I blasted through Nigel Slater's Kitchen Diaries. Beautiful food writing. I loved it all.
Here's an excerpt dated March 21st (Insomniac, please enlighten me on the climate of London. This sounds like true spring has arrived. March 21st?):
I cook with the doors open even on the wettest day. The smell of spring rain as I chop and stir brings with it a gentle freshness and energy. The first home-grown herbs up this spring were chives as fine as babies' hair, and now it's the mint, which has wintered happily in its terracotta pot on the kitchen steps. I grow two varieties: Eastern mint, whose pointed, almost hairless leaves are the best for glasses of sweet amber Moroccan tea, and a common mint, which is only just starting to wake up from its winter slumber.
Two full days of sunshine and the local gardens are unrecognizable. The playing fields are a mass of chirpy daffodils. At home, leaf buds are suddenly showing on everything from the hazelnuts to the gooseberries. Apart from a couple of sleepy rose bushes, every plant, tree and bush seems to have woken up this week.
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3 comments:
Oh, how I wish such things happened here as early as March 21st.
~Lisa
I look out my window and see rain, rain, rain with fierce wind. And I had to butcher my mint because it happily spent the winter taking over my whole garden. Can he come to my house and stay?
Yup, I'm annually jealous of my family when they describe the arrival of spring in Old Blighty, while we're still shivering and shoveling.
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