Saturday 1 September
Today we went out to the Chapel Street market, which among its bustling stalls full of cheap luggage, gimcrack jewelry, plastic shoes, and other vital items, has a French cheese-seller (yes, both he and the cheeses are French), some vedge-stalls, and (usually) a fishmonger. But this week he either had no fish to mong, or more likely was on holiday. Since Holt's palate was set on fish, we ambled along to Sainsbury's fresh-fish counter and got a pair of nice little whole trout for only the price of a whole Chilean-sea bass at home.
We did the pink-fleshed trout very simply, slipping a sprig of fresh rosemary and thyme in each and pan-frying them; after they were browned on both sides, we threw in some chopped garlic and roasted tomatoes and covered the pan until they were done. On the side, a rocket salad (arugula, remember?) with tomatoes, sprinkled with crumbled gorgonzola cheese. Then we sat with the last of our New Zealand white wine and watched some piffle on BBC2. That's the best of home life in England.