Twelfth

Dear July
I don’t own that many cookbooks. I don’t like to own a cookbook unless I’m going to use it. I want all of them to be the kind of book that spends as much time on my bench as on the shelf, but those books are rare and hard to find.
When I got Ruby Tandoh’s book Flavour for Christmas it quickly joined the small stack of books that rarely sees the shelf – moving between my bench and the lounge room floor and the kitchen table. On Sunday I did an online grocery shop with Flavour on my lap, adding ingredients to our cart as I picked things to make, planning a whole week of meals from it’s pages. Yesterday my boyfriend cooked the pearl couscous with tomatoes, tonight it’s meatballs with blackberry sauce. Tomorrow I’m going to make the vegetable stew with chickpea dumplings and on Saturday I’ll cook the thick pie with sweet potato, kale and mozzarella I’ve been eyeing off for months. I might finally make the blackberry mouse cake too, with the frozen berries leftover from the meatballs.
Good cookbooks comfort you when you can’t decide what to eat, guide you through the steps when you worry you’re doing it wrong. And even when you think everything’s a disaster and maybe you’re a failure, they reassure you that things are going to be ok – because look at this perfect thing you just made. Good cookbooks are kinda like friends.

Alex x

I’m posting a blog for every day in July. Letters to July was inspired by Emily Diana Ruth.

Further reading

December – home

I spent the first minutes of 2018 on the beach. I’ve never actually spent New Year