Words don’t always flow easily even for the most masterful of wordsmiths – I’m even losing a game of scrabble to my significant other. Still, the subtle irony present in prose regarding a lack of literary imagination is infinitely preferable to an awkward silence. Oh well, since these situations tend to remedy themselves I shan’t worry too much. Please enjoy my fibrous musings!

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I like to think that most of the recipes and photos posted to this blog have a certain rustic charm to them. Of course, there is nothing wrong with this, but it comes rather too easily to me. Occasionally one must challenge oneself to break free of their expected roles – this is one of my infrequent flutters into the realm of ponce. Actually, let’s face it, I endeavour to spend most of my time as a pretentious so-and-so; this is my attempt to have my food join me.

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In recent weeks my Grandfather has developed a penchant for divulging a number of his favourite Clement Freud anecdotes. His favourite story concerns a trip Freud made to Mexico. Whilst in Mexico, Freud thought he would sample the delights of a true Central American Chilli, something he soon regretted. After ordering ‘six bottled of beer in quick succession’, Freud advised the chef that it may be best to warn visitors about the deadly speciality. The chef replied that ‘the ratio [of chilli to meat] was about one to one.’ Had Freud wanted his chilli with only a little spice the chef said that ‘there was an American place just down the road.’ I think it’s rather a humorous little tale, though perhaps you’ll disagree if you are an American. Anyway, a deep interest on the writings of Freud developed within, and I asked to borrow my Grandfather’s copy of ‘Freud of Food’. To my delight I discovered that my taste in humour shared an even closer affinity to that of Freud’s, when I discovered a section entitled, ‘Give The Wife A Break’.

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The past couple of weeks really have been a soup filled fortnight in this frugal household. We have had three different types of soup and it is my honest opinion that the best has been saved for last. It has to be said that this soup, or broth, really benefits from the use of homemade chicken stock as it doesn’t have the rather salty taste that plagues shop bought stocks. This really allows one to control the seasoning of one’s dish, as one expects to be able to do. Indeed, so besotted have I become with the art of stock making that I think I shall soon post more recipes.

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As I’ve already posted an extremely delicious Beef Chilli I thought it would be best to share my recipe for the vegetarian version. To be honest it must be admitted that over the past couple of weeks I’ve fallen off the band wagon of health, so my next few posts shall be dedicated to rectifying this relapse. I think it’s the shock of doing lots of shifts in work that has forced me into my old and particularly sordid ways. However, autumn food is generally of the sort that can be cooked in advanced and left on the stove for heating up and or dipping into – which is why it is also some of my favourite.

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