Tuesday 16th August 2011
Us city folk, have worked out that 3 hens means 3 eggs. My son, Zephyrus, ran out with just pyjamas & his wellingtons this morning to check the coup. He nonchalantly strolled back juggling 1 egg between one hand & the other. He went back just before lunch a found another.
* At the time of going to press, we are still waiting for the third.
It’s funny how the first time we try something, food wise that is, we except that that is how it is supposed to taste. For good or bad that remains the benchmark. A good example of this would be spaghetti bolognese. My Mum made this a lot when we were kids so by the time I got to Italy, in my mid-twenties, and experienced it first hand, it was nothing like what Mum made. Now I’m sure the Italians have a pretty good understanding of how to make their national dish but it’s not a patch on my Mum’s, who was born & breed in Hanault, Essex. 😉
Egg fried rice is another. Chinese food was relatively new when I was growing up. But we were lucky enough to have a Chinese take away in the shopping precinct at the bottom of my Mum’s road. Whatever we ordered from the menu, we would always get 2 egg fried rice & 2 noodles. (No beansprouts-Mum doesn’t like them.) That was standard. Their rice was the best; eggy, stodgy & ricey. If it wasn’t eaten that night, it tasted just as good cold, in the morning for breakfast. I’ve eaten this dish all around the world but it’s never as good, ever.
This is essentially an Indonesian dish. I found the sauce in paste form in the supermarket, shredded the roast chicken we had for Sunday lunch, added spinach & the chicken stock I made from the carcass then let it simmer for 30 minutes. I’d never heard of it before but Indonesian cuisine seems to be quite popular here. So as they say; When in Rome…or rather, when in Holland, eat Indonesian.