Titanic Days

I actually cooked tonight. Four pans, every burner on the stove going ... whoseyerdaddy...

I poached a rainbow trout fillet in milk, boiled up some Charlotte potatoes and broccoli so that it was just on the edible side of crunchy, and then I did a creamy buttery sauce with chives, parsley and basil. I don't know if I curdled the cream - although I expect it would be obvious if I had done - but any tips on how to whip up a cream sauce would be appreciated for future reference. Anyway, it was the best food I've cooked by my own hand in a very long time.

Then I had a dram of my Highland Park and watched Wife Swap USA. I've remarked frequently how much better the American version is, but this one was truly fantastic. All four of them were without exception thoroughly unpleasant gobshites, and when the couples 'discussed the experience' at the end there was an actual fight, which predictably ended with the redneck punching the liberal in the gob*, and an altercation with the local sheriff's office ensued. Wife Swap may be cruel, but it's a fantastic bloodsport that doesn't harm any foxes, and ... you know ... I have limited sympathy for people who voluntarily go in for reality TV, so I found it hard to whip up much internal guilt.

Payday tomorrow.

* Which he thoroughly deserved.

For a shot of pure sophistication, there is little to compare with zipping across the fields of northern France at 300kph while a selection of rather pleasant wines and a filet de saumon sauvage are served at your seat by a ravishingly pretty trilingual Belgian boy.

Corporate hospitality. Who can odds it, eh?

La de dum...

Today was mostly hot. My sources say 31 Centigrade in our neck of the woods, which doesn't surprise me. And so humid: some of you may remember that day in Boston in 2003 when I nearly died of hot and had to be revived with water and Mexican food - it was kind of a lot like that.

In the evening, to Le Petit Nantaise in Molesey for, in my case, scallops, pork escalope and profiteroles, the whole washed down with a very nice Muscadet - the occasion being another parental wedding anniversary. The establishment seems to have been founded by an Englishwoman who ran off to France to be with her beau, and then somehow persuaded him to give it all up to come and run a restaurant in suburban Surrey. However, for this it does remain demonstrably French, and thus a cut above the other 'Let's Play At France' restaurants that dot the area. This guy's mother was also present, taking us on a whirlwind musical tour of Europe through the power of her accordion. We had the theme from 'Jean de Florette,' a medley of Italian hits from 'Volare' to 'The Godfather,' and something that sounded suspiciously like 'Y Viva Espana' but may have been 'Song of the Volga Boatmen.'

Goodnight all.