I spent a bit of time this weekend with one of my brothers-in-law and somewhere along the way we got to talking about Iranian food. He has an old friend, Kodi, and there is a story about how Kodi’s mother makes the best ever rice and there was another dish she made with chicken and walnuts that was cooked for eight hours.

All that talking was done whilst tasting our way through a selection of fine real ales including a Christmas Beer that was dark, sweet and heavy enough to lift you off your feet.

I had a go at some Iranian Rice this evening – this time with herbs. There is not much that is difficult or complicated about the cooking of good rice. It just needs a bit of time.As soon as you start to hurry through the process you are done for and will end up with a plate of white mush.

The herbs were a mixture of coriander, dill, mint and tarragon, all chopped fine.

I cooked the rice in boiling water for five minutes until it just ad some bite left. Greaseproof paper was then put in the pan, butter melted and the rice layered on top with the herbs. You should then wrap a tea-towel around the lid but I just use a couple of pieces of kitchen roll. The last time i tried it with a tea-towel we had a fire.

After 40 minutes on the lowest possible heat the rice came out perfectly cooked with a golden crusty bottom.

We ate it with chicken that had been stuffed with a mixture of dried figs, dried cherries, barberries and walnuts.

In the meantime I have had a taste at the homebrew. Probably not as good as the beer we were drinking last night.

A telephone is a very intimate way to communicate. And when you spend an hour with one clamped to your ear being talked through the various steps needed to get the house connected again to the wi-fi and internet you develop a strange relationship with the voice on the other end. I didn’t quite catch his name but in the one of the lulls that occurred as we waiting for something to reboot we established that he was in India where it was clear and hot and and I was in Birkenhead where it was grey, cold and windy. We were both looking forward to Christmas.

When at last the blue line moved and the BBC News homepage flickered up on the screen we could have hugged each other down the line.

Elsewhere I have been seduced again by the nice men in Probe. There are two things in a a record shop I find difficult to resist. The first is some good music playing in the background, good enough for me to ask what it is, and the second is a hand written label that someone has taken the trouble to write out telling me just how good a record is.

I knew I had at least one album by The Dirtbombs and a label that reads “Thee amazing sunshine pop/bubblegum rock album from Mick Collins and his Detroit legends” is a must have.

It was good to discover that I have at least one other album by the Dirtbombs and we have been listening to all three of them all day. Greased up scuzzed rock’n’soul with added bubblegum and fuzzed up guitars.

For lunch we had steak trenchers. Two good steaks fried quickly and laid on top of a couple of thick pieces of toasted bread with the juices and a few sliced onions.

And look at the sprouts we got!

As it is getting dark at 4.00 in the afternoon the hours of daylight are starting to run out. And then, after the sun has gone down, there is not a great deal to do but stare at the barrel of beer which should be ready for testing this time next week.

All I can remember about the last beer that I made was that it felt slightly hallucinogenic. Lets hope this batch works as well. The eldest boy thinks we should be challenging ourselves to get it all drunk by Christmas. i am not sure how much of a good idea that is. We shall see next week when the barrel gets cracked.

In the meantime the rib of beef has been gently rubbed with olive oil and seasoned with salt and pepper. It has just spent 15 minutes in a very hot oven. This has now been turned down and the kitchen is filling with the good smell of cooking beef.

Some of the horseradish has been grubbed from the garden. The two thickest roots were cleaned and peeled and grated. There was a blinding moment when I took a sniff at the freshly grated root and the back of my nose came off. All of which bodes well for the eating of it all in 40 minutes or so time.

And I have just had a taste. And it is very good indeed, A spinach and ricotta tart has been cooked as well.

The house is back together again and all of a sudden it feels as if we are on a more even keel.

I was sent out this morning to pick up the Christmas tree and I used as an opportunity to slip into The Farmer’s Market.

In a week or so’s time I will be drubbing up all the horseradish from the garden so this was an opportunity to acquire a large lump of beef to go with it.

I managed to avoid the temptation to buy myself a double rib and let the nice people behind the counter cut in half for me. It looked god enough to eat then and there. Some of us will have it for lunch tomorrow.

Driving across the Wirral the sun was in my eyes and the hills of North Wales hung low in the distance. Coming back I was struck by how the great cathedrals of Liverpool loom over the landscape.

We had pizza again this evening and it was a lesson in how these things come in differently. Last time i made pizza it was the best I ever had had. I tried to do it all the same this evening and it wasn’t quite as good. The dough was just not quite chewy enough.

It still went down okay and the Christmas Tree is up and in the background we are listening to Perfume Genius.

After all that it was strange to find a picture of Carbery Island for sale.