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One is the lonliest number…until you have a sandwich
I went shopping for two this afternoon. In a spirit of unbridled optimism I really did think I’d be knocking up something fabulous while the man who needs to fall in love was sprawled on the sofa watching the football. But I may have allowed my mood to be altered by a really promising meeting with someone who may (or may not) give me a substantial amount of money for my creative input to a project. I left the potential customer’s lavish office with a real spring in my step, and knowing I was meeting the man who needs to fall in love, spent a silly amount of dosh on stuff at Wholefoods.
Being a bit undecided, I gave myself some options – I bought palourde clams, chervil, limes, chili and crab meat. Over in butchery they had an offer on veal (£20 off!!!) so a couple of escalopes found their way into the rinky dink wheely basket along with jersey royals and two of those French chocolate deserts that remind me of continental holidays in a way I can’t quite put my finger on. There were some other bits and pieces that elevated the receipt to a nudge over a monkey (or is it a pony…I’ve no idea) but it all seemed worthwhile and I was so looking forward to cooking for lovely man.
So as per usual, my heart leapt an inch when we met for a drink and after a couple of glasses and then a ‘why not make it a bottle’ of Gruner Vetliner I popped the question. “Wanna come back and I’ll make some supper?” The reply cut me like a sushi knife sharped by a ninja…”Nah…think I’ll go and watch the football at home.”
Now if I was really true to my mission I’d have come home and cooked some of the aforementioned ingredients regardless of my rejection. But to be honest, I just couldn’t be arsed. So here’s what I had. You don’t need a recipe. It’s exactly what it looks like. A crab sandwich. (Made with rye and spelt bread though and i had to say that little aniseed note from the rye works a treat with the sweetness from the crab – I’m not dead yet after all…)
The Art of Eating Alone 