Yesterday I spent some time in a friend's garden helping her reclaim some overgrown roses and doing battle with a really unruly Chaenomeles. Foolishly I offered to return tomorrow to tame a Syringa vulgaris which hasn't seen a gardener's shadow in 50 years. Said taming requires a chainsaw which led me to today preparing mine for battle which, in turn, led me to cracking the lid to the oil reservoir. Thus, I spent the afternoon visiting those stores that I thought -might- have a replacement part. The store selling the exact model? Non. The landscaping equipment specialist? Non. What has this to do with food talk? All of the running around (and frustration) found me in proximity to the co-opish farm store that I like but at which I don't often make time to stop. The frustration made me susceptible to the Siren call of comfort foods. Anyway, near their closing time I found myself in front of the butcher's counter:
Unable to decide between the world's smallest piece of shoulder or a cote filet d'agneau (think of it as two loin lamb chops joined at the back) I bought both and thought to choose between them at home.
Ultimately, I roasted the shoulder bit and had a particularly good dinner on the table in just an hour.
