I may not have achieved everything I wanted to achieve today but I’ve since forgotten what the things I’ve forgotten to achieve were and I know that at least one of them was making a large amount of warm hummus kawarma and shoving it into my face on long shovely slices of this very wide flat overproved sourdough my dad made at the weekend. So I did. And thanks to that, my other shortcomings seem not nearly so short.
So yeah, hummus, of the very smooth heavy-on-the-tahini-light-on-the-oil kind you get in the nearer East, goes sort of fluffy and soufflesque when you briefly bake it, and that’s what I did here. Baked, topped with thinly sliced breast of lamb I fried very slowly with lots of hibiscus za’atar and sumac and cumin and allspice and a touch of cinnamon. Sprinkled with dried rose petals and fried flaked almonds and sweet paprika because those flashes of colour are things I can’t resist.
That and like, some Kurdish style pickles I picked up but did not personally pickle. And the sourdough I aforementioned earlier.
And a pomegranate I speckled my awful t-shirt in prising the seeds from its pulp. And a chopped salad of sprouting things, and parsley and mint, and homegrown cucumbers, and raddichio and the last of this big fucking crate of vine tomatoes we bought and have been working through ever since.