Partridge and guilty pleasure

There was a remarkable golden light when I walked into the kitchen at 7.20 this morning. It was as if the trees in the garden had reached up higher into the sky so the light was filtered through their yellow orange late autumnal leaves. It only lasted a few minutes and by the time I had had my shower and was down again it had gone back to the lowering grey clouds and the weather report’s threat of rain. Later the day was coloured with disorder.

The drive home in the evening was taken up with guilty pleasues. I will write elsewhere about the glory of Soul Jazz compilations. Today it was the turn of Volume 2 of Delta Swamp Rock. Unless you are the sort of person whose heartbeat quickens at the name Duane Allman it is unlikely to do much for you, but it ticked all my boxes. Coming out of the tunnel it kick started into the start of Freebird and I found myself tapping fingers on the steering wheel to that bit towards the end when the twin guitars start to squeal.

So Friday evening are mostly taken up with the noise and guitars, not a bad combination.

At home the autumnal theme continued with the food. Last week I had picked up a partridge at Wards. A partridge is one of the great pleasures of autumn. If you see them on sale buy it. One is the perfect size for one helping.

I squashed up a clove of garlic and stuffed that into the cavity. The seasoning was a dash of olive oil, salt, pepper and a good pinch of ras el hounet.

In the meantime I made my potato cake. One large peeled potato very finely sliced with one of the knives capable of taking off the top of a finger. Butter was melted in a black iron pan and the layers of potato were added with more seasoning of salt and pepper. That was kept on a low heat for about 30 minutes. In the meantime the partridge went into a medium oven.

The potato cake was turned over. This involved a moment of doubt. If it had stuck or was undercooked the whole thing would be a failure. It worked this evening. The bottom was starting to brown and the sugars in the potato had started to coalecse. A small plate was placed over the pan and I flipped it over. It fell away perfectly and I was able to slid it back into the pan and onto the stove for another twenty minutes or so to cook through whilst the partridge was done.

The potato cake was then slid onto a plate and the partridge placed on top. It was delicious. Although I started with a knife and fork I finished with my fingers – snagging and picking every last meat and picking up my glass of wine in my fists.

We listened to the Dexy’s album and I was taken away again by thought of having seen them do it all on the stage a few weeks ago.

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