Monday
An old favourite for dinner. A tumble of chopped up chorizo, kidney beans and corn on top of rice, with homemade guacamole, a slapdash tomato and coriander salsa-cum-salad, some shredded lettuce and a squirt of hot sauce. Easy, delicious.
There’s a box of After Eight mints in the fridge. I decide we’re allowed three each tonight.
Tuesday
Phil is out playing indoor netball with his work colleagues. Social sport with work colleagues is a concept I’ve never been able to understand.
For dinner, I decide to go to Terroni’s, the Italian deli in Clerkenwell that’s been in the neighbourhood since 1878. I’m increasingly intrigued by the Italian heritage of this area.
I order a glass of the (cheap) house white wine and ask the woman who serves me whether she thinks the gnocchi or ravioli is best. “Ravioli, obviously,” she says to me, as if I am a bit dim. She quickly realises how she has come across, and attempts to correct herself - “It’s just so delicious.”
A deceptively large pile of small pieces of ravioli tossed through a bolognese sauce comes served on a strange faux wood platter with a little bowl of powdered parmesan on the side. I use all of the parmesan. It’s a delicious plate of food.
The deli is buzzy. There are a couple of other solo diners.
Wednesday
Pasta two nights in a row, which reminds me of the sign I saw at a vintage market on Sunday and scoffed at, “Eat pasta, run fasta”.
Ours is a carbonara - which is inspired by a book I have just finished reading, Lou Greco, that I bought at the small bookshop on Exmouth Market, the Exmouth Cultural Kiosk. It is about an (fictional) Italian man named Lou Greco who lived in Clerkenwell, and had an infamous past. The book is full of references to pubs, caffs, delis, churches and shops in the area, so it’s fun to read if you’re a local. The reference to carbonara comes when Lou and the book’s other protagonist - a journalist - find themselves discussing Lou’s past late one night in an Italian caff near the Smithfield Meat Market.
I'm happy with my carbonara. I think carbonara always needs lots of black pepper.
Thursday
We have soup, salad and cheese scones with butter after a couple of drinks at the pub (the Old China Hand this week).
The soup is supermarket soup, despite Phil recently telling me he only likes soup “if it's not supermarket soup, if it's your soup.” Sorry, petal.
It's a mushroom soup, and even though he is fussy about soup, Phil agrees it is quite good.
Friday (not dinner)
I am breaking with convention to report that I tried my first five quid lunchtime meal deal. The Waitrose lunchtime meal deal, of course.
Sandwich, packet of crisps, can of drink. I rated it, but the ubiquity of the lunchtime meal deal is still something I don't fully understand.
Friday
Pizza and beer at a brewery for a friend’s birthday. We are the oldest at the party by a long-shot.
I feel my age for having made a pot of carrot soup for the weekend before going out.
Saturday
Friends for dinner at our place. I do the beef tikka masala I did last week again - it’s easy, it’s good and I can just heat it up once we’re back from the pub.
We also have a kachumber, Madhur Jaffrey’s Gujarati carrot salad, poppadoms and chapattis.
Bonne Maman creme caramels for pud, with a little bowl of After Eight mints in the middle of the table.
Sunday
My plan is to make risi e bisi and roast a chicken for dinner.
The plan is thwarted.
We end up spending a couple of hours at the Sutton Arms drinking pints and eating Scampi Fries after a few hours at the (problematic, but very good) British Museum. We like the Sutton Arms. The music and beer are good, and the woman pulling pints is lovely. As we are wandering home we walk past The Sekforde. We both agree it looks cozy, and that fuck it, we'll go for a roast. Two roast beef dinners it is. Good as always.
We feel grateful for this fun life we live, but we do agree it'd be nice to have a Sunday night roast with our families, like everyone else in the pub seems to be doing.
Ending the week a Beer Drinker. 💁