Potatoes matter. More specifically whether you have enough potatoes. For the mash. Or the roasting. Or the dauphinoise. Everyone has their witchy ways with the counting. The grouping into potato piles. The clawy hands over to assess. And then add a few more. And then one for luck. That’s clearly too many so add a couple more. And then one for the potato pixie.
Maybe you’re all Thomasina Miers (who is on our podcast this week) and you’ve known about zesters for years. Or maybe you are new convert and now you zest everything. You find yourself zesting lime and then fluffing it through rice. Instant tang. You love this little utensil. It makes you feel like a strong capable human woman. And let’s face it those feelings are in short supply.
Soft closing drawers
HOT TIP. If you are ever feeling stressed, find a soft closing drawer. One that you gently push most of the way and then it does the REST ITSELF. LIKE ALMOST NOTHING ELSE IN YOUR LIFE. It completes the task quietly without fuss. All it needed from you was a little push. Which, being a control freak, you were glad to give it. But then, with only one tiny shove, it got on with it. SILENTLY. This explains why the grandfather in Modern Family was so rich, by making closets. Because drawers. And storage. But mostly, soft closing drawers.
The Rest is Politics podcast
Ok we are obsessed with The Rest is Politics podcast, with Alistair Campbell and Rory Stewart, whose fury and outrage at the venality of this government we desperately need to hear. To the point where we call them Rory and Alistair, like old friends. So, to misquote Alistair, we don’t do politics on The Midult but my goodness have we become obsessed with political issues. They say that the young are activated by this stuff but we feel mad with it – with the inequality, with the hopelessness, with the line blurring, the fucked ideology, the LIES, the vomit and the abuse. We are obsessed with our need to exercise our democratic rights…all over the world.
There was a time when we could eat nine steaks for dinner with nary a moment of discomfort. We just popped up like corks the next day only to do it all again. Tasting menus were our jam. Now one bit of red meat and it’s game over. We’re like a boa constrictor with a whole goat in their tummies, forced to lie immobile and risking attack by vultures. We can only really eat one meal a day – we are this close to being full Miami pensioner, eating supper at 5pm, in order to give our stomachs some runway. There is a digestion line and we have crossed it.