Alrighty, so there was no ramble last week. I’ve had yet another head cold - my second in six weeks - and was feeling sorry for myself.
While I’ve never had the flu (touch wood), I usually allow myself one head cold a year. However, I seem to have spent most of the last couple of months either blowing my nose or coughing. After all the crying I did over Kali, you’d think there was no snot left in my body to come out (sorry, but that’s how it feels).
When I wondered this aloud (along with the burning questions of where it all lives when you don’t have a cold and why I haven’t lost a ton of weight getting rid of it all), the lovely barista (and aspiring med student) at the coffee shop where we get our morning coffee explained it to me. I’d explain it to you, too, but my eyes glazed over a tad.
Anyways, I’m still coughing like a banshee - if, indeed, banshees cough. It sounds about right though. Let’s just say if coughing were an Olympic sport I’d bring the gold medal home for Australia.
It’s also put me way behind on the whole lose weight and get fit thing, too, as not only haven’t I been walking regularly, but my old friend asthma has come to visit—and stayed for way too long. In any case, he’s been given his marching orders, and I’ve begun the (long) hard road to getting my fitness back on track.
What else has been happening?
Volunteering
I started volunteering at the local op shop (I think they’re called charity stores in the UK/US) last week. I’m only there a half day a week, but my job is to sort through the collectables. Grant thinks it’s like letting the fox loose in the hen house, and he’s not far off the mark.
Yesterday, I resisted the urge to bring this stunning Royal Winton serving dish home (just how striking is that red?) and this cute little plate by Samuel Radford Ltd. Incidentally, the back stamp on the plate indicates it was manufactured between 1891 and 1913. If it’s still there next Tuesday, I think I’ll buy it.
Writing
I’ve had real issues writing any new words in the last few weeks, but I finally managed some thanks to my Writing Friday crew last, well, Friday. I’m still on track to meet my editorial deadlines for Philly Barker No. 3 but I had hoped to be finished by now.
These jammy dodgers came along with me … I’ll pop the recipe up over the next few days. The vintage plate (in case you were wondering) is one of my faves. It’s by Shelley, and the back stamp was used between 1925 and 1945, with the pattern number registered in 1926. Something else for the useless book of knowledge.
Watching
Fake (Paramount+)
OMG, this was good. Based on journalist Stephanie Wood's book, this mini-series chronicles her relationship (names changed and some parts fictionalised) with "Joe", a serial fantasist. You can read the original article - the one the book is based on - here. Asher Keddie and David Wenham are brilliant, and I inhaled this over the weekend.
My Lady Jane (Prime)
A historical-fantasy reimagining of Lady Jane Grey's short reign as queen? What could be possibly wrong with that? Throw in an omnipresent narrator, a smashing soundtrack, and quite a bit of feistiness (Jane) and shape-shifting (other characters), and this is really (surprisingly) good fun.
Reading
In the last week, I’ve read The No-show by Beth O’Leary, which has a twist I absolutely didn’t see coming; and Has Anyone Seen Charlotte Salter? by Nicci French - which I had problems putting down.
I also read Georgina Hayden’s new Greekish cookbook, which I borrowed from the library. Because there are so many reservations on this and because I was away for a week, I effectively only had a week to read it and no time at all to cook from it. It’s brilliant, though, and one I think I’ll be making room on my cookbook shelf for.
I’m reading A Vintage Vacation by Maddie Pease and listening to Cheerful Weather For The Wedding, by Julia Strachey. First published in 1932, the action (such as it is) takes place over a couple of hours as Dolly is getting ready to marry the wrong man.
Souping
It’s been raining and miserable here on the coast for the last week, and rainy and miserable calls for soup. Inspired by the fabulous potato and leek soup we had at Long Track Pantry in Jugiong on the way to Tumbarumba, I made my own, although am using the photos I took of theirs to illustrate my own.
I prefer leek and potato soup to potato and leek soup. My favorite is an adaptation of a recipe from Jamie Oliver’s The Naked Chef that uses five (count them) leeks, but have you seen the cost of leeks lately? $2.90 each in Coles! This, therefore, is potato and leek—with bacon and chickpeas. The recipe and quantities are guidelines only…
Potato and Leek Soup with Bacon and Chickpeas
What you need
2 tbsp olive oil - or butter - your call
2-3 leeks (depending on how expensive they are), white and pale green bit only, sliced finely
1kg potatoes (I use the standard brushed potatoes with the dirt still on them. Sebago, I think they’re called - just don’t buy the ones that go too gluey), chopped into small-ish cubes.
2 garlic cloves, grated or chopped finely
2-3 rashers of bacon, diced (optional)
1 400g can chickpeas, drained (optional)
1.5 litre chicken or vegetable stock
1 tsp salt
a good grind of pepper
What you do with it
Heat the oil (or butter) in a large pot (with a lid) over medium heat. Tumble in the leek, garlic and bacon (if using) and saute until soft and sweet and your house smells of bacon and leek (honestly, is there anything better?).
Add the potatoes, stock, and chickpeas (if using) and bring to a simmer. Cover with the lid, lower the heat, and simmer for 25 minutes—the potatoes should be soft.
Blitz with a handheld blitzer until the texture is as you want it. If you want a really luxurious soup, add about ½ cup of thickened cream at this point.
This is lovely served with some shaved or grated parmesan or a dollop of cream or creme fraiche.
Buy the red plate.
Take it easy, rest up. I think post covid, our bodies aren't up to what they used to be. So many people I know are getting so sick from flu and pnemonia, coughs that require antibiotics to recover...or even hospitalisation. It's just weird (or we are all much older than I realise). YOu've sold me on on the 1932 book. Intrigued. Off to find.