Yup. I've turned my ankle--not as badly as a few years ago, but bad enough that carrying out my usual kitchen business just isn't happening. For a brief second I thought about bringing back Cooking By Proxy, but the exbf (who was part of it last time) made it more than clear that he would not go through that again. Apparently in my hobbled state I am just as scary weilding Pokey the Walking Stick as I am weilding my favourite kitchen knife.
So I ate frozen leftovers and splashed out on enough Chinese food to feed the Red Army.
Things were going well enough until they weren't: scratchy throat, tightwire walking a fever, drippy nose, and a cough reminiscent the soundscape of San Francisco's Pier 39. Yup. I've caught the flu...or something.
My Dear Little Cardammumy's nurse's training has kicked in, plus her "my only baby is sick and needs to be better" instincts. Yes...a combination of scary and comforting.
So again, I'm not in the kitchen, save for boiling a kettle or preparing a few very easy things like tinned soup and a sandwich or two. Which means I have nothing foodish to really share with you other than something that's become a recent go-to meal, completed with a cup of tea:
A buttered, lightly toasted bagel with ribbons of paper-thin proscuitto tumbled atop each slice.
I'm a quill for hire!