I don't understand how anyone can dislike lentils. They are the finest of pulses. Puy lentils are particularly fine, but I am fond of all kinds. This particular panful became last night's dinner: M's green and puy lentil dal with spinach, which we ate with rice, cucumber and mint raita, and tomato and red onion relish. It was a Top Tea.
Today my mother and impressively bescarred sister arrived to help paint the kitchen. Living so far away from them, I forget how my life may look to outsiders who are also intimates. My teetotal mother came with me when I popped out for milk while the dinner was in the oven. I said 'I'll just get a bottle of wine', and then hovered on the shop threshold thinking 'my god! I'm just about to take my mother into Classic Wines!'. (For those as don't know the area, this is the kind of off licence which usually smells of vomit and bleach).
M was relieved to hear that I got over any potential embarrassment and marched home with a litre of South African white. Litre bottles mean you can just drink the one between you, thereby keeping up appearances while still getting pissed. How sad is that?
And I've just realised that's two posts in a row about wine. Fortunately, I've got tomorrow off.
joella
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