The first time I hard from
Rachel she commented on
a blog post.
For a while we went backwards and forwards. I read about her life in Italy, she read about my life in London. I'm not sure when we realised that we probably had, have, quite a lot in common. All I know is that we now have a long standing agreement to someday, one day, meet up for a gin and tonic (although that may recently have morphed into a negroni at St John).
I've been reading, and watching as her readership (quite rightly) grows, as she posts stories from Rome always with a recipe which always have me saying that I must, must, must make that. But, maybe because I am forgetful, or maybe just because of recipe overload, all those musts have never translated into anything tangible.
Until yesterday.
Until we had asparagus in the fridge and a plan for pasta.
Until I left the office at lunch and suddenly remembered
a dish of farfalle with peas and asparagus that Rachel had posted before peas and asparagus had appeared here, before we had had even a whiff of Spring.
So, yesterday, Chris and I met after work and sat in the sun for a little while. We bought some shopping, got the bus home. We sat at the table and podded peas, sneaking a few raw peas here and there. We steamed some asparagus, sauteed the peas added asparagus to peas and let them cook with a little water for longer than seems right in this age of al-dente. We smooshed some of the peas and asparagus against the side of the pan and, after about 12 minutes, stirred them through farfalle. We added basil, pepper, parmesan and, when all that was left was a greenish hue to the plates, we decided that we would make that again. Soon. While peas and asparagus are still here.
Posts
