Ruminations and recipes from a small kitchen in a big city.

24.8.10

Storm.

I dusted some flathead tails in flour and a little salt and pepper and threw them into the pan. I had to hurry. The boys were hungry. It was early evening, about six o'clock, still patchy light in the western sky now, but overcast with the threat of heavy rain. The pan was hot and lightly greased with a mixture of peanut oil and ghee. I shook it once or twice as the fish sizzled and the flame caught the oil and the ghee and flared up over the stove. The boys screamed with excitement, thinking I was about to burn the house down, and the fish finished with a nice barbecued flavour. Rounds of potato were frying in the other pan and turning golden brown. Just how they like them.

*

I had taken them to the pool earlier, the indoor heated one. Tom has almost learned to swim and William at last can place his head under water. It's a start. Tom flies off the edge into the water with a running jump and surfaces in the middle of the pool. No fear. You have to watch him. William wades about more carefully. Two hours of that and they have the appetite of lions.

*

Tracy had had an afternoon sleep extending into evening, along with the infant, thanks to their broken hours. I wake at three every morning and there's a soft light on and a baby making the noises they make when they feed. And then the noises they make after. Then I fall asleep again and leave them to it and wake at six and they're at it again.

*

Tracy came out and took over the fish and chip dispensary and I went out for a walk. It was nearly dark now but you could make out dense black cloud reflecting the city lights. It was cold and but not raining. Then I turned a corner and walked into a sudden very heavy hailstorm. It hurt. Under the floodlights of the supermarket carpark I was crossing the hail looked like a million diagonal silver darts. It lasted five minutes. Just long enough to soak me. I walked on. I like walking in the rain. Back in at eight. Leftover flathead tails for dinner. But still delicious. Squirt of lemon. Shake of salt. Salad of rocket, avocado, tomato, onion, chick peas, crumbled blue cheese, and olive oil. White wine, not too cold. Rain on the roof. Emperor Concerto on the radio. I've heard it a million times but it still chills your spine.

1 comment:

White Dove said...

Contentment KH....contentment