Monday, 30 April 2012


Rhubarb. It's great cooked with ginger and some sugar. I bake mine in the oven. Got some locally grown on Saturday from the greengrocer in the High St. The furthest away from home I ever ate rhubarb was in Tashkent, where it grows wild on the hills and they call it a herb or medicine. I have photographed the dish with Molly Peacock's magnificent, thought-provoking memoir, a poem in prose on the life of the 18th century artist Mary Delaney: '...a collage about collage, and a meditation on sexuality, friendship and creativity.'(Victoria Glendinning, quoted on the back book jacket). One of the most surprising, rewarding and excellently-written books I HAVE EVER READ.

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