Orecchiette with Tenderstem broccoli, anchovies & fennel seed
Bowl of rice with Chinesey vegetables
Pasta sauce with fresh sausage & fennel seed
Pork loin stewed with red wine & bay leaves
Basic nasi goreng (Indonesian fried rice)
Steak Béarnaise with chips & salad
Solo chicken with rosemary & Roseval potatoes
Caesar salad with crispy pancetta & avocado
Lamb chops with red wine & thyme sauce & green beans
Too-good-to-share cheese fondue
Instant mango–coconut ice cream
Warm apple tartlet with vanilla ice cream
La mousse au chocolat pour toi
Rosemary–honey figs with Gorgonzola
Parma ham–Taleggio toastie de luxe
Scrambled eggs, griddled asparagus & salmon on toast
Stir-fried prawns with harissa mayo
Potato gratin with a whole load of cheese
Oysters, Champagne & a good book
The high point
On the kitchen counter are a steak, two lumpy potatoes and a head of lettuce. My evening meal. I slice off a chunk of butter and drop it into the pan. Plop. Turn on the hob, sizzling sounds. The butter bubbles furiously and then, slowly but surely, the foam dies down and a hush descends over the pan. White flakes form on the bottom of the pan. I grip the handle and pour the contents on to a piece of kitchen paper that I’ve placed in a sieve. The glass measuring jug fills with clear yellow liquid. My laptop is on the counter, too, opened out and tuned in to Spotify. My fingertips conjure up the sounds of John Coltrane. I rinse out the pan and pour in a splash of white wine. An equal amount of vinegar. I peel and finely chop a shallot, pluck the pointed leaves from two sprigs of tarragon. I fill a glass with wine, and as I drink from it, I let the liquid in the pan evaporate until there’s no more than a tablespoon and a half left. I peel the potatoes, slice them into thick matchsticks, rinse them under the tap, then dry them in a tea towel. I put a frying pan on the hob, add a splash of oil, then the potatoes and cover with a lid. It’s a mild April day, the promise of summer, and I open the kitchen window. Coltrane blows his My Favorite Things, and I sing along. First softly, then louder. Louder and louder and more off-key. No one can hear me. I’m alone. I’m making myself steak Béarnaise with chips and salad. And then I don’t feel so bad.
I wash and dry the lettuce. Mix together a dressing of mustard, red wine vinegar, olive oil, pepper and salt. Hot and sharp. Probably too hot and too sharp for any guest who might taste it, but just the way I like it. I strain the reduced wine into a bowl. Crack an egg,