Studious salads
I spent the majority of the exam period studying with N's brother, S. This worked well for everybody - S doesn't have a computer or a desk, N only uses his desk as a laundry rack and I got human company without having to get out of my study pyjamas.
I love N more than I love slow-roasted tomatoes (i.e. a lot) but his little bro has a certain endearing quality that I doubt N will ever possess: the ability to utter that magical sentence "I could really go a salad for lunch, write me a list and I'll go to the shops".
As I trenched through the mysterious wonderland of fiduciary relations and S compiled his cramsheet on the mating calls of various species of tree-frog, our tummies were sated with:
- Salad Nicoise a la Stephanie, with four-minute eggs and anchovies (S is a vegetarian but he's not too precious, bless him)
A Lettuce and Parmigiano creation, compiled of the only lettuce my garden has produced in six months and the dregs of a trip to the Mediterranean Wholesalers
- Tomato and Red Onion salad with pita bread and home-made hummus (mashed by hand because I couldn't be effed washing the blender, yet managed to splatter the whole kitchen and the cat with tahini in the mashing process)
- A glorious creation inspired by three separate recipes from last month's Gourmet Traveler that I didn't have the ingredients for - roasted balsamic red onions and their juices, chickpeas, peeled orange segments, fresh black olives from the Barkly Square fruitshop, and rocket, all sprinkled with ground almonds (the bits deemed too coarse to go into my still-to-be-blogged pear cake)
In hindsight, there was probably a bit too much rocket. But too much green never killed anyone, and the salad provided a much-needed tangy/salty/peppery/sweet flavour explosion to wake tired palates and minds (so much more pleasurably than sugarfree Red Bulls!)
And I didn't even need to get out of my pyjamas.
