simultaneous reverting to type.

i'm just, i think, going to gloss over the marmalade praise, for the simple reason that it most definitely makes me blush. i told you guys i had problems taking myself seriously, but never is that more evident than in receiving compliments about something i worked hard at. so, yeah, we'll just leave that one on the table and spare my embarassment.

now, oddly and coincidentally, i don't know if you guys remember the last time ed made something so inherently a meat-eater's dream? i was at the time making ridiculously archetypal vegetarian fare, the kind that most people think is all us herbivores eat. again, while ed has been embarking on his meat-curing project, i have, true to stereotype been creating neat little platefuls of pure plant material. i think part of why i find this such an amusing little coincidence is because i'm probably about as far from the wholefood movement as it's possible to be; see for reference my abilities to wax lyrical about oil, salt, and frying. and don't even get me started on my sweet tooth. nothing made with agave nectar or whatever the fuck it is i'm supposed to have instead of the toxic refined sugar i hold so dear, will ever quieten my inner child's demands for sweet stuff. i am motivated by my appetites, which are stronger than any health superiority complexes in terms of my willpower.

but there is one thing that makes me pare it down, and crave the kind of worthy food that slings me right into the stereotype zone, and that, my friends, is a hangover. well, it's more complicated than that, it's a hangover left to mature too long. if i catch my hangovers early enough, i, like any normal human being, want fried starch in as big a quantity as possible. if i lie and let the accompanying moderate self-loathing develop, as i did on monday's black hole of a hangover, the only food i can countenance is vegetable packed, light, and reminiscent of bodily atonement. especially if, as in the case of monday's hangover, i have to go to work and waitress a floor full of valentine's couples who quite obviously couldn't get booked anywhere in town.

i turned, in my addled state, to my copy of nigel slater's the kitchen diaries, mostly because at any given time it is the closest book in my bedroom to my bed; and found a bulghur wheat recipe which sounded ideal. problem: i didn't have any bulghur wheat. solution: i did have mixed white and wild rice and a mind to substitute rather than read any more. so i'll give you the original recipe, and let you know that the only substition i made was rice for bulghur, which didn't really involve any rejigging. so here is:

(not) bulghur wheat with aubergines and mint

olive oil, 6 tablespoons,

a small onion

a bay leaf

aubergines, 2

garlic, 2 large cloves

bulghur wheat, 225g

vegetable stock, 500ml

tomatoes, 4

pine kernels, 3 tablespoons, toasted

mint, 15-20 leaves, chopped

lemon juice to taste


warm the olive oil in a shallow pan, peel and finely slice the onion and let it cook slowly in the oil with the bay leaf. when the onion is soft and pale gold, add the aubergines, cut into 3cm pieces, and the chopped garlic. let the aubergines cook, adding more oil if necessary, until they are golden and soft.


pour in the bulghur wheat (or rice if you are kirsty) and vegetable stock. bring to the boil, then leave to simmer for fifteen to twenty minutes til the wheat (rice) is tender and almost dry. halfway through cooking, roughly chop and add the tomatoes and add them. once the wheat (...) is cooked, stir in the toasted pine nuts, and chopped mint. check the seasoning, and add lemon juice, salt and pepper to taste.

right, now i've done the self deprecating vegetarian bit and made you think 'why would i eat that?' here is the part where i convince you i wasn't wasting my time making this. i don't need to sell pilaf to myself, cos i could probably measure the summer after graduation in bowls of it. there is something really pleasingly gentle about perfectly cooked rice, and i was, to be fair, very hungover for most of that summer. this recipe wasn't all virtue and convalescence for self inflicted ills though. there is something magical about aubergines. as a kid i was fascinated with them; what other food is as shiny and black in it's natural state? my mum never cooked with them, when she cooked, and therefore i could not possibly conceive of what they tasted like and was possessed by the idea of them. i don't think i ever ate them until i started making an oven roasted ratatouille recipe in halls of residence, and i have never looked back since. no other vegetable has quite the yielding quality in the mouth, the ability to hold its own against big flavours, the versatility in terms of being a robust casing for other things or become a smoky puree of entirely itself; i would eat anything consisting in part of aubergine. this dish lets them shine in their own right, the tomatoes and garlic providing only subtle backnotes a la the members of the temptations who weren't david ruffin or eddie kendricks. and you know what? i ate it cold for the next two days, too, i liked it so much. so, not just for avoiding liver failure, then.