A Fran-tastic day

6 hours of cooking! 6 straight hours of cooking and I made my own vegetable stock - from scratch! Phew, I am ex-haus-ted. But, feeling pretty exultant and euphoric. This must be what it's like to go through 6 hours of labour and give birth to a baby. It was sweaty, I was breathless, there were painful moments, my back ached and I just wanted to throw in the tea towel at times. But, I persisted and was rewarded at the end of it all with a veritable feast that bordered on ludicrous given the sheer amount of food that I produced (for no particular reason other than I felt like spending the whole day cooking).

This baby was a big baby. Seriously, I feel like Jesus feeding the five thousand except that there's just me...possibly with the appetite of five thousand. And, exactly as I have been told, the moment the labour ended and this precious little being was placed in my arms (or, dished up on a plate in my case), I forgot everything...whatever happened, it was completely and utterly worth it.

Chargrilled asparagus, courgette and halloumi - you were worth it. Chickpea, tomato and bread soup - you were worth it. Herb couscous with pistachios and rocket - you were worth it. Grilled aubergine, pepper and tomato soup - you were worth it. Slow-roasted lemon chicken - you were worth it. French bean and mange tout with hazelnut and orange - you were worth it. Sweet potato gratin - you were worth it. Roasted plums, nectarines and blueberries with honey cream - you were worth it.

With food like this in the world, who needs alcohol? Drugs? Men? Ok, I might take back that last one. Still, I could wish for nothing more at this moment, blissfully contented as I am. Well, there is one thing - I wish I had more room in my stomach so that I could eat more food. I have quite literally reached full capacity. The spirit is wanting but the body is incapable of complying.

There is a sort of unfair balance to all of this - 6 hours of tiring cooking followed by 6 minutes of gratifying gorging. Not that I didn't enjoy the cooking part. I seem to slip into some kind of meditative trance when I cook. My mind completely focuses on the task at hand and I forget about every care and worry. Nothing exists in the world except me, the food and the kitchen. I love losing myself in that happy place.

It's over now. The sun is setting quite spectacularly in a myriad of pinks across the sky. No more cooking for the day. No more cooking for the week I have so much food. But, it's going to be a hell of a lot of fun eating it...