
We've eaten too much - although I'm not quite sure why, since we haven't been entertaining - and already there are murmurs about going on a diet and going on the wagon, once we get beyond Twelfth Night. There's probably much to be said for both! Respectable inroads have been made into the Wolfert oeuvre: rabbit stuffed with salami & fennel; quail, with sag


No gardening, since the past week has been nothing but rain. Every so often we take the four-footeds to Santa Caterina, for them to run around and get soaked, while we check indoors on the Brazilians' progress. Which is slow. And regular effort is needed to prevent them from wandering off mid-task in order to go and start a completely different job in another part of the house, and thus spread builder-chaos over as broad an area as possible.So far (cautiously) so good...

Against the background of the rain, I've read Colm Toibin's 'Brooklyn' ( and savoured every last page)...as well as traipsed the length of Italy in James Holland's 'Italy's Sorrow', which covers the Italian campaign of 1944 in all its awfulness.
Tonight's Dinner:
Ricotta & Garlic Tart.
Beef, roast in Oil & Dijon Mustard; Potato Gratin.
Orange & Lemon Sorbet with chilled Basil Cream.
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