If, like me, you always cook too much rice, don't throw it out. Make a cold rice salad to eat as a side dish in this steamy, hot, stormy weather.
Take three cups of leftover basmati rice, one can lentils (drained), half a red onion (diced), juice of one lemon. Combine. Chill.
Simple but good.
In the garden, the cos lettuce (plural) have their hands up. "Pick me!" they could be saying. I'll pick them but we might retire the cos next season. Caesar salad must have been invented to use up cos lettuce, because it doesn't seem good for much else. Perhaps I've just had too much, like Peter (or was it Benjamin?) who had to be given chamomile.
Any recipes for cos that don't dress it up in bacon and egg?
I came home to find Tracy smashing the crockery. Beautiful old plates, all in shards.
"What are you doing?" I asked, redundantly.
She grasped the redundancy adroitly and returned: "What does it look like I'm doing, playing tennis?" There's an art to sarcasm or biting irony or whatever it is called.
"What I meant was 'why are you smashing the old plates?'" I clarified with a straight bat.
"Because you can't use new ones that are dishwasher proof. Or bone china ones, for that matter. Or vitrified." I stared. That was unexpected. We still hadn't gotten to the point of addressing why the household crockery was being decimated, or far worse than that. She had smashed ten, and we hadn't anywhere near a hundred to begin with.
Later, she showed me the result: an occasional table with a mosaiced pattern made from shards of crockery. It looked like a photograph of the diggings at an ancient Roman ruin. Really quite pretty. And I'll know where to place my glass. Now I regret throwing out all those plates the children have broken over the years. They could have been immortalised. Or at least grouted.