I love Christmas. I’ve been excited since October at the thought of getting the decorations out of the attic. But I’m failing badly in the kitchen. A proper food blogger would have a pantry full of Christmas goodies at this stage. I have not made so much as a mince pie. My brother always provides a humdinger of a Christmas pud so I don’t need to worry about that but otherwise our Christmas larder is bare.
I’ve no-one to blame but myself and my weakness for Christmas parties and related socialising. I’ve been doing a whole lot of eating and drinking and little to no cooking.
At least I’ve been eating well. Had the best homemade tiramisu I’ve ever tasted at a friend’s dinner party at the weekend (must get the recipe) and enjoyed one of Fallon & Byrne‘s fine fine steaks for lunch yesterday. Somewhere along the way in the last few days, I also paid 75 quid for a pretty so-so meal in Jaipur. First and last time going there.
So now I’m feeling vaguely dyspeptic, flushed with alcohol and guilty about the utter lack of nutmeggy, cinnamonny, fruity Christmas things in our house. And my boss has taken to calling this blog ‘a walk up and down Bollocks St’, which is funny but ever-so-slightly disheartening.
About the only thing to do is have a curative glass of wine, I think. Tomorrow, I’ll start the Christmas ingredients shopping list.