For anyone who read last night’s post the good news is that the dishwasher is still fecked and showing even less sign of life than before I spent £200 on getting it repaired and there is no hot water at all when at least before British Gas came to do their repairs there was enough to fill the sink in the kitchen. And I have just volunteered to spend my Saturday night shuttling to and from Manchester Airport.
So I am finishing off a good bottle of red wine and casting my mind back over the quail I had earlier in the evening.
There was a time that I would welcome future brothers in law into the family with a combination of broken wind, bad breathe and general grunting. Time moves on and I am a father now with a first boyfriend sat nervously at the table. I wonder what he made of the quail.
The kids wanted to eat vegetable pasta bake from M&S. Staring at the plastic packaging on the shelves in the supermarket I resolved to make it myself. I did okay I think although judging by what was left behind on some of the plates I should have stuck with the pasta and left the vegetables.
I had the quail with some of Michael’s bread.
There were four of them. I split them in half and put them in a large metal bowl with some olive oil. I ground up cumin, sea salt and a couple of small fresh bay leaves and rubbed the mixture in together two crushed cloves of garlic.
After half an hour or so the oven was on hot for the pasta bake. So I spread out the quail on a baking tray and put them in as well.
As they cooked I sliced two onions and cooked them in hot olive oil. More by luck than design I avoided burning them and as they caught I threw in splash of balsamic vinegar.
I made toast with Michael’s bread as I served the pasta bake.
I put the toast on a plate, spread some of the onion on top and then laid on two of the quail.
They were delicious. The crisp toast working with the onion and the bits I was able to take from the quail with a knife and fork before picking them up with my fingers.
Listening to another Soul Jazz compilation, this time deep house from 1980’s Chicago and beyond, and something by someone called John Murry which could be very good. It sounds like a more bruised Bathers.