The rocket is taking over. Oh my god. There has never been so much rocket grow so fast in the entire history of the world. Ever. As I mentioned it's a straight-edged variety rather than jagged and without that foul antiseptic taste supermarket rocket increasingly seems to have. I'm picking some every night - a small handful seems to be enough for both of us, but I discovered - with the leaves being so large - it wilts down a treat. Pictures coming soon - you will not believe the size of it.
So I thought, in my attempt to be a one-woman rocket-buster, tonight's dinner is Chicken Caesar Salad. I'm picking rocket and a few lettuce leaves from the garden, I found a chicory in the back of the fridge, I have some chicken thighs to roast and I'll make a dressing from anchovies, garlic, Parmesan, creme fraiche and lemon. But - and here's the crux of the matter - I'm going to toast some ripped up ciabatta in the tin with the chicken, moving it around the tin while the chicken's cooking so it will end up sodden with juices but also reasonably crisp. With a couple of glasses of white wine and the house to myself... Perfect.
And hoorah - this weekend we get the tomatoes. And melons. Who knew? They might grow, they might not, but Pa is certainly hopeful. Me - not so much. I haven't yet tracked down the sorrel-muncher, and I bet it loves melons.
PS: Toast the ciabatta for the last 20 mins of cooking, otherwise serious rescue operations will have to be instigated.
So I thought, in my attempt to be a one-woman rocket-buster, tonight's dinner is Chicken Caesar Salad. I'm picking rocket and a few lettuce leaves from the garden, I found a chicory in the back of the fridge, I have some chicken thighs to roast and I'll make a dressing from anchovies, garlic, Parmesan, creme fraiche and lemon. But - and here's the crux of the matter - I'm going to toast some ripped up ciabatta in the tin with the chicken, moving it around the tin while the chicken's cooking so it will end up sodden with juices but also reasonably crisp. With a couple of glasses of white wine and the house to myself... Perfect.
And hoorah - this weekend we get the tomatoes. And melons. Who knew? They might grow, they might not, but Pa is certainly hopeful. Me - not so much. I haven't yet tracked down the sorrel-muncher, and I bet it loves melons.
PS: Toast the ciabatta for the last 20 mins of cooking, otherwise serious rescue operations will have to be instigated.
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