Apparently, it’s brunch time.
Goody, goody (chic alors). Brunch means toast. Toast means jam. Some would kill for chips (ah, “Carfax Chippy”- sweet Oxonian memories), I, on the other hand, would quite happily kill for toast and jam.
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I wasn’t originally going to post this. Partly because it was made haphazardly with leftover fruits.
Then I did write a long, feverish post on how delicious it was and how “spice cabinet” sounded like a NASA concept, a kind of cupboard with spices and small astronauts sitting on minishelves, with a big reactor attached underneath. Then I thought, o Claire, cut the crap, for Pete’s sake More claptrap! (Plus de sornettes!)Read Quetsche, Nectarine and Cinnamon Jam Yeah, sorry, it doesn’t have a shorter name. But it’s good. It’s easy. It’s cheap. It’s baddass (ça casse des briques). It’s also one of Joël’s recipes, in his great big & ambitious opus, The Complete Robuchon. We (as in I) like Joël. He’s not a supermodel, bless him, but dang he’s sharp. [Have I oversaturated my lemon slice? Sometimes it feels like it.]
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