I’ve been home for an hour. The Sage came to Norwich to fetch me. I’d said that I’d probably eat en route, but I wasn’t hungry at the small transport caff, so I was by the time we got home.
What is it with (some) men? There was hardly a vegetable in the kitchen. I found garlic and three tomatoes and that, literally, was it. Not an onion, nothing green. In the end, I chopped a couple of cloves of garlic and two tomatoes, fried them a bit in olive oil, added some dried chillies and some salt, opened a tin of chickpeas, rinsed them and chucked them in and, since the Sage entered the room at that moment to offer me some hot-smoked salmon, put in a bit of that too.
The only other remnant of vegetable I found was a single chip which had fallen unobserved to the edge of the counter.
Sad to say, I’m too tired to write anything more, but tomorrow I shall upload pictures and may post a few. Or whole lots, who knows?
Oh, you may wonder about the title. It’s our wedding anniversary. I’ve brought him back some fudge.