I am so stuffed. I have that very full, very contented, and slightly sleepy feeling that comes after a good roast dinner. I’ve installed myself on the sofa with my feet up and a blanket over me, laptop on lap. Thank goodness for laptops, now I don’t have to move at all.
The roast dinner in question was in fact a feast of free range turkey stuffed with lemon and herbs, brussel sprouts, purple sprouting broccoli, carrots, roast potatoes cooked in duck fat, chipolatas wrapped in bacon and gravy made with fresh giblet stock. As I say, I’m stuffed. The problem I have with roast turkey, and chicken, dinners is that I never know when to stop. Even as my tummy starts to groan and protest I still keep eating. “Just one more mouthful” I say as I aim my fork at the last potato. And then I find myself reaching out to pull some meat off the bird every time I go into the kitchen. Rob usually catches me, tells me off and takes it away from me as I look on, guiltily. What can I say, it’s my weakness.
Despite my love of them, I’m pretty sure I’ve never cooked a turkey outside of Christmas before, but this one caught my eye sitting on the shelf of the chiller cabinet in Marks & Spencer on Thursday and I bought it on a whim. It was the last one left and it looked so lonely sitting there all on its own, so you see buying it was really an act of selfless kindness. Ok, ok, you can stop raising your eyebrows like that.
In the time it’s taken to write this post the fullness is starting to subside and my thoughts are already turning to the turkey sandwiches and broth that I’ll turn the leftovers into. Forget chocolate, a half-eaten turkey sitting in my fridge is my idea of a treat. Happy Easter everyone!
