Firstly, I’m sorry Mary, but I had to use the title! A chilly morning saw me filling the log basket from the stock that I keep in the dépendance that is close to our back door which I need not have mentioned as, having such a small garden, there is no part of it is that is not close to the back door. Facing the stack of dry logs is a small wine fridge where white and rosé wines are kept au frais. I have very few chores of a morning, but one of these is bringing in wood and chilled wine which makes the title aposite, so I stole it in the same way I’m prone to do with chutney and chilli jam. Sorry Mary and Mick, but I’m flawed. The wood and the wine set the mood for the day which would be filled with cooking, a family lunch and a few good things to drink which is no bad way to spend a Sunday, or a Monday for that matter. The wood burner was alight, the oven was filled with a chicken and leek pie, roasting potatoes and a cauliflower cheese whilst on the window ledge the creme caramel was cooling, so it seemed a very good time to have a Bloody Mary. This was the “sweet spot” of a cooking morning where everything is going well and you’re the master of the tiny universe which is as big as the kitchen in which you are and no bigger. Celery salt, Worcestershire sauce, dry sherry and tabasco are essential additions for a good Bloody Mary and in the right proportions they are very bloody good. One Bloody Mary later and the puff pastry appeared to have collapsed into the chicken pie but I now thought that was a good idea, as with the cauliflower cheese that I had imagined to be browning in the oven but had somehow climbed out and was now sitting coldly staring at me ( I’d made it last night) on the counter behind me. Our daughter then arrived with our grand daughters and their dogs and a very clever son in law clutching the remains of what was to be the best bottle of Chablis that I can remember tasting. He had done the hard yards of going and tasting many bottles of fine wines at a wine fair in Paris the day before. When all these ingredients are combined in the right proportion and nobody cries, gets sick, gets drunk, or gets argumentative the perfect Sunday is created. It doesn’t happen always and because of that it needs to be relished and probably done much more often to get into the habit of getting it right, like the creme caramel.