|Nigella (Saima via Flickr)|
It was Easter so we planned visits to gran's, lunch with pals, Cbeebies live and the movies with a gradual slowing down.
I think I might even have found my cooking mojo, tucked between the pages of Nigella's Feast,
Some friends, real people were coming for lunch tomorrow and I'm looking forward to it.
A leisurely breakfast at a table I even had time to wipe and I started my hunt for sunday lunch inspiration with the queen of slurp and innuendo.
I remembered with particular fondness her tasty concoction of pork and prunes.
Moments later I found myself wondering where the best place to put hot cross bun dough to rise and where I might buy live yeast.
Hold on a minute. The first domestic day in yonks and I want to clog it up with the unnecessary creation of a bakery item that can be bought for pennies.
Where did that come from, eh, Ms Lawson?
How come a moderately rational middle aged woman is contemplating such culinary craziness? Particularly when her Aspie son's current obsession with extreme cake icing is providing all the crazy she needs.
She has done this to me before. There have been fish balls, pastry and mayonnaise. Fruitless visits to shops where staff haven't heard of fresh horseradish much less know where it is stocked. We aren't all within reach of Borough Market, you know. Then hours in the kitchen trying to stop things curdling by will power alone.
But I'm on to you now. Your power lies not in beguiling men with your souffles and veloutes, but in persuading women that making hot cross buns from scratch is a worthwhile use of their valuable time.
I've still not quite worked out your motive in this but, rest assured I know there is one and you won't catch me out again.
And now where did I put that vanilla extract (not essence of course)?