All Resistance Crumbles – 5 March 2014
I have been getting a wonderful response to last week’s post on Cravings. So many people have written in, letting me know what their cravings are, mostly savoury as are my own. Apologies to those who now have a sausage roll craving where previously they had none. While I have not yet given in to this particular depravity, I have not been able to resist much else this week.
On Friday I attended a restaurant dinner to celebrate a friend’s birthday. I tried to avoid the bubbly by amusing myself with an elderflower cordial. Usually I don’t drink any alcohol but eventually I decided that one flute of champagne couldn’t harm. This being the kind of posh place where the waiters circulate while the guests mingle, I soon found my glass being refilled. Half way through this second glass of delicious bubbly, I felt something wet on my chin. Middle aged woman with champagne trickling down her face is not a good look. This was surely a sign to desist from further inebriation as my fine motor movements were becoming confused after one drink.
When we sat down for dinner and I managed to order three courses of the highest fat laden dishes – hare terrine, duck confit and rhubarb crumble. Or was it resistance crumble? The sommelier came around holding bottles of red and white. He approached me first and I indicated that I would not be drinking. He circulated round the room, pouring and filling glasses. Eventually he wound up back at the beginning by which stage I had come to regret my erstwhile discipline. Once again the waiters hovered with wine bottles held aloft and who knows how often they filled my glass. Dessert was accompanied by a gorgeous Muscadel. Half way through a glass of this golden nectar I realised I was way beyond my sensible limit of fat and alcohol and must bring the evening to a close – or at least attempt to keep my mouth closed.
Having missed the last tube by hours, and in no state to negotiate the night bus, I poured myself into a cab for the long ride home. The fare was the only sobering moment of the evening.
Awoke on Saturday feeling strangely whoozy from the boozy and had to wait until late in the day before gingerly putting on my walking shoes and having more of a stroll than a cardio vascular workout. To make matters worse I decided to make pancakes for my son before he set off to play a football game, hoping that the maple syrup would ensure his team success. They drew. I ate the remains of the pancakes with a generous glug of syrup – goodness but it is gorgeous – and realised I could quite easily start up a sweetness craving. How easily things unravel when you are having fun.