Tonight’s dinner: Mystery Fish on a Bed of Pilau Rice .
As I mentioned, I bought a mixed lot of frozen fish so I’m not actually sure what this is. Whiting I think though. Grilled on a tray rubbed with butter, with a few leaves of fresh basil and mint in top. Why basil and mint? Because those are the ones I have growing in pots in the kitchen. I have them growing in pots in the kitchen because they smell so good. Lay it on a bed of simple pilau rice, serve with a little soy sauce, and that’s really all there is to it.
About the simplest meal possible, yet the result is somehow magically delicious. You don’t often hear of mint being used with fish, but I was very pleased with the flavour combination.
Seriously, someone needs to marry me.
And this is nothing but a chicken what I roast. A lot of course for one person; I was having it in omelettes, stir fries and salads nearly every other day for the next week. I show it here mainly because I am really damn proud of the photograph. Chicken is a natural model.
I don’t often cook properly, so when I do I… Well, I get inordinately pleased with myself.
I’m house-sitting at the moment, which means I have some time on my hands and a decent kitchen at my disposal. Normally I can never be bothered to cook for one and, like old photographs, only bring out the culinary skills when I have guests. But if I’m going to be here for a week or more I need to get into good habits. I don’t want to wind up eating out of tins. At least not directly.
A lot of vegetables in the fridge that were not going to look appetising for much longer. (That cucumber in fact needed CPR.) So stir fry! I used to be notorious for these, but nowadays don’t even possess a wok. There’s one here though.
Ingredients: Carrots, cucumber, scallions, broad beans from the local organic farm, and Unnamed Fish. I’m not clear what it is because I bought a special-offer lot of mixed frozen fishes. Probably plaice.
Herbs: None, and certainly no spices. Just soy sauce and olive oil in the cooking.
Directions: Chop up, make hot and slap about.
“Nice.” Jesus. I’m never going to make it as a food critic, am I?