Hello hello!! It's 10pm and I'm halfway through cooking a huge bolognaise and raspberry muffins and choc chip biscuits to take with us to a family holiday house up on the Hawkesbury River, tomorrow morning.
The house belongs to our friend Roo's family, his grandparents I think, and there's no electricity or running water as I understand. But apparently it has a fantastic kitchen. Awesome!
Our friends are doing the adult catering and I'm doing kids.
So if this is disjointed, apologies: it's because I keep leaping up to take something out of the oven and stir a pot!
Anyway, I'm going to share with you another of my weaknesses. I know, I have so many. And this one is serious.
Cookbooks. So many. And this is only the beginning…
It's a real problem. And in the spirit of full confession, this doesn't even include the ones I'm currently cooking from:
There they are, on top of the microwave.
In the scheme of things though, cookbooks, although prolific, really only scratch the surface of my problem…
I love love love these gorgeous shelves, they go right to the ceiling, right up the stairs. And the kids and I spend a lot of time sitting on these stairs;
reading cookbooks, of course.