Packing

As I may have mentioned before, we went holidaying in Greece. 

That makes us among the most privileged people on the planet and yes, somewhat guilty about the flying – rationing ourselves to once a year is hardly self-denial.

Talking about self-denial – packing.

Now, we have been on Mediterranean holidays for many years, and what is more, this time we went back to the same Greek island as last year.

So, packing should have been a doddle. 

But, and yes I am hoping you are saying ‘but’ too.

And at this point I need to tell you the Best Beloved has to use two sticks to get around so any heavily-packed suitcase falls to me to move around – another good reason for packing lightly – you would think.

There were days in my youth when my job involved a lot of travel and I could pack fast, lightly, for all the necessary occasions  – a smart Rubic’s cube of a small case, and all sorted.

Apparently, I have lost this skill.

So, despite the fact that we both know what the holiday will involve, we take so much more than we need/ever wear.

Did the BB need four shirts? – actually two of them will go home unused.

Just for example.

On my part, I have an image in my head of an early evening when I shower after a day visiting somewhere, being on the beach etc etc.

I will then slip on something casual but rather nice and heading out to dinner.

I never do this.

Yesterday we ate ( a very good) lunch in what we had been swimming in, with a bit of a cover-up item – actually a worn every day, charity shop jersey ‘dress’.

And ate supper ‘at home’.

The day before? see above.

Probably ( actually very probably,) I will never wear the fancy patterned trousers, the other pair of shorts, three of the four white T-shirts, the glamorous orange top, the white shirt I bought (surprisingly for me) at full price and not from a charity shop.

The BB will not wear the nice linen trousers he brought (neither will I wear mine), or the other pair of trousers – useful though they seemed in Deepest Sussex. 

He has worn the same shorts every day. 

I needed a cardigan and denim jacket – really? It is in the low 30s centigrade.

The BB brings snorkelling gear for me every year in the hope I will overcome my irrational fear of putting my head underwater and go looking for small fish – in my defence, there aren’t many.

So, for all the complaining about lifting and moving a heavy case and a pull-along, I only have ourselves to blame.

We have every intention of coming back here next year, not least because it works for the BB – and probably to the same apartment. 

It would be good to be able to leave a bag of stuff here that we only use here – flip-flops, snorkels (see above), a few clothes, factor 50 sun cream…. 

But I am guessing Panos, the apartment owner would rather we took them home and learned to pack better.

I certainly would.

Grated Tomatoes

Have you ever grated a tomato? I can almost hear the shouts (from my small but perfectly formed group of readers) saying what?? Open a can of nice Italians. Job done.

But dear reader(s) I am here to tell you that though it is a more lengthy process than opening a can, it can be really worth it.

If, at this point you are still not convinced, you need to go and find something else to do – knit your own jumper, dig up the ground elder (though that is a thankless task) etc etc.

Anyway, if you are still with me, let me tell you again good things are possible with a grated tomato.

But first you need to hear a story about sausages.

As long-standing friends will know, I work at some events across the year which are a mix of gardening exhibitors/stallholders and large marquees of food and other artisan makers of everything from jewellery to pottery.

Anyway (again) one of our food stands serving sausages is called Giggly Pig http://www.gigglypig.co.uk/sayhello.html

Yes, the lovely Tracy is an ex-con turned pig farmer – who knew? and employs other ex-cons to work on the farm, come to the shows – and sell sausages.

I bought some, and some of which which were pork and fennel. (They are excellent and please buy some if you can.Tracy’s vision and making it work – just saying.)

Rootling around in the freezer one day I found them, and rootling around in the fridge I found a fennel bulb.

And I had some properly nice tomatoes.

So, here is what I did.

No of course it is not a proper recipe, but a general idea of what you can do…

Grate your tomatoes. Get your usual cheese grater, cut tomatoes in half and grate against the large grater side. The skins stop you grating your fingers.

Put what all of what you get into a pan/casserole. I was using a Le Creuset inherited from my mother who sent me off to university with them, and I have them still. But other not-so-posh pans will do nicely.

Better tomatoes, better result, so please don’t do this out of season. And even in season, keep the tomatoes out of the fridge so they have chance to develop their flavour.

At this point I would like to say firmly, that no, a tin of tomatoes, however good, will not do instead. 

You need the thinner ‘sauce’.

Now, take your fennel bulb and cut around the tough centre and keep the fronds for decoration.

Cut the layers into slices and fry gently in butter, be generous – yes not that healthy but it does work, believe me.

It takes a while but you should either eat fennel raw ( in a salad with orange, say) or very well cooked and softened – and in this case you want it well cooked.

Cook your sausages however you like.

Add some Marigold bouillon to the tomatoes, a splash of white wine and at this point you can slice up some new or old potatoes and add them in and then cook gently.

You might need a pinch of sugar if your tomatoes are not just perfect – which mine weren’t.

Keep tasting the sauce and add pepper, more bouillon, whatever, if you need it.

Now, if you want a thick sauce, then take some of it out of the pan with some of the potatoes and whizz them up with a hand-blender and put back into the pan.

Either way, then add fennel and its butter, cut up sausages and snipped fennel fronds and serve to an appreciative Best Beloved and neighbours.

By the time I remembered too late that I should have taken a photo ( beautifully lit) of the finished product – but hey ho, it had gone and no one wants a picture of the washing up in waiting.