Another day c/o NHS this week for another round of minor surgery. Let’s just say the 22hours of fasting, added to a 9 hour wait(as I’d been bumped to the end of the day’s procedures) made for a fairly tedious day . Last time I’d been treated to the luxury of a ham sandwich AND some digestive biscuits at the end of it all. A reward I was weirdly looking forward to, as soon as the anaesthetic wore off and I again realised I’d ‘made it’. By this time, however, it was late in the day. The day bed nurses wanted to go home. So did I, but not before restorative nosh had been brought my way. What? No sandwiches left? At all? Not even a weird ‘savoury cheese’ one? Hmm. A cuppa tea, two bits of toast and an arsenal of painkillers to take home with me. That was it.
Back to mum’s for R&R and lots of zzzz’s. The first day post-op was fine, groggy as was expected. Mum popped out to the shops for a bit, I lazed around. Then she came home with the best pressie a house-bound foodie could hope for. A stash of cookbooks from a local charity shop. Food porn! Yes, yes and thrice YES!
So for £10 -ten!- she picked up (from a shop I’d rather not disclose the name of, cause I’m greedy that way) the following schmexy tomes devoted to the art of yum. I’ve been buried in each for the past 24 hours and am looking forward to some cookingtime soon.
In no particular order, there’s Stephane Reynaud’s ‘Ripailles’, Georgio Locatelli’s ‘Made in Italy‘ and the Dean and Deluca cookbook. Nearly eighty bucks worth of cookbooks there! My chops were cheesing. My hunger is peaking. My bookshelf will be groaning. Thanks ma!
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