very appropriate then, that on another very happy and sunny birthday, I should be given a bunch of these endearingly exuberant yellow blooms.

birthday boy

A couple of days ago, I took my father out for lunch to celebrate his birthday.

We had a lovely time, catching up on friends' and family news, revisiting old memories and, of course, eating superb food and sipping luscious wine.

But it was the arrival of his dessert - a prune and armagnac tart with clotted cream - that made his day. Not just because of the tart itself - delicious though it proved to be - but because a neighbouring table of ladies struck up a gentle 'Happy Birthday' when they spied a candle in the said tart and raised their glasses to him.

It was a small, simple gesture - but it was so charmingly done, and so spontaneously, that it completely bowled him over.

To those ladies - thank you for making his day so very special!

carrot cake moments

I love carrot cake. I love the taste, the texture, the cheesy-creamy icing on top.

Since discovering carrot cake many years ago, I've had many carrot cake moments, all of them good.

And now, a very kind person has directed me to a shop just a short drive from my house - The Pantry - that does the most delicious carrot cake.

"It's the best ever", she said.

"Really?" I replied. "That's quite a recommendation."

And she was right.



Oh, happy days.

sometimes...

Sometimes the very simplest things can give the greatest amount of pleasure.

The other day, I spied a cluster of little white flowers while out for a walk. So simple, so unassuming, and yet so beautiful.

Somehow the crisp white of the flowers and the lush green of the foliage seemed absolutely perfect.

Devon delight

I've just returned from Devon, after a short five-day break there. It was sunny, warm, and altogether beautiful.

While out walking one day, we came across a huge wall - almost certainly part of an old walled garden. I confess to having a soft spot for walled gardens. They have an air of mystery about them, a promise of all wonder of magical things.

Sadly, there was no getting behind this particular wall to have a 'lookee see'. But no matter - for peeking over the top at one point were a few branches of an apple tree, bearing ripe, luscious-looking apples.

Pretty as a picture.

mmm, coffee...

There are some pleasures in life which really shouldn't need explaining. Coffee is one of them. Especially a soft, foamy cappuccino taken in the mid-morning summer sunshine.

Mmm....

the joy of small things - why?

Why?

Because it's all too easy to get dragged down by our daily drudgery, and to forget to look around us and celebrate life's little wonders.

As simple as that. My little celebratory blog.

Here's something to start:

Some grapes in the nextdoor neighbour's garden - beautifully lit from behind, just for a moment, by the sun.

And suddenly those grapes became jewels.