The Hunk decided we had to christen his new barbecue tonight. Please note that I had no part in the barbecue buying bonanza…it just arrived at the door one day, in a huge hulking box, to add to the plethora of hulking boxes (still un-packed) we already have in our sitting room. Furious, I called him to squalk something about our daughter’s inheritance à la Theo Paphitis on Dragon’s Den but privately I was thrilled, because I love, adore and salivate over barbecue’d food, and because I loathe and detest smelly, smokey kitchens and spitting fat.
I happened to have italian sausages in the fridge…(a good thing, no matter how you look at it) and I actively encouraged him, saying that we could barbecue, as long as we had champagne to barbecue TO (so to speak). He came home from work empty handed, saying he had to go off and get ‘gas’…bastard…I thought barbecu-ing was done with coal and so-forth…this is cheating. Anyway, I waited and waited (and ate chocolate egg left over from Easter and a primula salad that I had made for the shoot I did today for Virgin Gardener book Two)…and finally he returned with an (ugly) gas canister and champagne (phew).
BUT, during the long wait for my chef to return with his barbecue paraphernalia, I had time (snore) to think of something to make our supper more rounded and less saussagey. The only veg I had in the fridge was tomatoes (yum), to which I added some of my HOME GROWN BASIL….yes folks, YAY, my seed-raised, home-grown basil has been a success and is now ready for picking….so it is with UTTER, despicable smugness, that I offer this tomato and basil picture: