my favorite kind of day, and I did­n’t get lost!

Well, first can I just say what a dif­fer­ence a decent night’s sleep makes! No bad dreams, two cosy lit­tle girls asleep down the hall, and sleep­ing in until 9. Now John will be cru­el to me and tell you that I actu­al­ly pre­fer to sleep until 11, but tru­ly, 9 is quite enough. But I did wake up in a pan­ic at 7, think­ing I’d over­slept and Avery would be late to school. But this did not stop me from going right back to sleep.

Becky and I had a lux­u­ri­ous­ly long lunch yes­ter­day at a place in Maryle­bone called Caffe Calde­si, a down­scale-ish broth­er to the fanci­er restu­rant down the road (and with a cook­ing school that would be fun to try). I’m not sure it was ter­ri­bly note­wor­thy, but I did have a very fresh plate of bre­sao­la with excel­lent­ly spicy rock­et and good parme­san cheese, Becky report­ed her lin­gui­ni al ragu was com­pe­tent, but the sauteed spinach was ined­i­ble. Parts burned black, all of it rather tepid, not enough but­ter or oil, and it need­ed salt bad­ly. I guess I do won­der a bit when a restau­rant can­not pro­duce a dish that is vir­tu­al­ly fool­proof (throw spinach in a skil­let over low heat with some but­ter, gar­lic and a lit­tle water, cov­er it and come back in two min­utes. Hmmm). But most­ly it was won­der­ful just to chat, to com­pare notes on par­ent-teacher con­fer­ences and to hear that, while she was at a bible study meet­ing that morn­ing, and had men­tioned to the oth­er ladies that her chil­dren go to our school a moth­er swung around and said, “I know a lit­tle girl called Avery who goes there, with a moth­er called Kris­ten.” And of course it was Simone, my friend from Ross Nye Sta­ble, with whom I have had many a heart­warm­ing, socia­ble chat over the pad­dock fence. No sense even repeat­ing the “small world” bro­mide. It’s a good thing I don’t have any­thing to hide! Most­ly, though, it was good to have Becky back with all her wry humor and appre­ci­a­tion for all our chil­dren, such a nice thing to share with her.

It was a busy sleep­over last night, what with prac­tic­ing the vio­lin, try­ing to record a CD for their beloved vio­lin teacher, mak­ing brown­ies, and going through the gor­geous stamp albums my dad gave Avery for Christ­mas. She has infect­ed Anna with her fer­vor for all things phi­la­to­log­i­cal and gave her some dupli­cate stamps to start her own col­lec­tion, plus they invad­ed my com­plex din­ner prepa­ra­tions (the request­ed bolog­nese sauce) in order to soak stamps off sev­er­al envelopes Avery had been sav­ing. Noth­ing like a hob­by project involv­ing bowls of hot water to make chop­ping end­less gar­lic and car­rots that much sim­pler. They they had fun watch­ing “Bring­ing Up Baby” which Avery adores but is sec­ond only to hot nee­dles in my eye­balls as far as suf­fer­ing goes in my book. Final­ly, how­ev­er, it was bed­time, and I said, “Don’t for­get to brush your teeth, girls,” and they shrieked and said, “We’ve got to brush the teeth!” “THE teeth?” I queried, think­ing it was an odd turn of phrase. “Yes, the teeth we lost this week! We must put them under the pil­low for the Tooth Fairy!”

Now, it has been sev­er­al years since Avery believed in the Tooth Fairy, but Anna’s enthu­si­asm was hard to resist. So they wrote long notes to the Tooth Fairy explain­ing that since they were an incisor and a molar respec­tive­ly, they thought spe­cial atten­tion was mer­it­ed. Lord have mer­cy. I’m hap­py to report that the Fairy for­gave Avery for her skep­ti­cism and reward­ed both girls suit­ably, with a cou­ple of pounds and a lit­tle tin horse for each of them, how clever of her.

Well, today I real­ly must pat myself on the back for get­ting the girls filled with pan­cakes, bacon and pears and achiev­ing Coco’s house in Shep­herd’s Bush with­out even a wrong turn! “Praise me, girls!” I begged, and Avery made a very impor­tant philo­soph­i­cal point in say­ing, “But Mum­my, if you keep not get­ting lost, very soon we will stop prais­ing you for it. It will just be expect­ed.” Now that’s food for thought. Why does the world do that to us? If we usu­al­ly screw up, we get praised when we don’t. But if we stop screw­ing up and peo­ple get com­pe­tence from us, very soon com­pe­tence is ignored and the bar is raised to excel­lence, which gets praised briefly until that too becomes com­mon­place. Then one is left like a ger­bil on a tread­mill, pro­vid­ing excel­lence and get­ting noth­ing but a bed of saw­dust and a water bot­tle with a ball bear­ing in it for one’s pains. I must think that through and find anoth­er way.

In any case, I did pat myself on the back, and pro­ceed­ed to get only slight­ly lost from Shep­herd’s Bush to the Cromwell Road where I did a mam­moth Tesco shop (I know, I know, don’t scold me: I’m under pres­sure here). Now I’m spend­ing my favorite sort of day: cook­ing some­thing elab­o­rate for a din­ner par­ty this evening. I’m going to repeat the recipe here so you don’t have to be click­ing on hot links if you just can’t wait anoth­er minute to make this salmon.

Vin­cen­t’s Salmon with Cream & Vegetables

Prepa­ra­tion time: 10–15 minutes
Cook­ing Time: 25–30 minutes
Lev­el of Dif­fi­cul­ty: Very Easy
Occa­sion: Din­ner Par­ty or Sun­day Lunch

Approx 1 Kilo of Salmon Fil­let in one piece if pos­si­ble — (Enough to
feed 4 gen­er­ous­ly or 6 if you’re hav­ing a starter)
3 Medi­um to large carrots
1 Large fen­nel bulb
1 Medi­um Onion
1 Large Red Pepper
2 Large Cel­ery Stalks
200g Green Veg­eta­bles (Green Beans, Aspara­gus etc.)
3 Tbsp Chopped Flat Leaf Parsley
1 1/2 Tbsp Chopped Dill
1 1/2 Tbsp Chopped Chervil (Not absolute­ly necessary)
Grat­ed Rind of 1 Lemon
Juice of 1 Lemon
400 ml Creme Fraiche
150 ml White Wine (Chardon­nay, Viog­nier, Sauvi­gnion Blanc)

Pre­heat your oven to 200C (Medi­um hot oven). Put the veg­eta­bles through a food proces­sor with a shredding/julienne blade. Trans­fer the grat­ed veg­eta­bles to a mix­ing bowl. Add the grat­ed lemon rind. In a sep­a­rate mix­ing bowl, add the Creme Fraiche, lemon juice, white wine, chopped herbs and mix well. Sea­son this with gen­er­ous amounts of pep­per and some salt. Pour the liq­uid mix­ture over the veg­eta­bles and mix thor­ough­ly. When you’re done, you should have a very wet mix of veg­eta­bles sit­ting in but not cov­ered by liquid.

Par­tial­ly strain and arrange 3/4 of the veg­etable mix­ture even­ly on the bot­tom of a large and flat back­ing pan/tray. Place the salmon fil­let skin-side down on the veg­eta­bles. Sea­son the salmon. Strain and place the remain­der of the veg­eta­bles on the fish. You should have about 1 1/2 cups of liq­uid left in the bot­tom of your mix­ing bowl. Pour that over the salmon.

Bake the salmon for 25–30 min­utes, check­ing half-way and bast­ing the fish with some of the cook­ing liq­uid. When the time is up, check that the fish is cooked. It should be a bit “pink” in the middle.

Serve over white rice or boiled new pota­toes and with some steamed green vegetables.

Chef’s Tip: If the Salmon and veg­eta­bles ren­der too much liq­uid dur­ing cook­ing, and the sauce looks watery/runny, then when you are done cook­ing, remove the fish from the pan along with most of the veg­etable mix­ture. Take the remain­ing veg­eta­bles and all of the liq­uid and place in a pan. Add 2 Tbsp of creme fraiche, and reduce on a medium/high heat (stir reg­u­lar­ly). When the sauce has achieve a pleas­ing con­sis­ten­cy, add some of the fresh herbs if you have any left for col­or and pour over the fish and vegetables.

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I must say I would rather have John’s mom here shar­ing the prep work and chat­ting, or my moth­er fill­ing me in on fam­i­ly news. But one can’t have every­thing, where would one put it? I will be attempt­ing Vin­cen­t’s fab­u­lous salmon, and I will report to you on its real lev­el of “eas­i­ness,” as com­pared with Vin­cen­t’s claim of “eas­i­ness.” I wish he were com­ing too, but I don’t think I could take the pres­sure of repeat­ing his own dish for him to eat! Some evening soon I’ll run down to the cel­lar and bring up a fat­ted calf to roast. That should impress.

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