Chilly

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And wet.

Looking at the road beyond the front garden this morning, I resigned myself to being confined to our property for the day. R, who spends at least as much time trying to escape from the trench as I do but has a car that can cope with a flooded lane, went out. And then fifteen minutes later came back again, because the village was essentially cut off by flooding. It being a casserole kind of a day, we got out the slow cooker and set some local lamb cooking in saffron, paprika, garlic and white wine.

By the time I’d filled the bird feeders I was shivering with cold, but congratulating myself that I wasn’t going to have to spend the rest of the day huddled on a branch. Retreating to the house I was greeted by the wonderful smell of the lamb, and briefly wondered if a chilli or two might improve it even more – but it was due to be finished with a handful of chopped fresh mint, and I decided that adding chilli as well might be overkill.

If I’m being completely honest, I bought the chilli plant because I thought it would look nice on the kitchen windowsill – which it does. But it would be a shame not to take advantage of this bountiful crop, so I’ll use some tomorrow when I cook up fresh tomatoes, olives and garlic as a coating sauce for tortellini.