Cooking in my kitchen: There’s no eggs to be cooked through. Real fruit and vegetables vary in wetness and size. I don’t know where the scales are kept or how well done you like your pumpkin; I rarely shop with a recipe in hand. I’m not sure how tart the lemons will be. And I am in possession of a poetic licence.
I’m not much for recipes. But I want you to try this delicious thing I created the other day, really I do. So I will tell you what I used (if I remembered to write it down) and you will need to meet me part way.
Use a splash. A pinch. A handful. Balance the ingredients with each other, not me. Taste it, smell it, feel it and decide for yourself. If you see an image of it slightly different, or you have some leftover raisins to use up, exercise your god-given liberties. Take responsibility for what you create, and make it your own.
I’ve heard it said that it’s about the journey, not the destination. And while I want the destination to be lovely, pretty, perfectly risen and textured; In truth, I’m not sure it will be. And frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn.
I want you to make a mess. I want you to have fun. I want you to explore and create and discover, and report back, or not.
Keeping company with slightly offbeat and wonderfully spontaneous combinations is how I roll. So, please recreate and correct my so-called ‘recipes’. I’d be disappointed if you didn’t. x