Do I resemble this woman?

I mean, really?  Do I?!  The other day, the Captain confessed that ever since I started dabbling with foraging, he greets my cries of ‘Taste this!’ with some trepidation.  The cheek of it!  My name is not Letitia Cropley and I am not the Queen of Cordon Bleurgh!

While I may not have been tempted to replicate Ms Cropley’s Chocolate Spread & Taramosalata Sandwiches, it is true that some of the combinations coming from my kitchen have been on the more unusual side lately.  Trouble is, I have not yet been forgiven for causing the Captain some breakfast discomfort while boating the other week.

I had promised him an English Forager’s Breakfast, which I had discovered in my new Miles Irving book, The Forager Handbook that the lovely Book Barge gave me.  Poached eggs, chopped fried bacon, a little wine and a handful of dandelion leaves.  It all started out so wonderfully.  I hopped off the boat in the early morning sunlight, squatted down by a promising patch of leaves and snipped away while greeting a passing cyclist who was looking at my pjs somewhat quizzically.  Doesn’t everyone saunter about the towpath in the pjs on a sunny midweek morn?!  Apparently not.  This done, I scurried about the kitchen, rustling up coffee, pouring orange juice, buttering bread, even taking photos:

which I now discover I have deleted … *sigh*  Well, take my word for it, it looked very promising.  Very promising indeed.  In fact, I positively enjoyed it.  Ok, so I forgot to add the wine which would have finished it off nicely, and would probably have gone some way to making the dandelion leaves that little bit less chewy.  But how was I supposed to know what the Captain was going to do next?  After all, most normal people chew their food before swallowing.  Chewing afterwards would be tricky.  The Captain, is many things, but normal is not part of his lexicon.  Part way through this sumptuous feast, that I had just lovingly prepared, he starts to cough.  Then he splutters.  He even turns a shade bluish.  I watch in vague fascination as he starts to reach into his mouth with hand.  The whole of his forearm seems to disappear before re-emerging with a straggling dandelion leaf.  The colour rushes back to his face as he places it gingerly on the edge of his plates and declares himself too full to manage another morsel.  This does not surprise me.  He is probably too full of essence of arm to manage anything else for quite sometime.

It may be a while before I can tempt him with another English Forager’s Breakfast.  Which is a pity because I am pretty sure I know what I got wrong last time.  I just need to tweak it a bit here and there …

But anyway, this still does not make me heir to the Dibley Poisoner!


2 thoughts on “Do I resemble this woman?

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