|She wasn't this clean when we'd finished!|
In fact, if I was to liken myself to a TV character, I'd be like Ally McBeal or JD from Scrubs. Things happen and my reaction is to sing a song in my head. I'm sure at meetings people think I must be mad because someone will say something and I start grinning to myself. Because I've turned on my inner jukebox and started up a tune appropriate to the situation.
If I was singing a song right now, it would be The Great Pretender. Because a couple of days ago, I thought I'd arrived as a real foodie as I went off foraging for wild garlic. That's what real foodies do. They don't just tap their shopping list into their Ocado Android App. They have food as nature intended - not wrapped in sterile shrink wrap.
|Random greenery - I'm sure there's garlic there somewhere|
After a trek through a very muddy wood, we alighted on a bountiful patch and with Miss A's help, I soon had a carrier bag-ful. I bought it home, picked it over, washed it and left it to drain in the sink. The husband appears and asks why I've been out picking weeds. I inform him that it's wild garlic. He's heard me comment on plenty of dog walks as to what's making the smell and I've even shown him the plants. He doesn't believe me and informs me that I'm stupid and have probably picked deadly nightshade and will end up killing myself.
In my slightly paranoid state, I'd tweeted B a picture asking him to confirm that I was about to pick the right thing. He responded saying that he thought so. On second look at the picture, I noted that it also showed bluebells and what I know as 'Sweethearts' - those sticky plants that you pick and then stick to someone's back and laugh raucously when they don't realise how daft they look with a weed hanging from their jumper (of course I only did this when I was about six - honest!).
I then Googled some images. These were mildly reassuring until B tweeted while I was making my pesto to say I should crush a stem and it should smell of garlic. It was only a very faint smell, but by now my paranoia was overriding common sense.
Anyway, to cut another long blog post short, I persisted and whilst heating the pesto with some pasta finally got a decent garlic smell from it. Reassured, I sat down to eat, only to find that it tasted like pasta tossed in freshly cut grass clippings. No garlic, no taste from the parmesan or walnuts. Very disappointing.
|Wild garlic pesto and tagliatelle|
Don't take my word for it. I'm just one person in a sea of foodies who have all been jumping up and down raving about this delicacy. I have a huge jar of the stuff so will try some other things with it over the next week or two. Maybe it will be better when it's had chance to mature for a few days. Or maybe I really have picked the wrong thing. In which case, I'll never find it out if it tastes better when mature and this may well be the last blog post I ever write. Keep your fingers crossed for me!
So if you want to test your foodie credentials, hop over to the River Cottage website and check out the recipe I used.