sunday sunday

We're all gross and ill with a weeklong coughing sleepless snot bug that has deprived me of three best friends' birthday bashes thus far. The weekend was a lot of recovery and cosying down away from the rain, watching Star Wars and eating biscuits... but we managed an escape for a birthday roast at The Talbot as I'd had to miss Leonie's proper 60s themed bash the night before. Thanks, snot. Not. It was a lovely catching-up-with-old-friends, I-can-use-my-cold-as-an-excuse-to-drink-bloody-marys (vitamin C! antioxidants! vodka!) type of day. The Talbot staff were bend-over-backwards helpful and the squids were made very welcome. Food was scrumptious - lovely medium rare beef, all the extras (and double  yorkshire pud that was no trouble at all). Gorgeous, crisp sunny walk back to Leo & Leonie's new house to ogle their sexy 6-burner range and yellow vinyl floor, and completely overindulge in Katie D's mega carrot cake. Cold and slightly queasy bus journey home was worth it. 

sunday sunday

We have made a vague family decision to try and have a *proper* lunch or brunch together every Sunday over the autumn and winter, and even though it was technically still September it was dreary enough outside to kick things off. Lovely Jo, a friend for three whole decades as both our dads were journos based in Brussels together back in the VERY early 80s, came over to see us (especially Pablo, who has a bit of a crush on her) which was a great excuse for feasting. Konch made Jamie Oliver's pot roast pork with fennel, our first goose-fat parsnips of the season, buttered leeks and peas, and some little roasted salad potatoes. I decided to attempt Mary Berry's Queen of Puddings - have been lusting after it since the Great British Bake Off technical challenge a couple of weeks ago. My jam may have been a tiny bit runny but otherwise it was impressive and easy and a lovely hot winter pud. We ate it ALL, and the super super sweetness was a hit with Pablo until he decided he needed to take his top off to show Jo his muscles, then promptly dropped a spoon full of hot-ish custard onto his tummy. Whoops.  After pudding it was compulsory to spend the rest of the day sipping wine and soaking up the dregs of fennel sauce with fat slices of ciabatta, grabbing little kips and watching cartoons.