Wednesday, who doesn’t love a Wednesday? It’s halfway through the week, there are only two days left before crazy Friday (thank god it’s only Friday that’s crazy) and you’re comfortably settled in your work routine. Ah, the bliss of the Wednesdays.
And that’s not even half of the story. On Wednesdays, my best buds from right around the corner come round in a big mighty truck (they’d call it a lorry or possibly a van) and drop off a box of swell vegetables (the very same ones where Amaia’s sweet swedes came from). And on that day, when I hurry home from work, it feels a bit like Christmas all over again: I’m in eager expectation of the box. I open the garden back door, peep in, and – now it feels more like Easter egg hunting – I peruse the garden with box-seeking eyes until wham I locate it, tucked away in the corner between the living room door and the cloakroom window (if one can call a glassed 10cm wide gap a window).
The expedition takes on a rescue mission twist as I lift the box and sundry up and rush them to the kitchen. You see, although one can check the contents of the box online, I never bother doing that. I’d much rather have the surprise. As a matter of fact, even when I order known extras (like butter, meat, etc.) by the time the motherlode’s delivered, I’ve forgotten what I’d asked for. And so the surprise is truly genuine.
Today was no exception. If anything today, the surprise effect reached its climax. Firstly, it’s mighty cold outside and the sole feeling of going inside a warm home is titillating indeed. Secondly, my roomies are still very much away, and being home alone in the kitchen, even inert vegetables are a true solace. Thirdly, the Christmas effect hasn’t worn off and this is the very first, one and only, box of 2009. There won’t be another box #1, will there now?
Today, my order came with a second refrigerated box (to be specific a styrene box with packs of ice). Now that’s kind of amusing as the weather has been so inclement on the Fahrenheit scale that it’s probably colder in the garden (and for that matter the downstairs cloakroom – again) than in the styrene box. In other words, why bother?
They say this period of the year is made for resolutions, for instance, to eat more healthily after such hearty Christmas meals crowned by the inevitable brandy-sloshed pudding. It seems Abel and Cole have heard Mum’s advice loud and clear for as I unfolded the box, out came carrots, turnips, parsnips, and the odd potatoes; all that accounts for half the box’s veggie population. The other half teemed with clementines, bananas, and the usual suspect, the apple. This and regular squash sessions with Matador José should put me back in shape in no time.
And so, the remainder of my Wednesday evening was spent cajoling my box, tucking the vegetables away in their respective shelves, and planning what to cook for the rest of the week.
Until next time, bon appétit!