Hazy morning, the air silent and heavy. The garden is turning from pink to orange, aflame from midday, when the sun comes over the top of the house and floods the garden with burning light. Montbretia, nasturtiums, Indian Prince marigolds, dahlias, zucchini flowers, hot eye-watering flowers in bright sunlight line the beds. The tomatoes are ripening, a single aubergine is hanging down from the purple-leaved plant in a deep pot on the back steps. The garden is suddenly a vibrant, vulgar scorching place to eat.

There are three of us for a meal that started out as a lunch but is rapidly becoming dinner. It is so hot that I keep putting of lighting the grill. It is one of those rare, high-summer days when you want to drink rosé. Unfortunately there isn’t one around so instead we drink chilled Gamay, which turns out to be just the fruity, easy-drinking wine you want with the pungent flavours of the lamb. There are loud flavours here, with spice-encrusted meat, garlic-scented yoghurt and the hot smokiness of ground paprika.

– From July 31, Lamb-filled flatbread from Nigel Slater’s The Kitchen Diaries. My ideal and favourite type of writing.


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