January is universally acknowledged as the month of detox. Gyms burst at the seams with enthusiastic new joiners determined to stick to their new year’s resolution… this time. Community centres across the country swell with the weight of weight watchers. Just yesterday, in search of a healthy sushi lunch, I was turned away from Yo Sushi due to an inordinately long queue. Call it what you will. Detoxing. Dieting. Getting fit. Yes, everyone’s at it folks. And I’m afraid I’m including myself in that number. For me, however, it’s slightly more epic. You see, I have done absolutely no exercise in the nigh-on nine months since Finn was born. Combine this with the fact that I seem to have continued to eat as if I’m feeding two, you have one mighty miss feedetgastro. Something needs to be done. And fast.
Category Archives: Lime
When I innocently tweeted recently that my chilli brings all the boys to the yard, I did not expect the Spanish inquisition. Congratulating myself on the pleasure of taking leftover chilli into work for lunch, my fervour was heightened when a girl in the office kitchen actually commented, whilst drooling, that my leftover chilli “smelt amazing”. I knew it did, but I self-deferrentially and demurely thanked her and went back to my desk to write a gloat-tweet. I had not foreseen that I would be called out on my wild claims.
My family has a long tradition of preserving. We’ve got jars of jams, marmalade and chutney from practically every branch of the clan. When we were kids, we would return from my grandmother’s house with bags of plums or gooseberries and my dad would get to making jam. Right now I have my aunt’s blackcurrant jam and my grandmother’s marmalade in the cupboard. It’s just what we do. However, to date my generation has not really got on board the preserving train. This weekend, that changed. For good.