Guardian Girl

Baigan choka

Choked-up bile

It was scary making Yotam’s baigan choka. You had to put aubergines actually ON the gas hobs. It’s easy to forget that just because hobs are in your kitchen and you switch them on and off, doesn’t mean they’re not actually real little fires. We should use them more imaginatively – maybe sing Native American songs around them, roast micropigs above them on miniature wooden spits, jump over them at Beltane.

As for the dip itself, we thought it most palatable. I bought two other aubergine dips to taste test it against and personally I put the homemade one in the middle. My boyfriend, with the generously goggled taste buds of the live-in lover, decided mine/Yotam’s was the winner.

Also yesterday evening, in the name of eating honeycomb on fireworks night, I gobbled half a bag of Crunchie Rocks on my way home and then we waved some tiny indoor sparklers around in the garden while pretending to have fun. It was fun really, just not exactly fireworks-night-level fun.

Going solo

Going loco

Conclusions:

• I would recommend that anyone with a gas hob tries cooking aubergines this way. It tastes nice, but more importantly it lets you feel primal in the kitchen, which saves much cash that previously had to be spent on black market placentas to stew up
• Unfortunately the Guardian lifestyle dictates that I now spend that £200 of freed-up placenta budget on a T-shirt, which will have to be for my boyfriend, since it would probably look rubbish worn with hips. I have a deep suspicion that this T-shirt, although wickedish printwise, is made of quite a sheer fabric, which probably isn’t going to go down too well at the unwrapping stage
• The Measure is also decreeing that I get rid of all my v-necks. This seems like a waste. Oh well, someone might want them. Someone incredibly impoverished. In taste if not resources
• On the plus side, salmon fishcakes tonight
• Back on the minus side again, I’m not even going to say anything about the fashion/photo today