The Husband is on catering detail this afternoon. I have nudged him in the direction of one or two (actually maybe just the one, to be utterly frank, it was a sharp nudge) possibilities. What I am hoping he will produce is a pantry + freezer approximation of a Fabada Asturiana.
So this was, ideally, going to be made out of things we already had about the place:
We had sliced black pudding (frozen)
We had Co-op diced potatoes and red onion with chorizo (also frozen)
We had a tin of butter beans
We had a tin of cannelloni beans
We had shallots (one on steroids, he says)
We had bulbs of garlic
We had EV olive oil and water out of the tap
The above have now been combined in a casserole, stirred gently and put in a low oven. He reckons in two hours the smell permeating the house will be irresistible, and then we will set about it.
Meanwhile he has fixed us both a large Gin Ricky, to help us pass the long wait, which was F Scott Fitzgerald's favourite drink;
Squeeze the juice of a fresh lime into a tall glass
Add a handful of ice cubes per glass
Add about twice as much gin as one had of lime juice
Top up with chilled soda water
And what has that lazy, idle, good-for-nothing Goldenoldenlady been doing meanwhile?
She has given herself a pedicure (in line with Maundy Thursday traditions, if that is not scandalously irreverent) so that the toenails are all preened and polished in preparation for the slightest rise in temperature and the re-adoption of sandals.
She has loved the dog, BIG LOTS.
She has made encouraging comments about the Fabada Asturiana.
She has finalised details with the house guests due next week.
She has typed this.
ENJOY - we shall.