I’ve had a quiet day cooking on my own. The cooking was quiet but the peace was spoiled by someone talking to himself. Being alone in the house does not spare me from myself. My mistake lies in turning on the radio which allows uninvited opinions into my kitchen and mind. I very nearly wrote “wireless” which terminology used in relation to our wire strewn house would have been as far from the truth as the opinions to which I was allowing myself to listen. In company, it is polite to consider the worth of another person’s opinion but, when engaged in solitary cooking, there is no right opinion save for one’s own and how invigorating that is. It can be very difficult listening to these misguided opinions over the volume and vigour of my onanistic diatribe, but as each presenter becomes progressively more enraging I have to spur myself on to keep up the tirade. How I love the hiss and boo of one sided argument. In the midst of this onslaught my cooking mind remains calm and focused. Should there be another person, incarnate, in the kitchen during these outbursts, things can go badly wrong. As long as the people remain ethereal I can continue my philippic without burning the cakes.
Today, there were no cakes to burn. Summer cooking eschews cakes, or it eschewed them today as I had a kilo of cherries that seemed hell bent on getting stoned and throwing themselves into a light syrup of rosé wine. This is a wonderfully simple dish that can be served warm or cold, in crystal or in an empty glass yoghourt pot, and which never fails to please. I have been told by an old wife that cherries are good for gout, so I shall be eating as many as possible. I didn’t confer with the old wife as to whether cooking them in rosé could reduce their anti gout properties…..I knew her opinion would only get me going again.