The day before Christmas is when the oven buckles under the weight of expectation of a tantalising Christmas dinner fit for a panel of judges who are best friends with words such as sous-vide, mirepoix and veloute.
Time for Plan B. New ingredients, new cooking methods (no more appearing cool, calm and collected over a glass of chilled champagne while the food magically cooks in the oven. Think slaving over the stove and timing everything so that all dishes are ready before I sit down to entree), and new dishes.
So I made the trek to the overcrowded Coles where it was as much a hazard to dodge around the shopping trolleys as it is on the road with drivers who are in a hurry to the mall to get that last minute Christmas gift.
Two hours later, a very sweaty and grumpy me came home (30 deg for consecutive 3 days) to... no water. Water people replacing the mains was the last thing I needed.
No oven, no water, Christmas dinner on the line. I'm sure I can come up with something...
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