Remember, dear reader, that you are reading the blog of Gastro Grrl and forgive me, therefore, if I spend the next several paragraphs relating to you the gastronomically focused weekend I have just had.

We start on Friday. H decided to buy a BBQ (can’t spell it, not even going to try). Great fun…if you can put the thing together. Actually, not that hard, but as he was home quite late and then had to assemble the thing, the sun had gone by the time we sat down to eat and it was a bit chilly. But dammit, we had a BBQ and we were going to eat outside, come what may. Interestingly, on relating this BBQ purchase to friends and relatives over the weekend, there has been a consistent intake of breath at the mention that it was gas and not charcoal. Heavens above, it appears we have committed a cardinal sin in the world of the BBQ. However, bear in mind also that a certain proportion of the nay-sayers (ie my family) never have BBQs anyway so wouldn’t know any better! It may lack a bit of charcoal flavouring but it’s a darned sight quicker than coals. (And anyway, can veggie sausages get charcoal flavoured?!)

Saturday day was spent unpacking more of H’s boxes. Tensions rose in the kitchen at the realisation that we had at least 15 coffee mugs and nowhere to put them. I am learning to be less selfish about space and belongings (hard, after inhabiting a space for 5 years on my own). I’m learning a lot about myself, actually, and I don’t always like what I see. Having someone move in makes you look at yourself much more from the outside than you normally would, if you see what I mean.

Interestingly (well, to me, not you maybe), I’ve had a problem with the skin on the palm of one hand, which is peeling off for some reason. Not as gruesome as it sounds, but annoying. Must just be very dry or something. Anyway, the thought occurred to me the other day that it’s coincided with H moving in. It’s almost like I’m shedding my old skin, the old ‘single’ me, and underneath is the new me, part of a couple. Or is that just navel-gazing bollocks?!

Anyway, after cheering on H’s neice and nephew at a swimming gala in Manchester (and very well they did too), we went for dinner with some friends to Green’s in Didsbury. A very well known veggie restaurant (too lazy to go and find the link). Made the usual, delicious mistake of eating all three courses. Oy! I had ‘crispy duck and pancakes’ which was actually crispy fried oyster mushrooms. This was followed by cheshire cheese and mozzarella sausages on mustard mash with Boddingtons gravy and tomato chutney. Yum. But very rich. And the icing on the cake (ha ha) was Banana Spotted Dick with custard. Beautiful, not stodgy, with proper home made thin runny custard, just a little bit, not drowning the pudding. Mmm mmmm!

So, determined never to eat that much food ever again, what did we do on Sunday? We went out for my mum’s 60th birthday for lunch! But it was a lovely day, very hot. We took the train into Manchester and wandered slowly down towards San Carlo’s behind Kendals (am sure there’s a link but can’t be bothered to look that up either – give me a break, it’s been a hot day, visit www.onionring.co.uk if you’re that bothered!). Present at this feast were my mum and dad, my brother, me and H. My brother and I bought mum a lovely marcesite bracelet, and H, bless him, bought her a book of Wagamama recipes which she loved. We also toasted the fact that my brother is due to receive his Fiance’s Visa next week, which will allow him to marry his lovely girlfriend Stacey in the US in October. (Incidentally today was also 6 month’s since H and I went on our first date, but I didn’t think this was worth toasting! I only remember the exact date because it was the same day my brother got engaged.)

And on to the food…San Carlo is a very lovely Italian restaurant with a ‘proper’ menu, not just pizza and pasta. The wafts of garlic coming from the kitchen while we were there were most impressive! I had carpaccio of beef with parmesan and marinated mushrooms. My brother’s starter had the most heavenly, fresh, creamy mozzarella I’ve ever tasted. And the grilled asparagus with pecorino that H had was juicy and salty and lovely. My main was salmon and scallops in saffron sauce (anything beginning with an ‘s’ basically), with a couple of cherry tomatoes. Very nice but too much. H’s pasta with aubergines and tomatoes and coriander was nicer I thought. Almost wish I’d had pizza! Dad’s steak was very rare, which he grumbled about, although we pointed out to him that he always asks for rare and is always unhappy with the fact it’s rare. Why he never asks for medium rare or medium I’ll never know. He has an amazing ability to pick the wrong thing, every time! Desserts were fabulous. I had a very sharp lemon sorbet with bits of peel in, H’s lemon tart wasn’t that tart but the raspberry sorbet that came with it was. Mum had panacotta which I wish I’d had, and my brother had tiramisu, very rich and creamy and exactly what I knew he’d order. That boy has hollow legs.
A good time was had by all, and by the time we got home, we were so hot and tired and full, we’ve been fit for nothing but sitting in the back garden reading the papers. I managed two squidgy white bread finger rolls (one peanut butter and the other cheddar cheese and marmalade) at about 8pm. (Me? Obsessed with food? What do you mean?!). It’s been amazingly hot today, still in shorts at 9pm and it’s still warm. Probably keeping the temperature up with having the laptop on my knee but still…

So, the diet starts tomorrow…as I say every Sunday evening!

Happy eating folks!

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