Another frosty start. ‘A shooting day,’ I thought to myself as I watched thick smoke pour from the chimney into the frozen sky. Pigeons were moving and as a cock bird issued its challenge to the new day, I noticed the moon, still bright in the west and cushioned by disparate cloud warmed with pink. Alas I had a chicken house to build and spent the whole day being taunted by the noisy winging of woodies as they flopped to feed on acorns around the cottage. The weatherboard box is of typically robust construction, dramatically over engineered from demolition timber and though I'm satisfied that a chicken will never escape from it, I have no idea how to transport it to the run. My strongman Mr. C remains in France
Lunch saw another assault on the formidable lump of Stilton in our fridge but perhaps more notable were the pears we ate for dessert. I believe the variety is 'Winter Nellis ' and those which didn't rot in store have turned golden, sweet and juicy. Also on the edible front, the Damson port which I have been sampling regularly to gauge the correct sweetness, was racked off today and topped up with spirit. I'm rather excited about the new recipe (given in detail somewhere in my virtual scribblings). The ' port ' already tasted excellent and the spirit, as planned has stopped the fermentation dead in its tracks. When the dark liquid has cleared I shall bottle it and allow it to mature -for a couple of weeks at least!
Dinner
Pan fried whiting on a bed of potato and leek rosti, served with provencale vegetable sauce. My vomiting sickness has left me with an unfortunate aversion to thought of eating large quantities of meat, so my Dungeness whiting fillets have had another outing.
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