Slaving Over a Hot Stove.

11:30 PM.

The pate is made. No whisky in it though.

The smoked oyster bechamel for the vols au vent (vol au vents?) is prepared.

The cake had to be bought because the recipe for the choc cake did not come in time, and that is one tried and true recipe I don’t mess with or improvise.  just as well. I was flat out as it was.

The crudites are cut and sprinkled with lime juice to keep them fresh; carrot, celery and snow peas.  There’s freshly made creamy smoked salmon dip, and basil pesto – this time without stalk fibres.

The antipasto selection of avocado, feta, pickled peppers, Kalamata olives and cheeses – all set and ready with the smoked salmon, crisps, crackers and cream cheese.

The chef is weary and off to bed.

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About Uisce úr

Though I am old with wandering Through hollow lands and hilly lands, I will find out where she has gone, And kiss her lips and take her hands; And walk among long dappled grass, And pluck till time and times are done, The silver apples of the moon, The golden apples of the sun.
This entry was posted in Life, don't talk to me about life!. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Slaving Over a Hot Stove.

  1. Alan says:

    Well received. It is a little sad that people are so impressed when some old codger can do more than make bangers and mash. I must say the vols au vent were pretty good. And the dip. But the pate had everyone talking, and that was the easiest.

    Like

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