So what to do with hours to myself…

Mark’s off playing golf. He’s been so itching to but it has been raining cats, dogs and ferrets. He’ll be exhausted when he comes home given the carts will be on the paths and that is one hilly course! Anyway, back to me. I walked the dog, oddly alone, only saw one other dog and about three runners, weird. Had to stop myself talking away just to have company. Got home as he left, looking quite lovely (him, not me, the baggy eyes are still depuffing). Unlocked my mighty lock and stood in the house wondering what’s next. I spied the wilting plants, their plastic pots shoved into new clay ones, which I’d bought just before the rainfall. So I did my first bit of pot gardening in Portugal. Made a great big bloody mess because that is how I do and I’ve none of my normal bits and bobs. Now I’m damp but proud of my tiny effort. If anyone has input into using orchid soil for flowers and herbs, shout it out please – something got lost in my translation at the store.

So my damp dog and I stared around again. Coffee, definitely coffee.

As I waited for coffee, I put away the not so little pile of dishes. Thinking about last night’s dinner, I wanted to share it with you all. I’ve been stocking up a pile of broccoli and leeks (so far the only two, of four, vegetables always available here), a bit old and perfect for soup. And I’ve been wanting to try roasting the broccoli and leeks first because it’s supposed to be divine, dahling, just divine. And so I tossed them with olive oil, bay, salt, pepper and a tiny bit of balsamic and popped them in the oven. The smell was horrid, just in case you’ve never done this. I suppose that’s if you can smell it, Mark didn’t notice. Relieved when they were done, I grabbed the blender (Moulinex, but not stick, life is hard), threw it all in (minus bay leaves of course), salt and peppered, whirred for a bit. Took a while because roasted broccoli is incredibly sturdy stuff. Added a 1/2 cup of cream and chicken stock, poured the goop in a pan and heated to add some leftover Havarti. Now it didn’t look good, there are no pictures, and it didn’t even smell good but sometimes a soup will fool you. So I thinned it with water, took out the turkey (thought it was chicken and Portugal had the biggest chickens ever) schnitzels from the night before, made us both a sandwich on a fresh baguette (.39 euros) with lots of mustard. I scooped up bowls of the green, healthy stuff, we sat at the table and dug in. It was awful. Really awful. Don’t do it. It was horrid. It was noxious, foul coloured and tasted of old socks stuffed with Limburger cheese that had been left out for a week. Dreadful. So I’ve saved you that experiment.