take one woman with low self esteem, but quite good hair
add one moronic illness
stir in some medication which causes hair to fall out
mix it all up and this is what you get...

Tuesday, October 24, 2006

Salt it out 

My salt went fluffy.

Anyone worth their salt in the kitchen knows that when salt goes "fluffy", it's near impossible to use. It must have got damp during one of my steamy sessions at the cooker, spatula in one hand, salt pot in the other. If this misfortune had befallen the decanted salt in the small glass dispenser, it would have been an acceptable loss, but this was the bulk supply in the girthy cardboard tube - my only supply.

I stowed it away for a couple of days in the dining room, in the hope that the drier environment would allow it to - ahem - salt itself out. Reader, it did no such thing. It remained there, stubbornly fluffy, decidedly unpourable, resplendently unsprinklable.

Then I had a wheeze. (Not wees, on this occasion. Although I probably did have a number of wees between noting the problem and having the wheeze).

In that kitchen there was an oven. And in that oven was a pot. And in that pot was some red cabbage, braising gently. And with that red cabbage were onions, apples and spices. They all got on very well in the pot and conspired to produce a delicious vegetable dish which tasted nothing like a cabbage - and that alone is to be applauded. But I digress.

Whilst applauding, I noted that right there in front of my anxious eyes (see peering eyes up yonder page for an example) was a warm, dry place. Ideal for snuggling vegetables ("snuggled red cabbage" - hey, I like that description) and... and... and for drying a large container of salt!

I decanted it into a Pyrex bowl. I placed the bowl right at the bottom of the oven. I then threw caution to the wind and stuck the cardboard tube in while I was at it (sans plastic lid, of course).

Some minutes later - freshly snuggled salt, recanted back into its warm, dry, still girthy, cardboard tube, flowing again like the day it was born.

Cabbage which doesn't taste like cabbage.
And free flowing salt.

What more could a girl want?
(Don't answer that)

In the absence of Big (deserted for the weekend!) I made do with homemade Dorset apple cake.

Do I qualify for the position of Domestic Goddess yet? Do I?

You nearly got a very different post. Oh yes. One of the dark, despairing, dismal ones, heavy with self-pity, self-loathing and self-indulgence. But do you know what I did? I wrote myself right out of it. Yes I blummin' well did.

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