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Recipes & RSI
9 May 2004
I keep having conversations that reveal the most unexpected people reading this (you know who you are) - but a lot of them apparently read it for the recipes, and I’m getting complaints. Not enough food, people are telling me. It used to be recipe-rich, but no longer; how can you talk about scallops Mornay, they say, and not give a recipe?
Well, they’re right, of course, it’s shameful. Thing is, though, I’ve been working so hard this year, I haven’t been anywhere near as experimental in the kitchen as I sometimes am; I’ve largely been falling back on staples, making big pots of chilli and curries and such. And when I have cooked something new, it’s generally been from someone else’s recipe, and there are issues of honour as well as of copyright that prevent my reproducing those. I will seek to restore food to its proper position, as a major theme of this weblog, I promise - but not yet. Give me a month.
It’s true, I may just possibly be within a month of finishing the novel, if I can keep going at the present rate. That is, perhaps, unlikely; consistency was never my strong point (and the deadline is the end of this month, and I never never meet deadlines, so...). At the moment, though, I’m hammering along. And having fun with it, which is terrific and unexpected. Usually by this stage I’ve lost all confidence and all pleasure in a book, and it’s just a blind charge to the end; this one, I’m disturbingly content. Partly I think that’s because my agent’s already seen the first half and approved it; it’s unusual to have that kind of mid-term test, but special circumstances - an interested UK publisher - made it a good idea this time. In fact the publisher decided not to read it till it’s finished, but hey, I still got the benefit of an intermediate thumbs-up. Which does help, seemingly.
So yeah, thirty-five pages so far this month, though none today; I’m having an official day off. Apart from reasons else, my hands are really hurting; RSI run rampant, despite a divided keyboard. Hasn’t been this bad for years, but then I haven’t worked this hard for years either; a hundred and ten, hundred and twenty thousand words this year, something on that order. And of course one types far more than one keeps. I don’t really think one day’s rest will make much difference - and I am, I observe, typing this - but one might as well make the gesture. Besides, though, as I say, there are other reasons. Went to my friend Peg’s housewarming last night, so I was late astir this morning, barely had time to run into town for some yellow bean sauce before the Spanish Grand Prix. I’ve said in these pages before, I am the world’s most unlikely Formula One fan, being a car-hating pedestrian and all, but oh, I do love Ferrari. I am of the tifosi, me. And we got a one-two today, which is just exactly perfect. And now I’m going to spend the evening watching movies and cooking. Fillet of pork, slathered in yellow bean sauce and hoi sin sauce and soy sauces and garlic and such, roasted ever so slightly pink, and eaten with noodles and soup. You don’t really need more of a recipe than that, do you...?
© Chaz Brenchley 2004
Reproduced here by permission of Chaz Brenchley, who asserts his moral right to be identified as the author of this work.