Nothing Beats a Fire

On another dismal day weather wise it is comforting to find a fire in one's local café even if it is there in an oven primarily to make pizzas. Not that His Lordship and I saw any pizzas being made or eaten at 10am. Toast for his Lordship was made to satisfaction on the floor of the oven. Lest you think my new stringent eating guidelines were compromised, let me assure you that a crust from the master's plate does not constitute a fall from grace.
Neither was any scone consumed in the production of this blip.

We had a lovely evening yesterday with the Hungarian returnees. With my reputation as a chef, everyone seemed delighted that nothing got burned or was undercooked.
HL's approach to possible disaster is to keep the wine flowing to such an extent that even if the food were at the limit of acceptability, the guests would never notice.

The opening of a bottle of some kind of Hungarian peach spirits at a late point in the proceedings worried me when HL offered to load the dishwasher and the sink with 16 glasses that had been used during the evening. Despite the alarming sound of glass on stainless steel nothing got broken as I found when I had the job of washing them.