Adventuring and approximating

 I am trying to pretend life is normal. Not, like, wildly and without limits, but let the record show I've been out twice this week. TWICE.  Not just to nice controlled booked museums, but to a wine tasting (admittedly in an open market stall, but there was a roof above us, if you went really high) - and then to a non-distanced theatre. Masks were... patchy.

There were people at the wine tasting, but I chose to take a picture of bottles. I'm fine.

The theatre was the utterly brilliant Operation Mincemeat. Which was at Southwark Playhouse, a place I had started to go to regularly with Liz before the Recent Unpleasantness. These tickets are I think my last leftover from a pre-pandemic booking, which was made for both of us, and I'm delighted to have gone. I'm also delighted that Teresa, a friend of the blog if not actually a participant, came with me so I didn't have to sit next to Not Liz all night. And Ruth, for doing her own rebooking on the same night, so there was masked waving and interval chat with other humans. It's a fantastic, bonkers musical, and if you're okay being in a non-distanced-but-trying theatre, we would all recommend it.

The moral I'm taking from this is that going out makes me really happy but then I feel somewhat guilty and like I need to take some lateral flows before doing anything else. But also, that I should book double tickets to things and offer them semi-randomly to twitter friends, because company is especially the good bit. If you are up for that sort of thing, let me know. Assuming that this week's flattening of covid numbers (hooray) isn't prelude to another spike (ugh), in which case I will cut back on the other peopling again.

HOWEVER, kitchenwise, all this has been a bit discombobulating. In the before times, I knew I'd be out at least one or two dinners a week, and I catered, or didn't, accordingly. In this case, even though these have been in the calendar for months, I managed to be taken by surprise. Dinners became lunches, lunches became dinners eaten at unseasonably early hours because apparently now I don't eat in town if I'm going to theatre but instead have a high tea at home like a prudent person.

I made the excellent Ottolenghi Jerusalem turkey and courgette burgers I may have mentioned before, which is a failsafe. Except it turns out my spare courgettes had essentially putrefied, so they were meatballs made with leeks instead. And the leftovers were very hasty flatbreads with burgers and yoghurt and salad snoffled over lunches while typing.

Then I made the extremely excellent Honey & Co recipe for steak fattoush. This should be for two people, and that's exactly how I usually do it across two meals, but I didn't have the heart to make this delicious thing in a lunchtime rush, and the turkey flatbreads had gone on longer than expected, so I, um, ate it all at once for one of the more normally-timed dinners of the week. 

I did proper process photos, because although the end product is lush, it's also an extremely solid process to follow: one pan, well used. You will need a steak, an onion sliced into rings, a slice of sourdough or other hefty bread, some grapes, sliced tomatoes and chopped parsley. You can sort the last two later on but get everything else ready, and then heat a solid frying pan with a knob of butter and some oil in. 

Put your onion rings on one side, and your steak on the other side of the pan. Cook for 3 minutes. 

Then flip your steak, and put the lightly cooked onions on top of the cooked side. In the empty half of the frying pan, put your slice of sourdough.

Give it two minutes. Then flip your bread so it's fried-golden side up, and place the steak on top of the bread. Put a bit more butter in the frying pan (I know, go with it - I only do meat week once a month). Add your grapes. 

Give it one last minute. Then switch out the heat and leave the steak on the bread to rest and dribble delectably. (This is when you can chop the cold bits). 

After resting, slice up your steak thinly, rip up your bread, mix it all up with the veg and grapes and, erm, serve between two people. Or not. Such a good mess.

Lastly, I tried something a bit new. I got scared off Vietnamese food a long time back, when Mum went to Paris for work and her hotel turned out to be in the Vietnamese quarter. She's always up for new things and ate locally throughout, but this was about 1990, she had no clue what she was ordering, and she came back looking harrowed and with tales of super-hot chillis. Being at an impressionable age then, I've only just started to listen to people telling me that's not the full story. Also, to look at bastardised versions for Euro palates, probably, but never mind. It works for me.

I made Bun Cha, from Crave. 

The thing here is less the patties (pork, lemongrass, garlic, fish sauce, lime zest, sugar, chilli - cook for 90 seconds a side, and then repeat, and supposedly do the sides brown too but I was, guess what, rushing this), than the patties *in context*. 

Context includes rice noodles, cooked and cooled; some more lime; crunchy peanuts; crispy onions; a sauce involving fish sauce, vinegar, garlic, sugar, chilli, some water to let it down... (My experience of this dish was much improved second time around when I realised this isn't a dipping sauce but one you should pour over. Yum.)

 

But mostly, crunchy veg: carrot julienne, round lettuce leaves, and handfuls of herbs: coriander, Thai basil and mint. Round here it's not a sensible option most of the year, but the farmer's market is currently bursting with huge bags of herbs - more than I can normally use, so hurrah. I forgot about the crispy onions (which I do own) and didn't buy peanuts so used incorrect cashews. 

It was still delicious. Brilliant summer food for the fanciest of salads. A bit of a messy week, planning-wise, but well worth it.