Veggie Wednesday 8: Spicy Roast Cauliflower.

                                    

When I first saw this recipe, I just had to make it. It satisfies my love of both Cauliflower and Curry in one easy step.

In a small bowl mix together 1 tablespoon oil, 1 small pot plain yoghurt, the fine zest and juice of a lime, 1 teaspoon of chilli powder, 1 teaspoon of cumin, 1 crushed clove of garlic,1 teaspoon of curry powder, 2 teaspoons sea salt, and 1 teaspoon of black pepper.

Spread the mix liberally over the upper part of a whole, de-leafed, cauliflower, and roast in the oven for about 35 minutes.

With Lady Magnon away, I shall be eating this for the next few days; but I have no problem with that.

I must admit that the above photo is NOT of the one I made (I wouldn't have those public lavatory style tiles in my kitchen, would I). I was so enthralled by the finished product that I forgot to photograph my version, and by the time I'd remembered, it was all a bit of a mess. However, it did start off looking like the above; but maybe a bit more orange in colour.

It was eaten with a simple leaf salad, and the obligatory glass of rouge. Yum.

This is my final 'Veggie Wednesday' posting. My own Veggie Wednesday regime will continue, and I'll now return to No 1. I'll probably go through the 8 recipes in turn; although some have been prefered to others.

BLOODY FOOTBALL.

                                   

I know NOTHING about football. I've never played the game, and I've only been to watch a game once.

But I couldn't help noticing today that ALL the papers are filled with tales of the gentleman above. He is called David Moyes, and he's the manager/trainer (I think) of Manchester United Football Club.

So, why's he in the news? Well it seems that his team are completely hopeless and they keep losing matches, so they're sacking him.

Personally, I would look to the team itself. Aren't they the ones who are supposed to score the bloody goals? Surely it's the 'striker' who should be sacked. Either that, or knobble the opposition's goalkeeper.

You can explain to them, till you're blue in the face, how to kick that little ball into that huge net, but if they refuse to do so, whose fault is it? The manager's?

Mr Moyes will leave with a reasonable backhander of £10 million (allegedly) for his dismal failure, and no doubt some other football club will take him on until he's sacked again. As Mr Moyes is Scottish, maybe (hopefully) he'll return north of the border, and put a jinx on one of THEIR piss-poor clubs.

Apparently the Man U share price in New York rocketed at the news of his sacking. Football; dontcha love it!

Unknown Beastie.

I found this little guy this morning. He'd managed to get down onto the pool cover, probably for a drink, but couldn't get up again; too slippery.

I don't think I've ever seen one of these before. If I'm right, my wildlife book suggests it's a Northern Water Vole. He was quite big (at least twice the size of a house mouse) and roundish, with a short tail. I took him out with a small skimmer net, and he scuttled off between some stones.                

The swirling white stuff in the photo is Pine pollen; we're inundated with the stuff at the moment.

Easter Feaster.

As it happened, I had more to celebrate than just Easter; not that I celebrate Easter. The Quails had already been planned, but not the expensive bottle of Pécharmant.

The last time I ate Quails, I had two. This time I followed Rose Gray and Ruth Rogers' (River Café) advice, and I ate three; much better. They were accompanied by plain buttered home grown Swiss Chard.

I also followed Rose-n-Ruth's culinary advice; the birds were simply roasted with lemon, sage, and sea salt. They needed no more.

Easter was good. Welcome Bunny!

It's a BOY.

                                             

It's a boy.

It's a boy.

It's a boy.

The lovely Kellogg has presented us with an Easter boy. He will forever be known as BUNNY.

Mother and baby both fine! Pictures of Bunny to follow.

p.s. And in accordance with family tradition, I have celebrated his arrival by planting him a tree. He has his own Peach tree, which will forever bear his name.

And here's the first picture. Kellogg looking as bright and beautiful as a daisy, with Bunny and midwife.

I'm one very proud grandfather.

Mouse in the (Pump) House.

I've mentioned previously about the mice effing-up the electrical gubbins in our pool's pump house. Desperate measures were required to ensure that it didn't happen again.

This handy sachet poison looked to be the perfect solution. I put down blocks daily for several weeks. Every morning the blocks were gone. I began to suspect that there must be an army of the bloody things in there.

One day I decided to use my old-faithful mouse trap with a nice piece of Cheddar. I caught a mouse AT ONCE.

The following day I re-set the trap with more tasty cheese; but since that first victim, not a thing.

I even returned to putting down the wrapped blocks of poison, but they remained untouched.

I'm now wondering if it was just that ONE SINGLE MOUSE who had been eating all the poisoned blocks, but eventually fell victim to my mouse trap. 

A lone super-mouse with a very sensitive neck, but a much less sensitive stomach!

Wot, no doors?

We don't really have internal doors in this house. There's one to the bathroom (thank goodness), and another going from the house to my studio. But that's it.

This means that we have no means of stopping the dogs leaving their comfy 'rest-a-while' chew-proof black plastic beds, and settling down for the night in the sitting room; which they are perfectly welcome to do.

However, they are banned from sleeping on the sofas at night (or any time), so I always put chairs on them before I go to bed.

Bok couldn't care less. Even if he has to sleep with chair legs up his 'Whitehall farce', he will do so just to be awkward.

This is how I found him this morning; he was still half asleep. 

..... and don't you stick your tongue out at me, you Monkey!