Oh, sweet, sweet internet. Ah. The bliss of sitting at my own kitchen table with a cup of tea and a soon to be delivered vast takeaway and playing on the internets is indescribable. You have NO idea. After 2 months, 1 nervous breakdown, innumerable bored friends and acquaintances tolerating my whining, 1 pneumatic drill, all manner of cabling problems and THREE Belgabastard operatives, I finally have the sweet, beautiful balm of the internet, not to mention tv and a phone. It's like Christmas came early. I need never go out again, and can sit here, ordering things online and becoming vastly fat and agoraphobic and losing the power of speech. It will be JUST GREAT.
Tonight I am wondering why I am such a fuckwit. Nothing new there. This is vegetable fuckwittage. I have been observing the small organic cafe down the road with interest. I retain some atavistic interest in healthy fruity, juicey type things from my Boring Bastard Twenties, when nothing that was not hand picked from a sublimely happy chemical free tree would pass my lips. Now it's more of a nostalgia trip, obviously, but after yet another lunch of pizza and Wispa Gold, I was galvanised to go in. It's called Biobar and outside there is a metal tree with real fruit spiked on its branches. Modish. Wait, it might even have a website, hang on... Oh yes! It does!
Anyway. The people who run it are the most ethereally happy and healthy looking couple I have ever seen. They are all glowing and shiny and when you step in they hand you a small sample of the juice of the day with beatific smiles. "It has kiwi in it!" said the shiny man. "We couldn't use kiwis before, but now we've found an organic stockist in Spain!". The woman smiled in serene contentment. Bach cello suites played in the background. I tell you, they GLOW. This comes as something of a shock, given my previous experience of organic and healthfood shop employees, all of whom in the UK look like they are smackheads. Seriously, check it out. They are pallid and covered in blemishes and malnourished. IT IS TRUE. Go to your local Fresh and Wild or whatever and you will see that I am right.
Whereas Biobar was like walking into an advert for health, or something. Inspiring. So I did a stupid thing. It's not the first time I have done this particular stupid thing; I did it before a few times in London, but clearly I have still not learnt the error of my ways.
Reader, I signed up for a vegetable box scheme.
You know how I don't really cook? How I just can't be arsed, barely want to stir my stumps to put something in the microwave, simply don't give a shit? Yeah. Well. Try doing that with a "courge patisson jaune" (whatever that might be).
Thus, I find myself this week with:
A bunch of CHERVIL (Belgians have a thing for chervil. Not quite such a big thing as for chicory, but it's close)
Six turnips, most small, one gigantic and slightly scary.
1 head of fennel
(I have a photo on my magic eye phone but I don't know how to get it OUT of there and ONTO here. Why yes, I am an idiot, thank you for noticing). UPDATE: I DID IT.
This totally serves me right for trying to buy into a shiny, organic lifestyle I cannot possibly sustain. But I thought we could turn the veg box of hell into something fun and interactive for this weblog, which has lately been a never ending catalogue of my boring whiny life.
Suggestions, please for what I could do with the veg in the veg box. Obviously, this does not have to be anything as boring as actual FOOD, though if you suggest something, I commit myself to trying to make it and sharing the hideous consequences with you, and possibly even with the spawn. You can also suggest interesting vegetable animal ideas. The aubergine makes an excellent penguin, or mole, I know for a fact. Or anything else that takes your fancy. I'll put my three or four favourites in a poll on the sidebar and you can vote for how you would like to torment me.