This winter I made a conscious decision to cook.
Moving from a household of partner and three offspring - where cooking is daily continuous - to a household consisting of me and my shadow - where cooking is weekly optional - is a mixed experience.
A fried egg sandwich, tomato sauce, a tin of mackerel, slice of toast, separate or together, who's to please but me? I love it!
But sometimes, I miss the hazard of cooking for others. The perils of adding extra cumin. Last minute dollops of creme fraiche to celebrate or regret. Basil and chilli in dangerous amounts. Confessing to the table what's really in the pan.
Today, an opportunity to cook rice pudding in the slow cooker. I don't think I've ever done it. Turns out beautifully. In honour of someone else, nostalgia propelled me to add whisky to the oats and Marsala to the fruit. Enjoy!
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