I love food. I have been fortunate enough to have grown up in a family where food really means something; at home we don't eat to survive, we eat for the love of food. My dad is an excellent cook, years ago he dreamt of opening up his own restaurant but he does not have the patience to cook for the masses. He enjoys making people happy with food and this is evident as he stands over me while I take the first bite of the banana and oatmeal muffin he freshly baked this morning.
I like to cook too, something which I clearly inherited from my Dad along with my height and my ability to take everything personally. I have often found myself looking through recipe books for fun, or reading menus online from restaurants I've been to or hope to go to someday. Both of these Sunday activities often end up with me feeling incredibly hungry!
I wish that I could post photos of some of the delicious dishes my Dad has served up over the past few days but sadly I am without a camera, a problem which I hope to rectify shortly as what self-respecting blogger doesn't have the ability to post vain and 'arty' shots of themselves and their surroundings? In the meantime I shall simply have to write about my culinary endeavours and hope that your imaginations can do the rest.
On Monday evening I returned home from a weekend away to a salad of cucumber, melon, tomato and goats cheese. The whole thing was lightly dressed with homemade dressing, black pepper and mint and was accompanied with chunks of still-warm ciabatta. The odd combination of the fruit with the cucumber and goats cheese sounds strange but believe me it tastes incredible; light, refreshing and crisp.
Breakfast on Tuesday was one of the aforementioned muffins; made with oats, granola and banana they are a slightly healthy alternative to the Starbucks quadruple chocolate bad boy that has so often resulted in waves of nausea and regret. For dinner it was Moules Mariniere, a mound of mussels in a white wine broth served with thin and crispy homemade chips.
Wednesday, and my dad was golfing so I had to get my own lunch-the cheek of it. But he made up for it with dinner. To start, juicy king prawns sizzling in a golden pool of olive oil alongside numerous bulbs of chopped garlic, whole chillies and a generous amount of torn parsley, all of which was mopped up with fresh bread. To follow, a potato gratin, warm and creamy inside with the perfect amount of crunch on top, roast mushrooms and tomatoes on the side and for the meat eaters a glorious slab of medium rare steak with dijon mustard butter. Even the semi-vegetarian had a taste of that. Finally a passion fruit pavlova for four, by this point I was fit to burst.
Today much to my father's relief we are going elsewhere for dinner however I am sure he has something wonderful planned for tomorrow. I may have to start demanding the carb-free, low fat options soon though because at this rate I am going to have to change the title of this blog to 'I ate Olivia Palermo, and Whitney Port, and a large Domino's pizza.'