I've been having a culinary cull.
Any book with fewer than a dozen well loved recipes,
which I have photocopied, hits the charity shop pile.
Particularly irritating that one with its cast of thousands ingredients list
and unhygenic painted wooden serving platters.
With a little sigh of regret because really I want to go and eat there
not cook from her book, but owning it was the closest I am likely to get
to this iconic restaurant.
This one was a present.
A lifestyle book (the lifestyle now defunct as they no longer run
their 'boutique guest-house')
And then, in the midst of this pleasurable exercise -
I heard a small pop and a fizz from the worktop behind me.
Nothing untoward met my first glance.
The food processor was sitting there.
I had chopped some onion and celery in it earlier.
The fizzing sound seemed to be coming from it.
So too did the curling wisps of smoke.
I unplugged it and ran to the front door,
holding it by the spindle at arm's length.
Was that foolish?
I don't know. I just wanted it out of the house.
Gone after 30 years.
My Kenwood Cuisine food processor Model A537.