Read the paper this morning (oh boy) whilst downstairs making the tea. Wasn’t paper paper obvs, it was online, but I still call it reading the paper. Years ago we used to get a paper, on a weekend, the Sunday Times. It was quite a tome and the different sections were useful for things like lighting the fire. Stopped bothering decades ago. It ain’t cheap nowadays. I do sometimes get the FT on Saturday though I haven’t for a while.
Gotta nip out shortly. Need some baguettes, ice and milk. We are having a French themed bbq with tomahawk steak, butterflied lamb, pommes sarladaises, French beans and a green salad with some of my v nice French dressing. Apericubes, salami/saucisson, pongy cheese and tarte tartin top and tail the evening and I have a number of bottles of cognac, Normandy whisky and calvados to throw into the mix.
The beef and lamb will need careful timing/coordination and I’ll finish off the pommes when the meat is resting. I’ve already thrown together a persillade and par cooked the spuds. Ciao amigos, Waitrose beckons.
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When I got back THG asked whether I’d be wearing the Breton stripey shirt I purchaysed for ten Euros in the market in Concarneau. Hadn’t really given it a thought though now that she’s mentioned it I might well do. Trouble is I don’t have a beret to go with it. The last one I bought was a bright pink one I got from a tourist stall near Montmartre after a boozy lunch with @Wayne and @Simon. Lasted less than two hours. Left it in the taxi en route to Au Bon Coin restaurant. At least that one was only six bucks.