All posts filed under: Light lunch

Laurie Colwin’s Bread

I didn’t mean to be gone for so long, promise. As always, must try harder. Anyway, let’s get to business – to the here and now: late November, deep frost, half-broken fairy lights, cup of tea resting on a pile of books, and a half-demolished panettone. That’s current-Alice in a nutshell. Nothing too exciting, but I’m still here – cooking, copywriting, reading, not reading enough, eating, studying, and counting down the days until I can listen to Christmas music without a tinge of guilt. So yes, the usual stuff. To be honest, before I sat down to write this evening, I realised that I don’t really have anything interesting to tell you. Or at least there’s no photographic evidence of the interesting things. It turns out that my most recent photos are a) not at all recent and b) mostly of vaguely aesthetically pleasing things I’ve noticed around the house. And importantly, none of them (bar the ones you can see in this post) are of food. A sorry state of affairs. This problem, I’ve decided, might be Read More

Cotswolds cottage

A charmed life

Hello there. Today I come to you from my bath, where I’ve been with Stacey Kent and a glass of wine for the past half hour. It’s all very relaxing. I just thought I’d check in – it’s been a while, after all.  Everything’s going well in this little corner of the East Midlands – I’ve got a new copywriting client (a lovely foodie company); a new English language tutee; and my mum’s been over for a weekend visit. It all feels very grown-up and very wholesome. The rest of this post will come to you in list form as I’m writing this in shorthand, plus my notebook’s getting damp.   Holidays //  A week ago we went on holiday for a week in the Cotswolds with Dom’s parents. We stayed in a 400-year-old thatched cottage and the sun shone and we read and walked and barbecued. Then we spent two days with my mad family in a converted chapel in Chichester. I loved it all.   Rural drinking // A couple of months ago I read A Charmed Read More

Potted Shrimp

We pass through the Peak District. The hills are heavy with damp. The train stops at yet another Northern mill town on its long journey back to Norwich. I always do my best thinking on long train journeys, especially once the view fades into black and my reflection is the only thing staring back. Apart from the trials and tribulations of finding a new job and a new flat for the new year, right now I’m thinking about potted shrimp. We decided to make it for starters on Christmas Eve, alongside mackerel pate and a pile of homemade melba toasts, and I learned that making potted shrimps is one of the best ways to forget your worries (namely new job, new flat, new year). It’s a therapeutic, unfiddly process that begins with butter. First take a whole golden brick of the stuff – unsalted, but salted is fine in a pinch – and melt it slowly, stirring far too much with a wooden spoon because let’s be honest, who can resist? Line the top of a Read More