Home!

How wonderful home is. Of course, we've spent the last week going out every evening, so haven't properly had the chance to just chill, but it's been great to catch up with everyone. We got back on Monday, leaving poor Sister with a full 5 days before Islander returned. We'd thought he was arriving the day after we left but there were problems with either his visa or a volunteer's and he was delayed. Sister still wasn't feeling great, so we both felt bad about leaving - but couldn't stay longer owing to various appointments we had to keep.

On Tuesday we went out with Janus, to keep her lonesome mind off being without 'her' Flâneur. Now, I love Janus - but when, on her blog, she refers to him in this nauseating manner, it fair gars ma grue. This I told her, in no uncertain terms. She said it was better than 'the fiancé'. I contemplated arguing the point, but each to their own. Anyway - this small bout of teasing aside, we managed to pass an extraordinarily delightful evening at Kitchin in Leith. I was impressed to see Tom Kitchin himself working hard in the kitchen - which you can see from the rather darkly decorated dining room. I can't imagine you see Gordon Ramsey very much any more.

Anyway, I can honestly say that the food was divine. I had sweetbreads to begin, with a teeny tiny kidney kebab and some lamb, er, stuff (forgotten) and it was delicious beyond delicious. The sweetbreads were tender, the lamb fragrant, and the kidneys little mouthfuls of heaven. I followed this with pork belly - also divine - and a pudding of chocolate gateau with a sorbet of seabuckthorn. It was goooooood. I'd never even heard of seabuckthorn before, which Fisher thought a great example of ignorance on my part. For those who may be as ignorant as myself (difficult to comprehend, I know) here is a picture.

Apparantly it's very bitter in its natural state, but made into a sorbet it was both refreshing and palate cleansing - a perfect accompaniment for the spicy chocolate of my sorbet. And then, because we're greedy and can't pass it up when it's offered, we had a plate of cheese as well.

A wonderfully decadent evening, with good natter as well.

The following day we took Arrow out for a birthday meal. We tried Castleton House near Glamis - a small country house, very much in the middle of nowhere. It was well worth the drive, being cosy, comfortable and tasty. Not quite The Kitchin, but very decent restaurant fare. Pleasant service, and not over attentive. That's the one thing I'd say about The Kitchin, ackcherly - the waiters were far too eager to pour wine. I really can't stand wine waiters. I don't see the point in them at all. If I want wine I'll pour wine. They always screw it up some way or other - giving too much to one person, not enough to others - and the fact that their purpose is to ensure you drink as much as possible and therefore order another bottle just pisses me off. Maybe I should start a campain to eradicate wine waiters? I mean - not off the face of the planet or anything, I think execution is going over the top - but as a career. If you can't be a sommelier then you're just an annoying little shite interrupting my conversation and unfairly doling out a drink that costs a pound a sip.

So. On Thursday we had a Cheese Board meet up. This was of limited success. It was fantastic to see the girls, but the restaurant was way too noisy. We went to La Favorita, which was a good choice on the surface of things. We'd been there before and had a good time, and we knew the Italian food was good and reasonably priced for everyone's pocket. Unfortunately, by the end of the meal, after people around us had been boozing just enough to make them think they were hilarious, and that the louder they shouted the more everyone would just adore them, Janus and I couldn't hear a word that anyone at the other end of the table said. I'm afraid I have a serious loathing of crowds, and this goes for packed restaurants too. Not because of the proximity of people, which is where I go a bit bonkers in large gatherings, but because the noise just overwhelms every other sense. I can't concentrate on one person's conversation if Fat Bob, out on a work-supper with the Crazee Girls from Admin, starts bellowing with laughter in the hopes that Karen-the-Slapper will notice and sleep with him. Possibly not in that order. Anyway, I felt myself growing more and more crabsticks, and the evening was saved (for me) by going to a quiet pub afterwards, having a final drink and actually getting the chance to speak to Koi, Blarney and Phid without the aid of my ear trumpet.

And on the Fifth day, she rested. Also on the sixth and - currently - the seventh. All I have to do today is cook Fisher her promised roast chicken with "aw the fixins" and try not to sulk over yesterday's appalling display by Spurs. Yes, once again we managed to blow a 1-0 lead in the dying moments of the game, losing 2-1 to Blackburn away.

Bastards.