#166 theoldmortuary ponders

©thelounges.co.uk

This blog owes its very existence to normal life, however dull that may be. Normal life is going on around me, but 5 weeks after getting a really nasty virus, that constantly tested negative for Covid, I am just about back to normal. But without any sense of taste or smell. Possibly a sign that I did actually have Covid but never actually trapped it on a Lateral Flow Test.  Curiously this really does impact my life. Yesterday I spent ages at a food market with not a glimmer of greed for anything that was on offer. Who actually knew that taste and smell are such a huge part of how we judge our surroundings. I suppose this is a warning to you all that I may mention this subject more than once in these blogs. It looms larger in my life than you might imagine.The early weeks of my impediment were spent bullying my taste buds back into action with chilli, mustard and horseradish. It didnt really work on the taste buds, but my blocked sinuses are wonderfully clear now, beautiful echo chambers in my face. My sense of taste and smell can fleetingly return, but only for a few seconds,it isn’t always an accurate flavour of what I am eating either,but after thirty seconds of the same stimulation and all my sensors switch off and I am left enjoying, or not, the texture of what I am eating with nothing else going on. I have two main flavour sensations, everything else is hit or miss. The first called ‘Burning Galleon’ and illustrated by the drawing above of a wooden ship. Burning Galleon happens whenever there is smoke in the air. I love the smell of Burning Galleon, a gorgeous mix of woodsmoke and tar, but it is hugely indiscriminate and can cover a bonfire, barbeque, cigarette or spliff but for a few, brief, seconds my nose lifts into the breeze to capture the passing sensation. The other flavour sensation is “Lemon Disgusting’, so called because I use the flavours below at such intense levels that normal people would wince just having a tiny taste.

I am superbly fortunate that I only get one horrific flavour and that is the ripest manure imaginable. It occurs only where vegan cheese puts in an appearance anywhere near me.

5 weeks on I’m in an eating and drinking no mans land. Living for the first few seconds of food and drink, desperate for clashing textures. Aware that only the first few mouthfuls have any credibility or true value. Constantly leaving mugs of tea undrunk.

Monday moaning done…

#154 theoldmortuary ponders

Eccles Cake in brown paper bag. Jacka Bakery

Texture is everything when taste and smell are as wonky as mine are currently. This Eccles cake is the perfect food for now. So many textures that boredom does not set in and  with the added bonus of pastry so beautifully flaky that I ended up wearing it. Our trip to London did not bring me the fire- water ginger beer that I sought, nothing tasted anything more than mildly gingery. Our mustard jars are empty and a quick spoonful of horse radish is just the thing on toast. I am very lucky to not have the foul and dreadful phantosmia flavours that many anosmia sufferers get. Burning timbers treated with tar and mildew is as bad as it gets.

Jacka Bakery

But I know I am not thinking entirely normally when these gorgeous baked goods inspired the idea of slumbering in them rather than giving them the true respect of being gobbled up.

Ginger cordial has become the star of my life, mixed at an eye watering concentration. My supermarket trip this morning will be driven by a search for flavour stimulation. Tuesday Tasting!

#151 theoldmortuary ponders

©Debs Bobber

There has been a curious circularity to the week which has been radled by a virus. Mostly exhausted, I have also had some lovely, in person face to face but masked up and at a distance conversations and some zoom or Video meetings. Lovely Ralph wearing his daffodil was part of the Video gang, he didn’t really play an active part in the commitee meeting but he clearly is aiming to be Chairman with this fabulous pose of authority. After yesterdays blog with my photo of the resting bee, Ralphs’ mum sent me this picture with a rescued bee which she popped into a daffodil to recover his equilibrium.

©Debs Bobber

The stand out theme of the week has been the non- Covid virus and its debilitating symptoms. It is on the wane now leaving me a bit bunged up and still without any taste or smell. My amnosmia and phantosmia are on going. I’ve given up cooking from scratch unless under supervision. Early in the week before I realised that I was more than just a little taste and smell impaired, a chilli dish that I produced caused quite a response in other people but for me the only response was the stinging of my gums. I am quite lucky that the phantosmia for me is not too negative. At its worst most foods taste slightly mildewy or just stale, but for the most part I taste nothing. It has been a great week for drinking all those unusual teas that seemed like a good idea in the supermarket, that then languish in the cupboard because they have all the allure of fresh urine. Last nights curried chicken was not strong enough to register anything, my gums remained un tingly and I thoroughly enjoyed what I thought I was eating which was fresh Mango.

My drink of choice has become ginger beer, the more gingery the better. Normally I can be a right lightweight with ginger beer but this weekend I will be heading to the Afro- Caribbean shops to buy virtual firewater. This is the hottest I managed to get in the west country. Depicted as a colour doodle.

Not a scintilla of heat in that! Talking of heat, I kept my phantosmia of burning wood and tar to myself whilst working at the museum, it really was better for everyone that way.

One more Ralph to send you on your way this Friday. I’ve not really been taking many pictures or been quite so out and about but whatsapp is a wonderful resource of other peoples pictures

©Debs Bobber

#83 theoldmortuary ponders

As the Turkey leaves the building for 2021 we celebrated with a traditional curry. There is enough for a pie in the freezer but the curry is always the big send off.

Henry VIII was the first English king to serve Turkey at Christmas feasts.I feel a lot like Henry VIII right now. Rotund and somewhat over feasted.

Over feasted yet I wake up hungry in the morning. Deep December is a funny place to live. Mince Pie for breakfast anyone?

#72 theoldmortuary ponders

This Christmas Decoration represents blog perfection. Just after midnight there should be a blog ready to be automatically dropped into inboxes around the world. I”m not saying it never happens but it is mostly an aspiration rather than an actuality.

72 days ago when the blog changed its title, while I was on a blogging course. The course leader suggested being a little kinder to myself and give myself more freedom to deliver blogs less often. While not, as yet, feeling the need to abandon whole days I do, on occasion cut myself a bit of slack and a later blog goes out.

Yesterday I thought laying about would give me time to be on time with the blog, in fact all I did really is be a bit unfocused.

Yesterday not much happened following a bout of food poisoning. Me and the Christmas tree were together a bit as I dozed between bouts of activity which is when I noticed the time on the Christmas decoration. In truth I was just a bit less of myself, low energy and a bit achy after my digestive tsunami.

24 hours of abstinence, apart from two bowls of rice crispies with oat milk, has created a fine dining monster in me but at low cost. The first cups of real tea were revelatory.

All the flavours of the Asia, blended in Yorkshire, dancing around my mouth like there was a post pandemic party going on. Who knew tea could taste quite so good!

The afore mentioned rice crispies embellished by oat milk were a comfort food, tweaked by my newly over sensitive taste buds they have become fine dining. Their vanilla notes enrobed in oaty richness.

Goodness knows what gustatory delights await me this morning. Toast perhaps masquerading as something far more significant. Today I will be more focussed.

#71 theoldmortuary ponders

Oh these silky waters were a fabulous swim on Friday morning. Miss Spearmint, the seal, was away swimming near the Hoe so there were no sudden departures,from the sea, required of swimmers to give her space. Today was a birthday swim so there was cake and conversations to follow once we were dressed. The richness of the aquatic wildlife in Plymouth Sound was one such conversation.I managed to find this picture of a specimen jar to illustrate the conversation in a festive way.

And then later in the day we found some more underwater creatures all gussied up ready for the festive season.

I wish this was the last thing I could discuss about wildlife but sadly a bout of food poisoning has wracked my body and mind. The physical aspects do not need to be elaborated on but the mental ones were quite daunting. I must stress that, beyond food, only tap water and tea was ingested all day. After my personal eruption and once I was well enough to return to my bed I was straight off to sleep only to be dumped into a hideous nightmare. Large birds that under normal circumstances adorn our wallpaper started to fly off the wall and wrap themselves wetly around my body. They were warm and wet, as if freshly dipped in hot wallpaper paste and alive but as flat as any wallpaper bird would be. Try as I might I could not stick them back on the wall in the right places. Waking up was the only way to save the situation. A lurid way to welcome the weekend. Of course this morning they are all perched calmly in the right places, catching the first of the morning light.

#50 theoldmortuary ponders

Sunday morning Firestone Bay

Illumination in the countdown to Christmas.

“Perhaps Juliet could illuminate us” was a phrase my English teacher would sometimes use when one of my essays had gone somewhere unexpected.

Lighting him up with a torch would almost certainly not gone down particularly well. In choosing, for myself, the loose working title ‘Illumination in the countdown to Christmas’ for the month before Christmas 2021, I fully expected to use both meanings of the word at various points. Yesterday, Storm Arwen, gave me illuminating photographs that did not at all illuminate what was going on around me.

Nothing in this picture articulates how much effort it took two women and two dogs to get to this point. Even a closer look at the sea gives no hint of the power of the wind.

A stop at our regular coffee shop was a battle against the invisible elements, and a moments foolishness of removing my coffee cup lid gave me a face full of the “flat’ that gives a Flat White its name. Yesterday was the start of another birthday surprise, a trip to Bude. Hugo and Lola were off to visit some friends for some overnight care.

There is absolute peace in this picture, but five minutes before we were unable to get to our friends house. We either had to leave our car at the top of the hill and walk the dogs down to them or tackle the tree which had blown down and blocked our path. The tree had a fragile beauty while laying, languidly broken, across the drive. No match, I thought, for one woman, so despite wearing some lovely clothes I jumped out of the car to move her gently to the side. Appearances can be deceptive and despite being slender and elegant she was going nowhere with one woman power. Two women in lovely clothes and two dogs in the managerial role, of hovering about but doing nothing very effectual,struggled to move the stricken tree. Ultimately we dragged her to one side, not particularly elegantly but effectively enough for us to deliver the dogs for their overnight stay.

The reason for our trip to Bude was an evening ‘Take Over’ by Chef Dan Murray at Temple Cafe.

https://linktr.ee/TempleCornwall

I don’t really have the words or expertise to adequately describe the beauty and depth of what we ate but the picture below in some ways illuminates the whole evenings experience.

Fried Artichoke Chips

Just wonderful!

Illuminated Artichoke Chips illuminating the two meanings of the word.

Pandemic Pondering #519

This may have been the best bowl of mussels, clams and cockles I have ever eaten. I love seafood but it doesn’t always love me. This never deters me, the occasional night of gastric turbulence is a risk I am always prepared to take. When it happens it is the fault of my fastidious gut, not the responsibility of the establishment serving the seafood.

This mornings wake up followed a night of a very peaceful, happy, belly. This raises the bar for the little bowl of seafood. It was the best I have ever eaten.

Pandemic pondering #514

© Debs Bobber

We’ve just had a lovely weekend filled with friends and family. All the usual stuff happened but with extra family members. We dined in barns, farmyards, walled gardensl and out in the open and the food slipped effortlessly into our tummies as we talked, laughed and reminisced.

When Sunday evening comes with the inevitable farewells, the left-overs hide in the fridge waiting to catch out the casual grazer searching for a non essential snack.

A rare moment of culinary serendipity occured @theoldmortuary yesterday evening. A recipe in the Saturday Guardian exactly corresponded with our selection of left-overs.

Sunday night supper was amazing and finished off a lovely weekend perfectly.

Fabulous fuel to take us into a new week!

Pandemic Pondering#474

It’s been quite a red and white weekend in England. There was a significant football match brewing. Sadly the result didn’t go the way England would have wanted and we are not Champions of Europe in Football. On the other hand strawberries and cream nourished and consoled us through penalties and ultimate disappointment. A different red and white army, an English summer served in a bowl. Reliably successful every time.