The shops open so late on a Sunday that halfway around my walk the gent phoned to say he had been unable to find any bread or eggs, and the only solution was to pop to Cecconis for breakfast.
One duck egg with black truffle and hash brown later, becalmed by an Earl Grey tea, I had to pinch myself. Do people really live like this? And, given that I felt like the Queen, shouldn't the prices be more queenly, too?
That evening I rolled up my sleeves and made good with the cleaning whilst the gent knocked up something or other. You can see from the photo what that entailed: Dijon mustard mash, buttery cabbage and a pork belly roasted with thyme and salt.
There is no way to make modest of all this good fortune, so you will excuse me for just enjoying it!
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment