Pour the strained liquid into eight ramekins. Strain through a sieve into a jug, to get rid of the zest.
Remove from the heat, let it settle down for a minute, then stir in the lemon juice. Bring to a moderate simmer, and cook for four minutes, stirring a few times a minute. Bonus.ġ80 ml lemon juice (from approx three lemons)Ĭombine the cream, sugar and zest in a saucepan. They also need to be made well ahead of time, which means that your effort upon serving is limited to getting up and getting them out of the fridge. The possets are great: fairly small, rich but refreshing, and very easy to make. And finally, while reclining on the couches afterwards, lemon possets for dessert.
Forthwith vs post haste full#
Then, a little while later, seven hour leg of lamb (more or less like this, just larger in size and cooked for the full seven hours at 120 C), with mashed potatoes and green beans. Then onion, mustard and fennelseed tart, with a mixed-leaf salad. We started with olives and some saucisson that Lisa brought. The most recent of these was last Friday, when Ian, Lisa, Charly, Rich, Sal and Jim came over to our place. (The answer is job-related.) The eating notes have chronicled many of these meals. There have been many occasions recently, at one or other of these meals, when I’ve looked around the table at the faces of my so, so dear friends and wondered what the hell we are doing leaving. Part of the moving process is seeing many of our friends for goodbye-for-now meals. Oh god, excuse me while I go and put something warm and fluffy on my ears. It feels like we’ve been preparing to move forever, but no matter that I thought I was decently organised up until now, crunch time has made me realise how very, very wrong I was. We’re clearing out our apartment, writing lists of the dozens of things that need to be done each day between now and when we leave, putting earmuffs on, making appointments with an accountant to get several years’ worth of tax returns done, arranging for the utilities to be disconnected, taking photos with earmuffs on, sorting out a couple of cupboards, deciding that this morning’s resolution not to drink any wine today was stupid and should be broken forthwith, and so on. And also because there are quite a few photos of me looking deranged too. I have some of the best photographs I’ve ever taken, of Ted wearing the earmuffs and facially demonstrating his stress, but I will not put them on the internet because I love Ted like no other husband and every man deserves his dignity.
Either way, we have spent the last few hours donning the ‘muffs to express our angst. Or perhaps they would just be the outward sign of your stress, so other people would see and treat you nicely. You would put them on if you were stressed, and they would make everything better. We decided tonight that these were the Stress Earmuffs. … Let me take a short pause here to hyperventilate …įortunately, a couple of weekends ago we went to Christmas in July at the Chaddo, and Santa gave Ted a pair of furry earmuffs. Tedster and I are moving to Melbourne in 13 days.
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