One of the joys of spending too much of the money I don’t have on new CDs and records is that occasionally I run out of money altogether and have to go back and listen to stuff that I have bought previously but did not give enough attention to first time round.

This evening it is the turn of Matmos and their album The Civil War from all the way back in 2002.  I found it lurking next door to a triple CD set of bawdy French music. We had the bawdy French music on for a while to remind us of Paris and then I thought I would give Matmos a go.

I suspect that I may have listened to it more this evening than I did first time round. Dreamy electronic pop. Something else to play in the cafe I am going to open which will feature on a daily basis the less heard parts of my music collection.

The last time a waitress took the trouble to warn me off what I was ordering for my meal I almost ended up in casualty. As it was I found myself getting more intimate with my friendly Polish GP than I might otherwise have felt comfortable. That was all down to a “super duper hot mackerel” curry I had to eat last September.

I am pleased to say that the after effects of the lunch I had in Paris were more benign.

We had spent a Tuesday morning wandering through the foothills of Montmartre which included coffee and croissants in a crowded cafe. We had then made the walk up the hill and skirting the crowds spent an hour in the Montmartre Museum. This included a recreation of an artist’s studio that was filled with light and posters and pictures going back to its glory days included grainy black and white pictures of the athletic looking women who dance the can can in the Moulin Rouge.

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We then walk down the other side of the hill and having refreshed ourselves with a drink in the sun (where we were waved back from sitting on too much of the pavement) we went in search of lunch. This was to be found in a bistro wedged up next to one of sets the stairs that take you either up or down the hill centred with a double metal hand rail.

We were shown into a room round the back with plush red leather seats and we settled down with our menus. Almost immediately I decided I would have the Andouillette especially as it was 5A rated (The Association Amicale des Amateurs d’Andouillette Authentique (AAAAA) ‘The Friendly Club of Lovers of Authentic Andouillette’ is a club formed by several food writers in 1970. It gives certificates (“diplôme”) to producers of high-quality andouillettes.)

The rest of the family ordered and it was then down to me. I put on my best French accent and asked for the “andouillette avec frites”. The waitress gave me a worried look and said something that sounded very much like “Are you sure?” as she rubbed her hand over her stomach to make it clear that what I would be eating would be made up of the stomach of something else.

I reassured her that I knew what I was doing.

It arrived twenty minutes and a pint of Pelforth later. A burnt dark sausage on a plate piled with chips. As I split the casing the folds of meat fell away leaving little doubt that it was made up of the intestine of pig. It came with an earthy farm yard smell which went well the bland crisp chips. I ate with relish.

We had friends round for supper last night. I was in work for most of the day so there hadn’t been much time beforehand to get everything ready. So I got organised the night before.

This involved me taking a chicken out of the freezer to defrost and cooking the odd bag of vegetables I found in the basement – potatoes, carrots and beetroot.

When I got home I took a sharp knife to the chicken and cut it into eight pieces. These went into a shallow roasting tin together with three chopped preserved lemons, a generous sprinkling of sumac, salt, pepper and olive oil.

That all went into a hot oven together with the potatoes which I had broken into pieces and doused in hot oil.

The beetroot were peeled, sliced and covered in a mixture of yogurt, olive oil and garlic.

The carrots were sliced and mixed with a mixture of roasted ground cumin, more olive oil and lemon juice.

I cooked some lentils and when they were done and cooling I stirred in some good feta cheese and roasted red pepper.

The most challenging part of the meal was coming up with a vegetarian ‘main’ dish to compete with the chicken. The Ottelenghi cookbook helped out with a recipe for cauliflower fritters.

We drank beer and red wine and listened to The Owl Service.